The men in cages get phones. They always find a way to talk to the outside.
The usual ways are simple. Crooked guards bring them in for money. Friends throw them over the high fences.
But men get creative when they are locked away.
Drones, yea. Today they use them.
Little machines fly over the yard at night. They drop the phones right by the cell blocks.
Sometimes, phones come inside thick law books shipped from fake lawyers. The guards cannot read legal mail.
Other times, dead pigeons are stuffed with small phones and tossed over the wire. Food vendors hide them in raw meat deliveries.
The prison needs repairs sometime. They have these trucks bring lumber and concrete. Phones are sealed tight inside hollow bricks. The dogs can't smell through the stone. It takes weeks for an inmate on work detail to crack the brick open though.
Men outside play baseball. Near the tall walls. They cut the balls. Pack them with tiny phones, and hit long drives over the wire. The inside men know exactly where to wait in the wet grass.
They also use the pipes. Outside workers float wrapped packages. Send them down the main drainage lines that go to the laundry room. It is filthy work in the dark. The men do not mind the smell. A phone means real power.
A cheap phone costs thousands inside.