They were holding him in cell block B.

Block B!

I don't care what crimes you think he may or may not have committed in his young life, the only one they had him on for sure was breaking and entering. In fact, they couldn't even prove he broke the window, so all they really had on him was an illegal entry.

Hardly justifies incarceration in that hard cell block. Certainly his tender age alone should have been enough to keep him from hard time.

I was here to get him out.

As expected, he was cowering in fear, hiding under the bunk in his cell. They had a guard on him, "for his own protection."

But she was armed.

With a broom.

He looked harmless enough to me.

The question was, how to get him out of there, without letting him out, you know?

We devised a strategy of the warden (it said WARDEN across the back of her shirt) and her assistant blocking the bars with floor brooms, while I entered the cell with a box.

The plan was to force the inmate into the box.

Wasn't necessary. As soon as that dark cube appeared on the floor, the young marmot trotted right in.

Then it was a simple matter of following the warden through the maze of prison cells, locked doors and dark hallways into the yard.

Now, there are marmots in the yard. A great place to live if you're a large rodent, since the concrete wall and barred gates keep out just about everything that is large enough to eat you.

Anything that doesn't have wings, that is.

But just out of principle, we released the young ex-convict outside the sally port.

But judging by the speed that he dashed for cover, implying he knew that ground...

He was probably back in the yard before I left the parking lot.

You know what they say about inmates having a hard time making it on the outside.