When I think about all that has happened in the last 10 years, the idea of spending that long in prison gives me a sense of vertigo.
When I think about all that has happened in the last 10 years, the idea of spending that long in prison gives me a sense of vertigo.

The city of Gatesville, Texas, lies 37 miles west of Waco. Of its 15,945 residents, some 2,600 are employed by the city’s five prisons and one state jail.

Around 9,000 are incarcerated, roughly 58 percent of the city’s population. Prison City.

I’m familiar enough with the geography and architecture of Central Texas to conjure mental images of these sprawling sand-gray compounds, but I can only imagine what it’s like to live in one. My understanding of their inner life relies on fictional portrayals and whatever information makes it to the public record.

The public record informs me that somewhere inside Gatesville’s Alfred D. Hughes Unit, a prisoner I’ll call Daniel Jay is a decade into serving two concurrent 14-year sentences.

The date on these charges is still capable of sending little chills up my spine. December 23, 2005. Two counts of intoxicated manslaughter.

One for each of my parents…