Jax removed his boots first, then his long black socks, each of which he rolled into a ball and stuffed inside a shoe. He placed the boots on the counter. His suit jacket slid easily off his shoulders – he’d lost weight since the arrest. His nan had brought the only suit Jax had ever owned to the courthouse on the first day of his trial, and back then he’d struggled to get the jacket on. She’d delivered that suit to Jax for every court appearance for eight months, taking it back home at the end of each day, hanging, pressing and spot-cleaning it with care. He winced at the thought of her and of the now bare cupboard where the suit had once hung.

Tie and shirt next, then he removed his belt, his pants and finally his underwear. He placed the last of his clothes on the countertop and waited for further instruction.

‘I said everything.’

The kid did not even look up from the form he was filling out.

Jax looked at his wrist. ‘The watch?’ he asked.

‘Unless it’s a knock-off,’ the guard said. ‘Nothing worth more than fifty bucks is allowed in.’

Jax looked for the logic.

‘It’s so you don’t get rolled,’ the guard offered before he had time to figure it out.

His Casio G-Shock, bought for its military accuracy, was no fake. He figured someone would try to steal it even if it was. He took it off and gave it to the guard.

Jax stood silently as his clothes were catalogued.

‘Can you can confirm everything has been accounted for?’ the guard asked as he pushed a form towards Jax before handing him a pen.

Jax signed his name on the dotted line and then looked on while every single item he’d brought with him was taken away. Wrapped in plastic and placed in a tub, not to be seen for at least eight years. Maybe ten. Maybe never.

‘Rogers,’ the young guard shouted to Dodge. ‘All done.’

Rogers took a few minutes before returning and directing Jax towards the two other guards.

‘Move to the yellow line,’ one of them ordered.

Jax kept his head up as he walked.

‘Legs apart and bend over,’ the guard ordered.

Jax widened his legs, bent at the waist and waited, trying to squash the acute humiliation rising in his chest.

‘Balls up,’ the guard barked. ‘I said balls up. Lift your nuts. Your testicles.’

Wincing, Jax complied.

‘Okay,’ the guard said, satisfied he had nothing taped, stuck or strapped to his scrotum. ‘Now spread your cheeks.’

Jax gritted his teeth and did as commanded. His cheeks burned. The fluorescent light above him hummed.

‘Wider,’ the guard said. ‘Open it right up. A big stretch.’

Rogers, who was off to the side witnessing the search, chuckled and said, ‘She won’t be that tight after a night with Marshy.’

‘Wider,’ the examiner demanded.