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.