Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  I moved along with the others who had come to visit an inmate incarcerated inside the massive concrete structure. Although I’d spent the last ten plus years dealing with people who found themselves locked inside, I had never stepped foot in the place. Jack and I had never been in trouble with the law—not even a speeding ticket.

  Until now.

  I tried not to stare at some of the visitors while we moved like sheep to the slaughter van. My tan slacks, white shirt and low heels made me look like a librarian compared to some of the outfits that passed me by. I tried to blend in, keeping my head down and heart beating at an acceptable rate, but I stood out like a sore thumb.

  Please, don’t let anyone recognize me.

  I let all the others pass me and stayed at the back of the line. My hope was that when each person ahead of me made it through the checkpoint, they would move far enough out of earshot not to hear my name or see my identification. When it was my turn, the guard behind the Plexiglas asked me the same thing he had all the others, not looking up from his papers.

  “Your name, inmate and ID.”

  “Melody Dickinson. Jack Dickinson,” I whispered. I slid my driver’s license through the small opening.

  “Speak up.”

  I cleared my throat and tried to quell the panic in my gut. “Melody Dickinson. Here to see Jack Dickinson.”

  Fortunately the guard heard me and the remainder of the impatient group did not. He tried to look nonchalant but I saw something behind his brown eyes. Distaste? Irritation? I looked away before he stared a hole right through my glasses.

  “Remove your sunglasses. Place your bag on the scanner.”

  His voice was no longer dull, monotone. It was gruff, to the point. Angry. My heart raced as he stood. He made my five foot ten frame look like an Oompa Loompa. He slid my license and visitor’s badge through the opening with such force that they popped out, skittering across the cheap laminate and landing on the floor. I retrieved them and moved over to scanner to watch my bag get x-rayed, relieved to be away from the gargantuan.

  Ten minutes later, we were called out by groups to follow the guard. I stood against the gray wall in the back, trying my best not to run out of there screaming. I hated enclosed areas and there wasn’t a window in sight. The smell of the place didn’t help, either. My nose burned with each breath. As each group of twenty left, I calmed down a little, the sensation of being a sardine packed in a hot can passing. My group was the last to be called.

  It seemed like we were moving in circles as we were led down twisting hallways, my shoes clacking against the filthy tile. It took us eight full minutes to reach the door marked Visitors – Cell Block D-7. The guard unlocked the massive steel door and stepped aside as we all moved in.

  The little cubicles looked exactly like a scene from a movie. Twenty or so orange chairs sat in front of their own small window, blocked from their neighbor by a four foot high piece of wood. Telephones that looked like throwbacks to the seventies hung on the right of each wall. They were so dirty it was hard to tell what their original color had been.

  The stench from the waiting room was like summer rain compared to what this new area smelled like. Body odor, cheap perfume, cleaning solvent and other, more rancid odors that I feared trying to place assaulted my nose. The guards should have passed out masks with the badges.

  The women in front of me fanned out and plopped down in chairs closest to them. I waited until everyone had a seat before I took mine, stifling the urge to spray it down with disinfectant. The inmates hadn’t been led in yet. The other side of the thick Plexiglas was empty.

  A buzzer sounded, startling me. A green light blinked above the door and then the men arrived. Clad in traditional orange jumpsuits and flip flops, they walked in single file and found their loved ones in no time.

  I froze when Jack walked in—last, just like me. Unshaven and haggard, he looked like he’d dropped twenty pounds and aged ten years. His beautiful, curly hair was clumped together in tight knots. His right eye was almost swollen shut, surrounded by nasty purple and green bruises, and he had a long gash above his eyebrow. He looked like a frightened animal searching for the nearest predator hiding in the shadows. I watched him, my throat in my chest, as he scanned the visitors with little interest until he saw my face.

  Jack didn’t move as his eyes locked with mine. The loud conversations around us seemed to disappear, locking us in our own private hell. He didn’t smile, didn’t cry. To the onlooker, he showed no outward emotion. But I saw his shoulders sag with relief as he forced his muscles to work and walk toward me. My hand shook when it latched onto the phone. Time stood still, at least for me. I knew that once the conversation started, the nightmare would cross into reality.

  “Mel…I…I…wasn’t sure if you’d come. I’ve been praying that you would at least come visit me. I know you aren’t here to bail me out.”

  Jack looked broken. Like someone had reached inside him and scooped out his innards. Hollow. Empty. Exactly the way I felt. But there was something else—fear. It danced behind his bloodshot eyes despite his efforts to hide it.

  I swallowed hard and forced myself to retain eye contact.

  You must do this. Block the pain…remain neutral. Pretend you aren’t talking to your husband behind the glass. He’s just another inmate. You are here to gather information.

  “You’re right. You know we can’t afford that, so I guess you’re stuck for a bit. What happened to your eye?” The damage to Jack’s eye was far worse up close. The lid was grotesquely swollen and the large cut above his brow looked infected. The bruising was ugly and dark and the torn skin inflamed. It looked like he’d been hit with something, and not just someone’s fist.

  Jack gave a slight nod of dismissal. “Doesn’t matter now.”

  “Are you eating? Did you tell them about—”

  “Not much and yes. I stick to the bread and nibble on the few raw vegetables, just to be sure. They took my medic alert bracelet off when they…arrested me. I told the jailer on duty I was allergic to peanuts, but…well…his response wasn’t too positive,” Jack whispered, his index finger flinching up toward his black eye. “So, the rest of the food I don’t touch.”

  Oh, Jesus…this isn’t happening.

  “It’s good to see you, Mel. I—”

  I held up my hand. “Stop, Jack. I only came here because I need to know. I need to hear from your lips what happened. You owe me the truth.”

  “Oh, Mel. I don’t even know where to start. It’s all such a mess.”

  “At the beginning would be the appropriate place.”

  I wasn’t sure if the liquid that leaked from his eye was a tear or his body’s response to the injury. The cause didn’t matter, because it had the same effect on me—tears sprang into my own eyes. It took every fiber within me to keep them from running down my face.

  “Yes, yes you’re right. The beginning. Well, you remember the Christmas party?”

  I nodded that I did. How could I forget?

  “A few weeks later, Serena started emailing me.”

  “When did you give her your email address?”

  “I didn’t. She said she looked it up on the university’s website.”

  “Interesting. Go on.”

  “First, it was just funny jokes, you know the ones that make the email rounds? Then she started making noises about going back to school, finishing up her degree. She wanted to make her parents proud of her. She wasn’t happy working in the legal field. Wanted to get her marketing degree and go back to work for her father. She asked me about the process to enroll and if she took my history class, would I help her study. Friendly, mindless chit chat, you know?”

  “Um hum,” was all I could muster.

  “Then, about four months ago, she showed up in my class. I didn’t know until the end of the lecture that she was there. Said she wanted to discuss her career path and asked if I would grab a cup of coffee with her in the ca
feteria to talk about it. I didn’t see any harm, so I agreed. The conversation started out innocent, but then she mentioned that you seemed rather distant and preoccupied at work. Asked me how things were going at home. I…I started out telling her about the construction fiasco and that ended up spilling over to our struggles.”

  Anger welled up inside and burnt away my tears. Heat pulsed through me like a living entity. I let out a bit of steam with a tart response, “You decided to share our marital issues with a stranger? Perhaps that discussion would have served us both better had you had it with me.”

  “Of course it would have, Mel. And I’m sorry that I didn’t. If I could go back and change things—”

  “Don’t try to go down that road, Jack. That train left the building ages ago. Continue.”

  “I can’t explain what happened next, or where my head was at, Mel. All the pressure, the loneliness, the feelings of inadequacy as a man, they tumbled out. She was a surprisingly good listener and sympathetic to my pain. But when she reached across the table and tried to hold my hand, I realized I was crossing a line. When her hand touched mine…I felt my passion stir. God help me, I was hooked.”

  I had no doubt now that it was tears leaking from his eyes. And I had no internal control anymore to stop my own from following. “Oh, Jack, how could you?” I choked.

  “You have no idea how much I wish I wouldn’t have succumbed to my desires. I should have relied upon God—to ask for strength to overcome my weaknesses. Deceiving you tore me up on the inside, but she was like a drug and I was fully addicted. After a few months, I couldn’t stand to look in the mirror. The lies, the deception—I didn’t recognize myself anymore. That’s why I was so angry all the time. I knew I needed to stop but honestly didn’t know how. I…I strayed so far away from God that I couldn’t even pray anymore. Couldn’t ask for forgiveness, couldn’t beg for help. That is, until two weeks ago. I realized that I hit rock bottom when I bought a disposable cell phone from one of my students.”

  “That was the catalyst that made you realize you had a problem? Funny. I would think it should have been the first time you screwed her.”

  “When I heard the kid talking to another student how they can’t be traced, I was excited. Thought that it would be a great way to keep you in the dark because, believe it or not, I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Oh, how kind of you, Jack.”

  “Mel, please.”

  “Was Friday night the first time you spent the night with her?” Somehow I wished it was.

  “Yes. And it was only the fourth, um, time that we’d been…intimate. By the time Friday night rolled around, I’d made up my mind to end it. Planned on telling her it was wrong, over, that I couldn’t do it anymore. I sat at the bar for two hours going over what I was going to say a million times. To her and to you. You see, once I ended it with her, I planned on coming clean to you. Since you were gone for the weekend with Regina, I figured I would have time to sort through the fallout before you came back on Sunday night. Serena had quite the temper and I was afraid things might not go too well when I told her I wanted to end the…relationship. So, I thought if I had a bit of liquid courage, it would steady my resolve. Problem was, I had too many.”

  “Did you? Tell her that, I mean.”

  “She was very, um, persuasive, when I first arrived. Between that, the booze, and then her greeting me at the door with…I…”

  “Yeah, I get it, Jack. I really don’t want to hear about your sexual exploits with Serena. Answer my question. Did you tell her?”

  “Yes, early Saturday morning when I woke up. I was sick, and I don’t mean from a hangover, although I did have one. I was angry at myself for being such hormone-driven idiot. I made Serena sit and listen to me. I pleaded for her to understand why it should never have happened and that we were done. She tried every trick in the book to change my mind, but I was adamant. She refused to speak to me, so I went and took a shower to wash the stench of our tryst away before I came home. When I walked out of the bathroom, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, the entire room in shambles. I mean, she had wrecked the place. I think that’s when she put the receipt and underwear in my bag, too. My guess would be that she wanted you to find them, or at least make me a nervous wreck when I opened it later. You know, like holding it over my head that she could out the relationship at any moment and what she was capable of.”

  “Sounds like she had feelings for you, Jack,” I sneered.

  “In her own way, I believe she did. Oh, Mel, I can’t imagine how much I’ve hurt you. I’m destroyed on the inside, paying for my sin. And look where I am? Charged with a crime I did not commit. I swear to Almighty God above that reigns on high that I did not kill her. I left a few minutes later, after she dropped the news on me. Actually, I ran. I ended up driving around in a fog for hours before I went back home. I may be guilty of a lot of things, like poor judgment, being a terrible husband, and a lowlife adulterer. But I am not a murderer, Mel. You know me. That’s not who I am. Hate me. Never speak to me again. Divorce me and curse my name for what I’ve done to you with my betrayal. But please, please believe that one thing. I didn’t do it.”

  “Oh, God, I don’t know what to think. My head is so scrambled right now I can’t focus. I want to believe you,” I admitted.

  “Mel, I swear, I’m innocent. I left the hotel around ten that morning! Bertrand told me the coroner’s report listed her time of death around eleven. Someone else killed her, not me. When the detectives interviewed me, they made me watch a surveillance video from the hotel. It made no sense! It clearly showed me leaving the room a few minutes after ten, but then someone else, who they claim is me, walked back in around ten-thirty. The guy looked like me, even had the same type clothes on that I did, but it wasn’t me.”

  Steady…ask the right questions no matter how much it hurts.

  “What else happened during the interview?”

  “They showed me pictures of her, accused me of beating the daylights out of her, then strangling her with underwear they say I bought her. But none of that is true! You know me; I don’t have a violent streak. Hell, the only fight I ever had was in was back in the eighth grade! They showed me pictures, forced me to look at my handiwork to make me admit that I did it. Oh, God, her face was ruined, Mel. I almost vomited when they made me look.

  “Not only that, but you know I’ve never stepped foot inside a lingerie store in my life. They had the pictures she sent me in texts blown up and printouts of the text where she said I bought her the underwear. They said the underwear at the house was the same as the pair around her neck. It all just doesn’t make sense. When I left, I didn’t go back. I didn’t buy her anything. I never laid a violent hand against her, never forced her to have sex with me. I…oh, God, someone set me up but I have no idea who, or why.”

  “Where did you go when you left? Did anyone see you who could provide an alibi?”

  “I drove down to Sheridan and wept on my parents’ graves for hours. By the time I got back home Saturday, it was after nine. I was an emotional wreck and crashed downstairs in my office. But I have no alibi for that missing time. I didn’t stop anywhere for gas, talk on the phone with anyone, nothing. Mel, please say that you believe me. I can’t go through this without knowing you do. I know I have no right to ask you, but I need your support. I’ll gladly pay for my mistakes with you, but not behind bars for something I didn’t do.”

  “I don’t want to think that you are capable of such a thing. I want to believe that I know the man I have spent nearly half my life with,” I choked, my senses overloaded as I tried to process all of what he was throwing at me. “But the evidence is pretty damning. I assume the fact that you were having an affair, in their opinion, was your motive? Do they think that you killed her because you couldn’t figure out any other way to end the relationship? Was she threatening to tell me?”

  Jack struggled to maintain his composure as he wiped away the tears s
oaking his face on his dirty orange sleeve. The stress of the last few days, coupled with the injury to his face, made him look like a withered old man. The last time I’d seen him look so distraught was when he stayed at his father’s bedside for three days as the man lay dying of cancer. The haunted look behind his eyes ripped me apart as I watched his features contort with pain.

  Something he said earlier hit me, the words bursting back to the forefront of my mind while the acid in my stomach churned. “And what do you mean ‘after she told me’? What did she tell you, Jack? What did she say that made you leave in such a hurry?”

  Jack’s expression fell, the shock real. “Oh, Jesus. You don’t know…okay, wait. Mel, where have you been the last four days?”

  “What does that have to do with this conversation, Jack?”

  “You haven’t talked to my attorney, or been interviewed by the police yet, have you?”

  My anger from earlier waned. Icy tendrils of fear clawed inside me. What is he getting at?

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve been hiding out from the fracas, trying to pull myself together and make sense out of this living nightmare that you’ve put us in. But that is beside the point, Jack. You want me to believe that you didn’t kill Serena, yet the police arrested you and charged you with capital murder. Why? What was your motive? What did she tell you?”

  Jack’s hand shook as he wiped his face. I noticed the burn scar on his left hand was more prominent than ever from lack of sunlight. He’d earned that scar while pushing me out of harm’s way when I tripped and stumbled towards a campfire our first year of marriage. Now we both wore scars inflicted by the other, except the one on my heart wasn’t visible.

  “Mel, before I answer that, I want to say this first. I love you. Always have, always will. I will never be able to take back the awful things I’ve done. Never be able to heal the damage I’ve caused you, our family or friends. I was a dope, a middle-aged fool who sought validation of my manhood from someone other than my wife. For that, I am truly sorry. You didn’t deserve this. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused me to stray. It was my own fault, my own lack of morality and loss of willpower. I…I never had feelings for her, Mel. She never got inside my heart and soul. Couldn’t have. They’re already occupied by you.”