I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly, so I repeated the question. “How old are your kids?” “Six,” he said, this time with a grin between sheepish and sly. We were in a group discussion with other inmates and staff at the D.C. Correctional Treatment Facility near the D.C. Jail, so I let the matter drop. When the session ended, we spoke again privately, and that’s when the fog lifted.
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