It's lunchtime at Fourmile, one of the state prisons in the Cañon City complex. We're in a small room, at a table set with plastic cutlery and paper napkins. On one wall hangs a row of white chefs' hats and jackets; against another there's a table holding a watermelon carved in the shape of a well, with a handle made of rind and a crank shaped from a piece of carrot, filled with chunks of the fruit. A young man in a blue jumpsuit asks what we'd like to drink, soda or water? It's a blazing-hot day outside, and another man places an electric fan a few feet away from us, facing the wall so that we don't take the blast of... More >>>