Day 41:
Chaos fills the air just like every other day in the grim and grimy prison. The smell of sweat and sand fill the air, its mildewy scent overpowering. The camera passes cell after cell on either side, some filled with raucous inmates, while others spill out into the concrete hallway doing their shady work. It soon approaches a calmer cell amidst the darkness, where the man they call “La Grasa” (The Fat) sits in wait. It's been a long few weeks- threats of violence, sparse food, sweltering days and cold nights. A place where men go and have few options- survive, break, or die.
He sits on his tiny cot whittling away at a piece of plastic when something passes through his cell from underneath the bars. It appears to be pieces of toilet paper with something wrapped inside of it. La Grasa picks it up and unravels it, revealing a chicken foot.
Bill Ding: Oh daddeh….
He hears a whistle from the cell across from him. Another American inmate- a much older man with long scraggly hair and wrinkles of time passed etched into his skin- nods to him and shakes his fist.
Inmate: Looks like you've been challenged, boy!! FIIIIIIIITE!!
