‘Of course you do,’ Lenny said.
They were both silent for a moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ he told her.
‘You were right about Tom,’ she said. ‘And maybe about everything else.’ All at once Jennifer had to struggle to keep from crying.
Lenny reached out and took her arm. ‘Don’t waste tears on him. He’s a yellow rat bastard.’
Jennifer laughed in spite of herself, and felt a little better. ‘A yellow rat bastard?’ she asked. ‘I thought that was a shop in Soho.’ At least she could speak. ‘I had to go into the SHU last week,’ she began, and told him all about what had happened when Tom visited. Lenny listened, his eyes warm with sympathy. After she got to the part about her hands she stopped and looked at him. ‘I shouldn’t burden you with this. It’s all so weird. I’m sorry. I just need to tell somebody.’
‘Please,’ Lenny said, holding both of his hands out and open. ‘Tell me. I’m interested.’
So Jen kept telling him: about the crew, and the trouble with Cher, and especially about Movita and what she’d revealed. As she spoke she looked down and unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. It wasn’t until she was finished that she realized that she was not only hugging herself but also rocking in her chair. She stopped, embarrassed, and looked at Lenny Benson, expecting to see disgust or disapproval. But he was looking at her with such sympathy that she was taken aback.
‘Amnesty International officially condemns the U.S. prison system,’ he said. ‘Did you know that? They list it as the worst in the world. And since 1980 the female inmate population has increased by more than five hundred percent.’
‘God!’ Jennifer said. ‘That is so … so … terrible. You see, these women’ – she moved her eyes to include the other inmates in the room – ‘a lot of them never did anything really wrong. They acted in self-defense, or they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Can you imagine?’
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I’ve read up on the subject. How about Rebecca Cross, who was sentenced to twenty years without parole for a first offense? Possession of fifty-five dollars’ worth of dope.’
‘Yeah,’ she replied. ‘Unbelievable. But only some of them are totally innocent.’
‘Like you,’ Lenny said.
She shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. I’m afraid I wasn’t totally –’
‘Close enough,’ Lenny interrupted. ‘It’s not you who should be in prison.’ He paused.
‘You warned me,’ Jennifer admitted. ‘I was greedy. And stupid. I was looking for a shortcut.’
‘Forget it,’ he said, and his expression changed from pensive to efficient. ‘Let’s get back to JRU. Let me tell you what I think. If you want to influence what they do, we could try to get someone on the board. Or influence people already on it. Do you remember the first Bush administration?’
‘It’s not something I like to focus on,’ Jennifer admitted.
‘Well, he followed Reagan, and the Republicans had already had a field day with deregulation. They set all the savings banks free and hotshots bought them up left and right. Then they started giving out loans to their hotshot pals so all the little moms’ and pops’ and widows’ and orphans’ savings were lent out to golf-playing Republican scammers like Keating.’
‘Oh,’ Jennifer said. ‘I remember him.’
‘Yeah. Another yellow rat bastard. Anyway his pals defaulted on the loans, but he’d already been paid off for lending them money and the friggin’ bank failed. And then, because of the FDIC, the taxpayers had to bail out the banks.’
‘I do remember that now,’ she said. ‘Wasn’t one of the Bush boys involved?’
‘Yeah. Silverado. Another big bank that went bust. He’d been put on the board. Not that he knew dick about banking. Anyway, the point is, I think that there’s a parallel here. Back then they deregulated savings banks and there was a big opportunity to drain them. Now they privatize prisons and another opportunity exists to collect the fees from the state, pay almost nothing to keep up the infrastructure and take care of the prisoners. They make a few bucks from their labor before selling off quick for a profit or declaring bankruptcy.’
‘That’s a cheerful scenario,’ Jennifer said. ‘Hey Lenny, what do you know about the Rafferty boys, Bryce and Tyler?’
‘They’ve dipped their wicks into things no one else would touch,’ he said, then blushed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be vulgar.’
Jennifer bent her head down so he wouldn’t see her smile at that. Everyone on Wall Street swore like sailors – it was a prerequisite. ‘The question I want answered about them is if they fuck over their partners as well as investors.’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But it’s easy enough to find out. Call me Tuesday. I’ll have some info by then. Anyway, why do you ask? You think they might have some influence at JRU?’
‘I’m not sure why I’m asking,’ Jennifer admitted. ‘I don’t really have a plan yet. I just want to have … options.’
‘Well, I wish your option was to forget all of this and get out of here,’ Lenny said.
‘Tom promised me he’s going to really push Howard McBane.’
‘I wouldn’t trust anything Tom said,’ Lenny told her glumly. ‘And I’d reconsider that power of attorney. If he goes near your portfolio, I’m going to stop him. I’m telling you that right now.’
‘Look. He might not want to marry me, but he’s not a thief and he doesn’t want me ratting him out, either. And Donald is good for his word.’ Lenny looked away. ‘I won’t be here much longer,’ Jennifer told him. ‘But it would be terrible to let this happen to the other women. Most of the ones I’ve met aren’t criminals, they’re victims.’
Visiting time was almost over, but Lenny wasn’t prepared to leave. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘You have to open the box of stuff I brought. Don’t you want to?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Jen said and smiled. ‘I’m the original material girl. I liked stuff before but you can’t imagine how we love stuff in here.’
‘It was all really nicely wrapped,’ he said, and sighed, ‘but they opened everything. Kinda ruined it.’ He held up a bright red bow and a piece of newspaper. It was a page of the Wall Street Journal. ‘It was black and white and red all over,’ he said. ‘I figured you’d have fun reading it.’
‘Hey. Waste not, want not,’ she told him. ‘I’ll take it. Unusual reading matter here.’ She looked into the first opened box. ‘Oh God! Floris soaps! How did you know I love them?’
Lenny shrugged, then colored.
Jennifer looked at the other items in the parcel. There was more toothpaste, deodorant, and breath mints. There were Pringles, and onion dip, and Balsen cookies and there was even a box of high fashion chocolates – Richart – that had also been torn apart. ‘I’m sorry,’ Lenny said. ‘They opened it all up.’
‘Looking for contraband,’ Jen told him and shrugged. She looked down at the tiny, delicate chocolates, each one decorated exquisitely. ‘God, they’re beautiful! At least they didn’t eat any. My crew will go nuts over these.’
‘I’ll bring you one every week if you like them that much,’ Lenny said.
Jen looked at him. Could a man be this nice? Yeah, but only if he was boring, she thought, scanning his face. But the thing was, Lenny – at least the Lenny visiting her and working on this JRU thing – really wasn’t boring. He wasn’t like the close-mouthed, shut-down, unenthusiastic guy he was at Hudson, Van Schaank & Michaels. How interesting life is, she thought. You never could judge by appearances and maybe all men weren’t …
‘What did you call Tom?’ she asked him.
‘Tom? I said he’s a yellow rat bastard. And he is.’
‘Right,’ Jen said. Maybe all men weren’t yellow rat bastards, she thought, looking at Lenny.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘You’re so quiet.’
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’ And she went back to opening her box of goodies.
28
Gwen Hardi
ng
Illegal for many years, private companies employing prisoners directly was again made legal in the mid ‘70s.
Prison Activist Resource Center
The intercom buzz brought Gwen out of her reverie. ‘The parole board is waiting for you, Warden,’ Miss Ringling’s voice sang through the speaker.
‘Thank you, I’ll be out in a minute.’
Today was judgment day for Cher McInnery. And Gwen had nothing but good things to report on the woman. It was a blessing that someone was going to get out before Jennings took a dive. Gwen just hoped that Cher didn’t cop an attitude like she had the last time she was up and screw herself out of the opportunity of being released. Sometimes it happened, though. The fear of the Outside and the unknown combined with the smugness of the parole board members was sometimes too much for the inmates and they would do whatever was necessary – even get into trouble – to get to stay in Jennings. But Cher McInnery was not a career convict. She’d been watching her step for a long time and Gwen thought that she had seen a positive change in her attitude since Movita had taken Spencer in to her crew.
There were a lot of rules in the penal system designed by men for men that didn’t work for women. One of the ones that caused Gwen the most profound pain was the enforced parole statute that prohibited ex-inmates from fraternizing with other convicted offenders. Among the male population this made a lot of sense because many young men had come to prison on a first offense, then learned illegal crafts and scams from more experienced prisoners, and then were pulled back into criminal behavior by their prison buddies once they were released. But women – particularly those incarcerated for long periods of time – often made deep and meaningful friendships with other inmates. Prohibiting them from making contact with their prison ‘families’ Outside always struck Gwen not only as harsh but as counterproductive. For a woman to be cut off from all of her social contacts at a time when she was reentering society and needed all the support she could get seemed ridiculous. It was cruel and unusual punishment to pull someone like Cher out of her crew of ‘sisters’ and legislate that she could never again communicate with Movita or Theresa or Suki, that she could never see them again or know how they were progressing not only in prison but afterwards when they were out.
So, Gwen pulled the McInnery file from the folder stacks on her desk, walked out of her office, and actually smiled at Movita. ‘Change is good for everyone, Movita, it really is,’ she said, and went to be Mom, Teacher, and Caring Nurse perhaps for the last time.
After the board meeting Gwen tried not to disclose by her expression the outcome to Movita. She knew that she and Cher were tight, but the word for something so important as parole should come from the board, not through gossip or guesswork. Gwen Harding was so deep in thought that she actually jumped as the intercom buzzer sounded. ‘Yes?’
‘The JRU people are here to see you,’ Movita’s voice crackled through the tinny speaker. Was the disturbance static in the system or was it actually Movita’s reaction to the group that was on their way to her office?
Gwen knew that Movita Watson wasn’t a stupid woman and may well have figured out change was in the air here at Jennings. And on Gwen’s night of drunkenness she may have revealed more than she should have, though she couldn’t remember. Neither one of the women had ever referred to it.
Gwen pushed the red button on the intercom. ‘Send them right in when they get here please, Movita.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the woman’s voice responded.
She would miss Movita Watson more than anyone, Gwen thought as she placed her hands on the edge of her desk, pushed her chair backwards, and slowly stood up. She walked over to a small mirror that hung discreetly on the back of her door and looked at the small patch of discoloration that remained on her forehead. At least the visible signs of that incident had all but vanished. Gwen pulled out her makeup and covered the bit of bruise, then freshened her lipstick. She began to pace around her office, waiting for the group to arrive. She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be until she was fired. Perhaps it would be today. She stopped to look out one of the three windows of her office, all of them overlooking the yard. Maybe there would be a transport van in the sally port waiting to take her away once the tour was over and the new JRU representative took her place.
Since the state’s response, the JRU staff had been busy as ants at a picnic. There wasn’t a corner of the prison they hadn’t combed. If anything, Gwen felt more and more apprehensive about the changes coming. Today, she supposed, she was going to hear about them.
As always, it took a while for outsiders to clear security and be brought to her. Gwen’s suit was nearly soaked with perspiration by the time there was a knock on the door. She took her seat as Movita popped her head in to announce the arrival of her ‘guests’. But there was a strange look on her dark face and she mouthed, ‘Only one,’ while she raised her index finger into the air. What was going on? Gwen thought. Had JRU canceled the tour and only sent her replacement?
As Movita opened the door wider, Gwen tried to smile as she greeted a tall, thin woman with as hardy a ‘good morning’ as she could muster. But she shouldn’t have bothered. The woman was all business and cut right to the chase after the customary exchange of professional and personal niceties.
‘I’m Marlys Johnston and I’ve come to let you know what we – JRU – expect from you, Warden Harding, during this transition period,’ she said even as she slipped into the chair across from her. The woman had a powerful aura. She was even more arrogant and self-confident than Jennifer Spencer had been the first time she stepped into her office, Gwen thought. Perhaps it was because she was older – thirty-six or thirty-eight by the look of her.
Marlys Johnston leaned forward and placed her leather briefcase in the middle of Gwen’s desk. It was obvious the woman was well paid because never in all her working years had Gwen been able to afford such a beautiful accessory. The woman’s fingertips gleamed in the overhead light as they wrapped around the edges of the case – professional manicure, where the tips of the nails were white and the rest was natural color. If Gwen could have afforded it she would have known what it was called. There was a loud click as the latches of the briefcase flew open and Ms Johnston pulled papers from the suede-lined interior.
‘You’ll find everything you need in this report,’ the Marlys woman said as she handed Gwen a neatly bound report. Thinking Outside the Box was printed in bold letters on the cover, along with the JRU logo. Gwen smiled. Somehow the phrase reminded her of Springtime, who was about due for another escape attempt. ‘I think reading this will help you to see the potential here at Jennings,’ Marlys said with an emotionless smile. ‘I think you’ll find that the observations that you made in your report to the state will look a little different if seen from another perspective.’
Gwen slowly lowered herself into the chair beside her desk. She looked down at the booklet. She hadn’t had much doubt that she had lost the battle. But this news told her she was going to have to surrender. That her complete report submitted to the state, which was supposed to be confidential, had been passed on to JRU was the final nail. It made things very clear that the state was not – had never been – on Gwen’s side. And Marlys Johnston was definitely not on Gwen’s side, either.
But as the meeting continued it became equally clear that Marlys Johnston had been sent to Jennings neither to ignore Gwen nor to fire her. She had been sent to wear her down or scare her away. ‘There is so much underutilized space here,’ the consultant kept saying over and over and over again. ‘You have both indoor and outdoor recreational areas, as well as a visitation center, and both a library and an events and programs facility.’
Gwen would’ve itemized the same spaces as a locker room, a parking lot, a hallway, a virtual closet with some old books, and another closet with a folding table. An events and programs facility? Who in the hell was she trying to kid? And a visitation center? It was little more than a hallway divi
ded by bulletproof glass. But her objections slid off Ms Johnston. ‘Perhaps’ – Gwen tried to calm herself so she wouldn’t stammer – ‘if you saw these spaces. Let me show them to you and you see what you think.’
‘I’m quite capable of reading a blueprint, Gwen. May I call you Gwen?’
‘We prefer a more formal approach here. I call the inmates “Ms” or “Mrs” and they refer to me as Warden. We expect the same of the COs.’
Marlys Johnston simply raised her brows and said nothing.
‘We’re concerned that you’re at about fifty percent capacity at this time,’ Marlys observed as they passed through the cellblock. ‘These are four-man cells,’ she said, while noting the fact again on her legal pad.
‘Yes,’ Gwen agreed. ‘As I’ve explained to JRU staff time and time again, they were designed in the dark ages to be four-man cells, but now they are two-woman cells.’
Marlys didn’t seem to catch the intent of Gwen’s reply. She went on to see only what she wanted to see. ‘So, Gwen, I’m assuming that all other facilities here at Jennings are equally underutilized.’ She continued with her list. ‘The kitchen, therefore, was designed to serve twice the number of inmates,’ she began, ‘and the laundry was designed to do the same. I’m assuming that the health care department would also be more than sufficient for the number of inmates currently housed here. Am I right, Gwen?’
Gwen gritted her teeth. She didn’t want this woman to call her ‘Gwen’. But she took small, shallow breaths to try to keep her composure and to avoid the possibility of speaking in a stammer. ‘Perhaps if the equipment was all updated and we had a medical staff,’ Gwen told her. ‘Then it might be sufficient.’
‘Oh, don’t be so negative, Gwen.’
Insiders Page 22
