Authors note:
So this is something that popped into my head, as I read an article about a guy who spent 21 years in jail for something he didn't do.
I still have to finish my 'babe' story, so I won't be updating this one for quite some time. I just want to see if anyone likes for me to continue this or not.
I also like to say that I am German and all my knowledge about the American legal system comes from research or my own mind. If any of this is incorrect please let me know and I will correct it.
I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes.
Enjoy!
'One'…'Two'…'Three'
I start counting as my muscles start to burn, since I am unsure of how many chin ups I can actually do.
"MANOSO" The warden screams across the exercise yard. I just look over to him, but don't stop with my training. The warden motions for me to come over and with a sigh I let myself drop down to the ground.
"What does he want?" My best friend Tank questions with a raised eyebrow, before taking my place on the bar.
"Go no idea" I shrug my shoulders, pull my shirt over my sweat covered body and make my way over to the other end of the yard, nodding at a few guys in passing.
10 years I have already spent in the High Security United States Penitentiary Coleman, for a crime I did not commit. We were set up. By 'We' I mean Tank and I. Apparently we shot two undercover DEA agents and got 30 years behind bars. Tank and I always said we were innocent but until a year ago no one seemed to listen to us.
The center of Wrongful convictions helped us, to get our cases examined again and now it is just a waiting game.
"You have got a visitor" Warden Duncan Moore says, as I finally reach him. He puts the cuffs on and leads me to the visitor's room. Since we are at a high security prison, I am only allowed to speak to my visitors through glass and by phone.
My lawyer from the center of wrongful convictions, Mrs. O'Hara, is waiting for me there and I pick up the phone.
"Good news, Mr. Manoso" she says with a smile. She is a 50-something woman, with short black hair, brown eyes and a drill sergeants attitude.
"How so?" I question.
"We got through to the court. Your case is being re-opened" She tells me and a bit of relief is washing over me. Finally!
Two Months later
"What have you decided?" The judge asks the jury and my hands become sweaty.
"We find Pierre LaPierre and Ricardo Carlos Manoso not guilty of first degree murder" The Jury foreman replies and I need to let that sink in for a minute. Our parents and friends cheer behind us and I turn around to face my cousin, who is sitting behind the barrier.
Lester has always believed in my innocence. He was actually the one who got me and Tank in touch with the lawyers. I owe him for the rest of my life for this.
"Gracias hermano (thank you brother)" I tell him and hug him tight. Repeating that with his best friend Bobby.
"Order…Order" The judge shouts over the cheers and hammers his gravel loudly. "Mr. Manoso and Mr. LaPierre, on the behalf of the United States of America and the State of New Jersey, I apologize for your wrongful conviction. You are free to go."
That day we only go back to the Prison to pick up our belongings. As the gates open and we step out, Lester and Bobby are already waiting.
"I expected the whole family to be here" I remark, relieved that they aren't. I love them, but they can be a little too much sometimes, especially my sisters.
My mother and father always stood behind me and if they ever doubted my innocence, they never showed it. Every other Sunday they would fly down from Trenton and visit me here, bringing me little things to make my stay a little more comfortable. But my sisters were different. It took them a couple of years, to come around and visit me.
"I talked them out of it. But there may or may not be a welcome home party for you guys" Lester replies and motions for Tank and me to get in the car.
As we pull away from the hell that is the High Security Prison, United States Penitentiary Coleman, Tank and I look at each other and nod our heads. We are finally free men!
As we get to my Aunt's house in Orlando there are at least 50 people waiting for us. Originally Tank is from Texas and Bobby from Georgia, but both moved to Trenton, New Jersey as they were little.
The four of us have been inseparable since we first met in high school, but thankfully Bobby and Lester weren't with us that fateful night.
"Stop thinking and drink, cuz" Lester says, slaps me on the back and hands me a shot of tequila. With that he brings me out of my own thoughts.
As everything just gets a little too much, I find a quiet place in my Aunt's back yard. Soon enough Tank, Lester and Bobby join me.
"Are you coming back to Trenton with us tomorrow?" Bobby questions after a good half an hour of silence.
"Yeah" Tank answers and we fall back into silence; the only noise is coming the music coming from inside the house.
"Bienvenido a casa hijo (Welcome home, Son) " My dad says as I enter my parent's house in Trenton a couple of days later.
"Gracias" I reply.
"Nos dijo a sus hermanas que se necesita un tiempo para ajustar (We told your sisters that you needed some time to adjust) " My mother tells me and hugs me tight.
"Gracias mama (Thank you mom)" I reply and hug her back. It is good to be home.
"It smells delicious in here" Lester says as he walks down the stairs, after he brought my luggage to my room.
"I made Arroz con P…" My mother replies with a heavy Spanish accent. She can't even finish that sentence, before Les and I run to the kitchen, pushing and shoving each other in the process, my mother and father following us, laughing. "There is enough for the two of you!"
Arroz con Pollo, is a seasoned rice dish and my mother makes the best. Even as we were young Les and I battled for the last plate. We quickly sit down at the already set table and start to eat.
"How was your trip" My dad questions. Referring to our little road trip from Orlando to Trenton.
"Let's say next time, I will check the car over, when Les assures me that it is ready for the trip" I reply with a smile and shoot my cousin a pointed look. "If I didn't know better, I would say that he isn't a mechanic by trade and loves his high powered cars."
"Hey…That tire wasn't my fault. That was Bobby's job!" Les protests with a smirk.
"Yeah…Bobby's job my ass" I mutter and earn a slap on the back of my head from my mother.
"Watch your language, Ricardo!" My mother chides and I rub my head.
Later that night I enter my room and I am immediately brought back to my teenage years. Nothing much has changed in here. There are still the same posters, from rappers I liked ten years ago, a few family pictures have been added, but the last time I saw this room it was a lot messier than it is now.
I strip out of my clothes, hang them neatly over the chair and go to bed. Sleep doesn't come easy tonight. Everything is so quiet. In prison, even the nights were noisy, if there weren't you knew something big was about to go down and you had to be on your guard.
Just a few month into my sentence I was attacked by my cellmate, while I was sleeping. Since then I have gotten used to sleep with one eye open and some sort of weapon under my pillow.
At 4 am I give up and put on my old running shoes, which thankfully still fit me, and hit the road. I return to my parent's house as the sun comes up two hours later.
"Couldn't sleep?" My father questions over his morning newspaper and coffee, as I enter the kitchen. I smile at the familiar side. My dad always sits at the head of the table and every morning at 5.30, doesn't matter if he has to go to work or not, and makes himself coffee and reads the morning paper.
"Too quiet" I reply. Over the last 10 years I have become a man of few words, I hated the people that chatted my ear off.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and dad hands me the sports section. Might as well occupy my mind for a while, before I have to meet the guys for breakfast.
"Where are you going?" My mother shouts after me, just like she did as I was 15 years old.
"Meeting the guys for breakfast" I shout back over my shoulder and run out of the house. I look at my watch and realize I am late. The guys will be wondering where I am and since I don't own a mobile phone, I have no way of contacting them.
Just as I am rounding the last corner to Martha's diner, I bump into someone. "I am so sorry…damn…" Says the woman in front of me as she kneels down to pick up her groceries that have fallen out of the paper bag, which is now ripped.
"I am sorry…I should have paid more attention" I apologize and kneel down next to her. As she looks up, my heart starts racing. "Babe…?"
"Carlos" Stephanie Plum replies and looks me straight in the eyes. She is still as beautiful as she was 10 years ago, when I thought nothing could tear us apart.
Well I hate to say it, but I was wrong!