“Good question. Possible answer is that the nurse was a collaborator and gave it to him, assuming he’d use it on the guard, not on her. So we’ve got reason to question just how badly his arm was really injured.” Hurdle tapped on his screen. “Name was Susan Olifante. If she was part of the plot, we’ll have to reconstruct it. We can’t sit her down. Obviously. Forensics is going through the van, the prison, the medical facility at Potter. Anything turns up, we’ll know ASAP.”
“Big picture,” Ramos said, “is that if you escape from a max-security prison, you’ve gotta have help on the inside. Day in, day out, it’s all routine, scheduled stuff. They’ve got it down to a science, a proven science that’s designed to prevent escape. It’d be very difficult to get out of a facility without assistance—even an old one like Potter. We’ll find out who it was, whether it’s the nurse or someone else. Once we’re clear on the process of how he escaped, it’s just a matter of working backward: how did he have access to that location? Who had access to that location at this time? These three people? Bang.”
“Rambo, you’ve worked with Prisons,” Hurdle said, referring to the Bureau of Prisons. “Get on this. Let’s look at everybody who’s had contact with Marcks inside the facility. Medical staff, including that nurse—but don’t stop there. We don’t wanna miss anything—or anyone.”
“The COs, too,” Walters said. “See if any have a spotty record.”
“Not just the bad officers,” Ramos said. “We need to look at all of them or we could miss something in front of our faces. Even the good ones can get roped in.”
“How can you ‘rope in’ a good cop?” Walters said. “Doesn’t make any sense.”
Hurdle’s face stiffened. “I’ll tell you how. I’ve seen it happen firsthand.” He dropped his chin and his gaze bore into Walters. “Let’s say you’re a legit officer doing your job the right way. You steer clear of all the pitfalls that come with the post. But you talk with your coworkers, right? ’Cause we all do. Stuff happens at home, in your personal life, and you talk about it at work. You get married. You have a baby. So take that example. You come back to work the next day and you’re beaming. Why? Because your wife just had your first baby, Karina—a baby girl, six pounds eight ounces, and she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. So you show some pictures you got on your phone and others that you posted to Facebook. And you’re ecstatic, you’re so fucking happy. Everyone pats you on the back, tells you how gorgeous she is. But you don’t know that one of the guys on your block is spilling your dirt.
“So next day, you’re on the block doing your rounds, an inmate says when you walk by, “So how’s Karina doing, dawg? Yeah, you want Karina to stay healthy? How about you get me a pack of Marlboros. Or I’ll have some homies come over and take care of your wife and daughter.”
Walters swallowed.
“That shit goes on all the time,” Ramos said. “No one talks about it, but that’s real life. Inmates as a group are very manipulative and they’re always probing for weakness. Always trying to see what they can get from you. They watch your body language, your face. If they can find that weakness, that button to push, they’re gonna use it on you. They teach each other how to do this shit. Because it’s proven. It works. Because correctional officers are people working in a very dangerous environment. And not all of them are the sharpest tools in the shed. It’s the easiest federal law enforcement career to get into, so who’s it going to attract?”
“Seriously?” Tarkoff asked.
“Seriously,” Ramos said. “Think about it. It’s a dangerous fucking job. You know anyone who walks around saying, ‘I wanna be a correctional officer when I grow up? I wanna walk a beat surrounded by violent criminals and not have a decent weapon on my hip?’ No, man. If they want to go into federal law enforcement, they’re looking at FBI, DEA, ATF, Marshals, DHS. Bureau of Prisons? Not likely on that list. But Prisons doesn’t require a college degree. So if you can’t pass the exam to get into one of the sexy alphabet agencies, you take what you can get: Prisons. And at some point you try to get a transfer out. You may think that’s just my opinion, but I’m just tellin’ it like it is.”
“Once the inmates identify who the care bears are,” Hurdle said, “it’s game on.”
“Care bears?” Walters asked.
“Guards they know they can manipulate,” Hurdle said, “who’ll do what you want and get you what you want, because you’ve got something on them. These inmates know how to twist your arm, manipulate you. Once they know your personal shit, now what do you do? They own you. Because you’re a human being and you know their threats have weight behind them. And you know these bastards are the scum of the earth.” He looked again at Walters. “That’s how a good officer, with a good record and admirable intentions, gets dragged into the muck of prison life.”
“And that goes to what I was saying,” Ramos said. “It’s a big reason why I’ve never heard of anyone who aspires to be a correctional officer.”