Free Gang of One: One Man's Incredible Battle to Find His Missing by Gary Mulgrew

me, then stood beside me, still grinning, and clearly not going anywhere. I stripped off quickly and stood upright, looking straight ahead and trying not to think of my last strip search with Marshal Dave.
    The doctor ran quickly and professionally through his check. Mouth, hair, armpits, feet, soles of feet and then onto the mid-section. He had a quick rummage around my balls, with a delicacy that Marshal Dave could have done well to have learned, before he suddenly stopped, sat back, sighed and said quietly, ‘ Dios mio . What is that?’ He was pointing right at my willie.
    Both I and Malone looked down simultaneously to see what the drama was about, Malone peering way too close to my private parts with his operational eye.
    ‘Is that a foreskin?’ the doctor asked – somehow combining surprise and resignation.
    ‘What kind of a question is that?’ I thought. ‘Of course it’s a fucking foreskin! You’re the doctor! What’s wrong with a foreskin?’ I scrutinised myself closely in case I had some ‘foreskin issue’ I had hitherto not detected.
    ‘Aye, er, yes, it’s a foreskin, sir,’ I said. I noticed Malone was looking at it, perturbed and shaking his head. ‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘Now I’m going to be the Enron guy with a foreskin!’
    ‘Don’t call me sir,’ the doctor responded more kindly. ‘I’m a doctor, not an officer. Malone!’ he called – wafting his hand towards the guard as he turned back around in his chair to make some further notes.
    ‘Ah yes,’ began Malone tentatively. ‘Pull the foreskin back, Mildew.’ He jabbed his finger doubtfully towards it. Embarrassed and uncomfortable, I pulled it back while I looked straight forward. ‘Flip it round and to the side,’ Malone asked, a look of disquiet etched on his face. I flipped my foreskin about like a five-year-old who’s just discovered it can move, while Malone scrutinised it closely for hidden contraband. It seemed it was the only time both his eyes focused on the same thing, or maybe that was my imagination.
    The doctor kept his back to me and said, ‘OK, that’s fine.’
    At another command from the doctor, Malone, his intermediary, instructed me to bend over and spread my buttocks. I sighed. Here we go again . I bent over for what seem like an age. ‘Cough,’ said Malone, and I spluttered, trying not to let the situation get to me. I could tell he was close behind me and having a proper look as I tensed my buttocks involuntarily. Fortunately, his cheeks never touched mine.
    ‘Alright, Mildew, straighten up and put your clothes on,’ Malone said.
    ‘Can’t be fun that job,’ I thought.
    ‘I need to re-cuff you, Mildew, then I’m taking you to see the shrink.’
    ‘His name’s Mulgrew,’ the doctor said, spinning around from his desk.
    ‘What?’ replied Malone, surprised.
    ‘This man’s name is Mulgrew. Mulgrew,’ he said, tailing off and shaking his head. I caught his eye and mouthed ‘thank you’ as he turned back on me again and resumed his paperwork.
    ‘A’ight, a’ight. Mul-grew, let’s go see the psych.’
    Malone grumbled as he led me down a long narrow corridor towards another room. It was strange, but after preparing myself for all manner of insults and humiliations during that first day inside, in the end my defences had been pierced by the smallest piece of compassion. I wanted to go back and hug that young Colombian doctor, I really did.
    As Malone and I ambled down the long narrow corridor, I already sensed that everything would be on slow time in the Big Spring Correctional Facility. The corridor had brown painted walls and no pictures or signs, other than one announcing the presence of the psychiatrist’s office. The air-conditioning didn’t seem to work here, so it felt claustrophobic and hot. I couldn’t tell if it was just the influence of my mood and growing fear, but Big Spring had an oppressive, depressing atmosphere to it. The paintwork was peeling in many places and I