Maya had been in prison for two months when Jennifer came to visit.
Maya was led into the visiting room—a large space with rows of small tables, each one occupied by an inmate and their visitor. The noise level was overwhelming. Conversations, crying babies, guards barking orders.
Maya spotted Jennifer at a table in the corner and made her way over.
“Hi,” Maya said, sitting down.
Jennifer smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m here. That’s about all I can say.” Maya’s voice was flat. Prison had a way of draining emotion out of everything.
“I have some updates on the appeal,” Jennifer said, pulling out a folder. “We filed our brief arguing insufficient evidence and improper jury instructions. The state filed their response last week. Now we wait for the a
