Resumen de Osler in Jail
The front door to the Nashua Street Jail is a two-inch–thick wall of steel and bulletproof glass. I show my identification to a correctional officer behind the security window, and enormous unseen motors spin to life and slowly slide the panel closed to trap me in the anteroom that provides access. A buzzer sounds, and the identical back door begins to rumble open. The buttons in the elevator don’t work; the officer watching me over video surveillance directs it to the appropriate floor.
