First Degree Innocence

by Ginger Simpson

  “It appears we both got screwed. I still can’t believe I’m in prison.” The blood rushing to her hanging head made Carrie dizzy. She sat up, plumped her laundry bag, then curled into a fetal position and settled onto the mesh pillow.

  “What did you do to attract the long arm of the law?” Susanna’s voice drifted from below.

  Carrie sighed. “Maybe you’ll be the one person who believes it wasn’t me driving the getaway car.”

  “I took the day off from work because I had horrible cramps.” The fateful day replayed itself in her mind as she told the story one more time. “Dr. Phil had just come on TV and I was minding my own business, curled up on the couch with a heating pad. All of a sudden someone pounded on the door, and when I answered, a guy in a suit standing in front of two uniformed officers, shoved a piece of paper in my face and stormed inside. It was a warrant for my arrest.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t even have a chance to change my tampon before they handcuffed me then made me sit and watch while they tore up my apartment, looking for the stolen bank money. I hadn’t a clue what they were talking about.”

  “So then what happened?” Susanna pressed.

  “Of course they didn’t find any cash because there wasn’t any, at least other than the few measly bucks in my purse. I couldn’t make them believe I had nothing to do with robbing a bank.”

  “How come they thought it was you?”

  “To make a long, sad story short, I live alone and had no one to swear to my whereabouts. The only thing my boss was able to tell them was that I called in sick. A supposed eye witness reported a description matching mine and, unfortunately for me, a car identical to the one I drive. Bank security footage had a foggy image of a woman behind the wheel, and I couldn’t convince them it wasn’t me.” The old frustration welled Carrie’s eyes with tears. She wiped them on her sleeve.

  Susanna appeared at eye level. “Shit! That must have been horrible for you.”

  “You have no idea. Sitting in that courtroom and listening to the state’s attorney convince twelve people who didn’t know me from Adam that I was a felon… It was the most frustrating thing I’ve ever been through. Knowing my innocence, I never in a million years thought they would believe him… at least I prayed they wouldn’t.”

  “Was your car traced to the scene?”

  “No. I told you I was at home. My car was parked right in front of my apartment all day, and I’m the only one who has a key. If anybody from the building noticed, they refused to get involved. The man who testified against me only remembered the first letter of the license. Of course it had to be the same as mine. But how many friggin’ cars have M on their plate? You see why I thought I would never get convicted on such flimsy evidence?”

  “You must have hired a pretty crummy lawyer to end up here for such a petty charge.” Susanna made a clucking noise with her tongue.

  “It might have been a petty charge if a bank guard hadn’t lost his life in the process. And as to my attorney…I didn’t have the money, so the court appointed one. I would have fared just as well on my own. It took every penny I had in savings to bail myself out of jail between the time I was arrested and tried.”

  “Couldn’t someone have helped you?”

  “Who? I don’t have anyone. I haven’t lived here long enough to make friends, other than the people I work with on a daily basis. But I swear to you, Susanna, on my mother’s grave, I really am innocent.”

  Before Susanna could ask any more questions, an unfamiliar guard appeared at the cell door. “Okay, ladies, time for rec.” The thin, red-headed woman glanced at her wristwatch. “Enjoy your two hours.” The sentiment was friendly but her tone wasn’t.

  Her key clicked the lock and she swung the door wide. “Show your new friend to our playroom.” She sneered at Susanna.

  Carrie was about to pass on the outing when Susanna gestured. “C’mon. It’ll do you good to get some fresh air.”

  That did sound inviting. Clambering down from the bunk, Carrie stepped into her shoes and followed closely behind. When she caught up with Susanna in the hall, she tapped her on the shoulder. “What about that… that…Jet person?” she whispered.

  Susanna patted her hand. “You’re with me. Her MO is to divide and conquer, so stay close like I warned you. You’ll be fine.”

  The freckled-faced guard unlocked the recreation room door and let them inside. The place was large with vaulted ceilings, a shiny cement floor and tables lining three cinderblock walls. The smell of Pinesol hung heavy in the air. Nearby, a pair played dominos, while across the room a foursome played cards. At the far end, a row of lounge chairs held inmates engaged in reading. A cart filled with books sat nearby. Six more identical seats held orange-clad prisoners engrossed in a familiar soap opera, but immediately all eyes focused on Carrie. It was like being back on the witness stand. Their curiosity satisfied, the inmates went back to what they were doing.

  She took a deep, calming breath until she heard the distinct click of the door lock.

  “We can’t get out, can we?”

  Her cellmate threw back her head and laughed, her long blonde hair grazing the middle of her back. “You might as well get used to locks. They’re on every door, and for some strange reason, the guards don’t like us wandering free.”

  Carrie lowered her gaze. “Okay, this is prison. I get it! Give me a break, I’ve only been here a day.”

  Susanna wrapped a protective arm around Carrie’s shoulders and ushered her across the room toward a group of inmates sitting at a circular table. “Come and meet the girls.”

  Their emotionless stares bored holes through Carrie. She swallowed hard, wringing her hands and fixing a smile on her face. The five women didn’t look any friendlier than the guards.

  “Ladies, I’d like you to meet my new cellie, Carrie Lang. She’s doing…” Susanna cocked her head inquisitively.

  “Ten years with time off for good behavior.” Carrie’s voice faltered as she finished the sentence. She chewed her bottom lip.

  “Good behavior?” A pit-faced, gray-haired woman guffawed. “What’s that?” The group erupted into laughter.

  Carrie glanced at Susanna, afraid to say anything further.

  “C’mon, ladies, don’t be so rude. You remember how you felt your first day here.”

  Despite the warmness of the room, a shiver ran through Carrie. She wanted to run back to the locked door, but to what end? Afraid to speak, she pondered her options, eyeing the book cart—a good excuse to meander across the room. But her cellmate’s earlier warning flashed in her head.

  Susanna evidently read her mind and tapped Carrie’s shoulder. “Remember what I said?” She mouthed the words, ‘stay close’, as if Carrie needed reminding.

  “I wasn’t going anywhere.” Carrie recreated a phony smile and flashed it to the group.

  “My friends aren’t as unfriendly as they seem. I’d like you meet Helen, Celia, Ruthie, Di, and of course you already heard from Franny.” Susanna pointed to each individual, and surprisingly as she called their names, every one of them smiled at Carrie and offered to shake hands.

  The warmest by far seemed to be Franny. Carrie took an instant liking to her, perhaps because she was the oldest of the group. Franny scooted over and motioned for Carrie to sit. Her bottom had barely touched the aluminum bench, when sparks of curiosity ignited the air. She steeled herself for another round of questioning.

  “So, what’d you do?” Helen, a tall, gangly brunette with buckteeth, drew her first word out in a lisp.

  “I didn’t do anything. I’m inno…”

  Her words were drowned out by laughter.

  She’d expected more empathy, but it was her court experience all over again. Her jaw tightened.

  Susanna held out her hand. “Hear her out, you guys.”

  Carrie bolted to her feet and planted her palms flat on the table. “Laugh if you want to, but I am innocent. I’ll swear it with my dying breath.” She tried to swallow her anger
. “The police think I drove a get-away car in a bank holdup, but I was home, alone, with no one to vouch for my whereabouts. I’m here simply because I couldn’t prove the truth.”

  “Yet another person screwed by their attorney,” Di stated flatly. Her vibrant green eyes and red hair were a great combination. Despite Carrie’s anger, she couldn’t help wondering what Di would look like after a visit to a beauty parlor. Striking, no doubt.

  “All attorneys are crooks,” Ruthie spat, snaring Carrie’s attention away from her daydreams. “Mine talked me into a plea bargain that turned out worse than what I’d gotten without it.”

  “I know what you mean, Ruthie,” Celia piped up. “It’s like the joke says, ‘what do you call a thousand attorneys at the bottom of the sea? A good start’.”

  Everyone chuckled, especially Celia, laughing loudest at her own joke. Her large belly jiggled like gelatin. Carrie began to feel more relaxed. Maybe not everyone in the place was as bad as they seemed. Certainly no one had reason to be pretentious. Ruthie had a missing front tooth, Celia was overweight, and everyone dressed alike. There were no fashion statements made here. Carrie needed to shake the pre-conceived notions she got from watching too much TV. Old prison movies were her forte, but it was time to face it. Joan Crawford wasn’t the warden and none of these women looked like Bette Davis on her worst day.

  “Uh oh,” Di’s words snagged Carrie’s attention. “Here comes Jet.”

  The hair on the back of Carrie’s neck bristled. She pictured a sleek airplane and transformed it into a woman’s image—thin, racy, and decorated from countless battles. In her mind, the woman had dark hair and ebony eyes.

  “Well, well, well, it seems we have a newbie.” A taunting voice came from behind. “I thought I’d wander over and introduce myself.”

  Carrie wondered if she dare glance over her shoulder to see if her imagined person fit the description. That annoying little voice that borrowed her inner ear from time to time advised her to act normal. She tried, but it was difficult pretending nonchalance when her heart’s thundering sent adrenalin pumping through her veins. Trying to find a stance to belie her nervousness, she crossed then uncrossed her arms, feeling as though she had somehow developed an extra one. She tried the old “hand on the hip” position, but slid her arms to her sides, thinking perhaps it was too defiant for the moment. The release of her pent-up breath sounded abnormally loud in the immediate silence. What kind of woman intimidated everyone this much?

  Carrie turned. “Hel…hello.” Her voice faltered while she swallowed her surprise. The dark-haired woman could have stepped right out of Carrie’s mind. Eyes as black as a moonless night, slightly hidden by bangs overdue for a haircut, cast a penetrating stare at her. Jet’s tattooed arms drew Carrie’s gaze—battle decorations, just as she’d pictured. She glanced back to the flawless olive skin on Jet’s face, too awed to speak. The silence was deafening. Why didn’t someone say something?

  “This is my new cellie, Carrie Lang. Carrie meet Jet.” Susanna’s half grin revealed her edgy nerves.

  Carrie thrust out a shaking hand. “P-pleased to meet you. I’ve heard lots…” She wanted to bite off her own tongue. Surely Jet knew what type of things Carrie had heard. The last thing she wanted to do was set her roommate at odds with the notorious Jillian Duke…or put herself in jeopardy, for that matter.

  Jet laughed, softening her chiseled features. “I’m sure you’ve heard horrible things about me, and I assure you everything is true.” Her eyes turned icy. “I run this place, and anyone who crosses me, pays. You got it?”

  Carrie nodded like an obedient child. What hold did this woman have over everyone? She certainly wasn’t impressive in stature and weight. Carrie figured her to be about 5’8” and one hundred and thirty pounds, at the most. She looked to be in her early thirties and was quite pretty. Glancing around the circle of women, it was clear no one questioned Jet’s authority. Not even Susanna, who appeared so brave back in the cell. After her intro, she had faded to the back of the group.

  Jet focused her cold stare on each woman before she spun on her heel and sauntered back across the room. She resembled a cocky barnyard rooster lording over a flock of hens. Carrie waited until Jet was out of hearing range before daring to speak. “Well, that went well.” She chuckled and sagged onto the bench.

  Her attempt at humor fell flat.

  Helen shook her head. “Just give her a wide berth. Jet means it when she says, ‘you’ll pay’.”

  “And believe me, you won’t like the price.” Ruthie pulled up her shirt, inched the waistband of her panties down, and displayed a jagged scar. “This is the welcome present I got from her when I first arrived last year.”

  Carrie winced. “Oh, my gosh, Ruthie. How in the world…”

  “A shank made out of her toothbrush. It may not have been a knife, but I sure couldn’t tell the difference. I spent ten days in the infirmary, hooked up to an IV, fighting the infection I got after they stitched me back up.”

  “Well, I’m sure there was a consequence to her actions, wasn’t there?”

  A chorus of chuckles passed through the group. Susanna’s brow arched. “Are you kidding? You don’t rat on anyone in here. There’s nothing worse than being a snitch. Trust us, Carrie. You can’t rely on anyone in here except yourself.” Susanna made a sweeping gesture at the others. “We can be your friends, but we aren’t with you twenty-four seven. You have to watch your own back most of the time.”

  Confusion clouded Carrie’s mind. She nervously picked at her nails. “What kinds of things make Jet mad? I don’t want to cross her, so I need a little help here, girls.”

  “Just agree with everything she says, don’t get in her way, and above all, if she asks you for anything, give it to her. She heard I had cigarettes, and when I didn’t produce…” Ruthie displayed her toothless grin and patted the side sporting the memory.

  “Don’t the guards…”

  Again, her words were drowned out by guffaws.

  Franny rested an arm on Carrie’s shoulder. “Sweetie, you’ve met Ogden. Do you honestly think you can count on her to help you? It might interest you to know that Jet is her pet inmate. Why else do you think we put up with the tattooed darling? Collectively, we could kick the shit out of her, but in the end, she’d heal and we’d all be spending the rest of our days in solitary. It’s just better to play their stupid game.”

  Carrie gnashed her teeth. “I can’t believe that horrid woman would have a pet anything.”

  Try as she might, she couldn’t find a redeeming quality about the matron who had treated her so shabbily. Just the memory brought a taste of bile to Carrie’s mouth. “So what you’re telling me is that some of the inmates have the guards in their pockets and the rest of us get punished for it.”

  Susanna nodded. “You got it.” Her gaze wandered to the open doors at the far end of the room. “I’m gonna step outside for a breath of fresh air.”

  Carrie nodded. “I totally forgot we are allowed outdoors. I’d love to smell something besides mold and mildew.” She smiled at the remaining group and hurried to catch up with Susanna.

  At the door, Carrie took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled. Her gaze searched the crisp blue sky, appreciating for the first time the freedom the clouds enjoyed as they moved about the heavens. The reality that everything wasn’t just a nightmare finally sunk in the moment her eyes beheld the ten-foot chain-link fence surrounding the recreation yard.

  Two women shot hoops across the way. Above the thudding of the ball against the pavement and its clanking against the metal rim, Carrie heard male voices. She turned and gave Susanna a questioning look. “Who do I hear?”

  “The men in the next yard.”

  “Men?” Carrie swallowed her surprise.

  “This is a coed facility. Of course, we’re never allowed to interact with them, but you sometimes hear them when they’re out on rec. They aren’t usually out at this time. It’s probably the trustees r
eturning from the garden.”

  Her gaze trailed down Susanna’s arm to her pointing finger. Beyond the fence were neat rows of plants. Carrie recognized the fledgling stalks of corn, painful reminders of her childhood when she and her mother stayed on her grandparents’ farm in Nebraska. It was a far cry from her hometown on the outskirts of Los Angeles, California. There was nothing like homegrown sweet corn. At the recollection, her mouth watered. She looked back to Susanna. “What’s a trustee?”

  “Inmates who the guards believe have earned a certain degree of trustworthiness, like Jet, when she wants to be one, if you can believe it. They’re allowed minimum security, while the rest of us are watched and hassled twenty-four hours a day.” Susanna’s voice was tinged with bitterness. She turned to Carrie. “Don’t ever expect to be one then you won’t be disappointed.”

  “Is it okay to walk up to the fence… it isn’t electrified or anything… is it?”

  Susanna shook her head. “Don’t know what you expect to see from there that you can’t from here, but sure, go ahead.”

  Carrie left Susanna in the shadow of the building and crossed the yard. There were no expectations, just a need to be alone for a minute and try to digest everything. Carrie pressed her body against the cold steel and clamped her fingers through side-by-side octagon patterns and rested her forehead on another. From there, she recognized other vegetables in the garden—radishes, lettuce, and either squash or cucumbers. They weren’t ripe so she couldn’t tell. Surely such a small amount of produce couldn’t feed everyone. Most likely only Ogden and her friends enjoyed the bounty.

  Tears welled in Carrie’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Beyond the patch of plants, for as far as she saw, there was nothing but flat, empty land. Not even a tree. An unhampered breeze dabbed at the wetness on her face and sent a shiver through her. For a moment she felt as though she was in a vacuum. The bouncing basketball had ceased and the voices she heard earlier were now quiet. Everything was still. A hollow feeling crept into the pit of her stomach and lingered. Being alone and helpless wasn’t a feeling she relished.