“I’ll always love you. I know we got off somewhere, but it never changed my love for you. Faith, I’m here now. I’m going to talk with the man from the Embassy and with your attorney. I’m going to come back tomorrow and go over everything. Who is the guy from the Embassy?”
“Mike Sassen.”
The security guard comes up to the window. My twenty minutes are up. “It looks like I have to go,” Ryan says. “I’ll be back when I know more.”
I press my hand against the glass, and say, “Thank you, Ryan.”
He puts his hand against mine on the other side of the glass. Twenty minutes always goes by so fast. The security guard tells me I must leave. When I resist, he takes my arm.
“You know me,” Ryan says into the phone. “I’m going to get you out of here. Whatever it takes, I’m going to get you out of here.”
Back in my cage, I sit on the floor and take my Bible out of my plastic bag. What is going on? What is happening? Before Ryan appeared, I was drowning in despair. I’d already come to accept there was just no path forward. There was nothing to do, but sit and wait—wait until all life slowly drained from my body onto this cold concrete floor. I was ready to just plead guilty and beg for mercy from the judge. Maybe if I plead out, I’ll get three or four years. I prayed for a miracle. Now Ryan appears out of nowhere like an angel sent by God. How can he still love me after I divorced him and took his kids? He couldn’t on his own. It’s too impossible to believe. God put that love in Ryan’s heart. I hold my Bible in front of me, and say a prayer while tears flow out of me. I can barely get some of the words out.
“Dear Lord, thank you for being here for me. Thank you for sending Ryan. Please forgive me. You warned me long ago but I didn’t listen. Help me, Lord. Help me get out of here. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life serving you.”
– CHAPTER 52 –
The next day, I wait and wait for a guard to take me to the visiting room. Ryan doesn’t return as he promised. As the day comes to an end, I realize it was all a lie. Ryan got what he wanted—to see me behind bars. Why else would he come? I should have known better. He’s just a con man, and now he’s gone back home. How nice it must be to see me in my prison shirt and skirt, ragged, and starving. I’m sure he’ll go back and tell everyone who I’ve become.
Two days later after breakfast, a guard bangs on our cage. He points at me so I walk to the door. He takes my arm and leads me back to the visitation room. This time, I have to wait almost forty-five minutes before my turn at the window. I sit down and stare at an empty stool on the other side of the glass until Ryan comes up to the window and sits down. Seeing him in front of me, I realize how far I still have to go. I’ve been trying to condition myself to act with self-awareness, but I still act on my emotions, and jump to the wrong conclusions. This has caused most of the problems in my life.
Ryan looks like the man I once knew and loved. He’s dressed in his full lawyer attire, and he’s holding the briefcase I bought him for his birthday many years ago. He’s the only person who’s always been there for me. He’s the only person who’s here for me now. There’s nobody else in the world I’d rather have fighting to get me out of here.
“Hey Faith,” he says. “How are you?”
“Well, you know,” I answer.
He now seems so serious. I’ve seen this many times before. There’s the Ryan who’s easy and funny, and there’s the Ryan who’s serious and all business. Ryan’s in full lawyer mode.
“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” he begins. “I’ve been busy. I met with your lawyer. He has the video and I watched it. Faith, it’s as clear as it can be. No drugs were planted by anyone at the airport. The drugs were already in your bag.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, wanting confirmation one last time.
“Absolutely. There’s no doubt about it.”
“I also saw the phone log from the airport security that day. Before you walked to the security station, someone called to tip-off security.”
“Maybe they doctored the log,” I suggest.
“Maybe, but why? Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “Something isn’t right. Mr. Sassen said I had too many drugs to be a decoy and they usually use college students to smuggle drugs.”
“Yeah, I talked with him about that. It does seem odd at first, but it’s also possible that the real shipment was very, very large. Maybe a competing drug smuggler called security.”
“I don’t understand. All along I thought it was a random drug search.”
“Faith, it’s clear that this guy you were with set you up.”
“I know. I didn’t want to believe it, but now I know he did.”
“What’s his name?” he asks.
“Christian … Christian Mareno.”
He opens his briefcase, and takes out two legal notebooks and three pens, and writes down everything I say. He starts with the words I’ve heard him say to so many clients:
“Faith, you have to be honest. Tell me everything you know. I can’t help you if you’re not honest.”
This is the Ryan I know. If anyone can get me out of here, it’s him. “I will. You don’t have to worry.”
“How did you meet him?” he asks, writing everything down.
“We met at Chick-fil-A. He introduced himself, and we saw each other again at Walmart. I didn’t want to date him, but he was so persistent.”
“What’s his phone number?”
I give him the phone number, and tell him it’s also the number he uses for business.
“What’s the name of his business?”
“Absolute Business Enterprise.”
“Where does he live?”
“I don’t know. I never went to his house. He’d always pick me up. He lives in New York somewhere.”
“You flew all the way to Thailand, and you don’t even know where he lives?” he asks.
These are the kind of accusations that would make me angry before I started yoga and meditation, but now I’m learning to stay in control. I know Ryan’s only trying to help.
“I know, I know. I’m so stupid,” I admit sounding completely contrite.
“What does he drive? Do you know his license plate number?”
“He drives a large black Mercedes like you used to drive. It’s a newer model. I don’t know his license number.”
“You have to tell me more. What else do you know about him.”
“Not a lot. I’ve thought about it so much in here. I think he kept everything about himself secret so he could do this to me.”
“Nothing?” he asks.
“He said he was originally from Spain. … Oh, we went to a place called the Boat Yard or Boat Dock in Austin. It overlooks the lake. You have to be a member to eat there.”
“Great! When did you eat there?”
“I don’t know. It was a few months ago,” I say. “He also flew back from China to pick me up before he had to meet with his people in Thailand. We stayed at a big resort.”
“I can’t believe you flew across the world with someone you barely know. What if he had been a murderer and had killed you?”
“I don’t know, Ryan, maybe that would’ve been better. You have no idea how bad it is in here. So many nights I wish I was dead.”
“Faith, he’s got to leave a trail. He got on the plane so he had to use his real name and his passport. We’ve just got to find him.”
“God, you’re right. Can my Thai lawyer get that information?”
“You can forget about him. He’s useless. We need a good private investigator. I’ll hire the best guy I can find.”
I tell him all about the resort, and everything else I can think of. “Maybe he’s in the criminal database,” Ryan continues. “Is there any DNA we can use to find him? Did you have sex?”
“No, we never had sex. He wanted to. He pushed so hard, but I wouldn’t. I told him that I wouldn’t have sex until I’m married.”
&
nbsp; “Wow,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“You know me. You know how much my faith matters to me. I don’t sleep around.”
“Faith, we don’t have much time. Your case is set for trial in three weeks. I told your attorney that I need more time. He’s going to ask the judge for a continuance/ He says the judge will give us more time. I have to get someone on this right away.”
“I’ll pay you back. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll pay you back.”
“The prosecutor says he’s ready to try your case. That’s not surprising because it’s all on video.”
“I know. Ryan, they’re saying I tried to flee so it proves I knew about the drugs.”
“Yeah, I heard that too. The video does show you resisting and pulling away. At one point you’re even fighting them.”
“I don’t remember fighting anyone. I was just scared. I was afraid of what they might do to me if they took me to a private room.”
“I understand, but you know how things can get twisted around.”
“I know.”
“What about your parents?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Even if they don’t testify, they should be here. The judge needs to see you’re a real person with a family who loves you. It could make a difference.”
“I’ll write them. I’ll ask them to come.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he says, writing on his pad. “I can call and talk to them.”
“Thank you so much. Ryan, I’ll make this up to you. Somehow, I’ll pay you back for everything.”
“Just come home. That will be enough,” he says as he puts everything away. After his legal pads and pens are back in his briefcase, he takes out another envelope, and slides it through the glass to me. “The kids miss you,” he says softly.
I open the envelope. It’s full of photos of the kids and all the cards they’ve made. Grace is as beautiful as ever with her bright blue eyes. She’s starting to look more like a woman and less like a little girl. All we did was argue the last year or so. I wish I would have been there more. There are pictures of Colt playing baseball and football. He looks like such a smart young man. Hope, our little girl, is looking as beautiful and innocent as ever. She’s got her daddy’s brown hair and brown eyes. There are school photos and pictures of them at a carnival. This is the first I’ve heard anything from them or about them in over a month. I was giving up all hope of ever seeing them again.
Each of our kids made a card from colorful construction paper, colors, markers, and glitter. They tell me that they love me and miss me and want me to come home. There are rows of hearts, and x’s and o’s for hugs and kisses. I told myself I’d be strong, but seeing these cards and photos is just too much. I can’t hold back my tears.
When I finally regain my composure, I say, “Thank you so much for this.”
“They made each one themselves,” he says.
“I know, I can tell. We have the best kids.”
“Yes, we do. They all miss you.”
“I miss them too. God, how I miss them.”
“Faith, they don’t know you’re in here. I didn’t know you were in here until recently. I told them you had to go away for work. I don’t want them ever to know their mom is in prison.”
“Thank you. I don’t want them ever to know it either.”
“Mr. Sassen told me about the food and water here.”
“He’s such a kind man. He put fifty dollars in my account so I can order food twice a week. I’m trying to make it last as long as possible.”
“You have to have food and water. You can’t eat just twice a week. You won’t make it to the trial eating their food. I’m going to put money in your account until we get you out of here.”
“Ryan, you don’t have to do that. I’ll survive. Somehow I’ll survive.”
“Faith, I can already tell you’re losing weight. No one can eat the food they serve for long.”
“Oh Ryan,” I say, trying not to cry again. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
He looks directly at me, and puts his hand on the dirty glass separating us.
I put my hand on my side of the glass over his. “I never stopped loving you,” I tell him with complete sincerity. “You know me. I act impulsively sometimes. I do things without thinking. I listened to the wrong people. I was so hurt and so stupid, but I never stopped loving you.”
“Faith, you’ll always be the mother of my kids. You’ll always be my wife. We’ll always be a family.”
“Ryan, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
I take my hand off this filthy glass, and hold it to my lips. I kiss my fingers and put them back on the glass. He takes his hand and puts it back on mine. An officer comes up from behind, and directs me to move on. Ryan can no longer hear me after I put the phone back on the handset so I mouth, “I love you; I love you so much.”
“Faith, I’ve got to get back,” he says. “We don’t have any time to spare.”
– CHAPTER 53 –
There are two kinds of prisoners. There are those who have someone giving them money, and there are those who have nothing. The difference between the two is the difference between life and death. When you get money, you no longer have to wait in the long dinner lines. A place is always waiting for you at the front tables where a good, hot meal is waiting.
Ryan deposits more money into my account than I need. I order meals from a menu that has many, many choices. The meals are always big enough for two, at least two if you know what to order, and the water bottle is big enough to divide between Mali and me. I now have a toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, soap, washcloth, lotion, and female sanitary products so menstrual blood no longer runs down my leg. I bought an extra blanket to cover me and Mali or to use as a pillow.
Cigarettes in prison are as valuable as money on the outside. Prisoners want cigarettes, and do favors to get them. Guards treat you differently if you can show your gratitude with a cigarette. They lead me to the front of the wash line—I even wash my hair now and then. Every guard knows their batons are off-limits to me. My Bible is free from their constant searches.
The chains on my ankles tear into my skin, haunt me every time I move, and keep me from many of my yoga asanas. A pack of cigarettes in the hands of the right guard, and my chains are removed a month before my time is up. My strip searches are now handled only by women, are rushed through, and I no longer have to squat.
I’ve come to embrace yoga and meditation with all my heart. I now realize for the first time that I’ve spent my entire life trying to satisfy my flesh. I never appreciated what I already had. Every magazine, television and radio commercial, billboard, and store advertisement convinced me that I’d be happy if I only had a better house, a newer car, the latest clothes, beautiful jewelry, or a new hairstyle. I used to shop until I filled my house, my garage, my attic, and an outside storage unit full of more stuff than I could even store. It caused many of the arguments between Ryan and me. Sharon and I swore he was just trying to control me with his money. No matter how much I bought or how much I had, I was never happy.
I now know that I was listening to all the wrong voices. The happiness I wanted was inside me the whole time. A bird knows how to sing; it sings even if you put it in a cage. If you cover that cage, however, the bird will stop singing. Did it lose its voice? Does it need to search for its song? Of course not. The bird’s song is always there. All you have to do is remove the thing that stops the bird from singing.
I was like that bird in a covered cage, but my cage was “stuff.” I filled my life with so much stuff, but instead of making me happy it only made me want more. The things I thought would bring me joy are the very things that actually took all my joy from me. I kept searching for more. Did I need to go to the mall, get a bigger house, have a fancy car, or have more kids to be happy? Of course not. My happiness was there all along. I just needed to clear my life of all the clutter and stop filling my head
with all the wrong voices.
The funny thing is, now my body is in a real cage but my mind and my spirit are free. I have so much to be angry about, but I don’t focus on the bad. I focus only on my blessings. I may be in prison, but I still have my mind, my body, my memories, my children, my Bible, and my faith, and thanks to God, I’ll one day be free.
– CHAPTER 54 –
Some women in our cage come and go, but most of us remain. I’ve been here three months when they bring in a new girl with a beautiful face, long brown hair, and beautiful brown eyes. She looks about fifteen years old and she’s terrified. Her legs are chained and she’s holding a blue blanket. It’s late in the day so our cage is completely full and there’s nowhere for her to sit or stand, much less lie down. It’s obvious she has no idea what to do. When she tries to sit on the floor, she’s pushed away by one woman and then another until she stands by the front bars and cries like a baby. I carefully walk over to her, doing my best not to step on the tangle of arms and legs. I reach out for her hand, but she’s crying too hard to see or hear anything. She’s so tiny that I pick her up, and hold her in my arms like I’d hold my own daughter. She put her arms around my neck and holds on so tight like she’s afraid I might let her go. I slowly make my way back to Mali. We sit on the floor with her on my lap. We both hold her in our arms until she falls asleep, crying. I learn her name is Tian and she came from Singapore. She looks like so many other confused and terrified girls who are brought in here. It no longer matters what she did or why she’s here. She just needs someone to hold her. Mali and I welcome her in, and help her to survive. We stretch our food and water to include her.
Mali is the only true friend I’ve ever known in my life. She’s taught me more about being a kind, loving person than anyone or anything else in this world. She came to me on my first night here when I was completely alone, broken, and crying on the floor. I had no idea where I was, what I was supposed to do, or if I was ever going home. All I wanted to do was die; I just couldn’t find a way to do it. She gave me a place to lie down. Night after night, she held me while I cried myself to sleep. Many times, she saved me from a beating when I didn’t understand what the guards were saying. One time, she took the end of their batons by lying over me when all I could do was lie down on the floor in a fetal position. She held me up and protected me until I could stand on my own.
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 28