Guarding Secrets

by Pat Tucker

  “I told you this intervention was not gonna be easy. She’s deep in this,” Lena tried to whisper.

  As I got up, I caught a glimpse of the news from the corner of my eye. That made the intervention party’s focus turn to the TV too.

  Lena brought a hand up to cup her gaping mouth.

  “Jesus! You’ve made the news!” She rushed and grabbed the remote with her other hand and turned up the TV.

  Corey stood as if he was stunned silent.

  The newslady said, “Shocking, stunning! And downright unbelievable! Those are just a few of the words being used to describe what lawmakers are calling one of the worst cases of corrupt correctional officers gone wild. They say control of Texas Department of Criminal Justice’s Jester unit in Richmond, Texas, just south of Houston, was effectively handed over to a group of gang member inmates who seduced and bribed the female guards. Federal prosecutors say twelve female correctional officers, seven inmates and five others with gang ties have been charged with plotting to smuggle drugs, cell phones and other contraband into the Jester unit. An indictment unsealed earlier today said the ring also involved sex between inmate and guards that led to four of the officers becoming pregnant by DaQuan Cooper, leader of the jailhouse gang.”

  At that announcement, two sets of eyes turned and locked on me. Their stares dropped to my stomach.

  “I am not pregnant!” I snapped.

  I quickly turned my focus back to the lady on the screen.

  A man’s talking head popped up on the screen, and he said, “The inmates literally took over ‘the asylum,’ and the jail, along with the processing center, and it became a safe haven for the gang members and their workers. The correctional officers are now out of a job and may face up to twenty years in prison themselves. Gina, we just got our hands on this indictment, and it reads like a steamy, but raunchy, romance novel, with a storyline that includes sex, luxury cars, and a cash-flow that would rival any legitimate small business.”

  “Damn, Charisma. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Corey said as he looked at the screen. “I mean, if it didn’t mean you was headed to the big house yourself, that would’ve been real gangster.”

  It was easy to ignore Corey, but Lena was so overdramatic that ignoring her was that much harder.

  “All this time I was jealous thinking you had yourself a real good man and you out here running behind some nasty-ass jail inmate?”

  There were no words to describe the sheer disgust in Lena’s eyes when she looked at me.

  Lena shook her head. “Now I finally know why people call some women desperate and thirsty.”

  Despite all of the insults, something in me was satisfied because she had finally admitted, she had been jealous of me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  KENYATAYE

  Panic flooded my system as I watched the news with my mom. She handled the whole mess a lot better than me. I couldn’t believe all that had happened, even though that didn’t stop it from happening.

  “So you been indicted.”

  It didn’t matter that I knew it was coming, I still didn’t want to think about what was going to happen. As the news people rattled off all the raunchy stuff we did on the job, my mother shook her head and frowned.

  “You got that man’s name tattooed on your body?”

  There was no point, so I ignored her question. All I could do was stand, watch, and listen. I didn’t remember twelve or thirteen C.O.s being on payroll. And who ate salmon and drank Belvedere Vodka in Jester? I missed out on that party. It was catfish, tilapia, and Skyy Vodka.

  “They don’t even know what the hell they talking about.”

  That comment made my mother look at me like I was crazy.

  I grabbed the remote and changed the channel. That was a huge mistake because on the other channel they had actual pictures of us all. Most of the pictures were from our work badges, but the inmates pictures were mugshots.

  “Girl, this is going to be a mess!”

  Just when I thought nothing could be worse, a somewhat familiar woman popped up on the screen. I didn’t remember her.

  “I knew KenyaTaye Dunbar was dangerous after our first encounter.” The woman’s eyes grew wide. “It was so scary.”

  Now I was curious. I knew people came out the woodwork for their fifteen minutes, but this was absurd. I had no clue whom the woman was, but she claimed she’d had an encounter with me.

  “So you say she assaulted you in a parking lot?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And a friend of mine recorded the entire thing on her cell phone. She was so scared, she stayed away and recorded the entire incident from a safe distance. Ms. Dunbar was angry, and she was on a rampage.”

  I studied the woman’s face, but still, it didn’t register. That was until she told her story.

  “So what happened in the lingerie store?” the interviewer asked.

  “I’ll admit, I might have overreacted when she confirmed that she was trying to get her money back for some panties she had already worn, but who does that?”

  “She did what?” The interviewer’s reaction said it all. That was another ding against me.

  My mouth fell. Oh shit! That was the nosy customer I had smacked in the parking lot. I was embarrassed. On top of everything else, the image that had been painted about me looked very bad.

  I couldn’t remember a time when my mother had looked at me with an expression that said she was too disgusted for words.

  The news was still on when my phone rang. Without a thought, and probably because I wanted to escape all the crap they talked about on TV, and my mother’s little comments, I just answered.

  “Hello?”

  “KenyaTaye? Is that you?”

  The voice wasn’t familiar, despite the way she sounded.

  “Um, yeah, who is this?”

  “Are you pregnant by DaQuan?”

  I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at it. I didn’t recognize the number and I sure didn’t catch the name.

  “Who is this again?”

  “Are you the correctional officer from the Jester unit? Is your name on the bathroom walls advertising that you’d have sex with inmates for the right price?”

  My temper threatened to burst.

  “Who the hell is this again?”

  “How much money did you make working with inmates you were supposed to be guarding?”

  Part of me wanted to listen to the other questions, but I ended the call.

  It seemed like the phone rang as soon as I ended the last call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Ms. Dunbar, I’m a reporter with The Houston Chronicle and I wanted to know if we could conduct a quick interview about the charges you’re facing.”

  “How’d you get this number?”

  There was a knock at the door. My mother’s eyes were stuck to the TV so I figured I’d answer. I moved away from her because I thought that would give me a chance to curse the Chronicle reporter out while Mary was occupied.

  “Ma’am, did you know inmate DaQuan Cooper has fathered children with two other correctional officers?”

  Her tone said it all: Bitch, what’s wrong with you?

  “Don’t call this fucki—”

  Doing too much at the same time, I was still on the phone when I pulled the door open and was instantly blinded by a bright light.

  A microphone was shoved in my face.

  “Who is the father of your child and were you aware that it is illegal to have a relationship with an inmate confined to the custody of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice system?”

  My reflexes made me slam the door shut. My heart was beating faster than I could handle. I ended the call and leaned up against the wall because my legs felt weak.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Everybody does stupid things, but this has got to be the dumbest shit you’ve ever done! What the hell was you thinking? How did you think this was gonna end for you?”

  I couldn
’t remember the last time my mother cursed at me.

  There was another knock at the door, and the phone rang at the same time. My head started to spin. My mother stood over me and went in on me about my stupidity; and I wasn’t sure what to do.

  When the phone in my hand rang again, I was tempted to throw it across the room, but it was finally a number I recognized.

  “Edwards, Jesus, is the media calling you?” That was the way I answered the call.

  “Bitch, you did this shit to us! Just because you couldn’t take being replaced, yo monkey ass went and threw every damn body under the bus! And don’t even try to lie and say it wasn’t you because I remember when your dumb ass told me you wanted to do it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Now my heart raced for another reason. I should’ve ignored her call too.

  “Don’t play dumb with me! I don’t care what anybody says, I know it was you! You couldn’t handle it when your boy moved on. I can’t stand insecure bitches like you.”

  It was hard to believe that Edwards was going off on me like that.

  “You need to check your facts! Sanchez and Sheppard are both plants! They was working undercover all this damn time! So, bitch, don’t come for me.”

  Silence.

  “Sheppard’s simple ass?” Edwards asked. Her tone had changed quickly.

  “Yes, both of them. That whole thing about Sanchez getting busted, it was all a setup. And you think Sheppard is strung out, always talking loud and acting crazy? Well, all of that was just a front! Both of them been spying on us all along. Matter-of-fact, the reason the bitch was always loud was so the wire she wore would pick up every word being said.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Yeah, so get yo life, bitch. They got all kinds of shit on all of us. I’m in the same boat as everybody else.”

  All of a sudden, another voice rang through the phone.

  “I knew I didn’t trust Sheppard,” the other person said.

  “Who’s that?”

  My heart threatened to stop.

  “Oh, um, that’s Jones; she’s on the line too,” Edwards said meekly.

  Edwards better be glad it was a phone call because I’d be on her ass for trying to set me up. Those simple bitches were just stupid.

  “So you lurking in the background on a secret three-way call for what? What kind of middle-school bullshit y’all into?”

  “Look, we didn’t know what was going on,” Jones said.

  “But I see y’all quick to try and blame me for this shit.”

  “What would you have thought? You’re the one who asked me about blowing up everybody’s spot. Why wouldn’t I have thought you made good on that?”

  “Well, I didn’t and like I said, they’ve got everything they need. Both Sanchez and Sheppard had detailed reports, logging all the contraband they smuggled in. Oh, and everybody’s phones were tapped.”

  “Girl, no!” That was Edwards. She acted like we were suddenly cool again.

  “They know it all. So whatever we did in the Jester unit, I didn’t have to rat anybody out. They’ve been watching it all from the beginning. Shit, for all I know, they probably listening to this call too.”

  Instead of giving the bitches a chance to act like we were all friends who were gonna come up with a plan, I ended the call. Hell, I had already said enough!

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHARISMA

  I wasn’t ready when Edwards called gassing me up and talking about she could prove KenyaTaye was behind everything. I was out for blood too, but we were both stunned speechless when KenyaTaye broke it down and blamed everything on Sheppard and Sanchez.

  “Watch, I’m about to get her backstabbing ass on the phone,” Edwards had bragged before the call.

  “You ain’t gotta prove nothing to me. I know for a fact it was her.”

  “I’m calling her ass. Hold on; put your phone on mute.”

  I couldn’t prepare myself for what KenyaTaye had to say. And it was obvious Edwards wasn’t ready, either.

  The more I thought about Sheppard, I couldn’t imagine her holding it together long enough to tell on anybody. But maybe that was the whole point. She had been one helluva actress if what KenyaTaye said was true.

  Being up under Lena wasn’t good for my thought process. I needed to figure out a defense or something because the shit just got real, now that I knew what all they had on us.

  I grabbed my bag and left. I needed to go home and get away from Lena and her constant negativity.

  As I pulled up, I thought it felt good to be back at my own place. It was a mess. Obviously the officers hadn’t left a single thing untouched. Despite the chaotic state of my place, it still beat being at Lena’s.

  “Who is it?!” I yelled as I walked to answer the door.

  When no one answered, I didn’t think twice about pulling the door open, even though I should have.

  Camera flashes and bright lights flooded the doorway.

  “Is it true that you guys made more than sixteen thousand dollars a month selling cell phones, prescription pills, and other contraband behind bars?”

  My eyes were frozen wide.

  “Are you one of the correctional officers who got pregnant by inmate DaQuan Cooper?”

  Eyebrows went up.

  “What can you tell us about the sex closet?”

  Was this legal? The way they stood at my front door, and threw questions at me in rapid-fire style.

  “Did you smuggle pills and contraband into the prison in your underwear and your hair? Is that a weave or a wig?”

  Something in me finally woke up and I slammed the door shut.

  Alone and away from the media that acted like paparazzi, I leaned against the door and for the first time since it all went down, I allowed myself to cry.

  It was clearer than ever before, I had really, really fucked up.

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  KENYATAYE

  Empty, or just plain tired, as I stood in front of the judge, my heart didn’t feel a damn thing. I actually wanted her to hurry and do whatever the hell she was gonna do. The anticipation made me more scared than what was to come.

  If things had gone the way I’d planned, people would’ve been at my funeral a while back, so as far as I was concerned, I had died a long time ago. Nothing she’d say could hurt me.

  My court-appointed lawyer seemed like she was just as ready to get things over with as me.

  I remembered the first time I’d met her. That was nearly an entire month after she was appointed as my damn lawyer. If she was going to really work for me, that first meeting wouldn’t have taken an entire month. Since I didn’t have any money to pay for a decent attorney, and E-Dawg was arrested too, I was really screwed. The money in the duffle bag was gone.

  “You need to prepare yourself for a rough ride,” the lawyer had said.

  When she had first said that, I thought she had lost her mind. She had finished going through a thick folder that had my name on it, and shook her head often.

  I knew she was right, but her audacity stunned me. What happened to the lawyers who tried to at least act like they’d fight to the very end?

  It would’ve been better if she had just said there was nothing she could do for me. I was far from stupid and I knew my shit looked hopeless. Hell, it was. But I expected a little bit of a fight from the person who was supposed to be looking out for my interests.

  “Just throw yourself on the mercy of the court.” That was her game plan and conclusion.

  “Damn, so that’s the defense? None?”

  She looked up from the folder and frowned.

  “KenyaTaye, they’ve got you on tape discussing illegal contraband you obviously knew was illegally brought into a TDCJ prison. In addition to that, there are countless wiretaps on various phone calls with you and your gang-member boyfriend conspiring to sell the illegal drugs, cell phones, and other contraband.”

  I swallowed back the shar
p words that sat on the tip of my tongue. There was no point in going off on her. She was basically correct.

  “You’ve got DaQuan’s name tattooed on your body; you’re carrying his child. It is illegal to carry on any kind of relationship with an inmate confined to the TDCJ system. Not only did you have sex with this inmate, you also became impregnated by him.”

  I followed her wide eyes down to my large belly.

  “I get it. I’m going to jail. But damn. For you to sit there and act like you couldn’t be bothered with me, and this is a slam dunk for the prosecution makes me sick.”

  She sighed.

  She placed her hand on a massive stack of folders and drummed her fingers.

  When I looked at it, she began.

  “This is my caseload.” She tapped the stack again. “There are tons of cases in here. Some of these people are probably innocent; a few are probably questionable at best. But you, KenyaTaye, when they tested the DNA from the plastic sandwich bag that held the gun that you’d illegally bought and snuck into the prison—”

  I raised a hand and stopped her rant. She had said enough. And everything she said was on point, but that didn’t mean I had to sit and listen. As it turned out, DaQuan was nothing but a bitch-made man. He quickly accepted a plea deal. He agreed to testify against the other members on his team, and us, so his time remained the same.

  He was already serving a twelve-year prison sentence, and after the deal, he still had a twelve-year sentence, with time served from before. That told me that he could actually be out on the streets before I would be free.

  Years ago, if someone would’ve told me that things would end with DaQuan taking a deal, I would’ve put all my money on the opposite; then I would’ve doubled it.

  When it came time to step up, his punk ass took the easy way out. So after all he did, ran the yard, taught inmates how to pick just the right, desperate, vulnerable female C.O.s, when it was over, he caved like a little bitch and sang. Bitch-made.

  The judge’s gavel brought me back to the situation I found myself in.