I looked at Mace with disbelief.  "What the hell am I being locked up for?"

"That inmate who just left here told us you stole this pair of sunglasses," he said, holding a pair up from his desk.  "And that then you gave them to him."

Now I couldn't believe both what I was hearing and what I was seeing.  Not only had that idiot Mr. T. tried to blame me for the sunglasses, but he even gave them back.  All he had to do was leave them somewhere, or throw them away, and he could deny ever having them.  Instead he walked into the Front Office evidence in hand, and (according to what I was being told anyway) tried to lay the blame at my feet.

I just shook my head.  "No offense," I told him, "but if I was going to steal something around here, it would be a pillow, because I've been here three weeks and don't have one yet.  What the hell am I going to do with a pair of sunglasses?  Not only do I wear prescription glasses which I can't see a thing without, but I've had malignant melanoma so I am not supposed to get much sun!"

"Look," Mace told me, "I believe you.  But he is saying you took them.  You haven't told me that he took them, but it doesn't really matter if you do.  Unless he changes his story, there is nothing I can do.  We have to lock you both up for investigation."

"Okay," I shrugged.  "Can I go talk to him first?  Try to talk some sense into him?  Because this is bullshit."

Mace looked at me and paused.  "Okay you can go talk to him, but don't threaten him or anything."

Now I had really heard everything!  "Don't threaten him?  That guy is three times my size!"

"I know, but I've had some little guys do some real damage.  I'll let you go talk to him, but don't threaten him.  If I hear you threatened him or hit him, you'll be going away for good instead of for investigation."

I left the office and headed back to the housing unit.  On the way a couple of guys I knew from my first prison saw me walking quickly.  "Hey Doug," they shouted, "where are you running to?"

"The hole," I yelled back.  Ignoring their further incredulous yelling, I went inside and found Mr. T sitting on his bunk.

"Look man, this is bullshit, they're going to lock us both up!" I told him.

"I know man, it isn't right."  He was staring at the floor.  He actually looked frightened.

"Well why should we both go?  Tell them you took them, or you found them.  Or just tell them I didn't."

Mr. T shook his head.  "Uh uh, I'm not telling them anything.  I'm going to keep my mouth shut."

Obviously this guy was full or crap, but what could I do?  He was lying to my face.  How could be claim that he wasn't telling them anything, when the moron turned the sunglasses in?!?  A minute later they paged me to the Front Office again, where Mace was waiting. 

"Did he change his story?" he asked.

"No," I said.  "I know you're just doing your job.  Where do I go?"

"Look," he said.  "I believe your story.  But if he won't tell us the truth, we have no choice."

I was directed to stand outside and wait for the Camp Driver to pull up.  I have to admit I was surprised that they let a guy who was supposed to be such a problem that he needed to be put in the SHU walk around freely.  As it turned out that was standard procedure, unless the inmate had just been involved in something violent.  Otherwise they trusted him.  Besides, you weren't officially locked up until the Lieutenant at the medium-security facility gave the word.  Only he (or she) had the authority.  It was rare for them not to lock up someone when the officers at our facility requested it, but it did happen once in a while.

A minute later an inmate driving a beat-up white Crown Victoria arrived and I got in the back seat.

"Where am I supposed to take you?" he asked.

"I'm getting locked up, take me to wherever you go to get thrown in the hole."

The ride was pretty quiet, and only lasted about a minute.  We pulled up to the front of the Medium-security facility and stopped. 

"Just go through those doors and tell the Lieutenant who you are and why you are there.  They'll tell you what to do.  And hey man, don't look so miserable.  It'll be okay."

"Thanks," I told the driver.  "I just hate getting blamed for something I didn't do."  Resigned to my fate, I climbed out and walked up to the front desk.  The officer on duty looked up at me as I stuck out my hand.  "Here is my ID card.  I'm supposed to get locked up in the SHU."

(to be continued - watch for Part 4 sometime in the next few days)