It was nearly midnight when I finally finished the last of the paperwork for our new inmate, Jackson S. According to police records, he was caught smuggling drugs over the border.

But when Jackson was delivered to the prison two hours later, he was nothing like what I had imagined. He was a small, skinny man, with a gaunt, pale face and eyes that had seen the horrors of the world.

The guards shoved him into his cell, and almost immediately he requested to see me. The moment I stepped into his cell, he broke down in tears. He confessed his life story before he was arrested. How his daughter was sick from cancer and he was in debt trying to pay for her treatment. How a close friend said he would help Jackson cover her treatment if he did exactly what he said.

Jackson begged me to help him. He wanted to see his daughter again.

I laughed in his face. Spat on it too.

“Heard all your excuses before. Get lost.”

Jackson had a hearing the following day, the final one that determined his fate. He was up against a sea of stone-cold faces, who read out his crimes and debated in god-like voices.

The trial only took 30 minutes. The decision was clear. For his crimes, Jackson would be hanged.

Jackson’s face turned as white as a ghost. He begged; he screamed. Tears cascaded down his face as he pleaded for his life. He was still yelling as guards dragged him away.

He was scheduled to be hanged this Friday. He spent the days leading to his death facing the wall without speaking, his shoulders sagging. When the time came we unlocked the doors and led him outside to where the noose was waiting.

He said nothing as the hangman eased his neck into the rope. He raised his head to look at me for the last time. His expression said it all. Hurt. Resignation. Betrayal.

I turned away.

The last time I saw Jackson was the following night. He came to me as I was walking around. He gestured to me to follow him.

We headed down the corridor, my footsteps echoing in the gloom. Finally we came to a heavy metal door. I grunted as I pushed the door and entered.

The cold stung my skin like a thousand needles and cut into my cheek like a knife. The smell was extremely pungent, and I started to gag.

My hand felt the light switch and what lay before me turned my face white.

Bodies were stacked in rows, each in varying stages of decomposition.They stared at me with vacant eyes.

I tried to open the door, but it had locked itself from the outside. I yelled for help, but no one would come. Not at this time of night.

Jackson’s voice floated through the cracks.

“You never helped me. Now no one will help you.”

He left, leaving me alone in the blistering cold.