Gospel According to Prissy

by Barbara Casey

  As a young woman, Miriam had been energetic and ambitious – and unsettled. After getting a degree in law, she decided that actually practicing law wasn’t what she wanted to do. Instead she went back to the university and studied psychology. Three years and a Doctor of Psychology degree later she was working at the North Carolina State Penitentiary – “The Rock” – counseling inmates. She enjoyed the one-on-one contact with people who needed her guidance the most, even if it did mean a daily fifty-mile commute.

  Her quiet demeanor, her comforting Eastern North Carolina drawl, and her genuine interest in the people she counseled made an impact almost immediately. When the deputy warden had to step down due to health reasons, Miriam was surprised when she was fingered to take the deputy’s place. It meant that she would have to relate to the inmates from a different perspective; but, she convinced herself, she would be in a position to make changes within the system for the better. As it was, she was barely an employee.

  She stayed with the State prison in Raleigh for fifteen years, all the while quietly and methodically effecting changes that she felt were most critical in order to bring about positive adjustments with the inmates themselves and in society at large. Miriam was a true idealist. She believed there was good hidden in everyone, and with the proper approach, that good could be brought to the surface and replace the bad. Miriam did her job well. She first attacked the abhorrent physical conditions of the prison, theorizing that if the inmates’ surroundings were comfortable and their basic needs taken care of, their behavior would improve. She was right. As she gained the trust of those around her, she continued counseling the inmates individually, all the while keeping up with the administrative responsibilities of a deputy warden.

  There were always a few she couldn’t reach, the ones who had been so deeply scarred by their pasts, there simply was nothing left to reach. But there were many others, and these inmates were the ones she focused on. She single-handedly pushed legislation through that would create work programs not only for the prisoners who were released, but for the prisoners who would never be released – the “lifers.” With this program in place, riots all but stopped at the prison; the atmosphere that once had been saturated in anger and despair was now hopeful and positive. Miriam’s message was simple: Everyone has the ability to be happy. Those living inside the prison walls believed Miriam when she told them that anyone could find happiness, no matter where they were or who they were, by just looking inside themselves. It was their decision. They had the power and the control over their own feelings, if nothing else.

  She had already prepared her list of needs to introduce to the in-coming legislature as soon as it returned to session when she got called up by the State Corrections Director, William Dawbs. They were looking for a new warden to head up a small women’s prison just outside Rocky Mount. Braden Women’s Correctional Institution had an inmate population of 100 at that time, and the governor had been getting complaints daily about the abuses taking place there. The warden who had been in charge was asked to step down. Miriam was their first choice for a replacement. As much as Miriam disliked leaving what she had started at The Rock, she felt she was needed even more at Braden – and it would be closer to home. She accepted the director’s offer and with no time off, she started her new job a week later.

  Categorized as low and minimum risk, most of the inmates had no prior criminal record before being incarcerated at Braden. But due to circumstances which many times involved abuse of some sort, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and just plain bad luck, they were now serving time. Many would serve their time and be released; a few would remain for life. The majority of women, however, would serve a portion of their sentence and then be released on parole, something that many felt wasn’t much better than being in prison. Living the life of a parolee was not easy. It meant following strict rules on the outside and reporting a minimum of once a month to their assigned parole officer for a urine test and interview. “Pee and see,” the women called it. If the parole officer felt the parolee wasn’t adjusting to life outside the prison walls or there had been a violation committed, at the very least the number of required visits was increased. In most cases, however, the parolee was returned to lockdown at Braden with little or no chance of another parole.

  Conditions at Braden were deplorable when Miriam got there. The buildings used to house the inmates were dilapidated and unattractive. The plumbing and electrical systems were outdated and stayed in a constant state of disrepair. The majority of the prison guards were men which only created unspeakable situations for the female prisoners, many of whom were barely out of their teens. But the biggest problem Miriam was faced with was the general attitude of the people living in the communities nearby: Braden was not wanted, and, therefore, it received no support from anywhere.

  Miriam’s first task was to replace most of the male prison guards with females. She went to visit universities around the state to talk about the job opportunities available at Braden. She searched the Internet for applicants and aggressively went after the ones she felt were most qualified. And she convinced several of the women guards from the State penitentiary in Raleigh – women she had known while working at The Rock – to transfer.

  Next, she tackled the physical condition of the facilities. With evidence that an inmate’s environment does matter still fresh in her mind, based on her success at the State penitentiary, she went into the surrounding communities and literally begged the local garden clubs to donate money for landscaping. She went to shops and local malls to ask for donations of paint and supplies. And she went to people in construction to ask for volunteer workers. Who would best know how to install a new roof or new plumbing? Gradually, over time, her persistence paid off. Garden clubs not only donated money, they set aside certain days of the month to work with the inmates in beautifying the grounds. Local laborers did the same thing. Soon the entire town of Rocky Mount was sponsoring different fund-raising events to help Braden become the good neighbor it was intended to be. After all, by employing so many people from Rocky Mount, it was contributing to the economy of an area that was predominantly rural.

  Nothing came easy for Miriam, least of all gaining the trust of the inmates. For every one woman she managed to win over, there were two others who only wanted to see her fail. In time, however, even the most cynical of these women came to realize that Miriam was the real thing. She had their best interest at heart.

  That was what was so maddening about that stupid story in the paper. She wanted people on the outside to realize that the women living in the prison were just like everyone else, with the exception that they had made some bad decisions along the way and were now paying the price. Miriam protected the inmates’ privacy while serving time, believing that it was crucial to their eventual return to society. For those who were not so lucky and would remain behind bars for their entire lives, privacy for them was also necessary in how they managed to cope. For the governor to use a small child for his own political gain was simply unconscionable. It was dishonest, it was selfish, and at the very least it demonstrated his own lack of compassion and sensitivity. “No wonder Prissy quoted the scripture about vanity to the governor,” she muttered to herself. “What can you expect from a man named Garland?”

  She walked through the foyer, turning on lights along the way, and into the library where she dropped the folders onto a small table that faced outdoors. Small night lights – faerie lights she liked to call them – dotted the heavily wooded landscape which included a lake partially framed by weeping willows, large mulched beds of azaleas and rhododendrons just starting to bud, and, anchoring the back property line, a gazebo draped with pink polyanthas, an old-fashioned sweet-scented climbing rose. White sasanquas, the early-blooming camellias, and crepe myrtles filled in the back border and provided privacy. Because it was an older home, the yards were matured. The tall loblolly pines, poplars, giant oaks, and magnolias that would soon be heavy with buds, as well as the s
trategically-placed shrubs and hedges, like the house, were large but well taken care of. Miriam loved the feeling of security and continuity here – and the expansiveness of it all.

  On this particular night, the high-pitched humming of cicadas and tree frogs carried from outside and into the house. In the kitchen she flicked on another light. Claudia, her large, yellow-stripped tabby cat, came out from under the table where she had been napping and rubbed against her legs. Claudia first came to Miriam as a stray hiding in different places around the property – under the house, behind the bushes, in the garage. Close and watchful of Miriam’s activities, but not too close. Finally she decided to show herself one evening when Miriam returned home late from work. It was Miriam’s first week on the job at Braden. Believing in the principle that cats find people – people don’t find cats, Miriam invited Claudia into her home, fed her and let her spend the night. Claudia had been with Miriam ever since. “I know, you’re starved for attention.” Miriam reached down and picked up the cat, nuzzling its soft fur with her face. “How about a biscuit? Will that make things better?” She put the cat treat on a plate and set it and Claudia on the counter next to the refrigerator while she rummaged through the shelves and drawers looking for a quick bite. It was too late to eat a meal, and she was too upset anyway to eat much of anything. But she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast early that morning, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep if she didn’t put something in her stomach. She settled on a banana muffin which she heated in the microwave oven.

  Later in bed with Claudia snuggled against her hip, Miriam considered her options. Okay, so she would probably have to beat off the press for a few more days or maybe even weeks in order to keep anything else getting out about Prissy. But being the daughter of the late Judge Claude Temple, she knew something about the inner workings of politics. The governor had lied to her; at least he had implied that he wouldn’t allow anything to be printed about Prissy. Now she could use that to her advantage. In a way, it gave her a little bit of power over the governor. And she knew exactly how she would use that little bit of power. In the time Miriam had been warden, Braden had doubled in population. It was time to get a work program similar to what she had been able to put in place at the State facility in Raleigh. She wanted the money to set up a training program for both those women who were near their release date and for those women who were never going to be released. It had already proved successful once. It would again. With a little bit of luck, and with good timing, and if she involved the right people, she was sure the governor could be convinced to come up with the funding for it. She even knew who she wanted to head up the project – a young woman named Lara Kruger who worked at the college in town. She had come to speak to the inmates on a couple of occasions about the correspondence courses being offered at the college. She hadn’t been working at the college very long, but she was smart, energetic, and she shared Miriam’s interest in the women who lived in the Braden facility. The most impressive thing Miriam had found about her was how well she related to the inmates. They liked her. Miriam didn’t know if she could get her to leave her job with the college, but she was sure she could at least make the idea tempting.

  It was with all of these thoughts playing in her mind that Miriam finally drifted off to sleep. Two hours later, the phone rang. It was the assistant deputy warden calling from Braden. “Warden, I’m sure sorry to call you in the middle of the night like this.”

  “What is it, Wayne? More reporters?”

  “It’s that new inmate – Lynda. The one that was recently transferred here. She just went berserk. Now she’s barricaded herself in the laundry room. From the sound of things, she’s destroying everything in there. She’s holding one of the guards – Rachael. Apparently Lynda got hold of a knife somewhere.”

  Miriam tried to make herself fully awake as she reached for her glasses on the table next to her bed and turned on the lamp. The light was blinding. “Has anyone been hurt?”

  “No, not that I know of.”

  “Make sure all the cells are secured. I don’t want any of the other women out for any reason until we get this resolved. I’ll be right there.”

  Miriam yanked on a pair of stretch pants, a pull-over sweater, and her old tennis shoes. Now was not the time to be concerned about fashion. She grabbed her car keys and headed out the door. Lynda had recently been transferred from another state, and she was one of the women Miriam hadn’t been able to get close to. There had been too much distrust and resentment on Lynda’s side, and Miriam wasn’t sure if she could break through it. She had thought that by giving her extra privileges once in a while, it might help. A type of reverse psychology. Apparently it hadn’t. Now this. If anything happened to one of the guards, she would never forgive herself.

  Miriam drove west on the darkened highway toward the other side of town. Normally it took her fifteen minutes to make the drive from where she lived to her office. This night, it would take less.

  The guard at the gate waved her through and she parked nearest to where the laundry room was located. She unlocked the outside door and went in. Several guards were standing in the hallway outside the room.

  “Anything happened?”

  “Nothing,” answered Wayne who was standing closest to the door that led into the laundry room. “She was ranting and raving up until just a few minutes ago, and now everything is just quiet.”

  Miriam walked up to the door and listened. Just then the door opened – only slightly. Several guards drew out their guns. The sharp, pungent odor of sweat mixed with fear permeated the air.

  “Wait. Don’t do anything unless I tell you to.” Miriam moved forward slightly trying to see behind the door. All she could see was a small figure wearing a long white nightshirt. The barrettes had been removed so that now the curly dark hair hung in a thick tangled mass down Prissy’s back.

  “Come on out, no one is going to hurt you now.” Prissy tugged at Lynda’s hand. “The Easter bunny said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’”

  “What in the world?!” Miriam heard one of the guards mutter.

  Lynda followed behind Prissy. Her face was streaked with tears, but she was now smiling. She handed the knife to Miriam. “I’m so sorry about this. I was just so mad – I couldn’t seem to be able to control myself.” She looked down at the little girl still clutching her hand. “I’m all right now. You won’t have to worry about me – I promise.”

  Miriam motioned to Wayne to take Lynda back to her cell. “We’ll clear all of this up later,” she said. “I don’t think anything needs to be done right now.”

  She picked up Prissy into her arms and kissed her. “You, little one, shouldn’t be wandering around at night. Why aren’t you in bed asleep?”

  “Lynda was afraid,” she said simply.

  Miriam handed her over to one of the guards who normally worked in the family wing. “See that she gets back to bed. She’s had a busy day.”

  Miriam went to her office and closed the door. It would soon be dawn. There was no need to go back home. She was too keyed up to sleep anyway. She could catch up on her rest over the weekend; that is, unless something else happened.

  * * *

  Jake had gotten an early start and was halfway to Martin County where they were going to start cutting fifteen-year-old pines for pulp wood, assuming the weather cooperated, when he got the call on his cell phone. His secretary told him that Stanley Gorman and Mark Pearson wanted to see him back in his office. Apparently, from the sound of his secretary’s voice, it wasn’t a casual request. Even so, he resented the way she told him. Like she was glad if he was inconvenienced.

  As the sons of two of the Caldwell sisters, and being principal shareholders in the company, they naturally would be concerned. Jake had been expecting it. Lara had been gone only a few days, and in a town the size of Rocky Mount, nothing was kept secret for very long. But he was ready for them. He would tell them there would be no trouble. It
was just a little misunderstanding. Lara had simply been too young and immature to accept the responsibilities that go along with marriage. And, of course, the miscarriage had compounded her emotional insecurities. Jake smiled. He would play up the miscarriage. Everyone had been so sympathetic toward Lara when they found out she had lost the baby – especially Mark. He would tell Mark that they were working it out. After all, Lara had recently started working at the college. In fact, he had encouraged it, and that would help her get over the loss of the baby. They would believe it.

  When Jake arrived, Stanley and Mark were waiting for him in his office. They were sitting in the two straight-back leather chairs the decorator had delivered the week before. There was no preliminary small talk.

  “I’m sure we don’t have to remind you that the family doesn’t want any trouble over this . . .” Stanley hesitated, trying to select the appropriate word. Jake stared into his cloudy gray eyes made even more so by the thick glasses he wore. “This situation,” he finally said. He adjusted the monogrammed cuff on the starched white shirt under his suit jacket as though he had said something distasteful.

  “We didn’t come here to get into your personal business,” interrupted Mark, cutting Jake off when he started to explain. “We just want to protect our interests in the business and the family. There’s a lot at stake, and we don’t want to suffer any embarrassment over this.”