Prison Reform

Part II

Part II

“Everyone wants one last chance.” - Anonymous

“Well, Maggie, this was quick. You’ve been on parole for six weeks, and here you are, back under arrest.” The lawyer stared at the raven-haired woman with the frightened expression handcuffed to the table.

“Robert, I –”

“Don’t – don’t say you didn’t know. You were caught with three kilos of coke in your pack and not one of the packages you were supposed to be delivering. Your job was carrying private deliveries, not drugs. I warned you – once more is your third strike. Here it is: twenty to life, automatic. Congratulations. You’re going to prison for a full stretch before you’re even twenty-three.”

“No, please!” she wailed and tried to supplicate herself. The handcuffs kept her immobile. “I didn’t know. It was my supervisor, Hector. He was a link in the chain. Tell the cops. I’ll testify against him in exchange for leniency.”

“They don’t need you,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s already flipped on his supplier and he’s cooling his heels in a secure location. You’re out of luck.” He picked up his briefcase and began to turn away.

“Please, I don’t want to go back to jail. I’ll do anything, anything you want. I’ll blow you. You said I was the best.”

Robert Virago paused, looking at his client, whom he’d represented more than once in his old capacity as a public defender. Maggie – Magdalene Rose – was an impulsive spitfire whose saving grace was that she was beautiful. She knew it, too, and had traded on that more than once during years in and out of foster homes and girl gangs. But her luck had run out, and the Sheriff’s Office was ready to house her in the county lockup before putting her on the bus to Chowchilla. In three years, she’d be just another faded resident of the State Correctional Center for Women. Unless he intervened. He could. First though, she needed to prove she was worthy of such a favor.

“When I got you the job, you talked a good story: hard work, living frugally, finding yourself a good man—maybe even one with a kid because you thought it would be fun to be a stepmother. You had a good chance: you’re good-looking, smart, athletic; I paid you a lot of compliments. I should have saved my breath and paid more attention to the tattoos on your neck.”

“I told you, my ex put that on me when I was loaded.”

“Three stars: My Wild Life. Only hard-core offenders wear that, Maggie. Only the ones who have no intention of ever living a normal existence. I know gang and prison tattoos, too. You played me, Maggie. Well, no more.”

“Don’t give up on me, Robert,” she cried, eyes intent. “That’s all anyone has ever done: my birth-mother, my foster parents, my ex-boyfriend. No one has ever believed in me. I mean well. I just keep getting bad luck.”

“Or you keep making bad choices. Is there something wrong with you—inside? Is that why I keep seeing you every couple of months, when you’re in trouble?”

“Maybe that’s it – maybe I need psychiatric help. Can you put me someplace where I can get that? Someplace other than prison?”

“There’s no room at any state-run facility: all the beds are taken. I know because I had a client like that today. But,” he hesitated, and gave her a sidelong glance, as though considering. “Are you willing to take a chance, Maggie?”

“Anything, anything at all!”

“There’s a new facility down in Sierra Madre. It’s a nonprofit organization. Only takes women. You have to sign a complete release, commit to a twelve-month duration, and agree to follow every single directive under the pain of corporal punishment. No buts, no weaseling, no bargaining, complete and total compliance. You’ll be going through some groundbreaking treatments to ‘cure’ you of any criminal tendencies. There have been five graduating classes already, and the recidivism rate is zero. If this doesn’t make an honest woman out of you, then you’re done for. You’ll go off to prison and you’ll never get out. But if you complete the entire program, you’re marked as ‘time served’, your record wiped clean. What do you say?”

“Give me the papers – all of them. I’ll sign anything.”

“Are you sure? Their therapy is brand new, and still experimental. You would be expected to undergo everything they require. Even physical changes. You wouldn’t be the same woman you are now. Do you still want to do it?”

“Yes. Please.” Her eyes were filled with wild hope.

He smiled, and brought them out of his briefcase, and the pen flew over the pages, signing them all in less than a minute. She handed them to him and smiled as he replaced them in his briefcase. “Okay, here’s the deal: you’re going to stay here in the county lockup.” He held up a hand to stop the angry torrent of words. “It’s just temporary until I can arrange for transportation to the facility down south. Once that happens, you’ll travel with two companions who have also qualified for the program. But don’t you ever forget you qualified for this by the skin of your teeth, so you are on the hook to complete this program regardless of what happens or who you become. If you flunk out, you’re in prison for life, and I will never do anything for you again—ever!”

“I won’t forget. I promise. I’ll graduate top of the class.”

“If you qualify for the top ten, I’ll be surprised.”

“Then prepare to be surprised. I’ll be the one standing in front of you, a free woman.”