Lies of a Real Housewife (23 page)

crimes as serious as capital murder.

Hearing the story of how a fifteen year old girl was raped, and mo-

lested by her father her entire life, until she grew tired of his abuse, and shot him dead, gave me strength. When I heard the story of the young woman who learned she was HIV positive after being tested in prison, I could not for one

moment understand how it felt to walk in her shoes.

It hurt me so much to hear their stories! I cried with them when I

documented their truths. But I refused to let the pai
n I felt deter my efforts. I knew that someone somewhere needed to hear these stories. The first time a child tells me that I haven’t been through what she had been through, I could turn to a page in this book, and find the story amongst the pages. A story that was true, and actually relatable existed in my collection. These were stories that would make any child think twice. It was my impetus to being a beacon of light in the dark world. This was the sole purpose of my writing, and I

dubbed it crime preve
ntion.

‘Life Beyond These Walls’, was my first book. It was written and

completed during my imprisonment. All I had to do was keep all my pages together. I could present the book to Phaedra Parks. She had connections in the entertainment industry and maybe could help me kick it off. I also figured she would be proud of my accomplishment, seeing as though I did something useful with my time. Her connections were within the reach of a button. I knew I was a great writer. As long as I cut Phaedra in on the money then we

would be good, and everybody could win. At least, that was how I saw it.

Being a convicted felon was hard enough. Let it not be forgotten that I was a single mom. With that in mind, I knew I had to become an entrepreneur. Not only would this book heal the masses, but it would also provide me with a way to financially care for my children.

I was already connected. I just had to get the book to Phaedra. I

couldn’t take the risk of sending it in the mail. She may never receive it. So I held onto it for dear life. I wanted to personally hand the written manuscript

directly to her.

The next series of months were somewhat like my hibernation pe-

riod. My focus was on perfecting my book, and dreaming of the lives that it was going to touch, inspire and enrich. I began cleansing my soul. I began the process by forgiving myself, finding myself, and loving myself. Everything I

had come to know was different.

By now, it had been four months since the death of my mother. I

wrote to my family, they never wrote back. I made collect calls that were never accepted, and I pleaded for someone, anyone to bring my children to see me. After about four months
my cousins, Connie and Donna finally brought my children down for a visit. I also received a card from my cousin, Kate, and

a letter from my cousin, Sylvia.

My immediate family was very large. This fact was due to my ma-

ternal grandmother who had given
birth to ten children. I came from a family of about seventy aunts, uncles, and cousins. I guess a letter from two relatives out of seventy isn’t that bad. Hard times showed me who really cared for me. One relative who was always there was my dear, sweet Aunt San. She wrote me just about every two weeks without even knowing that she was saving

my life.

No matter how hard I fought, no matter how loud I screamed, and

no matter how much I cried, there was nothing in this world that I could do to bring my de
ar mother back. This was when I learned that I had absolutely no control over my life. I had to let go, and let God take over. I stopped worrying. I stopped stressing and started praying. Then I found the true meaning of stepping out on faith. I could no longer talk about it. I had to be about it.

Chapter Nine

The LORD said to Satan, “Very well, then, everything he has is in

your power, but on the man himself do not lay a finger.” Job 1:12 (NIV)

Three months into my sentence at Pulaski state prison, and I was

called into the counselor’s office. They notified me that I was being shipped off to another prison. Lee Arrendale State Prison had just been converted into a coed prison, and I was included
in the first shipment of women to ever reside there. This didn’t pose a problem or a threat to me. I felt I was moving

into a different environment, and also moving closer to home.

Lee Arrendale was the biggest prison I’d ever seen. I thought Pu-

laski
was big, but Lee Arrendale was much bigger. As a prisoner you walked everywhere you went. At this facility, the only car you had the luxury of riding in was the patrol car. It was with certainty that prisoners rode in the back seat. Walking was good though. I would be in great physical shape by the time of my release. My new home consisted of nothing more than hills and concrete. The staple diet was peanut butter and syrup sandwiches.

Getting acclimated and blending into my new surroundings was now

my foc
us. I was living with an entirely new group of women, and I was in the midst of a whole new flock. These women didn’t know me, and they didn’t know my character. I didn’t want them to get offended by my nonchalant attitude. Certainly I didn’t need anybody thinking that I was a snob because I didn’t play along with their games. There wasn’t much time for games in this

new existence. I had my whole life ahead of me.

I had only lived at Lee Arrendale State Prison for eight weeks before I was called in to see the chaplain. I thought, oh hell no, not again! But in my mind, I was hoping for the best, while preparing for the worst. I knew that

someone had died. I just didn’t know who it was.

Waiting for two hours outside the chaplain’s office, I was on the

bri
nk of insanity. I kept praying to God that nothing had happened to any of my children. When the chaplain finally walked in he brought coldness through the door with him. He sat down in his chair, kicked his feet up, and

turned over the paper lying face do
wn on his desk.

When the chaplain flipped the paper over in the top right hand cor-

ner it read ‘name of deceased’. In the space next to it was my grandmother’s name, Annie Kate Milling, Shug. If you were waiting to hear that I caused a

scene, and acted
all dramatic, then you were waiting in vain.

That never happened. I showed absolutely no reaction at all. There

were no words or tears. I simply got up out of the seat, walked out of his office, and went back to my cell. I was totally emotionless, and felt completely numb. The loss of my mother had me so traumatized that death itself no lon-

ger affected me. Death had lost its sting.

My maternal lifeline was wiped out. My grandmother was my strong

point, and we connected after I lost my mother. But now both my mother and grandmother were gone. I knew for sure that I was on my own. My family members didn’t invite me to her funeral. That didn’t bother me either because I didn’t want to go. I was throu
gh with death. I swore that the next funeral I would ever attend would be my own. Since I didn’t attend my own mother’s

funeral, I learned that I could live without them.

I sat on my bunk, thinking about my grandmother, but my heart had

gone cold. I even tried to make myself cry. Nothing happened. My mind was now focused on my children. My grandmother was dead, and so was theirs. This was the worst nightmare ever. I made myself believe that I was stuck inside of my dreams with no way out.
How else could I deal with reality? Well I couldn’t, so I created my own. Whenever I crawled out of this hellhole, my

life would return to normal.

The following day, I was called to the counselor’s office. To my

surprise, this visit came with good news.
I learned that I finally had a release date with the parole system. My date was set for September 2005. That was only six weeks away. I had no clue as to exactly which day in September, but just knowing that it was September was good enough for me. This had been a long, painful, tiresome journey, and I, without question, was broken. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse, right? I couldn’t be punished anymore for my crimes. I had been punished enough. I had lost some things that would

never be returned. I had learned my lesson the hardest way possible.

Those six weeks were the longest of my life. The minutes felt like

hours, and the hours crawled along like days. I drew a calendar and hung it on the wall with toothpaste. This was a constant reminder of how many days I had left until I was out of this hole. I had been through, overcome, and survived the worst of it. Everything from here on out would be completely uphill. And I do mean uphill. I could remember sitting and brooding with my

thoughts for
hours.

Life would actually be harder once I was released. In prison I didn’t

have my children, and I didn’t have any bills to pay. However I was constantly thinking of my children, and how I would be received by them. Would I be welcomed with open arms? Would they resent me?

Emani didn’t know her mother at all. She was eighteen months, and

had lived her entire life without me. My baby boy, Jayvien, was with his father. It was obvious that my son’s father hated me. He had three faces. A Capricorn, he wore grudges like the shirt on his back. Slim could never get pass the day he caught me with Drama. I won’t forget it either. That was the

day he sent me to exile.

Two months before my mother had passed away, I was surprised

when I received court papers in
the mail. My son’s father had gotten me good. I guess I never suspected he would stoop so low. The abandonment papers were from the magistrate state court of Fulton County. I was the Defendant, and Slim the plaintiff. But wait, that wasn’t the shocking part of it all. The shock came when I read the letter that was written by my mother.
It stated
, “I can no longer care for my grandson, Jayvien Stanton due to health issues. So I give full care and custody over to his father.”
The letter was signed, Joan Milling. 

This was devastating because my mother had never discussed this

with me. There were other options. She knew my son’s father and I had a love hate relationship. Why would she give him my son? Just like some females,

he would only use my son as a pa
wn. I knew that without a doubt!

I remember leaving the mailroom on that fateful day and calling

home. My mother, like she always did, accepted the call on the first ring. When I asked her about the letter she was just as surprised as I was! She told me to look at the letter carefully because it wasn’t her signature or her hand-

writing. I examined the letter. Clearly, it was not her writing at all.

So I sent her a copy of all the paperwork and she went to court on

my behalf. My mother explained to the
judge that the letter was forged. Her actions had prevented me from losing parental rights or custody of Jayvien. The judge ruled that just because I was incarcerated, didn’t mean I was an unfit parent.

This fool, Slim, had forged my mother’s name, told the court that I abandoned my son, and that they had no clue as to where I was. Not only
that, he asked the Judge to grant him sole custody, and to terminate any and all visitation rights. He knew damn well I was in prison the whole time. The

devil is a liar!

But getting back to the story, my other two sons were with my aunt Carrie, my mother’s oldest sister. I was just anxious about reuniting with my children, and being a family again. It was on my mind true enough, but I wasn’t too concerned about where we would live or how we would survive. I had Phaedra, and the book was already written. I’d done the hard part. All I had to do now was get it typed, and hand it to her. In the meantime, I was sure she would assist me in finding a job. The biggest hurdle now was getting

released.

September 1, 2005, was my released date. I knew I was leaving

because the night before they had told me to pack up my belongings, and moved me to segregation. The prison offici
als always sent you to segregation the night before you were to be released to reduce confusion. I couldn’t sleep that whole night. I stared through the narrow window in my cell looking up at the stars, and the moon in the sky. My eyes were wide open, searching for

my mother the entire night.

“Mommy, I know you are up there somewhere, and I know you

have been watching over me. I’m walking out of this prison in the morning a woman, and a mother. I have been blessed with a second chance at life. But this ti
me mom, I’m going to be different. I’m going to turn my negative into positive. I’m going to give back. And I’m going to help heal the world, mom.

I promise! I promise you! I promise!” I prayed.

I made a covenant with my mother before I left that prison, and as I walked past those iron gates, I dedicated my life to fulfilling that promise I made to my mother. My brother, Lee waited outside alone in his truck. He

had returned to the states for good.

After his basketball contract ended, I don’t think he had any desire

to ever be that far away from his family again. Neither one of us was there the day our mother died. My brother had to bury our mother on his own. Just like I didn’t have him, he didn’t have me either. Our entire life, we had been raised clo
se to one another. It was constantly drilled into our heads that we

were all each other had in this world.

It felt good to be free! The air was different, and for some reason

the sun seemed to shine brighter, but no matter how much I tried to enjoy my f
reedom I had nothing to be happy about. All that time I spent in prison I survived by making myself believe that my mother, and grandmother were going to be waiting for me. I had not fooled anyone but myself. It was time

for me to face reality. I was on my way to pick up my children.