by Amy Watkins
“Ethan, you hear me?”
I refused to take the bait. “I hear you. How’s Trinity?”
“She fine. Anyway, what you gonna do about Angela? She disrespecting your mom and your daughter.”
“I’m going to continue to love her.”
“Why the fuck is you so fuckin stupid? You gonna choose her over your mom again? You did that shit with Tracy and look where it landed you. In jail. You been sitting up there in jail all them months and you still ain’t learn nothing. Maybe you need to sit some more. Angela is worse than Tracy and you choosing her over your family?”
“I’m not choosing anyone over anyone else. I love her and I am going to be with her.”
Naomi was listening and chimed in, “Ethan, how you gonna let someone disrespect me like that? I tell you one thing; she will never be my daughter-in-law, and if you stay with her you will no longer be my son. Don’t call me, don’t visit me, don’t check up on your daughter, don’t expect me to help you with your bail. You’ll be dead to me.”
“I love you, mom, but I love Angela, too. If you can’t accept that? Sorry, but I’m not going to stop loving her or stop being with her.”
“Don’t ever call here again,” she hung up on me. It hurt, but I figured I’d give her a few days to cool off and we’d be talking again.
A few days passed; then a few weeks. I called frequently and there was no answer. Angela told me that Caroline told her their phones were messed up and that’s why they weren’t answering. I didn’t believe it. All their phones broke down at the same time, two cell phones and the house phone? I knew the real reason was because I loved Angela. I didn’t tell Angela, though. She was already hurt because my mom didn’t like her. I didn’t want to hurt her more.
Busy was in jail for dealing drugs and Mike for robbery and drug possession, but they were both released before I was.
Busy left first and we got a new cellmate the same day. Everyone called him Buck. He was a young, immature, loud-mouthed kid who got arrested for a parole violation. He missed an appointment with his parole officer because the bus drivers were on strike.
Mike, Buck, and I all got accepted into the work release program at the same time, only to find out it was a scam. We were not released to go to work. We got stuck in the kitchen. We worked twelve hours a day, six days a week, and we earned no money. We earned privileges—some extra food on our food trays and extra time in the pod—and our fee for staying in jail was waived on the days we worked. It wouldn’t help with my legal fees or my child support debt, but at least I wasn’t getting charged to stay in jail.
I became a regular at church and Bible study. I wanted to trust God more and people less. I felt like Tracy, Caroline, and Naomi were all trying to pull me away from God instead of helping to bring Him closer. But away from them, I was not only able to go to church, but to serve. I started to periodically lead Bible study and, as I read more of the Bible, prayed more, and went to church more, I gained more understanding.
A lot of inmates came and talked to me. They’d talk about their life, their problems, and their ideas. I listened. I prayed with them and I prayed for them. The other inmates nicknamed me Breezy. They said it was because I was so cool and calm, just like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.
I may have looked and acted like a cool breeze, but on the inside, I was a ticking time bomb. I tried my hardest to have faith and wait patiently for God to come through for me.
A lot of inmates asked me about war and the military. Most of them had never served. Jail does not compare to war—it’s much worse. When I served during Operation Iraqi Freedom, I felt like I was fighting for a cause. I was fighting for the preservation of the Constitution. I was fighting for freedom.
In jail, I realized that slavery was still very much prevalent in America. Angela wrote me a letter telling me about a documentary she saw called “The 13th Amendment”. The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery, but there was an exception to the rule. You could still be enslaved as punishment for a crime. That’s why mass incarceration started happening after slavery was abolished.
Since 1865, when the amendment was passed, Black men were getting charged, set up, arrested, and convicted for the pettiest of offenses—like child support. They were getting harsher punishments and longer sentences than their white counterparts. That way, the cotton could still get picked and the tobacco could still get plucked. The Confederate way of making money could still survive despite the abolishment of slavery.
It was even worse today. There were more free laborers in America in the 2010s than there were in 1860s. It didn’t matter what nationality, race, or gender you were, the judicial system preyed on anyone who did not have the power or the money to defend themselves.
Prison was a multibillion-dollar industry. Not only did they make money from slave labor, inmates were charged a daily fee while they were in prison, so they turned a profit off the food and supplies given to the inmates. Inmates were charged top dollar for cheap supplies. Their families were charged for phone calls and sometimes even visits. Private jails and prisons got stipends from the government to house prisoners. The government would pay two hundred dollars per prisoner, per day. So, the more prisoners, the more money these institutions got. Thus, people were sent to jail for ridiculous reasons and the jails were overcrowded. In my jail, each cell was seven by eight feet, yet there were three people living in one.
We were treated like animals. No human rights. No dignity. The bathrooms had no privacy. You were bossed around and mocked. It didn’t matter if you followed the rules or not. It didn’t matter why you were in jail. The guards saw you as an animal and treated you like one.
Most of the people in jail were there for petty, nonviolent crimes like drug use, drug possession, parole violation, trespassing, or loitering. Several inmates needed to be in a mental institution more than they needed to be in jail. There were mental health diagnoses ranging from depression to schizophrenia and everything in between. A lot of their crimes could have been avoided if they were properly treated.
There were some inmates who were animals, though. They had committed vile, violent, or destructive crimes. Rape, molestation, robbery, murder, assault. They were in jail with you and they had done horrible things. One man came in for torturing and killing his own child. Another man poured gasoline on his girlfriend and lit a match. She was still in the ICU fighting for her life. There was something wrong with these men. We all tried our best to steer clear of people like that.
One day, Buck, Mike, and I were sitting in our cell and chomping at the bit. We had been cooped up indoors for a while because it had been raining so much that week, but that day the sun was shining and the basketball court was dry. We were all anxiously waiting to get out of the cell and get in some recreational time. We were all in need of some fresh air. One could only take the smell of grown ass men for so long.
“Hey man, do you want to shoot around some?” asked Mike.
“Sure,” replied Buck.
“Count me in. but no fouling the shit out of each other.” I warned. “I know this is jail ball and we are in cages, but let’s leave the UFC stuff to the experts.”
The doors popped and we were out. Everyone ran either to the phones, showers, or to the court. I wasn’t worried about the phones since I knew Angela was at work. I usually called her around eight at night. It was the best time to call. All the other inmates would be talked out by then and their favorite reality shows would be on. And at Angela’s house, by eight the kids were in bed and she was relaxing on the couch.
The basketball game was intense. It started off as a nice game of twenty-one and quickly turned into whack whoever has the ball. After the first game, I was done. They were about to come to blows over all the hard fouls that occurred, so I called it quits and headed inside.
I went to my cell and grabbed my shower gear. The showers in jail were disgusting. If someone was going to masturbate, the showers were whe
re it was done. The showers were individual stalls, so you had a little privacy. Some guys took over thirty minutes in there. I learned never to drop anything or allow your feet to touch the floor. Not all the white stuff on the floor and wall was soap.
After the shower, I got dressed and continued my ritual of my daily walk. twenty-three laps around the pod was one mile and I did at least three miles a day. It helped me clear my head and stay focused. At times, other inmates would walk with me and vent or just talk. On this particular day, Mike was walking and talking with me.
“I bet we’re gonna get some reloads tonight.” Mike stated.
Reloads are what we called new inmates. Everyone paid attention when new guys went through intake. Experienced inmates were usually looking to see if they knew any of the reloads. Druggies looked for people who may have smuggled some drugs into the jail. Others just wanted to size them up. Sometimes we made bets about the reloads. We would bet on how many reloads there were or what we thought they were incarcerated for. We soon learned that we were poor guessers. Some people looked big, thugged-out and scary, but they were in there for dumb stuff. Some looked like scrawny, wimpy kids and they’d committed heinous crimes.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll have one,” I replied. “We seem to be pretty full.”
“Full don’t matter, they will pack us in here like sardines if it means the jail can make more money. I’ve seen it so bad that we had to live four to a cell. The cells were really only built to hold two,” explained Buck.
There were five minutes left before the guards called lights out and all movement ceased. It’s was long past the typical time when new inmates arrived, but heads turned when the sally port doors opened and there they were, two reloads. One was a short skinny black kid who looked to be no older than twenty and the other an old, homeless looking, white guy.
“You lost!” Mike crowed and laughed.
“How’d I lose?”
“I said ‘some’ and there’s two. You said one!” Mike jokingly punched me in the arm.
“Damn, you’re getting all technical on me and shit” I shook my head. “You can have the win for now but I will get the next one.”
“I bet the homeless guy is here to get a meal and stay warm.” Buck said. “You see that a lot. They get arrested for loitering or trespassing and stay about a week or so. The homeless guy will get food and the jail will get paid. A win-win.”
“And the young guy? He probably got caught smoking weed or something stupid. He doesn’t look like a hardened criminal.” Mike said.
At Bible study a few days later, Mr. Key wasn’t feeling well and asked us all to take turns sharing a story we liked from the Bible and then say why we liked it. Buck went first, “If you don’t tithe you robbin’ God! That’s what I choose. I don’t know where it says it at in the Bible, but it says it somewhere.”
“Okay Buck,” I replied, “and why do you like that Bible passage?”
“I don’t like it; I hate that shit, but it’s the only passage I hear in church. That’s why I stopped going. All the preacher man talks about is tithing and giving your money. Shit, I ain’t got no money. They never talk about real shit like dealing with baby mamas, or being broke tryna make it, getting arrested, controlling your anger, or being raised by a crackhead mom. They don’t talk about that shit. They all about money.”
“Mmm, sounds like you been going to the wrong church.”
The new kid spoke next, “I like the story of Samson because it taught me that laying with the enemy isn’t wise.” It was insightful coming from someone so young and inexperienced looking.
After Bible study, we were ushered back to our cells so the guards could take count. All activity in the jail ceased during this time so they could make sure that all the inmates were accounted for. During the count, the guards delivered the mail. They’d also deliver newspapers. We got our newspapers several days late, but we were glad to get them at all. It helped us keep in touch with the rest of the world. A corrections officer slid a few letters and a week-old newspaper under our cell door. Mike, Buck, and I all took a section and read. Mike looked at national news. Busy looked at the comics. And I read from the local section.
“Twenty-one-year-old Jason Patterson and two minors robbed three gas stations in a one-week span along Titer Rd. They held the gas attendants at gunpoint and demanded money, cigarettes, and candy. One of the gas attendants acquired minor injuries when Mr. Patterson hit him with the gun because the attendant was moving too slowly. The authorities were able to apprehend the group after a tip from Patterson’s girlfriend. She spoke to authorities after finding out that he had been cheating on her with her roommate.”
I flipped the page of the newspaper and saw Jason Patterson’s picture. “That guy looks familiar,” I said out loud.
“What guy?” Buck asked.
I showed him the picture.
“Oh snap, that’s dude’s the new kid from Bible study.”
“I’ll be damned, this kid robbed three gas stations and pistol whipped someone!” I yelled.
“Let me see?” asked Mike. “Yep, that’s him.”
I read the section out loud.
“Damn! That’s fucked up. A woman’s wrath is no joke,” Mike added.
We laughed, but I learned a valuable lesson. Judging a person by the way they look is completely inaccurate. I reflected on a related scripture, “…Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7 ESV.
Jail was made to be isolating. It kept you away from any kind of support system. Contact with people on the outside was limited. Access to the outside was a rarity. The isolation was really taking a toll on me. You don’t know what a blessing sunlight and fresh air can be until you are deprived of it. You don’t know what a blessing it is to hear your children laughing and playing until they are away from you. You don’t know what a blessing holding a woman who loves you can be until you can no longer touch her.
Things looked bad for me. Angela seemed like the only one trying to help. She tried to lift my spirits with her letters and the pictures she sent, while Naomi and Caroline were making things so much worse for her with their lies and manipulation.
I sat by myself and prayed. I knew God opened and closed doors for a reason. I also knew he purposely brought people into your life. I thought of my kids. I missed them. I had no way of getting in touch with Devin but Deidra’s number was in my cell. I could call her.
I retrieved the number and went to the phones. I dialed the number Angela had given me and held my breath, waiting to see if she’d accept or ignore the call.
I heard the prompts and then the sound of a button being pushed. I was filled with relief when I heard, “Ethan, what the hell is going on?”
“Hey, Deidra. Thanks for accepting my call.”
“Where are you? Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in months. Cierra’s been worried. I’ve been worried.”
“I’m in jail. I got locked up ‘cause I couldn’t pay child support. I thought you knew. Haven’t you been talking to Caroline and Naomi.”
“Hell no, I don’t talk to them. I haven’t talked to them in a few years.”
“But Caroline told me…never mind. I’m sorry, I should have called you sooner. I didn’t know how you or Cierra would react. Truthfully, I thought I’d be out by now.”
“Damn,” she sighed. “Sorry you are going through that. Cierra misses you. Would you like to talk to her?”
“Yes, please.”
Deidra gave the phone to Cierra and we had a great conversation. I missed her, so hearing her voice warmed my heart, even though it was only for a few minutes.
Chapter 14 – Angela
I hadn’t heard from Naomi or Caroline in weeks but one day, out of the blue, Naomi texted me:
Naomi: Trinity is n
ot leaving Kentucky to live with you.
Me: What do you mean? Caroline said it was okay.
Naomi: I don’t care what Caroline said. You are not taking my grandbaby.
I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. I knew Caroline and I had our little rift when she played that joke on me. But since then, we had talked and come to an understanding. We weren’t friends, we weren’t talking regularly, but we had decided to be cordial for Trinity’s sake.
Caroline wanted to go back to school and she needed someone to watch Trinity until she was done. Once Ethan was out of jail, we had agreed that he’d take Trinity and they’d live in Virginia with me. I thought everything was all good until Naomi’s text. So, I texted Caroline.
Me: What’s up? I thought you were okay with Trinity coming up to live with me and Ethan.
Caroline: I am okay. That’s what I was planning.
Then I texted Naomi.
Me: Caroline is okay with it.
Naomi: I don’t care what Caroline says. That is my grandbaby. You are nothing and you have no say over what happens with MY grandbaby. She will not be living with you, and when Ethan gets out he will not be living with you either. He will be in Kentucky raising his daughter. What kind of woman are you to be trying to keep a man from raising his child?
Me: You are the grandma, not the parent. You have no say either. Ethan and Caroline decided to have Trinity stay up here with us while she finished school.
Naomi: And you are an adulterous bitch. Do you really think God is going to bless you when you are sleeping with a married man? This is not God’s will. God don’t bless no mess.
Me: You don’t know what God’s will for my life is. David and Bathsheba ended up being blessed and they didn’t start out so hot. Remember? David and Bathsheba were adulterers and David even murdered to hide it. They were punished but they were eventually blessed. The child of David and Bathsheba became part of the lineage of Jesus Christ. And God blesses plenty of messes. God just loves blessing messes. Saul was a mess who persecuted Christians before God blessed him and made him the Apostle Paul. Rahab was a prostitute before he blessed her. Even in Genesis, first chapter of the Bible, God is blessing messes. Read it yourself. The world was chaos and God spoke, organized the chaos, and called it BLESSED! God just loves blessing messes.