He was wrong.
The Visitor
"McConnell!" The guard's voice boomed into the cramped, 9x6 cell.
"Yeah?"
"Visitor." The guard looked in the door at him with a smirk. "Let's go, sunshine." He motioned towards the walkway with his baton.
"Sure." John stood, not knowing who might be visiting him. More concerned that this was not a normal visitation hours for the prison. "Who is it?"
"Do I look like your fuckin' secretary?" The guard said. "Fuckin' move it before I tell her I couldn't find you." His eyes raised and he cracked a smile. Not at John, but at the woman.
"Cool." John said. So it was a woman... And apparently an attractive one by the guard's standards.
Looks and catcalls from the cells as he walked by them and out the door. Instead of turning right and going to the visitor's room, the guard led him to the left. To the private council rooms.
"Fuck." He whispered. "A fuckin' lawyer." It had to be a lawyer. But his lawyer was Franklin James... a fat fuck from Jersey. And, clearly, not a woman.
"In." The guard said. He ushered John in and watched him sit and the guard reached out to cuff his hands to the table.