I Know You’re In There

The fresh ink from the ballpoint pen traced over the faded lines that he had drawn on his ring finger many times over. Sometimes it was a design, sometimes just scribbled lines to darken the circumference of his finger where it meets his hand. Today he was in a hurry, so it lended itself towards the latter. His task complete, he tossed the pen into a metal cup on his desk, grabbed his beaded lanyard with his key on it, and walked out of his cell. He locked the door behind him.

As he walked towards the guard station, he rubbed the smooth beads with his thumb. He liked the feel of it. It was just something he did without even thinking about it. Before coming to prison, he would play with the buttons on his shirts, absent-mindedly undoing them and doing them back up. Amber, his wife, used to tease him about it after doing a public presentation. No matter how hard he tried, he just kept doing it. It was his thing.

He pushed open to the door and the two guards sitting behind the high table looked up. You can ballpark how long one’s been at this job by how they respond to the door opening. Rookies tend to be more alert and anxious about potential threats. The veterans are much calmer, looking up with sleepier eyes. It reminded him of roller-coasters. The first few times are exhilarating and cause welcomed panic. But the more times you ride, the more predictable it gets. Until something fails, that is.

Today, there was one of each behind the desk. A disinterested acknowledgment from Jason, and a surprisingly big smile from Kate.

“Ready for your big day, Mason?” Mason was his last name. James “Jimmy” Mason, but the guards usually only knew last names.

He returned the smile, but kind of like a dog who wags because he wants so bad to believe that this time won’t be like the other times that hurt. Cautiously optimistic.

“Sure, boss, but my hopes ain’t high.” At this Jason grunted something about they shouldn’t be. Jimmy ignored him because that’s what you do. “When are they coming for me?”

She looked at her watch and looked up with as much compassion as she figured she was allowed to show. “They should be here in 20 minutes. Please be sure to have things in order just in case.”

“Just in case” meant that if things went well, he wouldn’t be coming back. He was scheduled to go for a hearing that would determine whether his debt to society had been paid. He was far past his opportunity for parole dates, but he had never applied. Some said it was because he figured there was no way they would let a guy like him out. They had a hard time seeing any other reason.

Jimmy walked back through the door and it felt heavier than usual. Leave? Prison had been his home for 27 years. His best years were behind him. There was nothing to look forward to out there.

I don’t even deserve to be out there.

It would be easy enough to fix if he was set free. Free. As far as he was concerned, he would never be free. Guys like him may get out, but wherever they go, there they are.

The ride to the hearing went too quickly. He didn’t need to be reminded why he was in prison. One of the reasons that he didn’t appeal or apply for parole was that he reminded himself every single day why he was where he was. He relived it every single day.

The van that he was being escorted in entered the docking area of the courthouse. The guards came around and opened the van door. They unfastened the shackles from the floor ring and helped him to the ground. It wasn’t uncommon for guys like him to “have an accident” on the way out of vans, but today was a little different. Maybe it was the guards, maybe it was the gravity of the situation. Maybe it was the fact that Jimmy was already acting as if he was never getting out. Acting like he had no hope. You can’t beat out of a guy something that he doesn’t have.

They escorted him in and bypassed the holding cells that he would normally waste away in while waiting for whatever they had brought him for. But today he got to go straight in. Lucky day and all that. Living the dream. They took him up three floors in the elevator (imagine having to take the stairs in shackles), and down the hall to room 303. The panel of three was already seated and waiting for him. This was all new to him. It felt…nice. But also wrong. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Good morning, Mr. Mason, please have a seat,” said the man on the far left side of the table. He gestured towards the only chair directly in front of their table. He seemed nice but antiseptic. Like he was used to being nice for the sake of being nice. It wasn’t bad, just a little fake. The woman in the middle couldn’t be bothered to put on a show of kindness. She was all business. Jimmy liked that. Be real. She wasn’t mean, just to the point.

“Mr. Mason,” she started over the clicking of fasteners as his shackles were attached to the mooring rings imbedded in the floor. “You are here today in response to a petition brought forth by the state to decide whether your current risk to the public is enough to keep you detained until a later date. You have denied your right to council. Is that still your wish?”

“I didn’t ask for this hearing.”

“We understand that, but nevertheless you are here. Do you want a lawyer?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay, then let’s begin.”

As far as he could tell, the hearing lasted an eternity. Question after question surrounding this crime. He didn’t defend himself. He could sense some frustration at his lack of a reason for why he did what he did. He couldn’t give one. The panel then excused themselves and Jimmy was taken for a bathroom break. When he got back, he didn’t have to wait long for them to return.

There was an eerie tension in the room as they sat down. He couldn’t tell anything by their faces. The woman in the middle looked up and said matter-of-factly, “Mr. Mason. What you did 27 years ago was horrific and truly inexplicable.”

Agreed.

“However, you have done more than your assigned sentence and with zero infractions. Although you refuse to tell us why you did what you did, and taking the psychological assessments into consideration, you do not seem to pose a threat to society if released.”

No way.

“Therefore, it is the findings of this panel that you shall be released immediately. This meeting is adjourned.”

Speechless.

With that they stood up and filed out of the room. He heard whispering behind him and instead of being unchained (he would still need to be processed out downstairs), another woman came from behind him and sat down at the table.

Okay, this must be the other shoe.

“Mr. Mason, my name is Sherry DeWalt and I work for Bentley & Ramsey. I’m a lawyer. Our firm is acting on behalf of the estate of your late wife. Before she died, she amended her will.”

Jimmy just stared back at her. This wasn’t news. Of course he’d probably been written out.

“What does this have to do with me?” He asked.

“Well, you might recall that after the incident, it was decided that your children would receive the totality of the estate once they came of age.”

“Well, I just assumed that, seeing as though, well, you know.”

“Yes, I do. Well, you will be surprised to learn that her amended will stipulate that regardless of the action you took, and assuming you would live through your sentence, that you would still receive something upon release.”

His chin started to quiver as the words sunk in.

“Mr. Mason, your late wife left you $20,000.”

His chin fell to his chest. “But I killed her.”

“Nevertheless, these are her wishes. One last thing. She also left you this black notebook. Her instructions are for you to read it immediately. In fact, the funds will not be released to you until I witness you read it.”

“I don’t understand. When did she write this?”

“Your wife was lucid for at least some of her time in the hospital after the incident and before she died. She wrote this then.”

He took the small notebook from her outstretched hand and sat back in his chair. His finger traced around the edges. Was reading this worth twenty grand? He didn’t know.

He reluctantly opened the book. He immediately recognized the handwriting and tears streamed down his face. He rubbed the ink ring on his finger and started to read.

Dear Jimmy,

If you’re reading this, you’re finally getting out. I don’t know why you did what you did, but I still know you and that wasn’t you. It hadn’t been you for a while. But I still love you. I want you to be that man that I fell in love with all those years ago. I’m leaving you some money to help. It’s not much, but it’ll get you a little apartment (like that one had when we were first married!) and tide you over until you can find some work. Find the kids. Make it right with them. Find yourself. I know you’re in there.

Love always,

Amber