The Sheriff's van pulled up to the prisoner's entrance at the side of the county jail, and the officers got out, and went around to get Andrew.
"Okay, sweet thing," one of them said. "You're home! The boys in there got the word that you were on your way, and they're champin' at the bit to meet you."
The intake process was brutal. Andrew was made to strip, then was subjected to a search he couldn't have even imagined before experiencing it. He was then made to shower, using a harsh disinfectant soap and a kerosene-based shampoo, all the time being watched by two guards.
"Better enjoy this solo shower," one of the guards advised him. "The next shower you take is gonna be with the other boys." He spat near Andrew's feet. "But, a pervert like you - a child-killer - ought to enjoy that."
After the shower, a guard dusted him with de-lousing powder, head to toe, then saw to it he dressed in prison-issue underwear and an orange jumpsuit. Andrew was handed a towel, a bar of soap, a toothbrush, a set of sheets and a blanket, a comb, and re-shackled, then led to his cell.
On his way to the cellblock, Andrew had to walk past a myriad of cells. Most of the inmates were on their feet and at the bars, watching the newcomer pass. Andrew endured numerous wolf whistles and comments that made his cheeks turn scarlet with utter humiliation.
"Hey, sugar!" one rough-voiced inmate shouted, over the whistles and hoots. "Meet me in the shower area tonight, and I'll show ya around!"
"Blondie!" called another, "I'll show you the recreation area!"
"Hey there, sweetheart! Do you kiss on the first date?"
With a shaky breath, Andrew hung his head and proceeded down the aisle. The officer with him seemed content to take his time, and to make him experience all the heckling and taunting.
"Don't think they don't mean EVERY word," the officer said to Andrew, "because, they do!"
One inmate reached out and almost touched Andrew as he passed the cell. "Cherry!" he chortled, "you gonna be MINE tonight?"
The row went wild with laughter, until one inmate called out, "Yo...Barrett. Better not let Wild Bill hear you say that. Word's up that he's laid claim to that cherry."
"Oh, yeah?" Barrett shot back. "Well, we'll see who gets this little girl."
Some of the inmates howled with appreciation of Barrett's show of bravado. Others, however, knowing Wild Bill and his capabilities, chose to remain silent on the matter.
The officer finally stopped before an empty cell, opened it, and motioned Andrew inside. He also entered, removing the cuffs and saying, with a wry grin, "Welcome to County, kid. I hear you're the prayin' kind. Better start some of that prayin' now, if you get my drift, because this stay ain't gonna be no afternoon in the park! These boys don't much take to child-killers...and most of them have been locked in here so long, that a pretty cherry like you is lookin' really fine right now." He walked out of the cell, then turned back to add, "One word of advice... not that you deserve it...best stay clear of Wild Bill Darby. He has a sort of monopoly on breakin' in the new "girls" on the block... and I've got an idea that he's gonna be mighty eager to ask you out on a date."
The cell door closed heavily, and Andrew, still holding his armful of "necessaries", sank down onto the cot and exhaled shakily. His heavy lids closed, his blond lashes brushing his cheeks. "Father," he whispered, so no one outside his cell could hear. "Father...Dear Father God...help me!"
One lone tear eased out from under his thick lashes, and made its way slowly down the side of his face.
*********************
Carla Leigh entered her tidy apartment, turned on the light, double locked her door, and walked to her answering machine to check for messages. The red light was flashing, telling her that a single call awaited her on the machine.
Putting down her briefcase, she shrugged out of her coat, hanging it on the coat rack by the door. She walked back to the answering machine and pushed the "Play" button. A familiar, slightly accented, voice came on:
"Querida mia...this is Mama. I made your favorite -- Mexican lasagna -- for dinner tonight, and I have more than enough for two. Why not come on over and have dinner with me? Give me a call, Nina."
Shaking her head, Carla picked up the receiver and began to dial. Her mother, born in Mexico City, had met her father - a State Superior Court judge, from Maine - when he was in Mexico City on vacation. He had been from an old and dignified Maine family, who had not been entirely pleased with his choice.
But, the two had toughed it out, and had managed to be basically happy with one another, until her father had died of a heart attack, 8 years ago. He had lived long enough to see his only daughter...his only child...graduate from law school - with honors -- and pass the bar in the top 5%.
Selena, her mother, had never quite accepted life without her husband, and clung to her unmarried daughter tenaciously. As a result, Carla felt as though she had no life, outside of her mother and her job.
"Hello...Mamacita? Yes, I just got in. Oh...not too bad. How did your day go? Uh huh...well, I told you to call the doctor and make an appointment...no, Mama, there is no reason to wait and see...that's silly, Mama! Yes...of course I will...you know that. No, not tonight, Mama...I'm just tired, and I'm going to have a cup of tea and some soup, then go on to bed...it's been a long day. No, Mama...I'm not coming down with anything...I'm just tired. Did she? Well, that's nice. You always said that Carman would never find a man to marry her. When's the wedding? Of course...I'll take you shopping next weekend. Mama, I'm really weary and I have to get off now. Yes....yes, Mama...yes, I will...te adoro, Mama...sleep well."
Hanging up the receiver, Carla kicked off her shoes and flopped into her favorite chair. She moaned softly, as she let her head fall back against the soft cushion behind her. The day was over, yet she couldn't get it out of her mind. More to the point, she couldn't get John Doe - whoever he was - out of her mind.
Try as she would, she could not rid herself of the picture of him being led out of the courtroom that morning! Those eyes...that expression...what was it...betrayal? Confusion? Disbelief? A poignant combination of all of the above?
She glanced at her watch. He would now be settled in his cell at the county facility. She truly believed that he had never before seen the inside of a prison - although she had no idea why she believed this. If this were so, a stay at the county prison would be anything but a pleasant experience for a good-looking young man...especially one that was now charged with murdering a child.
Why wouldn't he help her to help him? Was he bent on self-destruction? Was this his own penance for the thing he had done? Or, had he done it? Carla, somehow, just found it hard to believe that the gentle and seemingly sincere person she had spoken to, could be capable of doing what he was now charged with having done.
"Why not?" she argued verbally with herself. "Just because he does a good 'innocent' act? He was found at the scene of the crime holding the murder weapon. He had what has now been identified as the child's blood all over his suit jacket, his hands and his cheek. And yet, I have this stupid doubt...I have this ridiculous feeling that...that he didn't kill that little girl!"
Standing up, Carla went into the kitchen and turned on the teakettle. She tried to busy herself by preparing her tea things, and starting a Lean DeLITE frozen dinner, but her mind kept returning to John Doe. She couldn't escape him, and it was starting to really bother her!
The man, most probably, a cold-blooded killer, for heaven's sake! All the evidence pointed to just that! And yet...
"Well, maybe it isn't so bad that I sort of believe him," Carla reasoned out loud with herself, as she stood under the soothing warm spray of a welcome shower. "You can do better for a client if his words touch you with what you perceive as a possible truth. But, nobody else believes him! Why do I?"
It was while Carla was poking at her tasteless Lean DeLITE with her fork, that she decided she would pay a visit to her client the following day, to begin planning their defense strategy. Maybe a night in the county prison would be enough to make John Doe decide to confide in her. She sighed, putting down her fork and pushing the hardly-touched frozen dinner well away from her.
Carla heard a "meowing" from down at her feet. Reaching down, she scooped up her cat, Isis, and cradled her against the front of her robe. "He's a misdirected man, Isis," she told the cat, "but I just don't feel he's a murderer. Do you think I'm delusional?" Isis "meowed" once again, and jumped silkily through Carla's embrace, landing on velvet paws on the kitchen linoleum.
"Do you want your dinner?" Carla asked, rising from the chair, and retrieving the can of cat seafood dinner from the cupboard. She opened the can and dumped the contents into a bowl, breaking it up with a fork and setting it down on the placemat on the floor. The cat considered the offerings with a look of disdain, and lazily strolled from the room. Carla knew that she would soon return. This was their nightly ritual. Isis would ask for food, then punish Carla for her lateness by feigning disinterest. As soon as Carla left the kitchen area, however, Isis would return.
"Okay," Carla chuckled, "be that way."
She went back to the living room, sat down and turned on the TV. A channel 7 news team was covering the arraignment. Brad Lesher, a Live Action reporter with the station, was standing at the side of the courthouse watching as John Doe was taken from the building to the van.
"And now, we see the prisoner, John Doe, newly arraigned for the murder of eleven year-old Elsie Marshall, being taken, by Sheriff's officers, to the van that is going to convey him to the county prison facility. The trial was not a long one, but evidence was presented by the arresting officers, the forensics expert, a pathologist, and a number of other witnesses for the state...enough evidence to make John Doe have to stand trial for the murder of the child."
As Brad Lesher spoke, Carla's eye was caught by a mother and child off to the side of the TV screen. Obviously, in their haste to edit the story for the 6:00 news, the tape editors had missed them, or decided just to leave them in. As she watched, Carla found she was able to just barely hear the child, pointing to John Doe say emphatically, "That's Andrew, and he's an ANGEL!"
Carla forced a brittle laugh. "Oh, now that's a good one!" Yet, as incredible as it seemed, why did she suddenly have goosebumps popping out all over her forearms?
