as he talks, “I would like to inform you that double jeopardy does not yet apply. The people may refile charges if new evidence is discovered, do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I respond, just after Jillian’s elbow finds that same spot right between my ribs.
“Well then, Miss Pearson, you’re free to go. The bailiff will take you back.”
“Take me back?” I ask incredulously. “Why would they be taking me back? I didn’t do anything!”
Jillian just rolls her eyes and lets out a deep, I-told-you-to-keep-your-damn-mouth-shut sigh.
“So you can be processed out, Miss Pearson,” the judge says, his voice almost reflecting some sort of emotion, but not quite.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and quickly shuffle my way toward the bailiff who’s trying to keep her own eyes facing toward me rather than searching for an explanation for my behavior in the heavens like everyone else seems to be doing.
I don’t know whether it’s the fact that I’m going home, that they have no evidence or if it’s just that someone actually believes the possibility that I had nothing to do with the death of my boss, but I can’t remember ever feeling so relieved in my life. I had always thought of “relief” as being an absence of pressure or pain, but it’s all I can do to keep from beaming all the way back to jail.
When I finally arrive at the big house, they have me go in and grab my bedding. I’m not entirely sure why, but it feels really important to me that I take a memento of the occasion. I’m not exactly in the mood to put something inside of me just so I can have a keepsake “on the outside,” so I just decide to keep my socks on. It’ll be the most freedom that they’ve ever seen.
“They’re letting you out?” Sam asks as I gather my bedding and anything else that might be considered “my stuff.”
“Yep,” I say, finally letting my smile through. “The prosecution didn’t have any evidence, so I’m free as a bird.”
“Well isn’t that spectacular,” Nicolette says. “I have one little run-in with lady law, and I’m going to be stuck in here for god-knows how long, while they just going to let someone who killed a guy back on the streets.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I say, but still couldn’t chisel the smile from my face if I tried. “I would never hurt anyone like that.”
“What?” Sam asks. “You think you better than me?”
“Us,” Nicolette chimes in.
I don’t know if they’re joking or whether they’re really trying to start something, but I just walk over to the bunk and hug both of my cellmates in their turn. “Believe it or not,” I say, “I’m going to miss you. I hope things work out well for both of you.”
That’s what I say, at least. In truth, I’m barely done with the sentence before I’m headed back toward the door. I pick up my bedding, and am almost out when a voice makes me stop in my tracks.
“Hey Pearson,” Sam says a little too loudly.
I turn around. I’d been wondering when I’d get shivved. “Yeah?” I ask nervously.
She walks up to me with that enigmatic look of hers that is either hiding laughter or contempt. We just stand there for a moment, facing each other, and I’m trying to remember what to do when attacked by a convict. I’m sure I’ve read about it somewhere. I’m not supposed to play dead, am I? No, that’s bears. I’m finding myself a little underqualified for something so brutish as a prison fight, so I just wait for her to make the first move. She does.
Sam throws her arms around me and pulls me as close as she can with the pile of jail bedding in my arms. “I’m really happy for you. Hey,” she says, “I know we didn’t know each other that long, but you was pretty cool, ya know? Maybe drop me a line sometime.”
“Us,” Nicolette interjects again.
“Yeah,” Sam says, “whatever.”
I smile as she pulls away. “I’ll do that.” I’m not sure if I mean it or not, but I’ll figure it out
“Yes, Your Honor,” I respond, just after Jillian’s elbow finds that same spot right between my ribs.
“Well then, Miss Pearson, you’re free to go. The bailiff will take you back.”
“Take me back?” I ask incredulously. “Why would they be taking me back? I didn’t do anything!”
Jillian just rolls her eyes and lets out a deep, I-told-you-to-keep-your-damn-mouth-shut sigh.
“So you can be processed out, Miss Pearson,” the judge says, his voice almost reflecting some sort of emotion, but not quite.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and quickly shuffle my way toward the bailiff who’s trying to keep her own eyes facing toward me rather than searching for an explanation for my behavior in the heavens like everyone else seems to be doing.
I don’t know whether it’s the fact that I’m going home, that they have no evidence or if it’s just that someone actually believes the possibility that I had nothing to do with the death of my boss, but I can’t remember ever feeling so relieved in my life. I had always thought of “relief” as being an absence of pressure or pain, but it’s all I can do to keep from beaming all the way back to jail.
When I finally arrive at the big house, they have me go in and grab my bedding. I’m not entirely sure why, but it feels really important to me that I take a memento of the occasion. I’m not exactly in the mood to put something inside of me just so I can have a keepsake “on the outside,” so I just decide to keep my socks on. It’ll be the most freedom that they’ve ever seen.
“They’re letting you out?” Sam asks as I gather my bedding and anything else that might be considered “my stuff.”
“Yep,” I say, finally letting my smile through. “The prosecution didn’t have any evidence, so I’m free as a bird.”
“Well isn’t that spectacular,” Nicolette says. “I have one little run-in with lady law, and I’m going to be stuck in here for god-knows how long, while they just going to let someone who killed a guy back on the streets.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I say, but still couldn’t chisel the smile from my face if I tried. “I would never hurt anyone like that.”
“What?” Sam asks. “You think you better than me?”
“Us,” Nicolette chimes in.
I don’t know if they’re joking or whether they’re really trying to start something, but I just walk over to the bunk and hug both of my cellmates in their turn. “Believe it or not,” I say, “I’m going to miss you. I hope things work out well for both of you.”
That’s what I say, at least. In truth, I’m barely done with the sentence before I’m headed back toward the door. I pick up my bedding, and am almost out when a voice makes me stop in my tracks.
“Hey Pearson,” Sam says a little too loudly.
I turn around. I’d been wondering when I’d get shivved. “Yeah?” I ask nervously.
She walks up to me with that enigmatic look of hers that is either hiding laughter or contempt. We just stand there for a moment, facing each other, and I’m trying to remember what to do when attacked by a convict. I’m sure I’ve read about it somewhere. I’m not supposed to play dead, am I? No, that’s bears. I’m finding myself a little underqualified for something so brutish as a prison fight, so I just wait for her to make the first move. She does.
Sam throws her arms around me and pulls me as close as she can with the pile of jail bedding in my arms. “I’m really happy for you. Hey,” she says, “I know we didn’t know each other that long, but you was pretty cool, ya know? Maybe drop me a line sometime.”
“Us,” Nicolette interjects again.
“Yeah,” Sam says, “whatever.”
I smile as she pulls away. “I’ll do that.” I’m not sure if I mean it or not, but I’ll figure it out
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