Power and Empire

“Right,” he said. “I’ve just never been in jail before.” He shrugged, armless, and inched closer to Officer Lincoln like a frightened child looking to make friends with the teacher at recess.

Lincoln gave him a glare. Her voice boomed. “Back off, inmate!”

A husky DSO with a blond porn-star mustache glanced up. Lincoln shook her head and raised a hand to let him know she had the situation under control. He went back to watching the inmates as they lined up at the pay phones.

Feng took a step back, grimacing at her sudden outburst. She gave a slow nod. “You’re welcome,” she said.

“What?”

She continued to look out at the dayroom. “I just gave you some undeserved street cred in here, inmate. These animals think you popped off to me, and they’ll give you a little space for a minute. People in here smell fear. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“Got it,” Feng said. “Thank you. Would you mind making a call to the FBI for me? Tell them something’s messed up?”

Officer Lincoln turned now and gave him a disgusted stare. “Seriously, inmate. You really need to back off.”

• • •

Across the dayroom, DSO Tony Chang stepped out of the control room and made his way across the open floor. A couple other correctional officers rolled their eyes, but the inmates moved out of his way. He spent a lot of time in the gym and was proud that his girlfriend had taken up the sides of his size-seventeen uniform shirt so it formed a tight V from his lats down to his thirty-two-inch waist. The inmates needed to see they weren’t the only ones who could do pull-ups. Reaching the 2 East Corridor, Chang gave a quiet nod to an Asian inmate lined up at the bank of pay phones. The young man at the phones, who had a Sun Yee On triangle tattooed on his neck, was a recent initiate, and Chang knew he was eager to prove his devotion to the brotherhood.

Chang had been the one to handle Eddie Feng’s booking. A simple tick in the wrong computer box saw to it that he didn’t end up in solitary like the FBI requested. Chang tried to get the guy thrown in with the triad brothers who’d been arrested at Chicas, but they’d all been put on lockdown, so it was all up to him.

On cue, the tattooed man spun in line and punched the nearest inmate in the throat. This man, who happened to be a short but extremely muscular member of La Eme, staggered backward just long enough to catch his breath. The Mexican Mafia soldier recovered quickly and rushed the lighter Asian who had dared to disrespect him, driving him into the concrete wall. Four other triad members, unaware of any arrangement with Officer Chang, jumped to the defense of their embattled brother, piling on in a flurry of fists and elbows and teeth. Their presence drew more La Eme foot soldiers into the fight.

Ethnic and rival gang tensions boiled just below the surface of these men, incarcerated nose-to-nose with people who they’d just as soon see dead on the street. In prison, gang members might be segregated. County jails did what they could, but space was at more of a premium.

Alarms began to sound, echoing off the concrete-and-steel enclosure. Inmates not involved in the fight reluctantly stepped away from the free entertainment as the bored-sounding intercom announcement that accompanied the alarms ordered them to their cells.

Seconds later, heavy boots slapped the tile floor as detention officers poured into the dayroom from various points around the jail. Officer Chang stayed where he was, glancing up at the control room. The two officers inside stood up so they could see over their screens.

Inmates filed by, returning to their assigned cells. When Eddie Feng shuffled past, arms tucked inside the sleeves of his scrubs, Officer Chang fell in behind and followed him to his cell.

“Hold up,” Chang said, pulling Feng aside to give the other inmates time to move to their own cells and get out of earshot. “Aren’t you supposed to be in solitary?”

Feng’s mouth fell open. “Finally!” he said. “Somebody’s got their shit together. Thank you. Seriously, man, thank you.”

Klaxons still raged, not quite drowning out the free-for-all that had broken out in the dayroom.

“Come on,” Chang said, motioning down the now empty corridor toward the heavy steel door. “Roll up your stuff. I was just coming to look for you.”

Feng’s two cellmates would be involved in the fight, so it would just be Chang and the inmate.

The inmate was so happy about moving to solitary he was humming when he walked into the cell and didn’t see Chang place the small rubber wedge that would keep the door from closing all the way. All Feng’s personal belongings had been taken, either by the FBI or at booking. He’d been issued a wool blanket and a stubby pink toothbrush made of flexible rubber. It wasn’t much, but when nothing is all you have, even a toothbrush that looks like a kid’s toy is a treasure worth guarding.