Austere and imposing, facing the immense bay of San Francisco, the buildings of the historic penitentiary of San Quentin suddenly appear in the background of the horizon at the bend of the 101 freeway, their enclosure licked by the placid waters.
Nothing in this idyllic picture suggests that one of these buildings houses the most overcrowded death row in the country, with its 694 residents, including a handful of serial killers.
Neither the ship loaded with containers that sails quietly towards the Golden Gate Bridge, nor the sailboats carried by the high wind, and even less the seagulls which split the azure sky in a concert of shrill cries, keeping company to the water sports enthusiasts.
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Indifferent to the prison she has just passed, observed, perhaps, by the inmates whose cell windows overlook the bay, Paula docks her paddle board on the small black sand beach lined with pine trees, located at a hundred meters from the gates of the detention center.
The eye…
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