by Emery, Lynn
Monette spent another five minutes leading Danica into talking about changes needed in the juvenile justice system. Danica prefaced her views on what should change with a list of what was already working well.
“Okay, I hear what you’re saying. But what about the recent reports of abuse and chaos in Louisiana’s juvenile detention centers? That includes right here in Baton Rouge.” Monette grinned and lifted a shoulder when Danica squinted at her.
‘There are definitely some problems there. But steps have been taken to correct them. I served on a new citizens’ advisory council that made recommendations. The judges and district attorney were very cooperative with us, very open to what we had to say,” Danica countered without a hitch.
“Sure, sure. While the spotlight was on them. But nothing has really changed. Just last week a lady complained about the way her son was treated while in detention.” Monette had no intention of letting Danica gloss over real issues.
“Which is why programs like mine are needed. We must intervene to help kids before they get into serious trouble.” Danica gave Monette a “take that” smirk.
Monette dipped her head to acknowledge Danica’s skillful feint. “Well put. Let’s take some phone calls. Hello, and tell us your first name.”
“My name is Addison. And I’ve got a question for both of y’all. How come the public has to put up with patting criminals on the head and babying them? I mean, just cause the person holding a gun on ya is a kid don’t mean we gotta let ’em get off easy.” The male voice made it plain he wanted to make a point, not ask a question.
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t hold them responsible. But I don’t think punishment is where our response should end, sir,” Danica said in a respectful tone. “If we really believe that children are our future, and I think most of us do, then we must invest wisely in our future.”
“Yeah, well let me tell ya that the average person living in poor neighborhoods is getting fed up. We’re gettin’ robbed, beaten and havin’ to put up with these darn kids runnin’ wild. And what about their parents? That’s what I wanna know.”
“I hear your frustration, Addison. But do we really want to write off a fifteen-year-old kid? I mean, there is always hope of helping him or her make a change. I did it,” Monette put in.
“Yeah? You’re still runnin’ a game, if you ask me. I heard about you and all the stuff you did. That dude still sittin’ in prison. What’s his name? Jerry Hines. It was in the paper this morning how you helped cover up a lot of stuff. No wonder you all for lettin’ more little thugs outta jail.” The man gave a coarse laugh, which was cut short. Irvin gave Monette the signal that he had ended the call.
“There you have it, folks. A comment on the other side. Bring it on. Anybody else wanna give us their best shot? We’re not here to just get calls that agree with us. By the way, I’m out of prison because Jerry Hines finally told the truth. And if you want to read all the details of my mistakes, buy my book. Let’s take another break.” Monette slapped the off button of her microphone hard enough to make Danica jump.
“You okay?” Danica wore a concerned frown.
“Sure. Fine. I expected to have people taking shots at me.” Monette hoped her smile looked more self-assured than she felt.
“I’ll get a paper,” Irvin said. He left quickly when the first of several commercials began. He strode back seconds later. “Here it is. Metro section, page six.”
“Damn. I should be front-page news,” Monette joked and affected a disappointed scowl.
“Ignore the haters. Chump got nothing better to do and no brains. He’s way outnumbered by your fans.” Irvin gave Monette a thumbs-up, and then went back to his control room.
The commercial break ended, and the rest of the show went on. As if they’d heard Irvin’s pep talk, at least six people called in to offer Monette support. A few had to have their colorful language bleeped out when they described Addison, the critic. Then two more called to shout a big “Amen” to what Addison had said. They were only a little less scorching in their opinions about Monette. One woman pretty much called Monette a hoochie willing to sell herself for fame. Monette gave as good as she got. Despite her wisecracks and confident pose, however, the attacks shook Monette. Irvin and Danica seemed to see past her act. Both of them took great lengths to praise her handling of the show and all she had accomplished.
“The guy is an idiot. Forget him,” Irvin said, summing up his opinion in typical, to-the-point male fashion. He shook hands with Danica and went back to work.
“Sure you didn’t let that call get you down?” Danica put a hand on Monette’s arm as they walked down the hallway.
“Nah. I’m fine. I’ve been through worse than that.” Monette lifted a shoulder as they entered her office. She sat on the edge of her desk and changed the subject to shake the bad taste from the judgmental calls. “You were fabulous. You’re invited back.”
“Agreed. Talking about real issues on the radio is kind of exciting.” Danica’s brown eyes glittered.
“Got a taste of showbiz and now you’re hooked, huh?” Monette grinned at her.
“Morning. Nice to meet you, Ms. Zachary. Things got heated on the show today.” Nikki spoke in a rush. She brought them two mugs of coffee and napkins. “Thought you might need these to unwind.”
‘This is Nikki Lands. She does a show with lots of music and entertainment news,” Monette said.
“She means celebrity gossip,” Nikki said with a wide smile.
“Hello.” Danica accepted the mug from her. “And thank you.”
“Yeah. I could definitely use this.” Monette took the mug and drank deeply.
“Now don’t let that jerk what’s-his-name or that article rattle you. We’re on your side. Gotta go. Hugs, babe. Let’s have lunch. Okay?” Nikki spoke in a rapid-fire stream as she hurried off.
“Sounds good,” Monette called after the vanishing young disc jockey. She laughed. “I’ve gotta get some of whatever she runs on. Listen, you’re welcome to join us.”
Danica took a healthy swig of coffee, and then patted her lips with a napkin. “Another time. I’ve got meetings and some fund-raising to do. Keep your head to the sky. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.” When Danica was gone, Monette sat down at her desk.
“You’re Danica Zachary. I recognize you from the Second Chances website. Thank you for being a guest on our show,” she heard Chaz’s voice boom from the hallway. Danica gave a quiet response, and then went on her way.
“Here we go.” Monette was even more grateful to Nikki as she drank more strong coffee to fortify herself.
Chaz beamed at her the moment he entered through the open door. “There’s my lightning rod for white-hot discussions. And I thought that show with Jayson Odum popped. Did you arrange for that guy to call in? Just to mix things up, I mean.”
“Hell, no. I don’t have to search for people willing to insult me. You must be kidding.” Monette looked at her boss as though he’d lost his mind.
“Of course I’m kidding. Woo-wee, but didn’t he get some folks mad.” Chaz wore a pleased expression. “Keep up the good work, Monette. Listen, my secretary has a list of folks who would love to come on your show. She’s going to e-mail you. The owners are loving this. Anything you need, just ask.”
“Maybe a flak jacket and a stun gun, just in case,” Monette deadpanned.
Chaz threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh. “You’re a tough lady, Monette. I know you can handle ’em. After all, you’ve been on the street and survived. Right?”
Monette forced her mouth into a smile. “Yeah, right.”“Got a packed schedule, but I had to make time for my talk-show star. Listen, Gaynelle and I will have you over for dinner with a few friends soon. I’ll let you know. See you later.” Chaz strode off as though his invitation had been accepted.
“Sure. I’d love to be the token ghetto rat turned celeb on display,” Monette muttered.
She began to feel trapped by he
r own design. What had those angry callers said? Pretty much that she was still a ’hood hoochie dressed up to pass as a decent person. Being brash and smart-mouthed had gotten her far, but being strong all the time was exhausting. Monette wondered when or if she could outlive her past. Then she wondered if Jayson had listened to the show and what he would think. Maybe he wanted a thrill ride with the bad girl. Maybe he was just slumming, taking a break from bourgie sorority girls. Monette’s suspicions and cynicism stewed as she went through e-mails and phone messages.
***
Tuesday Monette worked at Second Chances from nine in the morning until almost five in the evening. She started out helping with paperwork. Danica had all kinds of accountability reports to complete; a condition of the grants that funded the program. Next they had lunch with a local Rotary Club chapter. Monette did her thing; using her notoriety to generate interest Danica graciously accepted a donation. By two the gills started arriving from their schools. With help from Danica, Monette shook off the bad karma from her radio show. With twenty-four hours of distance, she could even laugh about it with the girls. They had Monette in tears as they tried to teach her the latest insult teen slang. The girls screamed with laughter as Monette imitated their street poses and pretended to verbally smack down old Addison. With her characteristic skill, Danica turned their antics into a teaching moment Monette took her cue. They talked about anger management. Monette explained that rules of the street could get them nothing but more trouble. Being a role model was a lot of work. After the girls left, Monette felt drained.
When she arrived at the halfway house, Monette was ready to get casual and do nothing. But she couldn’t, not with a book to write. She planned to spend the rest of the day tapping out paragraphs that would get her closer to ‘The End.” Barely ten minutes after she’d started typing, Trudy came upstairs.
“Good afternoon. We haven’t had a chance to talk for over a week. How are you?” Trudy fingered the reading glasses that hung around her neck on a string of freshwater pearls.
“Busy.” Monette realized her answer might sound short. She looked up at Trudy with a smile, trying not to appear as irritated as she felt at being interrupted. “But otherwise I’m alright. How are you?”
“Good. Ms. Chen is downstairs. Is everything alright?” Trudy gazed at her steadily.
“You heard the show, I guess,” Monette replied. She turned off the word processor and stood.
“Yes. I also read that article in the Advocate. I hope you’re not going to get discouraged,” Trudy said.
“You know me. I just hope they spell my name right and mention my book. I could use the royalties,” Monette wisecracked as she walked by Trudy.
Trudy put a hand on Monette’s arm. “Even the toughest person feels pain. It’s hard hearing people say nasty things about your past,” she said gently.
“Even if they’re telling the truth?” Monette affected a mischievous grin. Still, Trudy’s kindness touched a tender spot. She blinked to fight the tears that formed.
“Even if they’re telling the truth. Because that’s not the whole story. Look at what you’ve accomplished, what you’re doing to help others.”
Monette nodded and swallowed hard. “Thanks, Trudy.” She hurried off before the urge to bawl into Trudy’s prim mint green sweater twin set could win. Monette went down the stairs ahead of her and did not look back. She went into the smaller visiting room. Lucy sat on the sofa flipping through a fashion magazine.
“Look at this. Four-inch strappy sandals. Perfect” Lucy held up a picture of impossibly high-heeled shoes. “Makes your legs look fabulous.”
“Please don’t wear those to my pardon hearing. Falling on your face would not help me.” Monette gazed at the photo with a grimace. “My feet hurt just looking at those things.”
“Hey, I’d tell you to wear them if I thought the board would give you points for those great legs of yours,” Lucy quipped. She dropped the magazine back on the coffee table. She joined Monette at the card table, carrying her soft leather portfolio.
“Sugar, flashing my legs at a public official is what got me sent to prison in the first place. I’ll wear sensible shoes, thank you,” Monette tossed back.
“Speaking of the scumbag, the FBI says they can’t find evidence of a federal crime. Looks like Winn Barron is off the hook. Except for losing his reputation and being forced into ‘retirement’ ”
“Poor Winn. He spent years suffering in his condo on the Florida coast,” Monette said with a grunt of derision. “My only consolation is that his blue-blood wife is probably making his life hell.”
“I’m not into gossip,” Lucy began in a lower voice.
“Bull.” Monette rolled her eyes.
“Okay, so that’s a little white lie. Anyway, I hear they’ve led very separate lives for years. She’s going to wait a while longer, and then they’ll quietly divorce.” Lucy pulled papers from her portfolio. “My sources say a condition of her generous settlement is that she has to keep her mouth shut.”
“So she’s going to bail once the media attention dies down.” Monette watched Lucy sort through papers.
“Sure. They don’t want more speculation about Barron family issues.” Lucy nodded. “Which is why I don’t get him stirring things up.”
“You’d have to know Winn. His arrogance and poor judgment always trump his brains. The man isn’t stupid, just morally defective. Besides, notice the article only mentioned him once.” Monette’s fingernails made a rat-a-tat-tat sound on the tabletop.
“Yeah, one teeny-tiny sentence that vaguely referred to his resigning ‘under a cloud.’ Pretty crafty. He’s taking aim at you like a sniper hiding in the shadows. But I don’t think he can keep that up without eventually having to expose himself.” Lucy found a page and pulled it out.
Monette frowned. “Don’t underestimate Winn’s ability to operate like other snakes. He’ll slither right under your nose, blending into the scenery. Before you know it, he’s got those poisonous fangs in your flesh.”
“Yeah, but like any snake all you gotta do is chop off his head and the end.” Lucy shoved the papers aside and squeezed Monette’s hand.
“I hope you’re right,” Monette replied, still frowning.
“Hey, I think you should give your own interview. I know,” Lucy said before Monette could answer. “Jim says we should lay low. Don’t heat up a confrontation until after the pardon hearing.”
“For once I won’t go looking for a fight, Lucy. I want to just get on with my life and finally leave those chapters behind me.” Monette sighed.
“Enough of Barron. The hearing.” Lucy held up a single sheet of paper. “You’ve been rescheduled. One of the members got sick, the governor dismissed another one.”
“Do you have any good news, or did you just show up to ruin my week?” Monette frowned at Lucy as though she were to blame.
“I’m just the messenger. But the delay could be good news. That article won’t be fresh in their minds by then.” Lucy grinned. “These things have a short shelf life” “Maybe.” Monette shrugged. She wasn’t so sure about that.
“The glass is still half full, sweetie.” Lucy handed Monette papers.
“What’s this?” Monette scanned the legalese printed on the documents.
“My idea. I suggested to Jim that we try to get the original verdict overturned. We could try for an expedited review by the appeals court. The basis could be the continuing harm of your being in the custody of the Louisiana Department of Corrections. Read over the petition.” Lucy took out a lightweight notebook computer as Monette read. Muted clicks came from the keyboard as she typed. “What do you think?”
“I think this is a long shot.” Monette read two sections again.
Lucy hit several keys, then stopped and nodded. “You’re right The United States Supreme Court ruled a while back that evidence of innocence alone is not legal grounds for appeal.”
“Yeah. That makes a whole lotta sense.” Monette sho
ok her head.
“But I think we have a chance based on misconduct, mishandling of evidence and a conviction based on perjury. We’ll argue that the justice system is adversely affected by letting such a verdict stand. We don’t want to encourage those unscrupulous few who might subvert the cause of justice.” Lucy spoke with fervor, as though she were before the appeals court already.
“Uh-huh. Not to mention how it screwed up my life. But that’s a minor thing, I guess. We wouldn’t want the system to suffer,” Monette wisecracked.
“Frankly, my argument will carry more weight. But it doesn’t matter why we win as long as we win.” Lucy pointed to the last page. “Sign those three originals.” “Can’t have a little humanity creeping into the process, can we?” Monette signed even as she expressed cynicism.
“That’s not what I meant. You will curb the attitude in the next month. Practice before the Pardon Board hearing, okay?”
“Promise.” Monette held up a palm, and then put her hand over her heart.
“June twenty-eight is the big day. Ten in the morning.” Lucy packed up to leave. “Now I’ll get out of your way so you can continue on the path to reform.”
“Very funny,” Monette said as she squinted at her.
Lucy gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know it isn’t easy. You have to put up with this when you didn’t even do the crime. Stay strong, girl.”
Monette waved away self-pity. “Hey, the accommoda¬tions here beat prison by several miles. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll get out of it; with a little help from my friends.”
“You bet. Nobody thought you’d get out of prison. Remember the look on my face when you told me Winn Barron had set you up?” Lucy made a face. “I thought you were a nut.”
“You weren’t alone,” Monette said with a laugh.
“Like I said, we’ve come farther than anyone would have thought. Don’t count out that pardon. Jim will probably talk to you next time. Bye.” Lucy hurried off while looking at her wristwatch.
“See ya.”
“Everything okay?” Sherrial met Monette out in the hallway just as the front door closed behind Lucy.