At Cheongju Women’s Prison, silence never lasts long. A sharp beep cut through the quiet, and a two-way radio crackled to life. An urgent voice came through. “Code One in Unit 4. Backup requested.” Code One meant an altercation. The urgent call over the prison officer’s radio was immediately followed by a flurry of other transmissions. Beep. “Unit 1, inmate 6128 en route to a legal visit.” Beep. “Unit 2 returning from exercise.” The constant beeping was then joined by a new bell sound, signaling an incoming call over the intercom connecting inmates to the prison’s security office. On a call panel mounted on the office wall, a red light flashed above the button for Cell 3. An inmate’s voice came over the intercom. “Officer, I have a painful bump on my butt. Can I have some medicine?” The officer sitting behind the monitors, her hair tightly pulled back, did not even look away from the screens. As this reporter watched, she gave only a curt reply, “Wait,” before punching a button to call Cell 5. “Inmate 6128. You have a legal visit.” Another screen was showing a