Someone got to this piece before you did. See if it still makes sense.

Sometimes it’s hard being in [REDACTED]. Sometimes it’s hard having a name like [REDACTED]. But officer [REDACTED] said if I helped him with his little problem on [REDACTED] block, he could get me some status around here. And you know what? I figure it’s about fucking time I get what’s due me. I just had to talk to [REDACTED] about working up the nerve to give up some of the really juicy offhand confessions he’s heard around here. Being here for [REDACTED] years will see a man hearing several things that will never be repeated inside of a courthouse, that’s for sure. I didn’t think it would turn into the kind of cluster fuck it did. I thought he’d jump at the suggestion to turn what little influence he’s got into some real capital. He was too smart not to. Officer [REDACTED] told me it wasn’t even a big deal, he just needed a man on the inside to open up the discussion, and I was happy to oblige. Old man probably was dying for a smoke or two (which I had, courtesy of my new boss), and I could easily talk him into turning state’s evidence, as they say. Get out of this shithole and get a life again, I’m saying. But that dumb shit didn’t listen to me at all. I thought then he must have been the slowest fucker in the joint.

Now I’m thinking he was smarter than all of us.

-scrawled on the back of a page ripped out of a library book in the aftermath of the [REDACTED] prison riot, with a large bloodstain on the lower corner. 

The End

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