Sixteen hundred miles away, in the concrete catacombs of the United States Penitentiary in Florence, Colorado, Julian Croft sat in an eight-by-ten isolation cell. Dressed in a faded orange jumpsuit, his head shaved, his skin sickly pale, Julian was a hollow shell of his former self. His twenty-eight-year sentence had stripped him of every luxury, every friend, and every shred of pride. A prison guard banged an iron baton against…
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