(6 of 6)
From Eric Rudolph's point of view, the ADX is locked down very tight. The procedure to leave one's cell for a rare opportunity to exercise outside, for instance, is an ordeal. Two guards enter the vestibule and order the inmate to strip. After a cavity search, he dresses again and his hands are cuffed through an opening in the bars that separate the vestibule from the rest of the cell. The guards then march him down the corridor, a steel-tipped baton at the ready. When all the prisoners are lined up, they are led to an outdoor recreation area enclosed by 25-ft. walls. If they look straight up through the chain mesh that encloses the top of the yard, they can see a patch of the blue Colorado sky.
The prisoners are placed in chain-link enclosures called "dog runs," one per cage. Their cuffs are removed through a door slot. This is the only time the inmates actually see and interact with one another. "It is awkward adjusting my voice from the necessary yell of the cell block to the face-to-face conversation in the yard," Rudolph writes. "Unlike me the Arabs don't adjust the volume." Rudolph describes how his neighbors pair up in their separate runs and then "walk the length of the cage in unison, back and forth, yelling as they go. If you've ever seen big cats at a zoo, this is what they do as well. They pace back and forth, rhythmically, like a pendulum. Across the yard, this is what one sees: seven pairs of inmates pacing together, all the while yelling in loud Arabic." The words Aiwa, aiwa echo across the yard. Yes, yes.
"When the hour is up, the slow process of moving us back to the cells begins in reverse," Rudolph writes. "And then we sit in our darkened cells for the rest of the week, staring out at the empty sun-drenched yard."