When I was a kid my brothers liked to tell me stories of prison. For never being there, they sure knew a lot about it. They said inmates had escaped the nearby penitentiary and were headed this way. Backyard sleepovers had little appeal to me that summer. Other stories had to do with police officers making random arrests in our town, hand-cuffing boys who didn't seem particularly interested in attending school or church. I was terrified of the police as a child. So you can imagine my horror one summer vacation when we were driving along and suddenly red lights danced in our rearview.

Dad s...