Read Online Jane Doe January by Emily Winslow - Free Book Online

It sounds very Wild West.
    When I Google for extradition services and processes, the top hits are independent companies. They advertise that they are “cost effective,” “available 7 days a week,” and that their vehicles are equipped with little segregation cells for the violent, mentally ill, and juvenile, and for keeping the sexes apart. One has the cheerful slogan “No Where to Run” and branded hats, coffee mugs, and teddy bears for sale. Another company’s YouTube video, with a background soundtrack of the theme song from the reality show Cops, promises “consistent, reliable, timely handling of your prisoners.” I find my impatience placated by the language used, word choices classing Arthur Fryar in the way of a zoo animal or object. He doesn’t need to get to Pittsburgh to start being punished.
    When I finally see the change, see him listed as, as far as New York’s concerned, “released,” it’s late at night, after we’ve had some guests over to watch a long movie. I have trouble falling asleep. I’ve done the journey between the New York area and Pittsburgh many, many times, to visit my sister at college, then later to go to college there myself. The drive with my parents used to take about seven hours, with a stopover at the state’s halfway point in a town thatexists for only that purpose, made up of motels and restaurants and shops selling Pennsylvania-themed souvenirs. Taking the Amtrak train was a bit of a longer trip, blissfully zoning out listening to musical-theater tapes on my Walkman. I loved those journeys, those elongated transition times, and it’s uncomfortable to now share the route with Fryar.
    By the time I wake up, I figure he must have gotten there.
    The confirmation report from the lab comes in a few days later, and he’s charged for me. My hearing is added to the docket for the same day as the other victim’s, already scheduled. I’m told on Friday that I’ll be testifying Thursday, just six days away.
    I realize that I’d been wishing so hard for the hearing because I felt that I needed a new and significant development to justify continuing to talk about my ongoing panic and distress. But, instead of the upcoming trip reinforcing my upset, it makes me giddy. Detective Honan tells me that Fryar will be there, and that I’ll have to point him out. He assures me casually that Fryar will be “shackled.” That cheers me immeasurably. I’m bouncy and talk too fast. This lasts about twenty-four hours, through all my preparation and organization of travel details. Even as I’m in this state I recognize that my manner is oversized, inappropriate, and probably the climb before a fall.
    My plans shape up. Valenta makes arrangements to be there on the day and offers me a ride to court. I explain breezily that my hotel is near, so I’ll just walk. He e-mails back to say that he’ll meet me at the hotel and walk with me.
    That’s what does it. That’s the trigger that makes me understand, like a sudden view over the edge of a cliff, that this is serious and probably difficult and that I’ll need support. Everything in me shifts back to emotional again, this time somber-emotional instead of panicky.
    I’ve felt this shift before, at the hospital twenty-two years ago. It was when I was being interviewed by the detectives, and I was frustrated by the time. Classes were starting up for the semester in just two days, and I had planned to spend the evening memorizing the monologues that were due. I’d been lazy all Christmas and hadn’t even started; I needed that evening if I was going to get it done; the evidence collection and questioning and gyn exam were all getting in my way. I’d had work to do. It was either Valenta or the other detective, the tall, blond one, who’d interrupted my frantic worrying to say, gently but seriously and a little sadly,