Indian River Inmate Search Novels & Stories

I ignored them all until one name flashed at the top of my inbox. From: Prison Watch Program Subject: Re: Inquiry on Inmate Kenai Lucas – Confirmation Attached. My stomach lurched. I opened the email with trembling fingers. The message was short. “As per your request, attached is the most recent visual verification of Inmate #57839. Confirmed in custody. Timestamp: Today, 08:12 AM.” I clicked on the attachment. And there he was. Kenai. Standing in line, a tray in his hand, waiting for breakfast.

He tried to keep count of the miles, but time slipped away in fragments. By the time they arrived, it was midnight. The van slowed, turning off the main road toward a high fence crowned with razor wire. Floodlights swept across the snow, illuminating a sign stenciled in black: 'U.S. Correctional Facility – Region Nine. High Risk Inmate Division.' Jake’s stomach twisted. He’d heard of this place, the kind of prison that swallowed men whole and never gave them back. The driver rolled down the window at the gate. “Prisoner number 859734,” he said to the guard in the tower.

Eric hugged his waist and Christian kissed his hair. *** Mishka finished half of their book when she got a video call from the orphanage, and the caretaker showed the latest development of the orphanage to Mishka when her eyes caught the news running on the television, and her smile slowly faded. “Turn the phone to the television,” She said to the caretaker and asked to raise the volume so she could hear. “Parikshit Mahajan is arrested this morning. According to our sources, he confessed to the police that he was involved in woman trafficking and smuggling of drugs and also told them about all the major locations from where they operate all over India.”

He wore a tan jacket, a cloth scarf on his neck and carbon fiber body armor on top of his cotton shirt. He also had two side holsters and an ammunition belt, both emptied out. “Room clear” Frank said, returning to H-6 who had just pulled up the report on the man’s ID. “Bong Fernando, resident of Sector 26 at Dome 11. Registered offender for petty theft and assault. Sentenced to a Six Month Rehab” He flashed the report to Frank who quickly read through, “I guess he needed the Deep Cells instead of rehab” Frank muttered.

“Just that her name is Isis Muhamed, and she was sentenced to life for murder. They think it was an honor thing but aren’t sure. Her file is private, and that is what was all in it. Nothing about her background or her connections. All they know is that she is a Mafia girl like me, and that is all. And I think they got this piece of info from her herself. You see why I’m worried.” I said in a hurried voice because now CO Diaz was standing in front of me looking worried and his eyes were big and scared. “I said I can’t take you to the bathroom, inmate. I don’t care if you feel something bites you or you keep scratching yourself, drawing blood. The shower time is just in the mornings.” He said

no, he looked like those triplets that brought out laughter and gray hair in her. “Excuse me?” “You asked about my wrists; the metal of the shackles sometimes digs in too deep and causes bruises and cuts.” Chrystal held her breath as she listened to him; she was not prepared to hear something like that. She had thought the boy had tried to slit his wrists, but shackles? Was he in prison? Or was he treated as a slave? Kidnapped? Yes, maybe he had been kidnapped and had managed to escape. Oliver, for his part, didn't know what else to do; she looked dismayed, but that was the truth. He was afraid she would rat him out and turn him into Craig. Chrystal got up and collected the dishes, then retu

Gavin started. “Just last week, one of our people got news that a public attorney was trying to get a compassionate release for an inmate.” “Upon further investigation Ms. Isabella Greene's name came up.” Adrian froze. Didn't know how to react. Five years of hard work might finally be paying off. “Where is she now?” “Denver Women’s Correctional Facility, Colorado.” Adrian adjusted. “Get me a ticket for tomorrow and send me the details of the lawyer in question.”

Soon my eyes lit up as my interest was piqued. This is one crazy and mean ass motherfucker. I like him. Who doesn't know the Italian Criminal Ciro Russo? I just haven't the interest on find out how crazy he is and what level of craziness. Ciro Russo, age 25, S class inmate of Pelican Bay State prison. He is convicted for attempted murder, armed robbery, breaking and entering, impersonation, drug possession, possession of government owned ammunition and finally assault. Sentenced to twenty years in prison without parole.

Two guards pulled her out roughly and marched her through a side entrance, away from the main intake. “No paperwork tonight,” one guard muttered. “Special delivery.” They took her down a dimly lit corridor and stopped at a heavy steel door leading to Cell Block D , one of the roughest sections. The guards unlocked her cuffs and shoved her inside. The door slammed shut behind her. Riley stood alone in the middle of the open dayroom. Twenty-five men stared at her from the tiers and tables. The air went dead silent, then erupted into low whistles and murmurs. A tall, heavily tattooed inmate , clearly the block leader , stepped forward. His name was Jax.