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for a lawyer while the camera was on, and then I finally told them that I did it, that I killed her. But I told them to get me a lawyer. I didn’t tell them where I dumped the body.
    “So then they finally get me a lawyer. And I tell him the story about the videotape and failing to get me my lawyer and stuff. It’s like against my rights, eh?
    “Well, my lawyer tells me there is no tape the cops have given him, no record of any videotape. So, he says, you confessed. Now tell me where the body is and I will get you a deal. I got so pissed off, ya know? This shit works all the time on television. Anyways, the lawyer got me a deal, manslaughter, and I’ll do a nickel or so and then get parole and it’s all good. No worries.”
    Another difference between psychopaths and other inmates is that psychopaths don’t get distressed by being in prison. Most inmates get depressed when they get inside, and they find prison to be a stressful experience. A hallmark feature of psychopaths’ disorder is that they don’t get bothered by much of anything. They don’t ruminate and they don’t get depressed.
    Bob scored 35 out of 40 on the checklist, a clear psychopath. I thought about telling Mike what was wrong with his cellmate, but that would break confidentiality. Mike would have to go on wondering.
    Five years later, while I was still at RHC prison, Bob came bouncing up to me and said, “Hey, still doing that research? I’d love to do that again.”
    I stared at him. “What are you back in for?”
    “Oh,” he smiled and said, “another chick pushed all my buttons.What’s a guy gonna do?” He laughed and walked away. Bob’s buttons? His girlfriend had called him
fat, bald, and broke
. “She hit all three of them,” he would tell me in his next interview, “but I buried this body real good.”
    After my first interview with Bob, I headed back to my office. I passed Grant on the way.
    “Hey, Kent, things go okay today?” Grant asked.
    “Just fine,” I replied.
    “Good, glad to hear it, we guys [he’s referring to the regular inmates] like you here. Just be careful around those sex offenders.”
    “Sure will,” I answered. I opened the door and locked it behind me with my brass key and headed down to my office.
    Something just wasn’t right. I’d been too careful to piss off an inmate, especially one I hadn’t even met yet, someone I hadn’t even challenged in an interview.
    I left the facility, taking a deep breath as I passed through the final gate and inhaled my freedom.

Day 3
    After the normal morning commute, coffee distribution, and visit to the printer to pick up fresh copies of my evolving Psychopathy Checklist interview, I headed to the main door to psychiatry and the now-familiar walkway to the inmate housing units. As I shut the door, I noticed a figure at the end of the walkway. He was unmistakable—the large, ominous figure was Gary. He was just standing there, right inside the door from the housing pods. I knew that there were no cameras in this little walkway. I was worried that Gary knew that too. I turned and slowly locked the door with my brass key, trying to avoid him noticing that I was aware of him. I tried to remember any self-defense moves I knew, in case my nemesis attacked me when I reached the end of the hallway. My heart was racing.
    Behind me a door opened and I let two inmates pass by. It took me a second to realize that one of the inmates was Grant. He turned, gave me a little wave hi, and kept going down toward the housing unit.
    Gary had been staring at me. He was standing up straight to see past the other inmates, keeping his cold stare on me as the other inmates approached him. Grant slowed and took another peek back at me and then at Gary. Grant walked right up to Gary. Gary looked down at him, and a few words were spoken. Gary looked hard at Grant. All this was transpiring as I walked as slowly as possible, while still walking normally. It felt like my life was proceeding