Part 3: Getting Answers

As I waited I began to think about an event from first grade. It was donut making day in class and it was something we all looked forward to. Just as we were finishing a task and getting ready to have some yummy fun, a boy in class saw that someone had used crayon to mark up his notebooks and books. He was very upset and so was the teacher. We were all asked who had marked up his things and no one answered. She told us to all put our heads down on our desks and only when someone raised their hand to show they had committed the offense would we make donuts. The class was quiet as we all crossed our arms on our desks and put our heads down. After a few minutes passed I raised my hand. This brought about swift punishment. Everyone was told to raise their heads and I was asked why I had done it. I didn't have an answer. This made the teacher even angrier and I was told to go to the library. I would not be making donuts. I was so embarrassed. I didn't realize that by raising my hand I would not be making donuts. I was taken to the library and told to write a note of apology to the classmate and his mother. I did as I was told. The next day, at the beginning of class, the teacher took me aside and said to me,

"His mom called. She told me that it was his little sister who drew all over his books and notebooks. If you didn't do it Adalia why did you raise your hand?"

"So the class could make donuts."

I don't remember what the teacher did after I revealed my reason for raising my hand. I think the fact that I can't remember is that her response to my act of selflessness did not measure up to the punishment I received. I got the feeling at the time that she was embarrassed and had no idea how to address a situation where a child lied so others could be happy.

There was something about this experience that rang true in my present circumstances. I still had no idea why my license was suspended but something told me that the "WHY" would connect both experiences.

After waiting for an hour and a half, the woman who had originally brought me there, came to take me out. Tennessee and one other woman was with me. I was not placed in chains this time. Only Tennessee was put in waist chains and hand cuffs. She was being taken to the infirmary. Once again we were ordered to form a straight line on the right side of the hall. We walked quietly as we were led to the elevator that had brought us to this floor. A long walk once again in too big clothes and slippers. Once again we were told to walk straight into the vestibule and to face the back of the elevator. I was so ready to get out of that place that my body vibrated. When the elevator reached the intended floor we were ordered to turn around and exit to the right of the elevator. Another long walk as we came to an intersection in the hallways. I was told to go to a room at the end of the hall to the right. On my right were three small rooms with plate glass windows and chairs inside. To my left was a large office behind glass. As I walked away I looked back at Tennessee and she kept looking straight ahead. Her back rigid as a board and her face emotionless. I wished her so much grace in my mind. I truly hope that she is freed soon. I hope that she is not put on H-block where she could be broken.

I found myself waiting in yet another dirty, ill kept room with stark colors and harsh lighting. Soon after I sat down the other woman who was with us came in. When we got to talking we both realized we were in jail for the same reason, suspended licenses. We both felt that the punishment we were dealt did not fit the crime. This was not her first time in jail and she was determined to make it her last saying, "I can't come back here again. It would kill me."

When she realized I had no idea that I had been driving on a suspended license she shared that she had known she was. Apparently she and her boyfriend were having an argument and she was driving. At some point during the argument she pushed his head to the side. The police man in the car behind them saw this and pulled her over asking if everything was o.k. Asking for her license, he said she was driving recklessly and now, here she was.

We lapsed into silence. Both of us thinking about the circumstances that brought us to this place. Soon after a lady in in the "glass office" called my name. I walked to her window where she gave me my clothes and told me to return to the room. I was to change behind a privacy wall. A few minutes after changing I was called up to another window where a man gave me back my purse, jewelery, medicine, and phone. After signing a form stating that had I received all of my belongings I was told to walk out of double doors behind me and to follow the sidewalk left.

Opening the doors on the dark, still, hot, humid, star filled night took a moment of adjustment. After the harsh lights, the darkness was a welcome change. It was almost midnight. I followed the sidewalk left as it led towards the parking lot where I saw Dhabih step out with Polly following. I wanted to run. Thinking, just maybe they would find something else wrong and I would be taken back. I wanted to put distance between me and the jail as fast as possible but my spirit needed to walk. Needed the night air and the quietude. I was greeted lovingly by mother and son. I honestly had been so quiet, numb, and observant that it was hard to get out of that place at first.

The first order of business was to go to the bonds man's office and sign paperwork. I was so tired. So emotionally worn out. I was so out of it that forming words was hard. We got to his office and sat down with him. He seemed sympathetic for the wait I had. He said the bond was paid around 8:30. It took three hours for me to be released. More than three hours. He had had reservations about putting up bond for a woman who not only didn't have a job but was leaving the country the very month of her first court appearance. It took Dhabih's proof of employment and vouching for me to get me released on bail. I assured the bond's man that this situation would be given its due attention and I would be in court. There is no way I would jeopardize Dhabih's freedom.

Actually the fact that I was leaving the country was reported by the arresting officer. The fact that I was going for work was not included. I told him that I had a job and that was why I needed to have the trial sped up and have this situation resolved quickly. I spoke with him about something the arresting officer said about me having a lawyer stand in my place for the court appearances. He was very doubtful that this would be allowed. When I informed him that the car in the impound was in my husband's name he thought that I may have trouble getting it out. Not a whole lot of encouraging news right after being released from jail. After the papers were signed Polly, Dhabih and I headed for the impound.

Upon arriving at the impound I presented a piece of paper showing that I had a car there that needed to be picked up. As the woman behind the counter was telling me the amount I would need to pay to get my car I noticed that they only accepted cash. AWWWWW!!!! Information that would have been nice to know thirty minutes ago. I was so tired and so were my friends but we got back into the car to go look for an atm. We found one but my card wouldn't work. We left there and drove to my bank. When I used my card there I got a message that I was not able to get funds because of suspicious activity. Thank God Polly and Dhabih were so patient and calm. They never gave me the impression that all of this running around was a burden. I called the number on the atm screen and in a forced calm voice talked with customer service to get the account released. Finally, I was able to get the money and went back to the impound. I gave the impound their fee and reimbursed Dhabih for the bail amount. The woman never asked for ID and to this Polly said,

"Don't let what that bonds man told you make you think that you will not be able to go to Abu Dhabi. See, he told you you may have trouble getting the car and she didn't even as for ID. Save the possibility that he did not know what he was saying."

That was very encouraging to hear as we walked into a huge space filled with cars. It took a moment to find my car but we did. Of course, Polly drove me home because my license was suspended. The normality of everything was still hard to adjust to. After such a short time in jail my mind had shifted so dramatically. I don't want to imagine what it would have been like to be there any longer than I was.

Dhabih met us at my apartment complex and they both walked me to my door. The moment the door closed behind me and I stepped into the peacefulness of my home, the weight of the day began to descend. I sat and allowed myself to cry until I needed to finish. I had talked to my husband in short bursts through out the bond and impound process. It was 1:30 in the morning when I called to tell him I was safely home. We talked some but he had work in the morning and sounded so tired. After not working for seven weeks, the thought of him leaving work early to be with me never entered my mind. This was only possible because Polly and Dhabih took care of me like family.

Needless-to-say it was hard for me to go to sleep. I watched some Netflix. I posted a comment on Facebook around 5:00 am and two friends who were also up that late/early responded with surprise. One of them was Kimimila and we started chatting. She chatted with me until my eyes lids got too heavy to stay open. I am so very grateful that she was still awake at that late hour. I shared with her some of what had happened which allowed me to sleep.

Some hours later I woke up to sun light sneaking around the slits in the window blinds. I opened them and sat quietly for a moment. I was grateful to be home. Grateful to have slept safely on our couch. Grateful that I had food in the fridge and could open the blinds to let the sunlight in unfettered.

Late Friday morning I started looking for the reason I was arrested. After eating something I got online, and pulled up South Carlina's Department of Motor Vehicles website. I was surprised to find that I could see the status of my license and resolve it through their website. The "why" was instantly answered. My insurance was suspended for driving without insurance. And this is when my childhood experience and my adult one converged. At the end of January, I had given my car to a family friend who had fallen on hard times. He was out of a job and I knew what that was like because I was too. I wasn't comfortable charging much for the car because it was not in the best condition. So, I gave the car to them. About two weeks later I cancelled the insurance on the car that was no longer in my possession. He drove on my tags without insurance until April. Because he had not turned the license plate in, it looked like I was driving without insurance for about two months. Although the tags had been turned in, the suspension was still on my driving record and in June, when my license was run, the suspension came up.

It was a kindness that had brought this. It was a kindness that assumed trust and responsibility in another person. Kindness entwined in ignorance. I called the SCDMV and spoke with a woman who told me how to resolve the suspension and possibly not be charged a fine. There was an extremely simple, brief form for me to complete and fax back. When I pulled it up I saw that it was a form to protect the former owner of a car if such an occurrence like the one I found myself in were to happen. The principle of Independent Investigation of Truth in its most basic application. So the experience of the 6 year old Adalia was revisited on the 35 year old Adalia. Older, more responsible and more aware of personal power but revisited nonetheless. I am still gnawing on what this means for me.

After having a quiet weekend with my husband and a new friend, I woke up Monday morning with the determination to get my license reinstated. Polly agreed to squeeze me into her hectic day to drive me to a place to fax and to buy groceries. I called the SCDMV again and gratefully got an angel of a woman. Her sympathy, kindness and reassurances that all of this would get worked out brought me to tears. She told me how to correctly fill out the form, gave me the fax to her desk, and assured me if she received the fax that day she would get things cleared up and a letter in the mail to me that day. She asked me for my number so she could call me when everything was resolved. Polly arrived not long after, took me to a place to fax and I rode with her as she continued her day. About thirty minutes after faxing the form, I received a call from the lady at the DMV that my license was restored and that the letter proving it was in the mail!

The easy part is done and now I am in the process of getting the charges dismissed. I am on a time schedule and it needs to be done this month. Luckily I have a couple of lawyer friends who have given me some advice. I am hoping that, having all of the documentation I do, I will not need a lawyer. I will be contacting legal aid to find out what my options are. One thing I have learned is to do my own research first, know what help I am looking for, and then contact professionals. I have a pretty solid understanding of what I need now because of my own research.

The next few weeks are going to be hectic. Pins and needles of anxiety maybe. Or maybe an opportunity to trust in what God Wills. Maybe I am not meant to leave. Maybe I am meant to leave. This is an opportunity to be open to which ever becomes a truth for me.

As days have passed I have found profound release in writing. I have a hard time verbalizing emotions and the depth of experiences. Writing is my most pure voice. I got tired of talking. Tired of trying to remember what I told this or that person. People have contacted me and sounded hurt that I or others had not told them. I am grateful that folks who knew, respected my space to share this experience as I saw fit and in my own time. It was with some worry that I posted the first portion of this experience. I knew that some people would only read the title and not bother reading the story. It was an exercise in truly realizing that this was something done to me not by me. That the humiliation I experienced was not a reflection of who I am. The thought that was the energy behind me pressing "publish" was all the people who will read, understand and maybe learn from my story. People who will be grateful to have been allowed to witness a profoundly human, but ultimately, spiritual experience.

I do believe that the Divine energies operating in the world put angels in our midst. We mortals are used to bring peace to one another's hearts. When I was waiting to be released, there was a young woman sitting in the "waiting area" outside of the jail cells with me. She asked me what I had done and I told her about my situation and she said to me, "God doesn't put on us more than we can handle. There was some lesson to be learned in all of this. Maybe ,for some reason, you needed to take care of this now instead of sometime down the road. God never gives us more than we can handle" ....I agree.

Part 2: Telling Stories

When I was first placed in the back of the police car I thought about Abdu l-Baha. I thought about how he was imprisoned, a very good man whom bad things happened to. I thought about him and how he said that he was happy in prison because the greatest prison was the prison of self. He was free from the prison of self so while in prison he was actually free. I didn't see myself in the same position but I tried to take to heart the lesson of that part of his life. This experience did not define who I am. I had to remember the justice system is as flawed as the humans who created it and have become complacent. I was lucky I had someone, who understood just how flawed the system is, driving around trying to get me out.

I would not say that I became happy while in jail. That would have made me super human and believe me, I am far from that. I will say that I began to approach it like an adventure. Once I realized I was safe and that Polly was out there doing what she could to get me released, I changed my perspective. I really began to listen to the women around me and they had amazing stories. Some of regret. Some of heroism. Some of sadness. Once the finger printing was done, I had limited interaction with the guards and the majority of my stay was interacting with the women around me.

There was New York. This was her first time ever being arrested. She was arrested on a simple assault charge. For some reason she allowed her soon to be ex-husband back in the house. She had a restraining order out on him I think. She wanted to discuss the terms of the divorce. As the discussion turned into an argument he called his lawyer and put his cell phone up on the refrigerator and started yelling like she was hurting him. This didn't work because she laughed at him and asked him, "Why are you screaming like a bitch. I am not touching you", he began to choke her. She tried to fight him off which caused scratches on his neck and face. When the police arrived they were both arrested. The officers saw the scratches on him but when she told them he had been choking her, they denied seeing the marks on her neck. No photos were taken. We could see clearly the bruises on her neck. She was trying to get to New York because she had no family in Georgia. But she had children and her husband was making hard for her to have custody of the children if she moved out of the state. A woman trapped. She wanted to keep her children but she needed to get away from her husband.

There was another woman I will call Weeping Mother. She was there on a simple assault charge. She and her boyfriend had a violent fight. She had the black eye and bruises to show for it. She was loud and boisterous but after a phone conversation with her boyfriend whose mother kept making comments in the back ground, she slammed down the phone in anger. She began to pace the room, yelling curses about the mother and then sat on a steel chair and began to cry. And she cried and cried. Apparently her daughter saw her get arrested. The police told her children that she would be back soon. She wept over this. She knew that she would not be home for some time.

An intriguing woman was Tennessee. She had a hard look about her but she talked easily and her story was told over and over while I was in jail. She was brought by prison transport from Tennessee to Georgia. She was in jail in Georgia for having written a bad check back 2006 but she was facing charges here AFTER serving 4 years in prison in Tennessee. Her whole story, the journey that brought her to Georgia, was amazing. She was married for four years to an extremely violent man. When she finally had the courage to divorce him, when all of her hospital stays were tallied, she had been in the hospital 78 times. Half of those were for stays of 3 or more days. One of the women asked her how she decided to leave and she said it was after she had become pregnant. About two weeks after the papers were served, her husband showed up at her grandparents' trailer where she and her infant son were staying. He had been drinking and that is when he became violent. He was a heavy drinker. Her grandmother let him in and he went after Tennessee right away. She ran toward a back room where her son lay on the bed. Her husband ran into her from behind and she almost fell, with him on top of her, on top of the baby. To keep from crushing her son, she held herself up over him, holding her husband's weight while he punched her. At some point he stopped attacking her and went toward another room where her sick grandfather was lying down. Her grandmother tried stopping him and Tennessee saw her slip down the wall as he pushed past her. At that moment she grabbed the gun she had been heading for when he attacked her from behind. She followed her husband and called his name. As he turned to face her she shot him in the neck. He didn't go down but blood left his body in a powerful rush. After being shot he left the trailer for his truck and police began to arrive. His shot gun was found on her back step. He had gone to his truck to get his gun but dropped it and left quickly when he heard the police arriving. Tennessee was certain that this man had been intent on killing her entire family in that trailer. He drove to a hospital two counties over to get help for the gun shot wound. He is now remarried, a preacher and has custody of her son. Shooting her husband was not why she was in jail but that relationship led to it. I would learn that part of the story later.

As she finished her story someone else took up the conversation but I turned and said, "You were very brave. You are a brave woman." I admired her. She reminded me of my mother with her fierceness and bravery.

Possession Girl had lots of wisdom for someone so young. Arrested for loitering, trespassing and possession of less than half a gram of marijuana she spoke of how much she regretted doing something so stupid. She knew she was there because of the choice she made to go into an empty apartment and smoke a joint. Her wisdom didn't lie in the choice she made but in the responsibility she took for it. She saw it as it was. She didn't blame the person who called the police. She didn't blame the police for arresting her. She knew that she was there for her choices. I hoped that this realization would carry her out of captivity and into freedom. I hoped she would turn her life around because even a blind woman could see that she held so much potential for good. And she had lots to say about domestic violence.

Possession Girl: "You have to leave a man the first time he hits you. You can't go back. If you stay after he hits you the first time he knows he can keep hitting you. He will keep hitting you because he can. He knows you will stay. And it only gets worse."

Possession Girl to New York: "What are you going to do? Are you going to go back home?"

New York: "I don't have anywhere else to go."

Possession girl: "You can't go back. He will never stop. You can go to a shelter."

This garners an 'I don't think so look' from New York.

Possession Girl: " No, they are not that bad."

New York: "Well I was thinking I would just go straight to New York after I get out. My bags are packed. I was packing when he came over."

Weeping Mother: "If you do that he can say you abandoned your children. Everything can be used against you in court. You have to remember that if you want to keep your children."

Possession Girl: "You need to find some place else to stay because he will not stop."

I don't think New York was prepared for such forceful words of advice and she became silent as she took in everything that was said. I hoped that she would be safe. I hoped she would not go back. Yet history tells many a story of women who go back. Women who would rather face the possibility of death than losing their children. Women who would rather die a little everyday than face the emptiness of loneliness. Some of the women commented about how their husbands or boyfriends were good fathers. My thoughts, "He may spend time with his children. He may be gentle with his children. But no man who beats his wife is a good father." I wanted to say this but I didn't. My intuition told me to hold my tongue.

I saw then that God moments happen everywhere. Here I was in jail listening to women try to encourage one another. Help one another in some small way. And maybe, just maybe, those small kindnesses will bring them God's grace. I believe it to be true. One of the biggest kindnesses I experienced was when Possession Girl explained the bond process to me. Her explaination made all of the weight I felt go away. When she realized that New York and I weren't clear about how bond work she became visibly excited:

Possession Girl: "Okay it works like this. They will set an amount to be paid to get you out of here. Now, if you have the whole amount you pay it and when you go to court you get the money back. Most people don't have the money to pay the entire bond amount so you can use a professional bonds man. (Using the paper that her bond amount was written on and a "pen" she demonstrated how this works.) Okay, so you multiply the amount of your bond by 12% or .12. This is what you pay to the bonds man to get out."

Me: "But what about the rest of the money?"

Possession Girl: "Well he puts up the entire amount of the bond as a good faith payment that you will show up for your court appearance. When you show up he gets the rest of the money back. So 12% of your bond amount buys your freedom. Although freedom doesn't cost money. You will be able to go home. Sleep in your bed. Eat food from your fridge. Watch tv. Twelve percent gets you home."

Me: "She said something about signing over my possessions. What does that mean?"

Possession Girl: "Oh, well, let's say you have the money to pay your bond amount. You can sign over the things you came in with to someone outside who can then use your money to pay the bond."

I told her that she should be an advocate or something because she explained that whole process so much better than the woman at the window did. I immediately got on a phone and called Polly. I was so excited because I knew we had 12%. It would make things tight for awhile but we had it now. Once again I sat through an automated message before Polly and I were connected. I told her what I knew and she said she had already gone to a bond office. The first number she called that I gave her was disconnected so rather than call, they just stopped by a bond office. She and her son were on their way home to drop off her grandson, go to the credit union to get the bail amount, and get paperwork that showed her son was gainfully employed. Dhabi was going to co-sign for me. He was vouching for me. An unemployed woman. It would be his ass if, for any reason, I didn't show up for my court date. I was so grateful for his trust in me and I let her know we had the money to reimburse him right away.

I cannot explain how it felt to know that there was someone on the outside working so hard to get me released. Polly also was the liaison between my husband and I because I could not call him. She kept him up to date with what was happening. There are no words to express...there are no words.

More time passed and Tennessee went out to get finger printed. When she came back she let us know that we were going to be moved to another part of the complex. I called Polly again to let her know that I was probably going to be moving. She knew where I was going and the sub-text was that she knew what it meant for me to be moved there. Possession Girl got excited explaining it would mean showers and a bed. Relative comfort when compared to the cold, steel bench we sat on. Apparently we were going to be moved into general population.

It didn't really hit me what this meant. I heard it and it didn't really compute. About thirty minutes later four names were called and mine was one of them. I had already made a decision about how to approach this experience. I was also buoyed by the fact that Polly and Dhabi were out there making things happen. I knew I wouldn't be staying the night. In my heart I knew.

So viewing this experience as an adventure and not a reflection of who I am, I walked out the door with three other women. We were told by an unsmiling, stern, disinterested female guard to line up in a single file line and stay to the right of the hall. We walked in this formation, following her to a door that said, 'Mens Changing'. There was a door that said, 'Women's Changing' but she indicated in a clipped voice that we were to go through the 'Mens Changing" door. We walked into a cold, harshly lit, dirty shower room. There was wrappers, paper and dirt on the floor. We were given prison issue clothes folded in a pile. We were told to change into these clothes. We were not to keep on any clothing that belonged to us. In that cold, dirty room I removed the last of what I possessed. My tank top was traded for a bulky, course prison issue shirt. My beautiful summer skirt replaced by prison issue pants that were at least ten sizes too big for me. I think the greatest humiliation was that we had to replace our underwear with HUGE, graying prison issue underwear. They were literally hanging on my hips. I covered my feet with equally graying, rough socks and slipped my feet in the too large prison slippers. We were told to hurry. Fold our clothes and place them in the plastic bag that was provided. As each of us finished, the guard checked to make sure we weren't wearing any bras or underwear that weren't prison issued.

In her clipped, disinterested voice, without really looking at us, she told us to pair up. She placed a waist chain around me, commenting that she was going to actually have to wrap it twice to get it around. My right wrist was placed in a handcuff attached to the waist chain and my partner's wrist was place in the left one. "Attached" to one another like this we were ordered out of the changing room into the hall. We were to walk on the right one pair behind the other. It was a long walk in too big slippers, too big pants, chained to another person. At one point we were told to walk faster. We came to an elevator and as the door opened we were told to walk straight back and face the back wall. When we reached our floor we were told to turn around and follow the guard down another long hall. At the end of it we were led through a door into a kind of seating area. After removing the cuffs and chains we were told to sit and not to talk to the inmates who could see us through windowed doors.

With me was Tennessee, Possession Girl, and the young woman I encountered earlier who never spoke. I looked around from where I sat and I hoped to God I would be in B1. There were six doors in total. B1-B6. The window of each door gave me a limited view of what lay inside but we could see the women who kept coming to the windows to look at us. The only room that this didn't happen in was B1. From what I could see these doors opened into what seemed to be huge, gym like rooms. It was dinner time and two women inmates were passing dinner through the slots in the door under the windows.

Once again I was very quiet. Taking in all that was around me. I looked up and could see there was a viewing area that allowed the guards to watch down into all six of the rooms. Possession Girl smiled and asked if we were scared or mad because I was so quiet. I was neither. Without realizing what I was doing at the time, I was centering myself as new challenges came up. Quiet was the best way I knew to get there.

After sitting for sometime, being watched and looked at by women with cold, dangerous, violent, laughing eyes, we were told to go to a window. At this window we collected a gray bundle. We were told to get green mats and then wait at B1. Thank God!

When the doors were opened the space looked like a school gym that was made into a dormitory. Harsh lights made the room seem unnaturally bright. There was a row of phones as we immediately came in. While waiting one of my companions somehow learned there was a phone list being kept in this room. It was sensory overload walking in there. Everyone's eyes were on us but the room didn't go silent. So much to take in all at once. There were bunk beds against one wall. Single beds were bolted to the floor one the opposite side of the room. There were rooms with bunk beds in them and toilets.

"Where do I sleep? What beds are empty?" and my eyes fell on an empty top bunk. One lady loudly greeted us with a big smile. I was already on the defensive. My inner voice did not trust her or her smile. As we chose our bunks she walked up to me and asked if I needed any help with my bed. I declined her offer. I knew that I wouldn't be staying overnight. Apparently the bunk I chose was above hers. Tennessee chose a bunk next to mine. Possession Girl was taken for her first court appearance. The young woman I never heard speak walked, in quiet anger, to a top bunk in the shadows in a corner far from everyone. She and Tennessee got to making their beds so in the interest of having something to do as I bought myself time to adjust. I turned my full attention on making a bed I would never sleep in.

The gray material that held everything was a threadbare, rough blanket. It was very cold in the room and when I opened the blanket I saw another change of prison issue clothes which included a sweatshirt. I put this on as I continued to find what the bundle held. Two pairs of socks like the ones I wore, two pairs of underwear like the ones I wore, two sports bra type bras - color: gray-, a plastic cup holding: a comb,toothpaste, toothbrush, soap; toilet paper with another bar of soap stuck in it, three cardboard boxes holding maxi-pads, a thin, graying sheet, and a graying cover for the mat. The bunk beds were metal and the mat fit inside with enough space left to store the things provided by the prison. I took my time making the bed. Arranging my things so that they were against the wall and not on the outside. One woman told Tennessee and I that the best way to get the soap taste out of the cups was to wash it out good with toothpaste. With nothing left to do to busy myself, I finally turned around.

I was hard to be in that room because I could feel so much energy. Some energy was safe and some was not. I couldn't figure out which people were the ones to avoid. The ones tainting the atmosphere. The whole time I was was in that room I thought, "Am I safe with these people? Can I trust them? Is this really kindness or am I going to be raped later?" Although I talked with people I was constantly on guard. Tennessee was too and so I knew I was right to be wary.

Tennessee suggested that we sit at a table that was right near our bunks. That is when I thought about the phones against the wall and asked someone how to get on the list. The woman called to another woman, apparently the person keeping the list. She was a very mannish looking woman who exuded Alpha energy and I knew she was the 'leader' in this room. She had taken it upon herself to bring respect, justice and order to women who experienced none of this from the guards. When she realized I needed a phone she informed me that new people don't have to wait. There were seven phones and it looked like only three worked. She walked over to where the women were on the phone and looked at their time. She informed me someone was almost done. Then she watched. When the woman I was waiting on finished she tried to call out again. The List Woman was on her in a flash. "No, no, no. You need to get off. She is new and needs to get on the phone." Complete compliance with nervous explanations as the phone was put down and the woman moved away. I was astonished. "Okay, now you can get on the phone." I said thank you and sat down to call Polly again with an update. This time she told me that they had been to the bond office and paid the bail amount. She shared that he told them that it could take awhile for me to be released. He had to wait in a line to sign up to pay the bond. He would then wait in another line to pay the bond. It was around 7:30pm when I called her. I was arrested at 1:45pm that day. He told her that I should be out by 9:30pm. If I wasn't released by then, I needed to call again before 11:00pm. Polly and Dhabi were at the jail waiting for me to be released. I learned later that the phones are turned off at 11:00pm.

Knowing that from then on out was a waiting game. It was the game that had been played all day. I walked back to the table I was at originally. More people had come and sat there while I was on the phone. I noticed that spades was the game to play in this particular place of waiting. Some ladies had been very creative and using the card board from the maxi-pad containers, made playing cards. Complete with numbers and symbols and colors. As I sat I realized I had come into an interesting conversation.

There were two girls that looked like sorority types, a woman who looked pretty straight laced, and Tennessee. The Sorority Girls were both in jail for D.U.Is. The straight laced woman was charged with public lewdness. I have no idea what she had done but she did it while at a blood alcohol level of 35.8. She should have died and she said as much. She talked about how shocked the doctors and nurses were at the hospital. They all said that she should be dead.

She read a newspaper as we discussed her options after being released.

"I am a raging alcoholic. I cannot be around alcohol at all. I want to stop drinking. I need to."

Sorority Girl 1: "Why not go to a rehab facility?"

Sorority Girl 2: "You could go to a residential rehab facility."

Me: "Yes, I have a close friend who was in one and it really helped. She has been sober for years. You are alive for some reason."

"I went into detox before coming here and I was bad off. I don't want to go back to drinking but freedom makes me want to drink. The moment I am free I want a drink because I know I can have one."

Sorority Girl 1: "You could go straight to rehab from here.

As this conversation found its end the question came around to me , "What did you do to get in here? You look like a librarian. You don't look like you would do anything criminal."

"I was arrested for driving on a suspended licence. And actually, I am teacher."

Laughter all around. A teacher or a librarian is what folks had been guessing. To be arrested and in this place for a traffic violation that wasn't even known to me was laughable. So I laughed too. And not having an interesting story the attention turned to Tennessee.

She was in Georgia for writing a bad check for a computer back in 2006. She actually had the money but a check she deposited had not cleared so the check for the computer bounced A LOT. But she couldn't be held accountable for that because in the state of Tennessee she was being investigated for and later charged with arson and theft over $60,000 which is grand larceny. She had served four years in Tennessee and was transferred by prison bus to Georgia to face the check fraud charges. Intrigued, the others wanted to know what it was she burned. She burned her ex-husband's Winnebago. Laughter all around and explanations requested.

It seems that her ex-husband who wasn't paying child support was spending lots of money on other things, like a $60,000 Winnebago. So Tennessee had gone to the camp ground where it was parked. She had meant to only break the ignition switch on the thing. Using a screw driver and a hammer she broke the switch but that also made the vehicle lurch forward and she panicked. Suddenly the trailer on wheels was rolling toward the lake. Luckily it was stopped by some trees. As she got out she noticed the curtains were flying out of the windows so she took out her lighter and put the flame to them. She said it went up so fast it as unbelievable. And, wanting her husband to know she had done it, she called 911: "I just set my ex's Winnebago on fire. You might want to send someone out." She was arrested for arson and because the vehicle had moved 10 feet while she was in it, she was also charged with grand larceny. I know that should not be funny but in the context of where we all were, it was hilarious.

Somehow the conversation changed and one of the sorority girls was saying that all of the murderers and child molesters were in the H-block. Tennessee said that she hoped she would get sent there. One of the sorority girls asked her, "Are you serious? Why?" Tennessee answered because she had met a cute girl on the prison transport that was on H-block. She wanted to hook up with her. She had had braids. If I could have taken a picture of the sorority girls' faces, it would have spoken a million words.

Sorority Girl 1: "So I guess four years in jail will make you like that, huh?"

Tennessee: "Oh no. I was like this long before I went to jail."

I was not surprised. I hadn't thought she was a lesbian but it didn't shock me either that she was. Right then someone came up and asked for another person to play a game of spades. I love spades and think I am pretty good at it but I hadn't played in a long time. The lady asked Tennessee and she said she was scared because she didn't really know how serious people were. She didn't want to get anyone mad. The young lady laughed and said it wasn't that serious, so Tennessee went to another table.

Sorority Girls to each other and looking at me: "We have to get the f**k out of here. Man, she said she WANTED to be on H-block. Did you hear that s**t? She wants to go there to be with some girl she met on prison transport! We have to get the f**k out of here."

I just found the whole interaction funny. I knew Tennessee wasn't the least bit interested in any of the people at the table I was sitting at. She was the one person I was least afraid of.

I realized it was 9:30 so I went to used the phone again. I still had new person privileges. I called Polly and they were still waiting for me. I called the bonds man and found out that the bond had been paid at least an hour earlier. I was still not released. I had heard nothing from the guards. I went to unmake my bed. The lady who was overly nice when we first walked in asked me if I were getting out that night and I said yes. She suggested not to start unmaking my bed because they usually made folks wait. She and I talked about our significant others and she seemed sad to me. I still felt an unease around her but we talked none the less and she had good things to say about her boyfriend and their relationship. She was there because of a parole violation.

This conversation wound down and I sat back at the table I was at before. There was a new woman there and I had noticed her being overly friendly too when I came in. I didn't get a good feeling about her but she told me about a son she was very proud of. He played piano semi-professionally. I noticed that she was really getting into my space as she spoke and I took an opportunity to move away a little when she was distracted. She closed the space after awhile. I started turning my attention to the other people at the table and she ended up moving on. Soon after I heard my name called. I WAS LEAVING!!!

As I gathered my things together, I gave some of the items away. The women cheered as I left the room and went into the waiting area I was in earlier. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. I asked a guard what I was doing out there because I waiting. He said it looked like my bond had been paid. There was no one to take me to be released and that was why I was waiting. So I waited. And I waited. For the first time I became impatient. I sat and watched at least four different guards walk through there while I waited. I began to pace. Sitting was hellish. A female guard came into the area through the door that led out. She saw me standing, in mid-pace.

Guard: "What is going on?"

Me: " I am supposed to be getting released."

Guard: "Take a seat."

Anger. Seething anger. Here I was, in this place where I wasn't supposed to be in the first place and money had changed hands for my release and I was still there. My bond had been posted hours before. Why the f**k was I still there WAITING?!!!!!!! And the absolute powerlessness of it all. These people had the power to keep me there overnight if I did anything they considered disobedient. Prisons are not for rehabilitation. Anyone who says they are is lying. They are places where people who may have already felt powerless did illegal things to get some power and are now in a place to be kept powerless. They are places where people who have felt powerful and used it to hurt others find themselves imprisoned but still able to assert some power. They are places where law-abiding people like me are taken without due diligence on the part of those who are supposedly the enforcers of justice. I was guilty until proven innocent. There is no rehabilitation in a place that has the belief that the people in jail are animals and are to be treated as such. One of the guards said this to one of the women I met. The only real animal like behavior I saw was in the guards. Worse than animals because animals do not gorge themselves on power over the weakest in a pack of prey. I saw more respect and humanity demonstrated by the inmates than any of the guards I encountered. So, held in the grip of their inhumanity, a free woman waited.

Part 1: How I Became an Inmate

I followed the cement sidewalk left as it led me through the dark, humid summer night towards my waiting friends. I did not wake up on the morning of June 17, 2010 thinking that I would be taking this particular walk away from this particular place. How many of us wake up thinking, "This could be the day that I experience something so life altering that my eyes are forever opened."

My day started like most others only on this day I was taking a dear friend to the airport. As we got in the car we made sure she had everything before heading out. I cannot even remember what we were discussing as I pulled away from the stop sign out of my apartment complex, turning left into the median when suddenly there was a car. He was driving well over the speed limit and there was no way to miss him so I came to a stop as his passenger side slide across my car's front bumper. After maneuvering our cars out of traffic I walked over to speak with him. He had called 911 and a police officer was on the way. I had never been in an accident before so I was feeling anxious.

A few minutes passed before the police officer arrived motioning for us to pull into the gas station that was on the corner of the intersection. Registrations and licences were handed over as the police officer asked each of us our version of what happened. Of course the guy said nothing about driving over the speed limit so ultimately the accident was my fault. After we shared our versions of what happened the police officer noticed that I had not changed the address on my licence. Apparently this is something you are supposed to do within 30 days after moving to a new location. The conversation was left at that as he went to his car to run our cards.

Meanwhile, my friend who needed to get to the airport had called another friend to come and take her. She arrived as the police officer went to his car. We spent the next few minutes putting a prepared mom's arsenal of gear in my car and moving luggage going to the airport into the other car. I noticed that the police officer was giving the guy involved in the accident his paperwork back. After saying good-byes my friends were pulling away when the officer asked them if they could stay longer to which my friend answered that she had to get to the airport so he let her go. As this conversation was happening I noticed another police car arrive and park.

I was arrested in the gas station parking lot. It all happened in slow motion it seemed. Completely surreal and unbelievable. One moment I was approaching the police officer to find out what to do next. The next thing I knew I was being told I was under arrest and to turn around with my hands behind my back. In utter bewilderment and confusion I asked why I was being arrested. I was guilty of driving on a suspended licence. "HUH? What did they mean I was driving on a suspended licence? How could that be and I not even know?"

"I don't understand" was all I could say for a few seconds as I was put in the back of the car. It really was happening. I really was being arrested for something that I knew nothing about. I was asked if there was anyone I could call to come get my car. It didn't compute at first so he had to ask again. My husband was out of town. I could think of only one person and that was Polly Boyd. He found her number in my phone and held it to my ear. I could no longer move my arms freely because they were held hostage behind my back. When I heard Polly's voice it was the first time I began to cry and all I knew were tears for some time. I had to tell her I was arrested which made the whole humiliating, confusing, hurt situation real. Polly was shocked and I could hear the anger in her voice. She was at the airport but said that she could come and get the car. The police officer said that that was too far and that the police would be responsible for anything that happened to the car. There was no one else to call so the second cop called a tow while the arresting officer backed up in a space next to my car. My car was being towed to the impound.

Little did I know about the ring of money that flows around the "justice system." Money passes through many hands and I would come to see how the justice system treats the people who keep this steady supply of cash flowing.

I kept asking when and for what reason my licence was suspended. The officer could tell me when; from February to April but he could not tell me why. There were no details only that it was suspended in South Carolina. He asked me if there was anything I could remember. There was a ticket in Chicago but that was taken care of. I had cancelled my insurance in February but that could not be it because I had given the car to a family friend first. It was no longer in my name.

So I became silent. I settled into myself and closed my eyes and just let tears run. I kept telling myself, "This is all happening for some reason." I let myself feel the humiliation and the anger. I worried about my husband who was the only person working and I didn't know how much any of this was going to cost. I thought about how I kept being a burden. First with being sick and now having an accident and being arrested. Then I just stopped thinking. I justed breathed. I heard the tow truck arrive and the officer asked me where my keys were. I could barely speak and I had to repeat myself, "Either in my purse or in the car." The keys were found in my car and we left as the tow was loading our car.

I sat in the back of the hot cramped car with my hands behind me as the car drove for some time. I stayed to myself with my eyes closed unable to wipe away tears and snot. I could say only one prayer, "Ya Baha 'u'l- Abha" (O Thou Glory of the Most Glorious). I opened my eyes as the car began to slow to stop and I found we were at a gas depot. The police man got out and put gas in the car. We sat here for some time as he did my paperwork on the car's computer. He told me I was going to be handed over to another officer and that we were waiting. He asked me if I had ever been arrested before and I told him no. I didn't know why I was being arrested now either. Ah, the big mystery!!!

After pulling away and waiting behind a building for awhile longer a police officer came out. He would be the one to take me to jail. I was handed over to another officer and a female officer patted me down then put me in another hot, cramped back seat. This one even more cramped than the first. The arresting officer drove away and the two new officers got in the car. I never said a word. The tears had not stopped and I found it easier to concentrate on nothing with my eyes closed. So once again another car was moving. I began to get really uncomfortable in this car. The handcuffs were biting into my wrists and I could not find a comfortable position. It was hotter in the car too.

The car ride seemed to take ages and then I felt the car slow down. I opened my eyes to find I was not at jail but at a garage for county vehicles. The woman officer was dropped off at her car and we were off again. Just me and the second officer. He asked me if I had ever been arrested before and I said no. By this point no more tears were coming and I was just quiet. Watching people and objects as we passed by, this helped take my mind off of the increasingly uncomfortable position of my arms and pain from the handcuffs.

When we arrived at the jail I could not believe how relieved I was just to be able to stretch my arms and legs. I was led into a receiving area where the handcuffs were removed. I was asked by a female guard to spread my legs and arms wide as she began to pat me down. I removed all of my jewelery and was asked list of medical related questions at break neck speed. I was given a prison issue top to put on over my tank top. Satisfied that I wasn't going to die on their watch from some unknown cause and that I was not carrying a weapon, the officer led me inside to a holding area. We stood in front of a window where I would stand for an hour as my paperwork was completed. He did not stay for the hour. He allowed me to get numbers out of my phone. I had to choose well because these were the only people I would have any contact with for the duration of my time in jail. They failed to tell me that only local calls could be made.

The woman who did my intake paperwork was new and was being trained. As a result, she was kind and I am grateful I stood at her window. She let me know that I was lucky because they rarely let anyone stand at the window as the paperwork was being done. This meant I would get the amount for my bond right away. Another small favor, the arresting officer did a lot of the paperwork in the car so my intake went faster than usual. I began to wonder when I would be able to call someone. My stomach growled and I wondered about food. I wondered where the bathrooms were and when I asked the woman doing my paperwork, explained that the toilets were in the holding cells behind a 'privacy wall'.

While I waited I took in my surroundings. I had no idea how long I would be there. There were rooms behind large plate glass windows. These were not the holding cells that I had expected to see. In these rooms long steel benches ran along the wall and what looked like pay phones were attached to the wall above them. There were separate rooms for men and women and the rooms were different sizes. The room that caught my attention was #12, WOMEN ONLY. It was a small room and from the voices I could hear, it was full. I would see women look out the window every so often. Beside room 12 was 13 which was much larger, had a number of phones and was empty. When my paperwork was finished I was told to go to room #13. As I walked towards it guards were passing out dinner from a large steel box on wheels.

"You want to eat? It's dinner time," a female guard asks me loudly.

"Yes."

"Go to room 12," she said as she handed me a Styrofoam box.

M first emotion stepping into the packed room was not fear. I was not afraid. I was numb. I had been numb most of the ride in the car and felt nothing as I found a place on the bench and sat. The air was filled with "waiting". Waiting and regret. I didn't feel in any immediate danger and it seemed that the ladies were looking at me with curiosity. It was not quiet. One woman was on the one of two phones on the wall. Conversations were going on all around me. Nervous, moving energy. There were black and white women, young and old. The girl next to me asked me if I was going to eat my dinner. I was hungry but could not eat because I was faced with my first real dilemma and had to start thinking as an inmate and it regarded my first phone call. I told her I couldn't eat at the moment but was going to because I didn't know when I was going to be able to eat again.

Food was the last thing on my mind as panic began to push out hunger. No one knew where I was. I had no idea when the bond office closed. I tried making sense of what the intake lady said. Something about 12% of the bond going to the bonds man. Something about signing out my possessions to someone else who could pay the bond on my behalf. I had written down three numbers from the electronic list that changed before I could finish writing them. Now I was sitting with 7 other women in a cramped holding cell, with papers in my hand - one with the dollar amount for my release - and I had a dilemma.

One woman was on a phone. There was one other phone an angry woman was leaning on. I had seen her earlier at another window and there was some mix up regarding her status. She was angry then and she was angry now. She never spoke above a whisper and I can only remember her speaking maybe twice during my entire time in jail. This was my first encounter with her and she was leaning on the only other phone in the room.

It turned out the second phone was not working. I found out when I asked if she was waiting and other women answered saying the phone did not work. I held panic at bay as I contemplated how to get on a phone while also not causing any problems for myself later. I had no idea how long I would be with these women. I had no idea what the dynamics were and I knew that it would be an even worse experience if I found myself the object of bullying.

I thought, "Maybe I can ask the lady on the phone when she will be finished. No, that could anger her and the woman waiting. Okay, there is an empty room next door with lots of phones. Maybe when the guard comes by next I can ask to go next door and use a phone. Hmmmm, the guard may just tell one person to get off the phone so I can use it. This could anger both women. I can't take that chance. I will just wait."

Patience saved me possible retribution. It was a chance I could not take.

Luckily I did not have to wait long. Once I got on the phone I called my husband only to find that the phone did not allow long distance calls. I called Polly. We waited through an automated message before we were connected. She told me she had already been to the jail and was told I was not there. She was on her way to another jail when I called. As I began to tell her about the bond amount I started to cry. We didn't have that kind of money. Her voice was very calm and she told me she and her son were turning around. I gave her the numbers I was able to write down for some professional bonds men. The guard interrupted my call to tell me I needed to be finger printed. During my brief break down I had felt sympathy from the women in the holding cell and though it was not seen as weakness, I did not cry again.

I wiped away tears as I walked in the direction the guard's finger pointed.

While being finger printed the woman guard came in. She joked about how she was putting all the women in room 12 and how cramped it was. She laughed about the one working phone. She laughingly talked about how she moved everyone to number 13 when the women complained about feeling claustrophobic.

I realized in that moment that this was how the guards displayed their power. This was how people were dis-empowered. This was how people who found themselves arrested made choices in a situation where the threat of dis-empowered people turning on one another was a real concern. Inefficiency was bred in this environment, not because there weren't the tools available to be efficient but because making arrested people wait without reason is another method of dis-empowering. This was how the guards created an atmosphere of distrust and confusion. There was no comfort. Everything was cold and stark. Even the food.

I knew all was going to be okay when I walked into room 13 and my food was there. One of the other women had brought it over for me. This was a display of kindness that I never saw any assumption of repayment for. For anyone walking into a room full of arrested individuals the question in their mind is, "Am I safe with these people? Can I trust them? Is this really kindness or am I going to be raped later?" Yes, even women rape one another and there always was that question in the back of my mind. I quickly realized I had little to worry about with this particular group of women.

As I sat down saying thank you I opened the top of the Styrofoam box. All I can describe as food was glop. I think it was meant to be a chicken and pasta meal. There was a very small "salad" of lettuce, two pieces of bread and cake that looked like corn bread. I was given a cup and there was a packet of flavored powder for mixing with water. I ate what I could and gave the drink packet away. I guess you could say it was better than what I expected but it was far from healthy or filling.

After eating I really sat and took in the ladies around me. I am very sensitive to energy and I felt there was no harm to worry about from these women. The room was full of conversations all happening at once and it could get loud at times. I smiled for the first time in that room. Eventually people began to talk about what got them arrested in the first place. Three women were arrested on simple assault charges. Sad stories of physical violence by their partners and attempts to protect themselves leading to their arrests. One woman was there for writing a bad check. A young woman, probably the youngest there, was arrested for loitering, trespassing and possession under half a gram. Then the conversation turned to me,

"You don't look like you could do anything wrong. You don't look like a criminal. What did you do to get put in here?"

"I was driving on a suspended licence."

Laughter erupted all around the holding cell. After hearing all of their stories I had to laugh too.

"What is your job?"

"I am a teacher."

"I knew it. You look like a teacher."

The ice was completely broken at this point. I knew they had been looking at me with curiosity. The first time I was on the phone in room 12 it had gone from buzzing conversations to quiet. Now, conversation was easy and I began to relax. I trusted my intuition and not one woman in the room had tried to assert power at any point. I knew I was going to be okay.