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I took the bag, as I picked the phone and said, "Pickup Albano send down the next girl." The phone rang back. "Guilbert is coming down," he repeated.

"Guilbert number 001513," said the guard at the door. Marie was wearing an orange jump suit and white sneakers, her hair was hanging loose to her waist. Marie had not cut her hair since he came into the Youth Authority. I knew that this was going to be a real scene, he was so proud of her hair. Marie sat at the desk nervously.

"I'm your training instructor, I. You have to sign these forms and we can get underway. Sign wherever you see an X." Marie signed all the forms and handed them back. Once the forms were all signed, I came over to me and said, "He looks like a problem, do I need to call a guard?"

I said, "No, I’ll help you if you need, you tell me what to do." I stayed out of sight and waited to see what would happen.

I looked at Marie and took a rubber band out of the drawer and said, "Get into the chair it's time for your haircut."

Marie's face contorted and he yelled, "You can go to hell, nobody is going to cut my hair," and he started to bolt out the door. He flung the door open and discovered that the guard who brought her to processing was still standing there. The guard was a big black woman who grabbed the slight young girl and lifted her into the air, kicking and flailing like a banhee. The guard slammed her into the chair and strapped her in, then he buckled her arms to the armrests. Marie continued to flail and scream.

He recited, "Regulations state that you will have your head shaved weekly for the first 3 months, after that you are allow to have bi-weekly haircuts to a military buzz if you have no demerits. Do you understand?" Then with no further discussion he said to the guard, "Hold her still. I'm not going to save this ponytail, I'll put it together later," and he turned on her clippers.

The guard held Marie's head to her chest and the clippers slowly moved up through her thick hair from her nape to her crown and on to her forehead. The barber was taking her time moving the clippers very slowly. The guard lifted a 2' lock and put it on the counter. There was a path, like a 2 inch part, down the middle of her head. Each slow pass widened the swath until he was almost bald.

Marie was still screaming now she was speaking French and pleading all to no avail. The clippers cut swath after swath, each lock was laid on the counter. Finally, after pass after pass, Marie's hair was reduced to a shadow, her resistance was reduced to mumbling in French, "Non, non, mon dieu, non."

He said, "That wasn't so bad," then rubbed alcohol on the stubble before he turned on the razor and began to remove the stubble left by the clippers. Within 5 minutes Marie was shaven bald, her crowning glory was on the counter behind the chair. "O.K., you're done, you'll get used to it, give your things to Mr. Rawlson and say good-bye." Marie hysterically grabbed a long lock of her hair and handed it to me with her shopping bag, before being led out by the guard.

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