Prisoner

Chapter 1
Guilty as Charged

Chapter Description: The ride to jail isn't a pleasant one.

“We find the defendant Seth Yoles guilty as charged,” The head of the jury declared to Judge Smith.

“When without further adieu I sentence Mr. Yoles to 18 years in Police Custody. Take him away!” And with a bang of his mallet, two police officers marched over to the desk at Judge Smith’s right side away.

“But I’m innocent, I’m innocent!” A young man of about 23 said as the men dragged him out of the courtroom.

These events ran through Seth’s head over and over again as if someone was rewinding them for him. Seth Yoles was a lanky young adult with a reddish brown hair color. His natural color was a light brown, but he began to dye his hair his current color at 17. Seth wasn’t particularly muscular, making him an unlikely suspect for the crime he was accused of. Seth was arrested about four months prior for robbing a Best Buy truck of several thousand dollars worth of computer equipment. He was shocked and appalled when the police came to his front door, he worked extremely hard at his job to afford what he bought.

What astounded him the most was that the police even suspected him for the crime. He hadn’t had most of the stuff on the list and with the exception of his new computer tower he had owned most of it for several months. His low-paying job as the local grocery market saw to that he kept a strict budget.

“Well, at least I won’t have to worry about anything for eighteen years,” Seth thought meekly. He was going to have to drop out of his college now too. And he was only one and a half years away from getting his degree in education. Now all of his friends would move up as he was stuck in one space. He felt like he was playing Monopoly.

Out of nowhere, the door of the armed car he was riding in flew open, and a tall and scruffy police officer said, “Get up! You have an orientation to go to!” It didn’t matter whether or not he asked Seth to get up though, as he grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off anyway.

“Welcome to your orientation,” a short, old man in a police uniform said in a high-pitched voice.

“We are pleased to welcome you 14 prisoners to this institution, and furthermore . . “

“Stop trying to sugar coat it!” a rough and dirty man with shinny brown hair that reached his shoulders said angerily.

“We’re in da slammer! No need to call it an ’institution’!”

“Oh, but there is a need,” the old man replied, “You aren’t in a ’slammer’, you are in a rehabilitation institution. This are your, well maybe not your, the American people’s tax dollars at work. You see, one of the major problems in our wonderful country is that the prisons are filling much too fast for our tastes, so some higher-level men created this institution to keep minor law-breakers like yourselves in.”

“Minor?” The scruffy man replied. He didn’t seem to like that his actions weren’t considered big leagues here.

“Yes minor. If you haven’t killed anyone or acted inhumanly, people will be sent here instead. Small-time thieves and such.” The man replied, appearing quite pleased to have a conversation.

“We, you old-timing fu . . .”

“Alas!” There old man cut in, “We have no more time here. You will be escorted to your rooms. Hopefully, we will only have to do this once.” As he said this, he pressed a large, red button on a remote. Steel hand and leg cuffs slide elegantly from the legs and arms of the chairs, effectively binding the room of criminals to their seats. The chairs then ejected wheels, and then police officers wheeled the people off into their ’rooms’.

Seth was one of the few criminals to not make any resistance attempts. He knew he couldn’t escape and he knew that someone on the outside was still trying to help him plead his case. He believed it to be just a matter of time. As he was wheeled throughout the institute, he could see the landscape through the many windows of the building. There were ponds and lakes, forests and snow-caped mountains, baseball fields and ice skating rinks.

“Man, this looks more like a vacation house than a prison,” Seth thought to himself.

As if reading his mind, his officer spoke, “Thats because this isn’t your typical prison,. But you’ll see that over your first two weeks or so.”

Seth didn’t like the tone to the officer’s voice.

When the officer finally stopped at a door, it was close to four o’clock. The officer placed his hand on the pad, then unlocked Seth’s right arm and placed it onto the pad.

“Hand print identified. Welcome Seth,” beeped the familiar MSN lady. Then the officer wheeled Seth into the opened room.

The room was gorgeous, even by a man’s standard. It was painted a light sea foam green. Seth found it relaxing. There was a TV, some lounge chairs and a couch with a coffee table set neatly between them. The couches and chairs were the same color green as the walls and the table was a deep redwood. The lights were plastered onto the walls and, as the officer demonstrated, turned on and off by clapping. Seth also saw two doors. One was ajar and lead into a bedroom with a luxurious queen-sized bed with sea foam green sheets and redwood nightstands. Seth could also see into the bathroom, everything being a polished white.

“Remember,” the officer said so surprisingly that it caused Seth to bounce in his seat, “Your room number is 18, seventh story. You will use that,” as he pointed to the other door, “to get where you need to go. You cannot leave this room without permission to do so. Failure to abide by this rule results in a time-out, got it?”

“Yeah,” Time-out? What was this man thinking? Seth wondered. These are criminals and all they threaten them with is a time-out? The security guard smiled coldly, as if understanding what Seth was wondering, leaving Seth all alone, again.