Short, thin and bald except for a swath of close-cropped grey hair above his ears, the man ushered Jax into an office. As the door banged heavily behind them, the man gestured to Jax to take a seat in a metal chair that had been fixed to the ground in front of a cluttered steel desk, also bolted to the floor. Jax noted two D clips, one on the floor at the base of the chair and one at the front of the seat. Anchor points for cuffs. He was obviously considered low-risk given that he hadn’t been cuffed. There was also a red emergency call button on the far wall.

‘All a bit strange,’ the bespectacled officer said as he shuffled his way round the desk and took his seat. ‘Especially for the first time. I’ll try and make this as painless as possible. I am here to give you all the information you need.’ He took another moment to flick through the file. ‘Nineteen,’ he said, with a small shake of his head. He didn’t look up, so Jax assumed it was a statement not a question. ‘Still a boy.’ He spent a few minutes skim-reading before pulling an information booklet from the top of a pile on his desk.

Jax remained silent as the admission officer shot information across the desk, rapid-fire. He was told about muster, the mess, the timetable, ID cards, cell cards, phone privileges, mail, visiting days, the medical clinic, the pastoral program, the library and how to purchase goods, which he referred to as ‘buy-ups’.

‘Are you getting all this?’ the officer asked.

Over the years, Jax had often asked questions to fit in. To look normal. He knew that most first-timers would have stopped, asked and argued, but he no longer felt obliged to act.

‘Yes,’ Jax said. ‘All understood.’

‘Well, please listen carefully to what I say next because I am about to ask you some very important questions. Your answers will determine where you will be housed. Do you understand?’

Jax nodded.

‘Do you have any enemies or suspect that you could have enemies incarcerated in this prison?’

Decision made, Jax shook his head.

‘Do you fear for your own safety?’

Jax shook his head.

‘Do you feel that you are capable of protecting yourself should you need to?’

Jax nodded.

‘Would you like to be put into protective custody and, if so, please state your reason?’

Jax shook his head.

‘Would you like to be put into protective custody and if so please state your reason?’ he asked again, slower this time and nodding while he spoke.

‘No,’ Jax said. ‘I do not want to be put into protective custody.’

The officer sighed.