Insiders (32 page)

Making it out there ain't no easy thing, honey. We're as good as lepers out there.

An older woman parolee. Kathryn Watterson,
Women in Prison

‘You know what they say about advice, don't you?' Theresa asked Jennifer. ‘They say, if you can tell the difference between good advice and bad advice, then you probably don't need any advice. That's what they say about advice.' Theresa leaned back and let her words of wisdom sink in.

‘What kind of advice is that?' Jennifer wanted to know. ‘If I didn't need any advice, I wouldn't have asked for any advice.'

‘That's what I'm trying to tell you,' Theresa explained. ‘You've been asking for advice about this parole hearing from every woman in the joint, and has everyone advised you to do the same thing?'

‘No,' Jennifer answered. ‘In fact, it seems like everyone that I talk to has a different idea of how to act at a parole hearing. Some say I should be all passive and regretful, and
others say I should be confident and strong and really show them that I'm rehabilitated. And Flora said I should just stay quiet and only answer the questions.' Jennifer paused. She really was nervous about this. She could be out in weeks if the board passed her. But lots of inmates had told her that the board was reluctant to parole anyone on their first request. Jennifer was confused. ‘I keep thinking, if they all know so damn much about it, why aren't
they
out on parole? So the point is, I don't know what to think. That's why I'm asking
you.
What's
your
advice?' She looked at Theresa, who wasn't an idiot, though she sounded like one sometimes.

‘I just gave it to you.' Theresa smiled. ‘You have to figure out whose advice is good advice and whose advice is bad advice, and then you won't need any advice at all.'

‘I can't believe you actually made millions talking like this,' Jennifer said in exasperation. ‘You just talk in circles.'

‘Okay, fine,' sniffed Theresa. ‘Let
that
be my advice. My advice is “What goes round, comes round.” It all goes in circles.'

‘That doesn't tell me a thing either,' Jennifer sighed.

‘Then try this,' Theresa continued as she fit another damn piece in the puzzle. ‘“It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.” That's right from the mouth of St Francis, and you don't get much better advice than his.'

Jennifer didn't say anything in response – not right away. She was giving serious thought to what Theresa had just said. ‘That's great advice, Theresa,' she finally said, ‘but who is it that I'm supposed to pardon?'

‘Who are you pissed at?'

Jennifer's brow furrowed as she considered Theresa's question. Who was she pissed at? Tom? Not anymore – not
really. She hated his guts, she despised everything he stood for, and she was sorry as hell that she had ever met the guy. But she wasn't really pissed at him anymore. She didn't have the time to be pissed at Tom. Donald? Same story. That sorry son-of-a-bitch would get his eventually. She just hoped that she would be there to watch it happen. Donald Michaels had played her for the fool that she was, and if she was pissed at anyone, it was herself. She was pissed at herself for idolizing a monster, loving a weakling, and letting them both bring out the absolute worst in her. And she was pissed for being stupid, greedy, and gullible. ‘Me,' she finally said in answer to Theresa's question. ‘I'm pissed at me.'

Theresa just smiled. ‘Well, my advice still applies. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned. Go in there and tell that parole board everything that you're sorry about, and then tell them that you've worked damned hard to forgive yourself, and then tell them you would appreciate it if they would forgive you, too.' Theresa paused for a moment, then asked, ‘
Are
you ready to pardon yourself, honey?'

‘Yeah,' Jennifer answered. ‘Yeah,' she said again, ‘I think I am.'

‘Then you shall be pardoned,' Theresa concluded – and then, like the Pope, she actually blessed Jennifer with the sign of the cross. ‘Now go, my child, and sin no more.'

‘
That's
why you got paid the big bucks,' Jennifer laughed. ‘You really are good at this shit. You know that, don't you?'

‘Well,' Theresa demurred, ‘you know what they say about modesty, don't you? They say modesty is the art of letting other people find out for themselves just how wonderful you are. That's what they say about modesty.'

‘I'll remember that, Theresa,' Jennifer said. ‘You are pretty wonderful.'

‘You are, too, honey,' Theresa replied. ‘You are, too.'

That afternoon, when the time finally came for Jennifer's parole hearing to begin, she was not surprised to discover that everything that Theresa had told her was absolutely true. It all had to start with Jennifer forgiving herself.

As she walked down the hall, she smiled. She couldn't believe that she was about to go to a major meeting without first spending several hours deciding what to wear. Never in her life had she ever gone before any kind of board meeting without her hair styled and her makeup done. But she couldn't do any ‘homework' for this meeting, and she hadn't prepared one single thing to say. Two years ago she would've never forgiven herself for being so badly prepared, but today she knew that she had to forgive herself for having been so
mistakenly
prepared in the past. The Jennifer Spencer that stepped into that parole board hearing had forgiven herself for being herself. She could only hope that Theresa was right, and that others would be willing to forgive her, too.

‘I've never given a more heartfelt and forceful recommendation for parole in my life,' Gwen Harding said. She was waiting outside the meeting room to take Jennifer in. ‘And it wasn't easy for me, Jennifer,' she said, wiping away a tear. ‘If I could have my way, you'd never leave here. I don't know how I'll do it all without you.'

There wasn't time for Jennifer to reply to Gwen's words. The bailiff opened the door and instructed her to ‘appear before the Westchester County Board of Parole'. Gwen reached out and took Jennifer's hand between hers and gave
it a squeeze. ‘Good luck, Jenny,' she sniffed. ‘Good luck.'

There were five of them. Three men and two women. They all looked so severe as they sat perched behind the long wooden table. They were all dressed in various pastels and plaids, and before each of them was a high stack of papers. The older of the two women gave Jennifer an encouraging smile, but the other remained quite grim and said, ‘Have a seat, Ms Spencer.' The three men all cleared their throats in unison, then one of them asked, ‘Are you ready to begin?'

‘I am,' Jennifer said quietly as she sat in the chair in the middle of the room.

The proceeding began just as everyone said that it would. There was a painful retelling of her crime, her arrest, her trial, and her conviction, and when it was over Jennifer was asked if what she had just heard was complete and accurate. She nodded and said that it was. Her record of incarceration came next: her work record, her time in the SHU, the various reports that Byrd had written up – it was all there. And again, she was asked if the record was complete and accurate, and again Jennifer nodded and said that it was. Jennifer's mouth was so dry that her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth and all she could think about were the five pitchers of ice water that were on the table where the board members sat. ‘May I have something to drink?' she asked them.

The youngest of the men stood and brought her a glass. Jennifer thanked him for it, drank deeply, and then held the glass in her lap, waiting for the hearing to continue.

‘Warden Harding just presented a glowing review of you, Ms Spencer,' the older woman said. ‘She assures us that you have been a most cooperative visitor here, and that in her
mind, you are both remorseful for your crimes and fully rehabilitated. Would you agree with that assessment?'

‘Yes, ma'am,' Jennifer replied. ‘I would agree.'

‘Do you have anything to add to that?' the other woman asked.

Jennifer was unsure as to what she should say. She hadn't heard Gwen's review, so she didn't know whether something had to be added or not. ‘I – uh,' she hesitated. ‘I'm not sure what Gwen – I mean, I'm not sure what Warden Harding told you,' Jennifer said, ‘so I'm not sure what to say.'

‘What would you like to say?' the older woman asked.

Jennifer thought for a moment. What would she like to say? She didn't really know. All she knew was that she just wanted to be released on parole. So that is what she said. ‘I'd like to be granted parole, ma'am,' was her answer. ‘That's all I really have to say.'

The older woman and the handsome young water-bearer chuckled softly. He was the next one to ask her a question. ‘And why do you believe you should be granted that parole?' he asked with a smile.

‘Because there's nothing left for me to do here,' Jennifer answered without thinking.

The members of the board seemed to be dumbstruck with her answer. The older man poured himself a glass of water, while the other one shuffled his papers. The kind old woman smiled and leaned back in her chair, but the younger one leaned forward in hers and studied Jennifer's face. This time, it was the very severe middle-aged man who spoke up.

‘Do you believe that you were sent to this facility to do mission work, Ms Spencer?' he snapped at her.

‘Excuse me?' Jennifer asked, looking at him. He might've
been Donald Michaels's brother. There was that same smug, self-satisfied and all-knowing smirk on his face.

‘Do you
know
why you were sent here?' he wanted to know.

‘Yes sir, I do know,' Jennifer answered. ‘You have read my records, we have agreed that they are accurate. There is no question of why I was sent here. It was my understanding that today was going to be about why it was time for me to leave.'

‘Please, Ms Spencer,' the older woman counseled. ‘Do not jeopardize your freedom by responding so harshly.'

‘That's right, young lady,' the older man echoed. ‘It is our responsibility to determine whether or not your behavior warrants parole. It is not in your best interest to behave badly, don't you agree?'

‘Yes,' Jennifer replied, ‘I do agree.'

‘Then would you like to reconsider your answer to my question?' the young man asked her.

Jennifer blushed. ‘I'm sorry. I can't remember what your question was.'

The Donald Michaels clone and the snippy younger woman both let a snort of disgust, while the older woman just shook her head in despair. But now the old guy was almost chuckling, and the young man smiled broadly as he repeated his question. ‘Why do you believe you should be granted parole, Ms Spencer?' he asked. ‘Why do you think you should be released from this prison?'

‘It's not a prison,' the young woman snapped. ‘It's a correctional facility.'

Jennifer let out an involuntary chuckle.

‘Did you find something amusing, Ms Spencer?' the woman asked.

‘I'm sorry,' Jennifer answered. ‘But you see, it doesn't matter what you call this place. We used to call it a prison, or the pen, or the clink. Now we call it a correctional facility. I guess it's the difference between believing in punishment and believing in rehabilitation. I don't know.' Jennifer stopped. She fully expected to be silenced at any moment, but it appeared as if she had their undivided attention. She continued. ‘I do know that when you're on the Inside, the difference is between feeling like you've been
thrown away
like a useless piece of trash, or feeling like you're being
recycled
into something that resembles a “law abiding and productive member of society”. But whatever you on the Outside call it, when you're locked up on the Inside, it all feels pretty hopeless – and not just for us inmates, but for the warden and the staff as well.'

‘Why hopeless, Ms Spencer?' the old gent asked.

‘Because rehabilitation is damned hard work when you don't have the tools you need to do it. You can't rehabilitate in a place that's set up to punish. You're going to have to decide if you want to punish us or rehabilitate us – or even both. But just be honest about it.'

The snorting man snorted again. ‘Thank you for that advice, Ms Spencer.' He smirked. ‘I'm sure everyone here will value your wise words on honesty.' The bastard was almost dripping with irony.

‘Well, you know what they say about honesty, don't you?' Jennifer asked. ‘They say that honesty is the best policy. That's what they say about honesty. And honesty is the new policy here at Jennings. I can tell you quite honestly that I was guilty as charged. And I can tell you quite honestly that I have been severely punished. And I can also tell you that I am quite honestly rehabilitated. This
“pinstripe mama” will never wear Armani again.' Jennifer was standing by now.

‘Did you know that we can pay a nurse a full month's salary with what it cost to buy just one Armani suit?' she continued. The man only glared in response.

‘That's why I think I should be granted parole,' Jennifer said. ‘Because I came in here wearing Armani and I thought that made me invincible. I was wrong. I'd trade all the Armanis in the world for a full-time medical staff. I'd sell every silk Kirman I could find if I could have the money for educational programs. My shoe budget alone could keep all of Unit C well fed and healthy. That's why I think I should be granted parole. Because now I know the difference between right and wrong – and between Armani mamas who can read a balance sheet and the real mamas who just want to be able to read to their children. No, sir, I wasn't sent here on a mission. I was sent here to be punished. But I lucked out. The missionaries were waiting for me when I got here.'