She fiddles with a ballpoint pen as she tells him about her problems. A Bible rests in her lap, partially covering the "i" in the word "inmate," which is printed vertically down the leg of her maroon scrubs. Buckley leans forward in his seat, listening intently. This is one of his favorite parts of his job as a chaplain at the Utah State Prison.
There are errands to be run and a big stack of mail that needs his attention, but Lonn Buckley doesn't hesitate when the woman, short and stout with earnest brown eyes, asks to chat for a minute. "I've been sitting on this for a while, but it's been bugging me," she says, taking a seat in his office, a small room with cinder block walls, bare except for few crookedly hung pictures of Christ. "I just had to tell someone."
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