peacemaker to circumvent his partner’s insensitive behavior. “We are only doing our job. If you want to be heard, you will have to see the judge at this point and all will be straightened out if they are innocent like you say. Trust me, you don’t want to do this.” He turned his attention to Vonda’s mother and assured her, “I’ll ensure that they are taken care of before their arraignment. The best thing you can do right now is get them a lawyer and arrange bail, and she will be out sooner than you think.”
Mr. Jones searched his eyes and had no choice but to believe him. He nodded and hugged his daughter and told her she would be ok and he would get her out soon. The other officers then stepped in to handcuff them, but the black detective waved him off and, for the sake of their parents, simply escorted them to the cruisers.
Reality set in when Jessica, Vonda, Tiny, and Lynn were taken to the precinct and booked, photographed, fingerprinted, and thrown into a holding cell. Each girl cried and pleaded to the police officers that there must be some mistake and they hadn’t done anything wrong. But their pleas fell on deaf ears as the robotic officers only told them to “Tell it to the judge.”
After being processed, they were taken by van to central booking. It was if they were dreaming when they arrived handcuffed inside the huge ominous and decaying processing center. When they entered the bowels of the hub, it was then that they heard the deafening sound of screaming and threats from other women prisoners because they looked like easy victims.
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor and were thrown inside a solitary, dimly lit, primitive jail cell. As a promise to their parents, the detective arranged for them to have their own cell, away from the other women. Everything looked dirty and smelled horrible inside the tiny space, and the girls were horrified when they saw large rats roam freely in and out of their cell. For the first two hours inside the filthy cell, the girls refused to even sit on the dirty and dusty benches, but after several painstaking hours, they not only found themselves sitting on the uncomfortable benches, but they found themselves lying on the filthy floors as they took turns standing watch in case a rat approached.
Finally, after nearly nineteen hour straight hours, the girls’ names were called.
“Claresse Maynard, Vonda Williams, Lynise Davis, and Jessica Jones!” bellowed the burly female officer.
The girls hurriedly stood to their feet in complete happiness and answered, “Here!”
An officer opened the cell door and escorted them through a maze of underground tunnels that seemed to go on forever. They were placed in yet another holding cell and were met by their lawyers a half hour later.
Vonda, Lynn, and Tiny had public defender, Isaac William defending them, while Jessica was seen by a private attorney, Donovan Butler, hired by her family. As courtesy, the two lawyers took notes together with all four girls present to ensure that they would all have the same strategy anticipating bail, then spoke to their clients separately at the end. They decided that they had a greater chance of painting a clearer picture if the girls were tried together instead of separately.
The lawyers explained their charges and court procedures to them. The girls anxiously told the attorneys their side of the story, that they didn’t start it and they were only defending themselves. They felt they were the victims. The attorneys wrote down everything they were saying and assured them everything would be ok. They were told that their names were already on the docket and it wouldn’t be long before they saw the judge.
As promised, the four girls were led inside the court room only minutes later. The girls’ terror-filled eyes darted and scanned the court room when they finally entered, looking for the familiar faces of their loved ones.
Ten minutes after entering the courtroom
Mr. Jones searched his eyes and had no choice but to believe him. He nodded and hugged his daughter and told her she would be ok and he would get her out soon. The other officers then stepped in to handcuff them, but the black detective waved him off and, for the sake of their parents, simply escorted them to the cruisers.
Reality set in when Jessica, Vonda, Tiny, and Lynn were taken to the precinct and booked, photographed, fingerprinted, and thrown into a holding cell. Each girl cried and pleaded to the police officers that there must be some mistake and they hadn’t done anything wrong. But their pleas fell on deaf ears as the robotic officers only told them to “Tell it to the judge.”
After being processed, they were taken by van to central booking. It was if they were dreaming when they arrived handcuffed inside the huge ominous and decaying processing center. When they entered the bowels of the hub, it was then that they heard the deafening sound of screaming and threats from other women prisoners because they looked like easy victims.
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor and were thrown inside a solitary, dimly lit, primitive jail cell. As a promise to their parents, the detective arranged for them to have their own cell, away from the other women. Everything looked dirty and smelled horrible inside the tiny space, and the girls were horrified when they saw large rats roam freely in and out of their cell. For the first two hours inside the filthy cell, the girls refused to even sit on the dirty and dusty benches, but after several painstaking hours, they not only found themselves sitting on the uncomfortable benches, but they found themselves lying on the filthy floors as they took turns standing watch in case a rat approached.
Finally, after nearly nineteen hour straight hours, the girls’ names were called.
“Claresse Maynard, Vonda Williams, Lynise Davis, and Jessica Jones!” bellowed the burly female officer.
The girls hurriedly stood to their feet in complete happiness and answered, “Here!”
An officer opened the cell door and escorted them through a maze of underground tunnels that seemed to go on forever. They were placed in yet another holding cell and were met by their lawyers a half hour later.
Vonda, Lynn, and Tiny had public defender, Isaac William defending them, while Jessica was seen by a private attorney, Donovan Butler, hired by her family. As courtesy, the two lawyers took notes together with all four girls present to ensure that they would all have the same strategy anticipating bail, then spoke to their clients separately at the end. They decided that they had a greater chance of painting a clearer picture if the girls were tried together instead of separately.
The lawyers explained their charges and court procedures to them. The girls anxiously told the attorneys their side of the story, that they didn’t start it and they were only defending themselves. They felt they were the victims. The attorneys wrote down everything they were saying and assured them everything would be ok. They were told that their names were already on the docket and it wouldn’t be long before they saw the judge.
As promised, the four girls were led inside the court room only minutes later. The girls’ terror-filled eyes darted and scanned the court room when they finally entered, looking for the familiar faces of their loved ones.
Ten minutes after entering the courtroom
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