Thought

My first lunch at Bent County [Correctional Facility in Las Animas] I sat next to a guy serving 12 years for standing in someone's backyard. Trespassing, I think it's called. Short, wiry fellow. Fantastic artist. Waste of your tax dollars. But you don't care. His first words to me were, "I hear you set your old lady's house on fire."

I would have to get used to this, I thought. I had never heard the worst horror of my life more succinctly portrayed. No embellishments, no buts, no reasons; just the unmitigated horror. "Yeah," was about all I could say.

Then he said something sort of funny. He said, "I can respect that." The silence that followed made it even [more surreal].

Prisoners are some of the least judgmental people in the world. That's the appeal of the bad boy that I never used to understand. I get it now. It doesn't mean we can't be pricks sometimes, but I'll be less likely to judge a lady by her past going forward.