Biographical Fiction posted May 14, 2023 | Chapters: | 3 4 -5- 6... |
Release from the Detention center.
A chapter in the book My Notes From Above The Ground.
The First Life Changing Moment.
by Niyuta
Background This is a narrated life story of a homeless woman in her fifties. She has created a autobiographic narrative that begins in her Childhood days and her experiences and a turbulent life in a Trailer Par |
I had to depended on my memory to I write the notes related to this chapter of my story. I wrote them several months after my returning home. Now, in this continuing narration of the saga of my beating of Walter, the arrest, getting locked up in the juvenile detention center, and the conversation with Ms. Alice Holland, I have used those afterthought based notes, and readers may find bit of disorganization in the chronological sense. However, I did my best to keep it as close to the facts as my memories permitted. I am starting with the end of episode of the first night, that ended in going to bed in the cell, and here is what happened the next morning:
Rhythmic three beat-knocks on each cell door woke me before it reached mine, and that general noise of announcements and orders got me out of bed. The announcement of breakfast told me get ready, and the one of the orders, made everyone in the cells aware of the fact that we were not in our bed at home, and administrative processes were commencing in an hour.
I sat on the age of my bed and took some time to bring my mind into the reality of surroundings. Wee hours of that morning, in a very bad dream, I saw me kneeling in front of a recently dug grave without a head stone. Suddenly tolling of many bells began and I woke up. In reality, the knocking on the cell doors of the facility had terminated that dream.
I ate breakfast in a cafeteria like setting that was similar to one we have in every school of the USA. I ate my last morsel and a warden's assistant came to me to tell me that my attorney has arrived, and I must return to the assigned attorney consultation room at once. I followed her with a thought of how to tell Ms. Alice Holland, that I did not think of anything she wanted me to and had no list ready for her.
To think rationally, there was nothing to think about, and what I could tell her would be nothing more than opening my vault of unpleasant memories. As far as that list of individuals who would support my statements, or give me a shining character certificate goes, the possibilities did not exist. My family never went to church or had a Bible in the house and that eliminated any pastor or a church official, and you know about my student life. Not one soul I imagined would be on my side. Well; that was the reality of that moment.
I entered the room and Ms. Holland greeted me with a smile and a good morning wish. Astonishing optimism surprised me and in a confused way, I returned the greetings and sat down in front of her with hands folded around my torso, perhaps it was a subconscious gesture of tell me what's next, if I don't have what you had asked me to prepare yesterday.
The conversation to my surprise, began with the inquiry about how was my first night's stay: was it good or bad sort of inquiry. Then she spoke in the official tone of a defending attorney:
"I have some encouraging thoughts about what to do with our case. I know you have no list, that we can deal with later. I have a strategy to prevent school folks to push for demanding trial in the adult court. Again repeating, but I need you tell me all and everything from beginning, and this you can do without any special efforts, unless you have a memory lapse or blockage. Use you do that? I would like to record it for preparation of the narrative that would have a high probability of success. Are you ready? If you need time to gather your thoughts, I will leave you here for twenty minutes and return to start the work. We have a limited time and I have to get you out of here as soon as I can with a personal guarantee bond."
After she left, I began my reconstruction exercise. Ms. Burns, my English Literature teacher, the only soul in this wide world who had recognized my talent in the language, and skills of penning my thoughts and had encouraging praises for me, came to my mind. She had gone extra miles in teaching me how to describe scenario, use the adjectives with words and phrases judiciously and effectively by keeping the readers' in mind. Remember to whom you are wanting to impress and want to be interested in going on reading. Be consistent and cohesive in your style.
Well, all that advise I had assimilated in my psyche; it came handy that day. When Ms. Holland returned, I was ready to bring forth all hidden issues-my pains, and sufferings, which had isolated me from the maddening crowd of youthful summers and made me like one of the female writers of the 18th century England and like them the subterfuge I took in the books and on that isolated riverbank.
Methodically and with precision, I gave account of all those taunts of being a virgin-an ogress, untouched by the arrows of Eros, and rejected by any and all males of the earth. Walter's behavior, his accidental discovery and then trailing me to my hiding place and the subsequent stealing of under pant and bra and making a trophy out of them to display in his car. All my emotions and anguishes for the first time I could put in words, as if my ailing soul finally broke the locks of the doors which my stubborn and protective mind had guarded for a long time. In next moment, without control, tears began rolling out on my stoic face. I wept unabashed and without feeling anger towards the world I was thrown into without anyone asking me if I wished to be here.
I don't know how long, but must have wept for few minutes uninterrupted in that silent room. As the surge of emotions subsided, I wiped my tears and looked up at Ms. Holland, I thought she was wiping her eyes, and the recording had ended. Without saying anything, she got up and came around and I stood up. She hugged me and planted a kiss on my forehead. Only my pappy used to do that, and his memories and the dream I had that morning, made me emotional again. I hugged her and silently let the tears role on her bosom.
She recovered from the emotional scene and we began the discussion of the legal matters. She said to me:
"In my twenty years of practicing law in the Juvenile Judiciary, I have not received narrative like you have done today. I am confident now, that your image as an emotionless and mentally deranged brute child, I will be able to replace with a new picture of a you; a sensitive and abused child that acted in the self defense when Walter came at you with the intentions of sexual attack. Your details of that fight are overwhelming, and convincing. It matches the descriptions of aggression displayed by males when denied sex in many other cases. This I believe will force the judge to review the charges more humanely. Before we go to that final step, I am going to let the prosecuting attorney and social services folks hear this taped narrative and ask them to drop the demand of the trial in the adult-court. I think he will have to, unless he wants to see Walter getting charged with attempted rape."
Hearing her legal strategy, I felt uneasy; that was not the case; he simply wanted to play a prank. I couldn't lie about it and I said to Ms. Holland:
"I did not say anything in my affidavit about Walter's intentions and I don't think he wanted to rape me; I am sure of that."
"Leave that to me; no one has accused him yet. We will not have to do that, but I have no idea, nor you have, what was going on in his mind at that time. A young woman available in an isolated place has high probability of getting sexually assaulted is it not? That possibility was present, and all I have to do is to bring it to their attention and that's all. I assure you I have no intentions of hurting him in anyway to save you. You both are victims of our failing education and judicial systems; the changes have come in the incremental ways at a slow pace and that has to come on the fast track. In the areas of crimes and punishments, for the juvenile, women and minority segment of population, there is much discrimination even today, something has to be done to bring reforms and that's what I have made my life's goal. This case may help me in some way. I will get you out this afternoon."
She left the consulting room, and I went back to my cell. Ms. Holland achieved her immediate goal and I returned home to my Pappy that evening.
Rhythmic three beat-knocks on each cell door woke me before it reached mine, and that general noise of announcements and orders got me out of bed. The announcement of breakfast told me get ready, and the one of the orders, made everyone in the cells aware of the fact that we were not in our bed at home, and administrative processes were commencing in an hour.
I sat on the age of my bed and took some time to bring my mind into the reality of surroundings. Wee hours of that morning, in a very bad dream, I saw me kneeling in front of a recently dug grave without a head stone. Suddenly tolling of many bells began and I woke up. In reality, the knocking on the cell doors of the facility had terminated that dream.
I ate breakfast in a cafeteria like setting that was similar to one we have in every school of the USA. I ate my last morsel and a warden's assistant came to me to tell me that my attorney has arrived, and I must return to the assigned attorney consultation room at once. I followed her with a thought of how to tell Ms. Alice Holland, that I did not think of anything she wanted me to and had no list ready for her.
To think rationally, there was nothing to think about, and what I could tell her would be nothing more than opening my vault of unpleasant memories. As far as that list of individuals who would support my statements, or give me a shining character certificate goes, the possibilities did not exist. My family never went to church or had a Bible in the house and that eliminated any pastor or a church official, and you know about my student life. Not one soul I imagined would be on my side. Well; that was the reality of that moment.
I entered the room and Ms. Holland greeted me with a smile and a good morning wish. Astonishing optimism surprised me and in a confused way, I returned the greetings and sat down in front of her with hands folded around my torso, perhaps it was a subconscious gesture of tell me what's next, if I don't have what you had asked me to prepare yesterday.
The conversation to my surprise, began with the inquiry about how was my first night's stay: was it good or bad sort of inquiry. Then she spoke in the official tone of a defending attorney:
"I have some encouraging thoughts about what to do with our case. I know you have no list, that we can deal with later. I have a strategy to prevent school folks to push for demanding trial in the adult court. Again repeating, but I need you tell me all and everything from beginning, and this you can do without any special efforts, unless you have a memory lapse or blockage. Use you do that? I would like to record it for preparation of the narrative that would have a high probability of success. Are you ready? If you need time to gather your thoughts, I will leave you here for twenty minutes and return to start the work. We have a limited time and I have to get you out of here as soon as I can with a personal guarantee bond."
After she left, I began my reconstruction exercise. Ms. Burns, my English Literature teacher, the only soul in this wide world who had recognized my talent in the language, and skills of penning my thoughts and had encouraging praises for me, came to my mind. She had gone extra miles in teaching me how to describe scenario, use the adjectives with words and phrases judiciously and effectively by keeping the readers' in mind. Remember to whom you are wanting to impress and want to be interested in going on reading. Be consistent and cohesive in your style.
Well, all that advise I had assimilated in my psyche; it came handy that day. When Ms. Holland returned, I was ready to bring forth all hidden issues-my pains, and sufferings, which had isolated me from the maddening crowd of youthful summers and made me like one of the female writers of the 18th century England and like them the subterfuge I took in the books and on that isolated riverbank.
Methodically and with precision, I gave account of all those taunts of being a virgin-an ogress, untouched by the arrows of Eros, and rejected by any and all males of the earth. Walter's behavior, his accidental discovery and then trailing me to my hiding place and the subsequent stealing of under pant and bra and making a trophy out of them to display in his car. All my emotions and anguishes for the first time I could put in words, as if my ailing soul finally broke the locks of the doors which my stubborn and protective mind had guarded for a long time. In next moment, without control, tears began rolling out on my stoic face. I wept unabashed and without feeling anger towards the world I was thrown into without anyone asking me if I wished to be here.
I don't know how long, but must have wept for few minutes uninterrupted in that silent room. As the surge of emotions subsided, I wiped my tears and looked up at Ms. Holland, I thought she was wiping her eyes, and the recording had ended. Without saying anything, she got up and came around and I stood up. She hugged me and planted a kiss on my forehead. Only my pappy used to do that, and his memories and the dream I had that morning, made me emotional again. I hugged her and silently let the tears role on her bosom.
She recovered from the emotional scene and we began the discussion of the legal matters. She said to me:
"In my twenty years of practicing law in the Juvenile Judiciary, I have not received narrative like you have done today. I am confident now, that your image as an emotionless and mentally deranged brute child, I will be able to replace with a new picture of a you; a sensitive and abused child that acted in the self defense when Walter came at you with the intentions of sexual attack. Your details of that fight are overwhelming, and convincing. It matches the descriptions of aggression displayed by males when denied sex in many other cases. This I believe will force the judge to review the charges more humanely. Before we go to that final step, I am going to let the prosecuting attorney and social services folks hear this taped narrative and ask them to drop the demand of the trial in the adult-court. I think he will have to, unless he wants to see Walter getting charged with attempted rape."
Hearing her legal strategy, I felt uneasy; that was not the case; he simply wanted to play a prank. I couldn't lie about it and I said to Ms. Holland:
"I did not say anything in my affidavit about Walter's intentions and I don't think he wanted to rape me; I am sure of that."
"Leave that to me; no one has accused him yet. We will not have to do that, but I have no idea, nor you have, what was going on in his mind at that time. A young woman available in an isolated place has high probability of getting sexually assaulted is it not? That possibility was present, and all I have to do is to bring it to their attention and that's all. I assure you I have no intentions of hurting him in anyway to save you. You both are victims of our failing education and judicial systems; the changes have come in the incremental ways at a slow pace and that has to come on the fast track. In the areas of crimes and punishments, for the juvenile, women and minority segment of population, there is much discrimination even today, something has to be done to bring reforms and that's what I have made my life's goal. This case may help me in some way. I will get you out this afternoon."
She left the consulting room, and I went back to my cell. Ms. Holland achieved her immediate goal and I returned home to my Pappy that evening.
This chapter is culminating the Juvenile Justice Center's activities and the defense attorney's strategy to prevent the case going to adult jurisprudence system. Prior chapters reading will make this one meaningful.
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