Putting the inmates to bed at night and making them get up again in the morning were done during the overlap when both shifts of guards were inside the walls at once, because those were the times when friction was most likely to occur and the largest number of inmates were outside their cells. In the evening, inmates had to get up from what they were doing—sitting in classes, watching television, playing games—and as they filed along the cellblocks past one another, there was an opportunity for the kind of accidental jostling that caused resentment or even fights. All of them were about to be locked into their cells for the whole night alone with their thoughts, and at Weldonville, as in all federal prisons, the thoughts often ranged from tragic to insane.

All of that was over for this day, July 19. The appropriate lines on all the papers on clipboards in the administrative wing had been checked and signed by the responsible duty officer in each section.

The night shift consisted of fewer officers than the day shift because little supervision was required for the 2,500 inmates when they were locked up and asleep. Nobody had to be overseen or conducted anywhere or reprimanded or protected. Only forty-two officers were on duty during the night shift. There were also a doctor and two nurses and a staff of seven non-sworn personnel, who did things like ensure that the food and other supplies ordered for the next few days had been received, sorted, stored, and paid for, and administrative tasks like checking time cards to ensure that the workers’ hours were being reflected on the payroll and making employee schedules for the next month.

Captain Gene Humphry, the executive officer for the night shift, made his first rounds at ten o’clock. He found that all inmates were accounted for and the prison staff was present. This hadn’t surprised him, because there were few absentees in July. The guards in the towers were alert, and the roving guards were patrolling the catwalks at appropriate intervals. He held a surprise locker inspection for the guards and was pleased.

He always dreaded these locker inspections because he felt they were intrusive, but even more because he was afraid that someday he would find something—contraband for a prisoner or an unauthorized communication being smuggled outside, for instance. It would be easy to take the attitude that if you didn’t look, you wouldn’t see anything you didn’t want to know about. That was the way ranking officers at some correctional facilities he’d read about operated. That was also the way they got guards selling drugs, alcohol, and cell phones to inmates. He’d even heard of guards bringing in weapons. It was hard to fathom stupidity like that.