by Emery, Lynn
“He can’t say much without opening up some nasty stuff that could hurt him,” Lucy tried. She glanced at Monette and attempted a confident nod.
“Right.” Monette tried to convince herself that she believed Lucy’s words.
“Think of Winn Barron sitting on the beach in Florida. He lied, cheated and framed you. But he didn’t get away completely unscathed. He had to resign from his dream job as Louisiana attorney general. Which means someone must have believed you.” Jim walked beside her.
“Low-down, no-good chump.” Monette saw Winn’s face. Then she imagined slapping it hard enough to knock him down.
“Uh, maybe she needs to think positively and not concentrate on Barron. Monette needs to channel good images,” Lucy mumbled as she leaned closer to Jim. She shot an anxious look at Monette.
“I just did,” Monette replied. She smiled as they climbed the concrete steps.
Minutes later they were through imposing tall glass doors. Monette grew serious again when she saw a man dressed in a dark green shirt. The letters DOC stamped on the back stood for Department of Corrections, a sign to all that the man was on a prison work crew. Seconds later a guard dressed in the black uniform they all wore appeared around a corner. He said a few words to the man. Monette watched them until Lucy tugged on her sleeve.
“You’re free now, and nothing can change that,” Lucy said.
Monette watched the inmate push a large dust mop across the marble floor. She grew angrier as she thought about the years she’d been locked away. “Damn straight I’m not going back. Winn is going to be very, very sorry he didn’t stay on the beach. Come on.”
When they entered Courtroom B, another hearing was in progress. About thirty people were scattered about in the cushioned stadium-style seats. Most of them scribbled notes. Monette and Jim exchanged a glance. Both recognized reporters who had shown up her first day at New Beginnings.
A long curved desk on a raised platform sat facing the seats. Monette gazed at the men and women who would decide the next turn her life might take. More than anything she wanted her record wiped clean. Not so much for herself in reality. She wanted it for her children and grandchildren.
“Thank you, sir. We’ll notify you of our decision within ten working days. Please let Ms. Little there know if the address we have on file is current.” A female board member pointed to Ms. Little, a clerical worker who was tapping minutes into a slim notebook computer.
“Yes, ma’am.” The petitioner left the table, spoke softly to the secretary and then left. “Good luck,” he said to Monette as he went by.
“Thanks.” Monette smiled back at him.
“Ms. Monette Victor,” the board chairwoman read from a list in front of her. “And her representatives, if any.”
“Don’t try to shoot them a load of bull. They’ve heard it all,” Lucy said quietly.
“That’s your only advice? I already knew that much.” Monette started to say more when the woman’s voice cut her off.
“Ms. Victor, we have a full morning. If you’re not ready, we can move on.” The woman’s arched eyebrows pulled together. The other board members looked up from reading papers in front of them. All stared at Monette intently.
“I’m ready, ma’am.”
Monette pulled herself together as she walked down to the table set up in front of them. She sat down. Lucy sat in the chair to her right and Jim to her left. Her hands began to ache from gripping her purse so tightly. Taking care not to let her jitters show, Monette flexed her fingers.
“Ms. Monette Victor was convicted of drug trafficking and possession with intent to distribute in 2000. The governor intervened once evidence suggested that improprieties led to her conviction. She was finally granted parole this year after some, er, debate.”
Improprieties? Winn Barron had committed a crime, not used the wrong fork during a fancy dinner party. As for the debate, politics had delayed her parole for almost two years. When Monette glanced to her right, Lucy shot her a warning look. Monette gave her a taut smile that did not seem to reassure Lucy one bit.
“We have reports from Ms. Victor’s employer, the director of New Beginnings, and her parole officer.” The chairperson droned on for another few minutes. Then she looked over her stylish red reading glasses at Monette. “Any additional statements you want to present for our review later, Ms. Victor? Ms. Victor?”
Monette blinked her way out of a daze. “What? I mean, ma’am?”
“Do you have any additional written statements in support of your petition?” The chairperson glanced at the man to her left as if to say, “Give me strength!”
“No, ma’am.”
“Fine. Why don’t you start by telling us in your own words why your petition has merit.”
“Uh, okay.” Monette desperately tried to remember every word she’d written on the note cards. A few seconds ticked by.
Lucy leaned over and spoke into her ear. “Just pretend you’re doing the radio show.”
“Just pretend you’re not here making me even more nervous,” Monette hissed back. Jim gave Monette a nod of encouragement.
“Maybe it would be easier if we start off asking questions.” The chairperson’s expression softened a bit.
“Sure,” Monette said, then regretted the decision immediately. Too late. A stern-looking, older black man leaned into his microphone.
“I can start, Mrs. Issom,” he said to the chairwoman.
When she nodded, he asked a series of questions about Monette’s background. Then they asked about her present life. Seemed easy enough, but Monette knew better than to let that fool her. Tougher questions were sure to follow. Three other board members joined. Monette answered each one honestly, not holding back. Finally they asked her about the arrest that had led to her prison sentence. Monette told them the entire story—how she’d been a party girl who’d had an affair with the district attorney. Ending that affair had infuriated him enough to frame her for a crime she hadn’t committed. As she spoke, Monette paid attention to the one board member who stayed silent, a white woman with neatly styled blonde hair. The woman frowned when Monette said Winn Barron’s name. Her thin mouth pursed, and she made notes, only glancing up on occasion.
“Mrs. Lockwood?” The chairperson looked at the silent woman.
“I think we’re all familiar with the notoriety of this case. However, the FBI refused to investigate, because if there had been a federal crime committed, the statute of limitations had run out. There is no direct evidence that confirms your story.” Mrs. Lockwood put down her ink pen.
“I was hoping Mr. Barron would confess, but somehow I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Monette said. There was a collective gasp from a group behind them. When Lucy kicked her beneath the table, Monette shot her a heated sideways glance. Before she faced the board again, Monette saw Winn staring at her. She lifted her head and turned away.
The board members fidgeted nervously. Some wore expressions that implied they wanted to be anywhere but in the hearing room. A wave of murmuring rose from the audience.
“This is a serious matter,” the chairperson warned. “I’ll clear the room if I have to.”
“So, Ms. Victor, your behavior in no way played a part in your conviction?” Mrs. Lockwood raised her voice as though to emphasize what she already thought. The other board members seemed to lean forward in anticipation.
Lucy cleared her throat to get Monette’s attention. When Monette glanced at her, she saw a sheet of paper with one word: Careful.
Monette had grown sick of apologizing only to get kicked down again. “If you’re asking if I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, the answer is yes. Going to prison is bad enough. Sitting in prison for something you didn’t do is a form of hell I wouldn’t wish on anybody, including the people responsible for sending me there. You may disapprove of the way I’ve lived my life. Sure, I could have done a lot better. But I did not commit those crimes and that’s why I should be pardoned.”
The chairperson raised a hand to forestall another comment by Mrs. Lockwood. “Thank you, Ms. Victor. Your answers have been very informative.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” With that Monette stood up and walked out of the hearing room. The chairperson invited others to speak, but Monette kept going.
Jim came through the large double doors before they whisked shut. “Barron is going to speak now. You want to hear what—”
“I know what he’s going to say. He’s going to say my story was made up. He’s going to remind them of my record of misdeeds as proof that I’m a liar.” Monette took in a deep breath and let it out. Then she faced Jim. “See, he’s got money and the family name. Nothing I say can take that. He’ll do and say whatever it takes to restore his reputation.”
“I agree,” Jim said and put an arm around her shoulder. “But I’m going to tell them the truth. Remember, we got a whole lot of people to listen before.”
Monette straightened her blouse and stood with her shoulders back. “He’s done his worst to me. What he doesn’t know is I’m not done with him yet.”
“Exactly. Show him this fight isn’t over.” Jim gestured for her to walk ahead of him back into the hearing room.
With a nod, Monette braced her nerves to hear Winn’s cultured Southern voice spinning a web of treachery. When she entered, Winn had his hand over the microphone as he whispered to his attorney. Monette and Jim exchanged a glance.
“Ahem, those allegations have never been prosecuted, much less proven, Madam Chair,” Winn said smoothly. Still, beads of perspiration made his forehead shine under the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. Fine lines etched into his skin made him appear older than his fifty-seven years.
“Precisely. There is an old joke that says there are no guilty people in prison. According to the inmates, of course,” Mrs. Lockwood said.
“Ms. Victor was convicted by a jury, twelve levelheaded citizens of Pointe Coupee Parish. They considered the evidence. Nothing said by Ms. Victor, her attorneys with The Justice Project, or the media has proven that their verdict should be voided. Neither should this board. Thank you.” Winn stood and left with David Harris. Several reporters scurried after them.
“Thank you. We’ll consider all the information and notify Ms. Victor of our decision,” the chairperson said.
Once they were in the hallway, Jim pushed a path through a crowd of reporters all talking at once. Monette put on her sunglasses. For the first time in years she did not want to play to cameras or answer questions. All she could think of was getting far away from Winn Barron. Lucy stayed close by her. While Jim stayed behind to give comments, Lucy and Monette went to her car.
“Good job.” Lucy hit the remote on her key ring, and the Honda’s horn beeped as Jim approached.
“About as good as I could do. I was hoping they would make up their minds today.” Monette clenched her teeth in frustration.
“Not unusual, so don’t take that as a sign,” Jim said. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Seems like Winn is one stupid mistake that will haunt me more than any of the others.” Monette started walking again to work off her building anger.
“His reach isn’t that long anymore. Like Jim said, Barron’s fall from grace pretty much finished his influence.” Lucy did her best to sound reassuring.
“Yeah. Well, I’ve been through a lot more with that man than either of you. His family name and money mean a lot.” Monette made her best effort to cast off bitterness. She had to keep moving forward and stop looking back. “Whatever. No matter what, I’m rewriting my script.”
“That’s the spirit. You are going to hear good news. Okay?” Jim smiled at Monette.
“If you say so.” Monette put on a happy face in an effort to think positively.
“Stop looking for reasons to feel sorry for yourself.” Jim pointed at her. “Now go back to fighting for truth and justice.”
“Easy for you to say,” Monette called out. Jim continued to walk away, merely lifting a hand in response.
“If the big guy says it’s a go, then you should be planning your party.” Lucy looped an arm through Monette’s.
“Yeah, well pardon me if I don’t print out invitations just yet,” Monette tossed back. She gave a weak half smile when Lucy groaned at her bad pun. Despite the ordeal of seeing Winn, Monette’s steps were lighter going out of the building than they had been when she had entered. Just getting through the hearing lifted a heavy weight from her back, yet the sick feeling in her belly would probably not go away for days.
Chapter 17
Two days later Monette sat next to Jayson in his apartment sharing a huge bowl of popcorn. His section of the sofa had a built-in footrest, which was extended. Monette worked on her book while Jayson watched a baseball game between the New York Yankees and the Texas Rangers. When the Yankees got a run, Jayson clapped his hands loud enough to make Monette jump.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Jayson hooted and gulped down Barq’s root beer to celebrate.
“Traitor. You’re rooting for them damn Yankees against a Southern team.” Monette shook her head. “Humph. Where’s the loyalty?”
“I’m a Yankees fan. End of discussion. Since when did you care about Southern solidarity or sports?” Jayson threw a piece of popcorn at her.
“I’m for the underdog every time. You should know that about me by now.” Monette put aside her AlphaSmart. “Is the game almost over?”
Jayson hit the mute button. “We gonna finally talk about the Pardon Board hearing? Cause I’m ready to listen.”
“I’m trying not to obsess about it. Look at the game and I’ll work on this next book outline. Just a relaxing, normal Saturday afternoon.” Monette picked up the word processor again and tapped the keyboard.
“Like an old married couple.” Jayson took one of her hands and squeezed it. Monette’s heart thumped at the look in his eyes. She decided to tease her way out of a serious moment that she wasn’t ready for yet. “I’m mature, well preserved and on the good side of being middle-aged. I’m not old.”
“Yes, ma’am. At least you didn’t object to the couple part.” Jayson moved the bowl to the table and snuggled against Monette’s shoulder as she typed.
“Couple of what is the question. Careful you don’t miss your precious team getting beaten.” Monette nodded toward the big-screen television.
“I can watch replays. Besides, I’ve accepted the inevitable. So, your lawyer thinks the hearing went well. That’s a good thing.” Jayson took another stab at discussing the hearing.
She did not want to talk about the hearing or Winn. Not with Jayson. Monette hit the mute button, but not before the roar of the crowd bounced from the television speakers. “Yeah, well it ain’t over til it’s over, as the saying goes. Whoa, the Yanks are making a comeback.”
“What?” Jayson forgot to probe. He transferred his attention back to the game, but a commercial came on. “Damn it”
“Told ya. The replay won’t be as exciting.”
Jayson fingered the bottle of root beer in his hands. He studied the screen as a leggy model tried to sell beer. “You keep shutting me out. I don’t like that, Monette.”
“Don’t talk crazy. We’re together every weekend if you’re not working. I’m even going to spend my first overnight stay with you instead of my family. Not that it’s a big sacrifice. But still.” Monette kept her tone light in hopes of downplaying the subject.
“You can talk to me about that part of your life, Monette. I wanna feel closer to you than thousands of people reading your book.” Jayson covered her fingers as she tried to keep typing.
“I don’t know why you’re trippin’, man.” Monette slapped at his hands gently.
“Fine.” Jayson pulled away to sit on his side of the sofa again. He took the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table and put it back between them on the sofa. Then he stuffed a fistful into his mouth.
“I’m not trying to push you away.” Monette
glanced at him. His tight expression did not loosen.
“Um-hum,” was his terse reply around a mouthful of popcorn.
“Between the book, reporters and the hearing, talking about my past is wearing thin. I’m just trying to get on with making something good out of these last years I got on earth. I’m no kid, ya know.” Monette hit his bulging bicep with her fist. “Hey, that’s the part where you tell me I’m still young and I still look hot.”
“You’re young and you still look hot. Happy?” Jayson sat with his arms crossed as he stared at the television screen.
Monette let a few minutes tick by. She debated getting her own attitude, but that would only make things worse. “Look, Jayson. Please don’t think I want to shut you out. Some of the stuff that came out ain’t so pretty. There’s a lot I didn’t put in my book.”
Jayson let his arms fall, and he took his feet from the coffee table. “You’re afraid if I know more then maybe I’ll walk away.”
“Your life has been like one of those old-time family shows—a tough but loving father, sweet mother who stopped teaching to raise the kids, church on Sunday, family picnics in the park.” Monette shook her head slowly. “Let’s just say mine hasn’t been any of those things.”“Neither one of us picked the families we were born into. Do you believe I care about you?” Jayson turned around to face her.
“Sure.” Monette grabbed an extra cushion from the sofa and twisted one end of it “I hear a ‘but’ in your voice,” Jayson said quietly. “Okay, now’s the time to say it I love you.”
“Oh, God.”
She had longed to hear those words said with the right tone, the right inflection. Jayson had just made a dream come true. So why wasn’t she melting into his arms? Monette put both hands over her face.
“That wasn’t the response I was hoping to get.” Jayson pulled her hands away after a few seconds of gentle tug-of-war between them.