We do not reform the incarcerated. We ferment them—chemically weakened, emotionally caged, and then released into a world engineered to fear them. The system was never broken. It was designed to recycle them. And the cage? It never truly opens—it simply becomes invisible.

Wendy doesn’t need a guardian. She needs agency. The right to be eccentric without being silenced. As Britney twirls freely through Instagram, Wendy disappears quietly—legally—without so much as a family visit. We feel everything. We execute nothing. And that, darling, is the point.