the case study ~ camren

Doctor

Camila's behaviour has me wracking my brain for an explanation. The first time I met her, I'd gone into the interrogation room expecting a cocksure criminal with an entitled state of mind, fully believing she's superior to the rest of society, breaking the law just for the thrill of eyes on her. Those, of course, are the kind of criminal I'm most familiar with. When I laid eyes upon her, noticed how small she was, how she permeated anger in such a "please believe that I'm crazy" sort of way, I thought perhaps she was trying to prove herself with her crimes. Now, I'm questioning whether she'd even be capable of the crimes she has committed. I have to remind myself of the evidence stacked against her, and that she is truly guilty of such violent deeds as I have watched her commit.

I can't let myself get too sentimental.

As I enter the prison, I am forced to recall my true role here. While I'm passionate about the treatment and rehabilitation of criminals, a large portion of the reason my job exists is for the prison to look better in the eyes of the public. The law doesn't care all too much about the physical well-being of convicted criminals, nevermind their mental state, but to create a positive public image, the prison hires people like me. They don't really care if our treatment goes to plan, nor what that plan is in the first place. We're here tokens. Our name and qualifications on the payroll is enough for them.

"We can't let you see 776 today."

I roll my eyes at the man behind the desk.

"You've already taken three weeks from my first month of treatment." I sigh, placing my satchel on the desk to alleviate the weight from my shoulder. "You can't keep me away from her and expect my treatment to go well. She needs consistency."

"What 776 needs is punishment. They all do," The man growls, but looks away from me in favour of his computer screen. Oh, so he's one of those officers.

"Okay, so I can't see her. Can you tell me why?"

He shakes his head slowly. "Confidential."

I'm her doctor, I want to groan, but kept my tone cool and understanding.

"Can I speak with Officer Hansen?"

He squints up at me but apparently sees no harm in my request and uses his radio to call the officer in. I wait by the desk until she greets me from the door, smiling and waving and beckoning me towards her.

"Let's go," she mutters once I'm close enough to hear, quickly pulling the door shut behind me.

"Why are they keeping her back?" I question. When she takes off towards the cells, I have to jog to keep up, her strides certainly longer than mine.

"She's... distressed, lashing out. We think she heard news about the case being built against her and—"

"Wait, a case?"

The officer sighs and pauses, turning to face me but taking a moment before looking down into my eyes. "They're working on indicting her for capital homicide of the first degree. It's no secret she's guilty but—"

"But I— she'll be executed!" My mind struggles to wrap itself around this new information. Capital homicide means capital punishment, something I, as a criminal psychologist and a human, firmly disagree with. I can only imagine the turmoil she's now under.

Dinah nods solemnly. "I wish there was more we could do. At this point, it's just about waiting to see what the grand jury thinks once they gather enough evidence to make a case."

I turn to continue in the direction she was taking me, explaining with a brief, "I need to see her."

She hurries ahead and takes me to her cell with no further conversation. Once there, I thank her quietly before sliding open the slot in the door, peering into the small cell. A nerve in my temple twitches in anger when I find that she still has no bedding, confirming that the other officer was lying to me when she told me the lack of it was due to the laundry schedule. Camila is huddled into a tight ball on the bare mattress, facing away from the door and once again tangled in a straitjacket. Before I can ask permission to enter, Dinah reaches over to unlock the door. I smile in gratitude and slip into the cell.