Jeff’s request to attend Carlos’s funeral would ultimately be denied, which wasn’t surprising. Not very much would end up surprising Jeff about prison life, or his trial, an ordeal which seemed like something happening completely separate from him, a fiasco for the outside world to deal with that had no bearing on his new way of life.
The day Jeff’s request to attend Carlos’s funeral was denied, he received the news sitting in his cell, top bunk with his cellmate Jorge reading a magazine on the bunk beneath him. Jeff read the letter of denial to himself then started laughing, hard. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, then crumpled the letter up and tossed it in a corner.
Jorge got up from his bunk and walked over to pick up the paper. He smoothed it out and read it, then looked up at Jeff, who lay back staring at the ceiling with a huge smile on his face.
“Why you laughing?” Jorge said. “They ain’t even letting you see your friend off? That’s fucked up man.”
“Wasn’t my friend,” Jeff said.
Jorge looked down at the paper again then folded it carefully and dropped it on his bunk. He leaned against the wall and stared at Jeff curiously. “Did you really take out everybody in that place?”
Jeff said nothing. Jorge whistled.
“And they got evidence?” Jorge said.
“Apparently enough,” Jeff said.
“And yet you sitting here smiling,” Jorge said, shaking his head.
Jeff pushed himself up onto his elbows, eyeing Jorge for a moment before scratching his chin thoughtfully.
“You ever hear of La Sombra?” he asked.