"Let him write me up," Miller said, settling his utility belt and adjusting his cap. "I'm five years out from retirement. He can take my shift, but he can't take my conscience."
Ten minutes later, Officer Miller was standing in the air-conditioned, carpeted expanse of Captain Vance’s office. Vance was a thin, hawk-faced man with sharp blue eyes that rarely lingered on anything for more than two seconds. He was furiously typing away at a terminal, surrounded by color-coded binders and stacks of state compliance paperwork.
"You're out of your sector, Miller," Vance said without looking up from his screen. "Report."
"I'm here about Inmate 44092, Captain. Pendelton, Arthur."
Vance stopped typing. His fingers hovered over the keyboard like frozen talons. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes narrowing through his thin-rimmed glasses. "Inmate Pendelton? What about him? Did he break protocol in the laundry?"
"No, sir. He's behaving impeccably, as always," Miller said, keeping his posture stiff and formal. "Today is his fortieth birthday, Captain. His family—his wife and two young kids—are currently sitting in a diner three miles down the highway. They drove four hours this morning on the off-chance that a cancellation would open up a slot in the visitation schedule."
Vance leaned back in his leather chair, interlacing his fingers over his chest. "We discussed Mrs. Pendelton's requests on Tuesday, Officer Miller. The weekend visitation schedule is at maximum capacity due to staff shortages. Protocol requires seventy-two hours' advance authorization for non-standard visitation windows. Exceptions create precedent. Precedent creates chaos. The answer is no."
"With respect, Captain," Miller stepped forward, his voice low, firm, and carrying the authority of a man who had earned his stripes on the cell blocks long before Vance had been assigned a desk. "The schedule has three open slots in the administrative annex right now. Block C had a transport leave for the county courthouse at 0700 hours. Those three bays are sitting completely empty."