Prisons

by Rob Edwards

  I decided on five unique and distinct disabilities — cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, autism, intellectual disability, and physically limiting disabilities. The main groups would consist of two children of each disability. In each disability grouping I would have one child with a mild case and one child with a severe case, thus allowing degrees of severity to factor into final determinations of the outcomes of the project.

  The name of now-famous Noah Higgins was forwarded to me by one of the principals of a nearby elementary school that has a number of students with special needs. Noah was on the autistic spectrum, had as yet, not spoken a word, and was prone to meltdowns, so I added him to my list as the more severe autism case.

  On the inmates side there were givens. Obviously sex offenders and those convicted of violent crimes were off the list. Those who were considered troublemakers or malcontents while incarcerated were also not considered.

  I poured over courtroom transcripts and parole board notes, I talked to the warden and the guards within the correctional facility, and I scoured the records to find workable candidates. There were many within the system who knew a prisoner and thought they would be perfect for my program. Such was the case with the controversial Delton Hayes. He was referred to me by a member of the parole board, who had been assured by a guard within the Two Rivers Correctional Facility that Mr. Hayes was a good prospect. It was because of this reference that I added him to my list.

  Chapter Five

  “What the hell do you mean they want to put Noah with a convict?” Darlene Longwood screeched over the small cellphone speaker.

  Judith reached over and gave the volume-down button a couple of clicks. “Yes, like an inmate. It’s this special experiment they’re doing through Marmont State College.”

  Judith heard two claps from Noah. She looked up from her laptop screen and saw him still playing with the glasses of water she had put out for him. He would pick up one half full glass of water, pour all the water into the other glass, set them next to each other, and then clap twice. It was one of his most satisfying activities, and it was usually worth doing for at least an hour at a time.

  “Sis, you’re not going to do this, are you?”

  Judith flipped her mouse wheel and scrolled through another page on her laptop screen. “Dar, I have to at least look into it.”

  “How can you even think of it?”

  Judith looked down at her phone and talked to it as if it were a person. “What choice do I have? The principal at Hanson Elementary told me Noah is probably out there, and Keener costs a fortune, especially during the summer. I can’t afford it.”

  Darlene moaned. “Ugh. Judith. Why did you think a sperm-bank baby was a good idea again?”

  “Why do you always go there when something comes up?” Judith snapped

  “I’m sorry. But if you had someone to help you with him…”

  “I don’t. I made my decision, and I’m living with it.”

  “Well, if you’d let us help with Noah’s costs, you wouldn’t have to even consider this.”

  “You do this every time we talk.” Judith picked up the phone and spoke into it. “For the last time, I’m not going to take any money from you. You and Jim have to save your money for your own kids someday. You’re not going to fund my life. It would ruin our perfect sisterly relationship, you piece of shit.”

  Darlene laughed. “All right, bitch. Shut the hell up already.”

  Noah clapped twice, picked up the full glass, and started pouring.

  Judith smiled, set the phone down, and looked back at her computer screen.

  “So, what’s the next step?”

  Judith clicked on a link. “I’m trying to look up any information on this Dr. Fitzpatrick from Marmont. Apparently this whole thing is his grand idea. He’s going to be here soon to discuss this with me and I’d like to know something about him before he shows up.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Not a thing, other than his listing in the college directory. So at least I know for sure he works there as a professor of applied sociology.”

  The doorbell startled Judith. “I think he’s here. I gotta go.”

  “Good luck, Sis.”

  “Thanks. Love you.”

  “Love...” Judith tapped off the call, shut her laptop and ran to answer the door.

  Noah clapped twice, picked up the full glass, and started pouring.

  Opening the door, Judith was surprised to see two people standing there.

  “Hello, Mrs. Higgins. I’m Dr. Warren Fitzpatrick.” He was a tall man, at least six foot, with dark hair, graying on the sides, and a face, pockmarked from a long, obviously agonizing battle with acne throughout his teens. His dark, thick-framed glasses helped hide much of it. He held out his hand and Judith shook it.

  “It’s Miss Higgins. But you can call me Judith.”

  To his right stood what appeared to be a bottle-blond coed with perfect skin, remarkably bright red lipstick, short black skirt, and a white doctor’s jacket over a blue cami. Basically, a nerd’s dream girl.

  “This is Rena Blossom,” Dr. Fitzpatrick said.

  Great. She even had a stripper name.

  “She’s one of the assistants on the project and has been assigned specifically to your case.”

  “Nice to meet you, Rena.”

  Shaking hands, Rena smiled with the brightest white, Colgate-commercial smile.

  “Please come in,” Judith said.

  When Dr. Fitzpatrick entered, his foot squeaked. There was an issue with his left shoe, and one clearly knew when the big man stepped with his left. His size made Judith’s small apartment seem tiny.

  Noah clapped twice, picked up the full glass, and started pouring.

  “Ah, there’s the little guy,” Dr. Fitzpatrick gestured, and looked down at Rena.

  Rena slowly walked over, knelt down about 10 feet from Noah and spoke quietly. “Hello, Noah. My name is Rena.”

  The girl obviously understood autism. She walked slowly and spoke quietly so as not to overwhelm or over-stimulate him. “He doesn’t speak,” Judith said.

  Rena nodded. “Principal Wilkins had mentioned that.” She stood and walked back to Judith. “He seems to have good motor skills. He isn’t spilling the water. How self-sufficient is he?”

  Judith thought about it for a moment. “Well, he can feed himself. But he really can’t do much more than that. He has trouble getting his clothes on—things like that.”

  “Do you ever try to force the issue?” Rena asked. “Leave one arm out so he has to finish putting the shirt on himself?”

  “Yeah. I’ve tried that a few times. It takes a while, and I don’t always have the time to follow through with it. You know. I have to get to work and all. Also, he can be prone to meltdowns.”

  “Oh. That can be difficult,” Rena said.

  Dr. Fitzpatrick looked at his watch. “Well, the main reason we stopped by is to see if there are any specific toys or items that Noah is particularly fond of. We’re setting up the rooms and we’d like to have those things there to make him more comfortable in the environment.”

  Judith gestured to the couch. “Would you like to sit while we talk? Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, ma'am,” Dr. Fitzpatrick tapped on his watch. “As you can imagine, I’m on a pretty tight schedule. I have a few more visits today before I have to get back for class.”

  “But I have questions,” Judith said. “I thought we were going to discuss this.”

  Dr. Fitzpatrick frowned. “I don’t understand. I was informed you had agreed to this.”

  “I had agreed to entertain the idea,” Judith said. “But I need to know more about the project first.”

  Dr. Fitzpatrick crossed his arms. “What is it you need to know?”

  “Well, for one,” Judith put her hands on her hips, “why do we think it’s a good idea to put little kids with criminals? How can you guarantee their safety?”

  Dr. Fitzpatrick sighed.
“Miss Higgins, this is a two-way rehabilitation project, in which the hope is, both sides can enjoy significant benefit. There is no room for implicit bias in a project of this scope.”

  Judith looked at Rena, then back at Dr. Fitzpatrick. “I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Dr. Fitzpatrick shuffled his weight to his left, his shoe let out a low squawk. “Look, your boy will be fine. There will be plenty of guards there.”

  “Okay, let me come at this a little differently,” Judith said. “My Noah, and any other special needs children, are not dogs that can just be trained to sit up and speak on cue. To infer that they are interchangeable with puppies is, quite frankly, insulting to the highest degree. So this whole inmate thing is giving me a great deal of pause. You’re asking me to put my faith in a man who has committed a crime, to work with and care for my son. I want to know why I should consider something like this, and if you don’t have the decency to give me a straight answer without looking down your nose at me, then you can leave my home and shove your special program up your ass. Now, does that have a little less implicit bias?”

  “Well…uh,” Dr. Fitzpatrick’s shoulders drooped sharply, and his eyes darted over to Rena and around the room. “No, those are very important concerns, indeed.” He shifted his weight and his left shoe squeaked again. “I never meant to infer that your son was like a dog. This is not like that program at all. There is a special building where the program will be taking place, and the men working with the children are all searching for a life change. This is a concentrated program where your son’s teacher will be learning—studying if you will, under the watchful eye of Miss Blossom here—the intricacies of working with the special needs population. While your son will gain the benefits of having someone concentrate solely on his needs, his teacher will be preparing to be tested for ABA certification. It truly should be a transforming experience for all involved.” Dr. Fitzpatrick shrugged.

  It took Judith a moment, but eventually she nodded. “Thank you. You’ve given me something to consider now.”

  Dr. Fitzpatrick took a breath. “It appears you still have some soul-searching to do on this.” He turned to the door and opened it. “Miss Blossom will leave you her card. If you have any more questions, please feel free to contact her.” And with that, Dr. Fitzpatrick squeak-stepped out.

  Rena put a gentle hand on Judith’s arm. “The number one complaint about Dr. Fitzpatrick is his people skills,” she said. “But trust me, this is a good project, and I believe it will be a good experience for Noah.” She reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulled out a card, and handed it to Judith. “If you want to discuss it further, please call me any time, night or day. Okay?”

  Judith nodded.

  Rena walked out, and Judith pushed the door, letting it swing shut with a clunk.

  Noah clapped twice, picked up the full glass, and started pouring.

  Excerpts from the transcript of the GINfo (Global Information Network) interview between Brooke Winthrop and Judith Higgins.

  Brooke: Are we rolling?

  Off Camera: Uh huh.

  Brooke: How are you feeling?

  Judith: I’m good, thanks.

  Brooke: Ever done anything like this before?

  Judith: Actually, I did a corporate video about seven or eight years ago. I was sort of in your role. I walked around a convention center and asked the convention goers a few questions. But that was a much smaller production. I just had a camera guy go with me. There wasn’t all these cameras and lights – certainly no make-up. (Laughs)

  Brooke: Oh. I won’t do any video without make-up. My career would be over. (chuckles) Okay, if you’re ready we can begin. Let’s talk a little bit about where you were when all this started. So you decided to become a single mother and have a baby on your own. Why did you decide to do that?

  Judith: Ahhh…why do you want to ask that?

  Brooke: I believe it’s an important aspect to the story.

  Judith: I don’t think it is at all. A lot of women have babies on their own. That’s not what’s at issue here.

  Brooke: What I’m trying to do is create the setting. I want the audience to understand the position you were in when all of this began.

  Judith: My position was as a desperate mom. Noah was losing his school, and my choice was to either take him to other schools 30 minutes or more away, or pay for a private school that I couldn’t afford. Don’t get me wrong, I would have done that if not for the Marmont program. But the story really isn’t about me or any woman who decides to have a baby on their own. The story is about Noah…a boy with ASD whose future is always in doubt, because he can’t communicate like everyone else can. He became a guinea pig in a strange experiment to pair up with an inmate—someone behind bars. That’s the real story. To look at a program like that and truly have to wonder if it’s the best option.

  Brooke: I’m sure it had to give you pause.

  Judith: It kept me up at night. And now after everything that’s happened...Noah has given up. (voice cracks) (Pauses)

  Brooke: It’s all right.

  Judith: He’s not doing well. (wipes tear from edge of eye) He’s worse now than when all this started.

  Chapter Six

  A guard led Delton down a narrow hallway with several green metal doors lining one side, scratched and dented from years of use. A handful of these doors had other guards standing outside them, forcing Delton to turn sideways and sidle past them. Halfway down the hall, his escort stopped, opened a door and nodded for him to enter.

  Delton peered in to see a short African American woman sitting at a table. He stepped into the small cement block room and the guard closed the door behind him.

  “Hello, Delton,” the woman said with a pleasant smile. She stood up and held out her hand. “Taysha Williams. I’m the counselor assigned to you during your time with the project.”

  Delton accepted her handshake. “Hey.”

  She gestured to a chair. “Sit down and relax before Dr. Fitzpatrick arrives.”

  Delton stepped over and sat, arms folded.

  “So what do you think?” Taysha asked, sitting across from him.

  “Lady, you don’t want to know what I think,” Delton said.

  Taysha sat up straight. “Hey, what’s with the attitude? You have a great opportunity here.”

  “This ain’t no opportunity and you know it.”

  “Why you talkin’ like that?” Her voice squealed.

  “Because the parole board said a guy like me, without his high school degree, is doomed to fail on the outside.” He leaned forward and tapped at the table for emphasis. “They want to set me up to fail. So they put me in this dumbass program to prove they right.”

  “Son, did you fall down and knock your fool head on somethin’, or do you just have shit for brains?”

  Delton sat back in his chair. “What kind of counselor are you?”

  “I’m the kind of counselor who’s about to come ‘round there and knock some sense upside your tiny little head.” She stood and looked down at him. “This is an opportunity and one that you best be taking serious too. You got a chance to actually do some good in the world with this project. You can change your life. Ain’t that better than just sitting there all smelly in some stupid cell and then going off to do someone else's damn laundry? You say the parole board wants you to fail. So what you gonna do? You just gonna roll over ‘cause poor little Delton feels he got a bad deal and prove them right? Or are you gonna do the right thing, outshine every other one of them rejects out there, who’re also in this program,” she flicked a thumb at the door. “And prove them tight-ass, no-nothing, think-their-shit-don’t-stink parole board mother-fuckers wrong?”

  Delton realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it and stared over at this short woman’s tenacious look, like a bulldog on a scent. Then he burst out laughing. “You are my kind of counselor.” He pushed out his fist. Taysha smiled and bumped his with her
s.

  “I’m a good counselor because I speak a language my clients can understand. It’s called street.” She emphasized her statement with a sharp nod.

  “Did you learn that in college too?”

  “No. Detroit.”

  Delton nodded. “Respect.” The two fist-bumped again.

  The door opened. A tall white man with glasses and bad skin walked in followed by the hottest white girl Delton had ever seen.

  “Ah, good. You’re both here,” the man said. “I’m Dr. Warren Fitzpatrick, and this is my assistant on this case, Miss Rena Blossom.”

  Delton stood and shook both their hands. “I’m Delton,” he said to Rena.

  “Nice to meet you, Delton,” Rena said back with a bright smile.

  “And I’m Taysha Williams. I’m the counselor appointed to this project by the Two Rivers Correctional Facility.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Taysha.” Dr. Fitzpatrick pulled out a chair next to Delton and sat down, thumping a thick manila file folder down on the table. Delton watched Rena sit down across from him.

  He smiled as he took his seat and looked over at Taysha who glared back at him through thin eyes.

  He stopped smiling.

  “So I think it’s important to inform you,” Dr. Fitzpatrick began. “That earlier today we met with the mother of the child we were planning to pair you with, and she expressed some misgivings.”

  “What kind of misgivings?” Taysha asked.

  “Why?” Delton looked at her. “You gonna go give her some counseling?”

  Taysha nodded at him. “If I have to.”

  “I appreciate the effort, Miss Williams, I really do,” Dr. Fitzpatrick said. “But I feel that Miss Blossom had an excellent idea on the way over here.” He turned to face Delton. “Quite often people become stressed and afraid of what and who they don’t know. Miss Higgins is obviously nervous about this project. She feels anxious about putting her son into the same room with a gentleman who is currently being incarcerated. So what if we were to hold a special meeting between you two?”