by E. McNew
The officer pulled into the parking garage, opened the door, and directed me to exit the vehicle. I was embarrassed because I was literally wearing lingerie, and there were more male officers than female officers. I walked into the booking area with the officers behind me. I was directed to stand in front of that same blue wall and listen to that same recording that I heard a year earlier. I was un-cuffed and patted down. I was directed to sit on the concrete bench where the booking officer was sitting at a desk in front of a computer. They went over the charges with me and told me what my bail would be. I was stunned, and I knew that this amount was not a good amount because it meant that they did not want me to bail out. “Your bail is $50,000. Do you think you're going to get out tonight?” he asked. “No, there's no way that I'm going to be able to make that bail.” “Okay then, I'll call one of the other officers and let them know to get you set up to go over to H pod.” I was then brought into that same, cold holding cell. This time I knew that I was probably not getting out any time soon. I didn't know what to expect, and I didn't fully understand my charges. I knew that I wasn't being charged with the actual assault because that would be under the assault category. After doing research later on, I discovered that it was a child endangerment charge.
I was only in the holding cell for a short time, but I had enough time to make my free one-minute call to Derrick. Of course, I was crying and upset and scared. He was on the other end of the phone crying too. Between sniffles I asked him, “What are we going to do if they don't let me out before the baby is born? I don't want to have my baby in jail. Derrick, I'm scared.” “Elizabeth, we're going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen. For now just don't talk to any detectives if they try to talk to you, and I’ll call your Public Defender tomorrow to let her know that they arrested you.” The phone suddenly cut off, and I wasn't able to finish the conversation. A few minutes later a female officer opened the door and instructed me to follow the blue line down the hallway, once again, to go to the dressing room.
This female officer was close to my age, and she wasn't very nice. Unlike the first time I was arrested, I wasn't spared having to get naked in front of someone and bend over so they could make sure that I didn't have something smuggled up my butt. It was completely humiliating and, at that point, I looked more bloated than pregnant so I was very self-conscious of my body. After the humiliation was over and I was dressed in my horrible orange pumpkin outfit, I was again directed to follow the line down the hallway. I walked into that all-too-familiar day room. It looked like everyone had just finished with dinner. I was hoping to God that I would have my own cell again, but I wasn't that lucky. I was put in a cell downstairs with bunk beds. The women's pod appeared to be booked to its maximum. I walked into my cell and put my green container with my hygiene kit and blanket on the floor. The bottom bunk was empty, so I assumed it was mine. It looked like there were blankets on the top one but I didn't see anyone. I had to pee really bad and flushed the toilet connected to the sink forgetting how loud and startling it was. Suddenly, the blankets on the top bunk began to move and flail around. There was someone sleeping there. She was an older woman, but she wasn't missing any teeth or anything, so I was relieved. She seemed relatively normal. I later found out that she was in jail for attempting to run a pedestrian over in the grocery store parking lot. She wasn't a bad cellmate. She kept to herself and was quiet and clean. The only thing that sucked about it was that there was no privacy. If the food in the jail didn't sit so well with my digestive system, I would have to either warn her that I was about to blow up the toilet or, if she was asleep, I would just have to do it as quickly as possible.
My first day in jail wasn't as bad as the first time I was arrested because I knew what to expect. Another thing that made it easier was that I knew a couple of the girls that were in there and they were around my age. One of them, Crystal, was a cute bubbly girl, and she had always been really nice. I remembered her from when I was five years old, and she lived in the same apartment complex as we did. One year on our birthday (I think Merri and I were turning six) she brought us a present. It was a fish bowl with a few goldfish and guppies. We were so excited. I had no idea she would be in jail, and later I found out that she was there because she was in a rollover car accident with her son in the backseat. They later determined that she was intoxicated from drinking alcohol and shooting up meth. It was really sad, and I never thought that she would have ended up using drugs. By this time, I hadn't used drugs in three or four months.
I had no intentions of informing anyone of my pregnancy until I knew what was going on. I didn’t know if it would or wouldn’t have a negative or positive impact on the Judge. The next day I had my arraignment. My Public Defender was there for a quick minute to explain the charge on the form that the Bailiff handed me. There were a few other inmates being arraigned as well. I pleaded not guilty and was scheduled to go back to Court for my bail review on Monday. This meant that I would worry through the entire weekend not knowing my fate. It was hard not to have hopes that I would be released. Jail was such a degrading and boring place, and I was stripped of anything and everything personal. They even washed the underwear and gave them to different women on laundry day. I wondered how many gross criminals had worn the underwear I had on.
On Saturday, my Lawyer came to visit me. She looked like she felt bad for me. I tried to keep myself from crying. “So, what are they saying I did? Why am I being charged with this?” I asked. She shook her head and lifted her hands in defeat. “I don’t know. I mean, they aren’t saying that you are the person who did it, but they want to hold someone responsible. They are at least trying to blame the foot fracture on you,” she explained. I shook my head. “I know you hear this all the time, but I really don’t even believe that she had a foot fracture! I would have known and her daycare would have known!” I affirmed. My Lawyer continued, “I’m not sure how much time they are going to give you, but I’ll see if we can get you released on your own recognizance on Monday. Don’t get your hopes up though. And you have Court for the custody case on Monday as well, remember?” I had totally forgotten about that. Not good. I would have to go to Court to try to get my daughters back while sitting in jail. I didn’t even know how I would have a chance to get them back now. I walked back into the women’s pod and headed to my cell to lie down and try to sleep. I wanted to stay asleep until Monday and I practically did.
Criminal Court was humiliating that day. The room was packed with free people, and I was forced to try to walk to the Defendant’s table with both my wrists and ankles shackled. The Court really had their way of making you feel like trash. The District Attorney, a short and mean man, made sure he was there when my case was called. He did not want me getting out of jail.
He was quick to publicly explain why. “This woman is a danger! This woman inflicted an injury on her daughter’s foot so bad that it fractured the bones! Your Honor, to even consider releasing her is a very dangerous idea,” he practically yelled. My Public Defender was in the mood to fight for me that day. “Your Honor, Elizabeth is a victim in this as much as her children. No one knows exactly what happened, and there is no evidence to prove that Elizabeth is responsible! She is only nineteen years old. Despite her mistakes and lack of judgment, she is a good mother and needs to be out of jail to work on getting her daughters back home with her!” she exclaimed. The Judge was scratching her head between flipping through paperwork. “Ms. Jeter, I want to release you on your own recognizance, but I simply do not have enough information about this case to be confident with that decision. For now, I will reduce your bail to thirty thousand, and we will schedule you to return for your next Hearing where you can plead guilty, innocent, or no contest. Your Public Defender will go over the details with you.” I stood up and walked back to the chair I was sitting in before. They couldn’t schedule me in for another three weeks. I wanted to die. I did not know how I could manage another three weeks without knowing what was going to happ
en. I was completely miserable.
I went to the Family Court hearing embarrassed and miserable as usual. The Judge noted that I was incarcerated and asked me if I wanted to schedule visitation with the girls while I was in jail. “No, Your Honor. No, thank you. I just don’t want the girls to ever have memories of seeing me in jail,” I politely said. “I understand and I don’t blame you Ms. Jeter.” The Hearing was quick. It was just to check up on the status of my reunification plan, which, so far, was okay on my end, or so I thought. I could tell that the Social Workers were gleaming with joy. They loved the fact that I was in jail. After that Hearing, I called my mom in a panic. “Mom, if you don’t take them, we’ll never see them again. I am so serious! They are going to stop the reunification plan because I’m in jail. If they do that, the next thing that will happen is my rights will be terminated. We will never see Chloe and Zoe again!” I begged and sobbed. I figured that since I was already unloading a bunch of bad news, I might as well tell her that I was pregnant. “You are?” she asked calmly. She didn’t get mad or throw blame or judgment at me. I was relieved that I had gotten it out of the way.
My mom came to visit me at least once a week. I anxiously waited for Court so I could find out what my fate would be. She tried to help calm my anxiety. On one of the visits, she told me that she and my stepdad hired a Lawyer, and they were going to try to get the girls out of the Foster Care System. She initially couldn’t take them because her husband was building their home, which was still basically a frame. CPS would not approve it as safe enough if she tried to keep the girls there. They ended up renting a home and having it inspected and approved for custody. The Court did an ignorant job at deciding where to put the girls. The Social Workers always had some pathetic excuse as to why they couldn’t go with my mom.
When the day my Criminal Court case finally came, I was called to the door that would lead me to get ready to be shackled up. I was four months pregnant and starting to look it. When I sat down on the side of the Courtroom, my Public Defender sat next to me and handed me some paperwork. “Okay, Elizabeth, I sat down and spoke with the Judge about your case. I explained the situation to her, and I told her that you would be willing to go to rehab if she released you. This is your plea bargain.”
The Defendant will plead guilty to felony charge 273(a), child endangerment.
The Defendant will serve six months of incarceration, with thirty days served.
The Defendant will serve three years formal Probation, not break any law, and avoid all drugs and alcohol, including marijuana.
The Defendant will be permitted to serve the remainder of her sentence at a Substance Abuse Treatment Facility, and she will have to be escorted to the facility by an employee of the Police Department.
I read the agreement. I could safely serve six months and be out in time to have my baby. With good behavior, my six-month sentence would really only be four months. For this reason, I took the deal. I pleaded no-contest. Before the bailiff escorted me back to the H pod, my Lawyer handed me another piece of paperwork. This was for the custody case. Josh’s Aunt Mary wanted to take the girls out of foster care and home with her. I remembered how nice she was when she came to the hospital and how Chloe appeared to feel secure with her. The Court wanted to know if I agreed with the decision because Mary lived four hours away. It would be more difficult for me to visit so I ended up saying ‘not decided’ on the form. I really wasn’t sure if this was a good thing. I just didn’t trust anyone. I went back to tell Crystal what had happened in Court. I was happy that I was at least not going to prison, but I was still sad to be there. I knew that I would have to tell them I was pregnant because I needed prenatal care.
The days slowly crept by, and I got into somewhat of a routine. Crystal made it a lot easier for me to be in jail. I always had someone to talk to and she was always positive about things. She was really funny too. A lot of times when we were bored we would just sit there and make fun of the other inmates who were really disgusting. They tried to put Crystal in a cell with a woman who was missing a leg. She was afraid of the woman’s prosthetic leg and it was hilarious. The woman had some sort of mental disability as well, and it took the jail about two months to realize this. I guess the lady was always trying to steal Crystal’s snacks which we had to pay for through the commissary. Crystal got to the point to where she refused to go in her cell.
My situation wasn't a piece of cake either. I think I went through about nine different cellmates because I just could not stand them. After I was moved from my first cellmate, I was put into a room of my own. I was really excited but it only lasted a day. After dinner one night, I was laying down reading, which is mostly what I did in jail, and a girl walked into my cell with her green tub. I rolled over and pretended to sleep. I wasn’t in the mood for the drama of a new cellmate. She was close to my age with blond hair and a curvy build. She was crying and it was annoying. She climbed to the top bunk and lay there crying. Two minutes later she had stopped crying and I heard a rhythmic sound coming from up top. It was going on and on. After five minutes of wondering if she had a really bad itch, it sank in. She was masturbating! Two feet away from me! I flagged down the passing guard doing his walk-through. “Mister, my new cellmate is masturbating in here!” I frantically exclaimed. He looked at me and laughed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, Jeter. I’ll have her move to her own cell, and I’ll tell her that she’s not supposed to do that.” I wanted my own cell but they were all upstairs. I was pregnant and they didn’t let pregnant people go upstairs. I was miserable. My next cellmate was no better, but at least she didn’t masturbate! I had to eventually complain about her too. She never shut up, and her squeaky voice just about killed me. She hung all these colored pictures from coloring books on the wall. I did not want to stare at that every day. I felt like I was in a mental hospital when I was locked up with her.
My next cellmate also had some serious problems. She reeked like a dead fish. After she showered, she reeked like a wet dead fish. When I realized that it had to be coming from her privates, I panicked and ran out to flag another guard down. He could have gotten me beat up with what he did next. “All right, ladies!” the guard yelled as he quickly opened and closed the heavy cell doors. “I hear someone smells like a dead fish!” he roared in his manly, military-toned voice. I told Crystal about my dilemma and we were both sitting in the corner of the day room hysterically laughing. I was relieved that he was nice enough to not make it obvious that it was my cell that stunk. He finished his sniffing of all sixteen cells, and he went back to mine after to ask what smelled so bad. She must have been used to her own stench because she was dumbfounded. I felt kind of bad, but I couldn’t handle it any more!
Chapter 40
I had been in jail for about six weeks, was around five months pregnant, and had my first doctor appointment the next day. I didn’t want to go because of the complete humiliation I knew I would face, but I had to make sure my baby was growing and healthy.
The Sheriff, who sometimes escorted me to Court, was the one who was transporting me to the doctor. This was the same office that I went to for my first two pregnancies. I was really hoping that I wouldn’t have to see the same doctor that knew me. It was so sad that things had fallen apart the way they did. I was shackled but at least only on my wrists this time. My bright orange outfit was beyond noticeable; I would surely stand out in the waiting room. The doctor’s office was right next to Donnie’s house. I had a fantasy of sneaking out of the office window and running away. I knew it wouldn’t really be possible, but it was fun to imagine. It must have been lunch hour because there wasn’t a single person in the waiting room. I was called back to the examination room and the Sheriff followed me. A female doctor greeted me. I hadn’t seen her before. She was very nice and treated me like a person, not a criminal. After the exam, she told me that she was going to have a nurse draw my blood and do an ultra-sound. “There is a new test that we do to screen for spinal cord defects. It is optional, b
ut if you want to do it just let the nurse know, okay?” I thanked her and waited for the nurse to come for me.
The nurse and the Sheriff were chatting up a storm and laughing. She opened the door and had me follow her around the corner. I sat in a chair and she began to draw four tubes of blood from my arm. The Sheriff was hovering over me, and the flirting between the two “professionals” was getting on my nerves. When she was drawing the last tube, I mentioned the other test that the doctor told me about. “Oh, yes, that one. You would have to go over to the hospital to get it done and make sure that the state would approve it since they’re paying for it,” she said, in a loud and sarcastic tone. The Sheriff decided that he wanted to add to the conversation as well. He looked at the nurse and said, “I don’t know about you, but I pay taxes, and I don’t think I want to pay for that test.” The nurse sarcastically laughed and agreed, “Um, nope. Me neither!” I felt my face turn red with fury. My medical care was not their business, and they went out of their way to make me feel worse than I already did. I felt as low as I could. Once again, my self-worth rolled over and died.
I was very grateful that the doctor had been so nice. After my blood test, she walked me into the ultrasound room so we could try to see if she could determine the sex of the baby. The Sheriff closely followed behind me. I thought he was being extremely nosy. I thought it was totally unnecessary, and I think my doctor thought so too. We walked into the sonogram room, and the doctor asked the Sheriff if it was necessary for her to leave the office door open. He said no, and she shut the door immediately. My ultrasound was definitely not a moment that I wanted to share with him - a total jerk making it completely clear that he hated his job.
