David Brisbin Podcast

Dave Brisbin 8.10.25 Central jail is a different world. Humorless guards, colorless surfaces, bolted down tables, stools. Time is wherever you are told to wait for as long as it turns out to be. I have plenty of time to take it all in. Unexpected energy, more family reunion than jail visit. Young women dressed up, made up, parents, grandparents, two girls next to me over the low, privacyless divider speaking fast and high, Spanish and English in same sentences. I spin on my stool to face the opposite wall of windows. Young woman leaning into the glass speaking to a young man in his orange jumpsuit. The look in her eye, even from my angle, stops me. She could have been staring across white tablecloth and candlelight. Nothing else exists except the face in the glass. Like the prodigal son in an orange jumpsuit being hugged home, seems that Jesus, God, and the girl are all orange colorblind. No-fault love. So what about justice? God is supposed to be just, right? Well, we’re in a jail, so justice is grinding