[A video post engages showing a boy who looks more than a little irritated, but mostly tired - immensely so, with smudges under dark blue eyes and stringy hair hanging in his face. He's breathing a little heavy, and lifts a hand to rub at his mouth almost absently.]

Okay. Okay, I get it. Prison, list of crimes, under the ocean or something. I got the brochure and the welcome basket, so no one has to do the orientation thing. Please.

[He pauses, and rubs at his face again, irritation fading and exhaustion lining the space between his eyebrows.]

The ball and chain is a little much. I just want different clothes. I'm already pretty sick of wearing the suit I was gonna be buried in. And...

[A long pause, and his expression shifts to something more pained.]

...this list of crimes. Some of it makes sense, but some of it...no.