Once all the sessions were over for the day, Farid returned to the warden's office. The look in his eyes already told Stoick what he needed to know, but he still gestured to the seat in front of his desk.
"It went well, I'm guessing?"
"It did," Farid happily reported.
"Of course, I know that you can't tell me what happened exactly, but can you give me an idea?"
"I was able to learn some about his past." The psychologist smiled. "It seemed like he really wanted to get better."
Stoick was intrigued despite the expression on his face. "But it'll take time," he said, trying to sound stern.
"It'll take time, but I've had a lot of clients show the willingness to open up like he did and make wonderful progress."
The warden leaned back slightly in the chair and nodded. "Then, I look forward to hearing about this progress."
With this, the report ended and the two planned to meet again after the next day of appointments. Farid left the office and began heading towards his car to return home. He had just reached the vehicle when someone stepped in front of the door. Stopping, the doctor recognized the large figure despite the darkness.
"Officer, I didn't get to wish you a good evening," he said calmly.
Alvin did not appear to be in the most pleasant of moods as he responded. "You need to stop Dagur's treatments."
"I know you aren't fond of Dagur, but it's my responsibility as the psychologist of this facility to try to help the inmates."
"You need to stop," the officer said, crossing his arms. "You're wasting everyone's time."
Farid shifted his eyes so that he could glance around them subtly. He did not spot any of the other officers. Where they were, no one could see.
"That's not my intention. I just want to give everyone the same opportunity to redeem themselves."
Alvin paused and glared at the doctor. "You're not listening, Doc. Dagur's unstable–unpredictable."
The officer stepped towards Farid. He unfolded his arms and stood at full height, easily towering over the doctor.
"Therapy with him could be dangerous," he warned.
Farid did not break eye contact with him. "I understand your concerns, Officer. If there ever does seem to be a threat with Dagur, I'll let you know. He's still in solitary confinement, so the only one who could possibly be in danger is me and I'm fine with the risk. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me about this, though."
Sidestepping the officer, he got into and started his car. Farid put the vehicle into reverse and drove away. He clearly saw the larger man's hateful glare through the rearview mirror. When he gripped the steering wheel, his right hand shook some from nerves. Not breathing for several moments, he let it out a long breath.
"What is he hiding?" he wondered. "Why is it such an issue that Dagur and I speak? What doesn't he want said?"
A burst of determination shot through the psychologist and a plan came to mind. That night, he began researching more about the Berk Prison. Surely, there was something he could find which would be useful. After an hour, he found an article of interest.
"As of 9:47pm August 10th, 2000," it read, "Bjorn Stevenson was pronounced dead. The inmate's cause of death was ruled as being due to a punctured lung after a fatal stabbing in a fight. He is not the first to meet such a fate, but he is the first to have it officially disclosed. Who is the Berk Prison trying to protect?"
Normally, Farid would not entertain such articles since he could tell it was not objective. Still, there was something to be learned from everything and everyone. Several images of the prison were shown, but there was nothing which showed anything he had not seen already.
That was all the website's article had to offer, but this got Farid into a more specific type of research. He began looking up more about injuries and other accidents involving the prison. This case was not the only one. There were several more articles. They came in one after the other. Mysterious injuries and deaths; unexplained accidents and mishaps. One even mentioned various injuries prisoners were getting, but again, no detailed explanation was given.
"What about you, Officer Alvin?" Farid wondered.
Going to the search icon, he began looking up the man in question. Less results came up, but it was not for nothing. He found an old newspaper article from decades ago about Alvin.
"Alvin Outkaast spent the night in a holding cell for attacking a man outside of a bar."
An image was provided in this as well. It showed the victim along with the injuries. Alvin had broken the man's nose and arm.
"The victim chose to not press charges, allowing Outkaast to be released the next morning."
A second image showed a younger Alvin talking with officers. He looked a lot like how he did in the present day, but his beard was more tame. Still, he had the same angry look in his eyes Farid had come to expect from him. He scrolled further down on the page and his eyebrow lifted with curiosity. The third and last image showed Alvin walking away with another young man. Alvin had turned to look behind them, letting his face be shown in the photograph. His companion on the other hand had his back facing the photographer, but the image still showed a red, thick braid. It did not take much speculation for Farid to have a good idea who might have been there to bail out the trouble maker.
Farid kept going down this rabbit hole for hours more until it was so late that he worried morning would come before he noticed. Begrudgingly, he went to bed and set aside those thoughts for another time. The next day's sessions seemed mostly normal, but he noticed that one of the inmates seemed different. He was agitated for some reason. As far as Farid knew, nothing had been done to provoke him. Upon pushing him slightly, he acted like he wanted to say something, but he did not. Despite Farid's attempts, the man said nothing more and just looked unhappy and discussed some issues in his childhood. Farid hoped to learn something more in his last session. When Dagur was back in the room, he scrunched his face up at the doctor.
"What happened to you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Something seems off. It's like you're bothered by something besides the inmates."
Farid thought of the previous night's events. "Have you heard about any injuries happening here with the prisoners?"
Dagur laughed. "You'll have to be a bit more specific, Doc. People get punched, shanked, and worse. Isn't that the case with most prisons?"
"Unfortunately, probably," the psychologist admitted. "Specifically, I'm wondering if you know anything about serious injuries–even deaths."
The inmate rubbed his scraggly beard. "Deaths aren't too common. I heard about a few before I got here, but the main thing is really injuries." He eyed Farid curiously. "Are you going to be looking into that more?"
"I would like to. If there's something going on which is causing people to get hurt, I'd like to change that."
Dagur looked at him with intrigue. "You're different for sure. A lot of people who see us in here would want the worst to happen every chance it can."
"Well, I've always valued being different. Nothing gets done if everyone's the same, don't you think? Different thoughts and opinions lead to new perspectives and ideas which can build upon each other for the greater good."
The redhead cackled a slightly unhinged cackle. "I guess you're right." His smile faded and his expression became serious. "What you're doing is dangerous."
It was Farid's turn to laugh and he let out a chuckle. "That's the second time I've heard that within the past two days."
"Threatened you, didn't he?" He did not need to hear a yes to know. "Then, that proves my point. You're new here, so it's going to take more than my words or the words of any of the other 'doomed' souls here to make waves. Your words won't matter a lot either when they have to go up against people whose reputations are good even when they don't deserve them. Are you ready to make enemies in here?"
"I think I already have some. What are a few more if it's helping someone?"
Dagur laughed and extended his hand. Farid shook it and smiled.
"Then, we can be hated together, buddy." He frowned and looked towards the door. "I'm probably telling you what you've already guessed, but Alvin plays by his own rules. If he wasn't friends with the warden, he'd probably get ratted out by the other officers. Of course, it could also be that he's as big as a house. Whatever the reason, some guards work for him, others pretend to not see anything, some are just oblivious, and…
"Maybe it's because he's got a bad temper. Not necessarily shorter than mine, but nastier. He deserves to be behind bars like the rest of us, but he's free to do what he wants and hurt whoever he wants. You want to keep people safe? Keep an eye on anyone looking twitchy. Those are the ones he'll target. He's like a lion preying on a baby antelope. He finds the weak ones and keeps them that way."
"What does he do?"
"A lot. He finds inmates to work with to keep his empire strong. Unfortunately, due to my living arrangements, I'm not sure who."
Farid got quiet as thoughts raced through his mind. This sparked curiosity in Dagur.
"What's going on in that mind of yours?"
"That this entire prison might need to be cleaned out."
Suddenly, Dagur's face tightened and he frowned. "'Entire?'"
"I know that everyone might not be involved, but their ignorance doesn't indicate that they're good at what they do."
"Maybe some know and just don't have the power to do anything."
"That's definitely a possibility, but an investigation would have to prove that." When he saw the other man's change of demeanor, his tone softened. "It's not to hurt them, Dagur. It's just to make sure what's happening won't happen again. For instance, your scar."
The inmate instinctively put a hand on the right side of his face. "What about it?"
"I saw your mugshot. You didn't have it when you were arrested, so it happened here. Stuff like that can be stopped, but it won't be with the same people working. How did you get your scar?"
"A fight," he answered defensively.
"With who?"
"Idiots who thought it was a smart idea to mess with me."
"Idiots?" Farid repeated, emphasizing how it was pluralized.
Dagur realized his mistake and frowned. "You're not getting me that easily."
"That's not what I'm trying to do."
"No, you're trying to get them."
"I thought we both would be," he said with a confused frown on his face. "Who are you protecting?"
"Don't play dumb, Doc, you're too smart for that. We both know, so I don't know why you're still talking about this. You want to talk about my past before I got stuck here? Fine, I opened up and I'll continue to. I won't waste your time, but we'll be wasting each other's time if you keep at this. Who I'm 'protecting' is the only one here who's made my time somewhat bearable–only one who's ever given a darn about me. I hate a lot of types of people, but traitors rank the highest and I'm not one. If you want to psychoanalyze me, go right ahead, but if you just want to clean out this prison and throw everyone into the fire regardless of their part in all this, I won't help you."