Every person sent to the hole eventually comes back out to the range, and inevitably, to our communities. When we choose isolation, we aren’t making prisons safer; instead, we are attempting to reintegrate traumatized people—who have been further damaged by the system. Only by transforming how discipline is enforced can we begin to change institutional culture.

Jesus, not another one of these cases. “Do you know how long you’ve been at the centre?” I ask. I hear him murmur under his breath. “Sorry, Mr. Wolfe, I can’t hear you. Can you speak a little louder, please?”

Prisoners got caught in several ways: officers might hear a physical altercation, an argument might spill over into a common area, or the strong stench of fermented fruit might give them away.

Whether a prisoner protected themselves or instigated the altercation, they faced the exact same consequence and the exact same institutional charge.

Yet, while I tried to create a bridge of understanding, my approach failed—not for a lack of effort, but because no law, policy, or mandate was going to change how things actually worked on the ground.

Every time I sent a prisoner to the hole, I knew I wasn’t making the prison safer. I was perpetuating their trauma.

I hate these particular cases—the ones where they are simply too unwell to be standing before me. Why is he even here?

This is not how it was supposed to be. She was meant to arrive safely here, to be with me.

Honesty and care can go hand in hand: I can still honour my needs while being attuned to the weight of my words.

We cannot control the systemic currents around us, but we can always control where we position ourselves.

I am learning that I am worthy as a person and as a woman, even when I am not “productive.”

“We mold ourselves to make sure we are palatable. How do I put it so I don’t hurt your feelings, meanwhile I am the one that is hurt?”

Racism among white educated progressive liberals is so sophisticated that it’s very difficult to call out.

Moving around made me easily adaptable. I became chameleon-like, bending myself into new shapes.

I thought with a law degree I would be respected, could advocate for people like me, and get myself out of poverty.

I prefer mine made with real sugar, and orange juice is as close as I can get. With that and a few fresh oranges, I feel almost as important as those rich people who buy ten-dollar smoothies.

How we treat our most vulnerable speaks volumes about our shared humanity and values.

The message from the government and through the media when Indigenous women go missing is that it is an Indigenous problem, not a Canadian problem.

Not a single defendant has properly slept. Not a single defendant has been properly fed. There is no proper medical screening. Yet the judge still accepts the guilty pleas.