her.
“Stephanie, the last time you said it was no big deal to have your eleven-year-old daughter taken away.” Jane’s eyes locked on her. “You were supposed to do some thinking on that.”
“So?” Stephanie said.
“Don’t give me that ‘so’ bullshit. Did you?” Jane said.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Well?”
“Well, I think it’s none of your fucking business, bitch,” Stephanie said.
“Excuse me?” Jane said, but not with surprise or concern in her voice. The “excuse me” was her way of making it clear that that kind of talk was not permitted.
“Whatever …” Stephanie said.
“Don’t give me that ‘whatever’ bullshit, girl.” Jane didn’t raise her voice. “You don’t have to be here and don’t count on scoring any jailhouse kiss-ass points for showin’ up and being like this.”
Stephanie raised her right hand slowly and very dramatically extended her middle finger. As she did, I noticed a small indigo mark, some sort of tattoo in the loose piece of skin between her thumb and forefinger.
“Fuck you, bitch,” she said.
“Fuck me?” Jane smiled. “I don’t think so—guard, get these three out of my face.”
The disinterested CO stepped in the threshold of the door, stick in hand, and silently motioned to the trio to move. They did, but not before Lori and Melissa took the time to flip off Jane. They all had the identical mark in the same spot on their hand.
Jane was not ruffled; this is what she did, day in and day out. She saw it as a mission, and she was one of the few who did human service work in the jail who lasted more than a month. It was important to her. Without missing a beat, she moved on to Katherine.
“Katherine, talk to me,” Jane said.
The group went on another half hour in a much calmer fashion. Katherine talked about making things different this time and really following through with NA. The rest of the group sort of cheered her on. Jane didn’t do any more confrontation with the rest of the group, choosing to let the group end on a positive note with some hope for the remaining members.
While they were lining up, waiting for their escort, she called Sherrie aside, put an arm around her, and told her to come see her in the morning. Jane was an expert at gaining respect. Sherrie knew she was rough, but she also knew she cared deeply for her—enough to be hard. It’s what made the difference and what allowed Jane to connect when others never had a chance. Sherrie caught up with the others and Jane and I were alone.
“Well, Duff,” she said. “Wha’dya think?”
“It’s a pleasure to watch you work, Jane,” I said.
“Yeah right, Duff. Stop the bullshit.”
“What?”
“You’re here to find out about Walanda,” Jane said, not asking but stating.
“It’s that obvious?”
“Hell yeah,” she smiled. “You’ve been taking my referrals for three years and this is the first time you come by? C’mon, man.”
“Jane—I’m trying to get a sense of what happened to her, that’s all.”
“Duff, in this place, who knows?” She put a hand on my shoulder. “We both know Walanda was a little nuts and a lot aggressive. That’s a bad combination in here.”
“You got any ideas?”
“Nah … though I don’t trust those three I threw out.”
“What’s their deal?” I said.
“They’ve been in for six weeks. All three were busted for a liquor store holdup. They hang together all the time in here, watching each other’s back,” Jane said.
“Gang stuff? They all seemed to have some tattoo on their hand.”
“Not real gang shit,” Jane took a seat behind her desk. “They’re from out in the boonies, near Forrest Point, outside of Eagle Heights—not exactly the South Bronx.”
“What’s the tattoo?”
“Got me.” She put her feet up on her desk. “It looks like some sort of crosshatching pattern, like tic-tac-toe. Over the years I’ve stopped paying attention to colors, earrings, belt buckles, and tattoos. I
“Stephanie, the last time you said it was no big deal to have your eleven-year-old daughter taken away.” Jane’s eyes locked on her. “You were supposed to do some thinking on that.”
“So?” Stephanie said.
“Don’t give me that ‘so’ bullshit. Did you?” Jane said.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Well?”
“Well, I think it’s none of your fucking business, bitch,” Stephanie said.
“Excuse me?” Jane said, but not with surprise or concern in her voice. The “excuse me” was her way of making it clear that that kind of talk was not permitted.
“Whatever …” Stephanie said.
“Don’t give me that ‘whatever’ bullshit, girl.” Jane didn’t raise her voice. “You don’t have to be here and don’t count on scoring any jailhouse kiss-ass points for showin’ up and being like this.”
Stephanie raised her right hand slowly and very dramatically extended her middle finger. As she did, I noticed a small indigo mark, some sort of tattoo in the loose piece of skin between her thumb and forefinger.
“Fuck you, bitch,” she said.
“Fuck me?” Jane smiled. “I don’t think so—guard, get these three out of my face.”
The disinterested CO stepped in the threshold of the door, stick in hand, and silently motioned to the trio to move. They did, but not before Lori and Melissa took the time to flip off Jane. They all had the identical mark in the same spot on their hand.
Jane was not ruffled; this is what she did, day in and day out. She saw it as a mission, and she was one of the few who did human service work in the jail who lasted more than a month. It was important to her. Without missing a beat, she moved on to Katherine.
“Katherine, talk to me,” Jane said.
The group went on another half hour in a much calmer fashion. Katherine talked about making things different this time and really following through with NA. The rest of the group sort of cheered her on. Jane didn’t do any more confrontation with the rest of the group, choosing to let the group end on a positive note with some hope for the remaining members.
While they were lining up, waiting for their escort, she called Sherrie aside, put an arm around her, and told her to come see her in the morning. Jane was an expert at gaining respect. Sherrie knew she was rough, but she also knew she cared deeply for her—enough to be hard. It’s what made the difference and what allowed Jane to connect when others never had a chance. Sherrie caught up with the others and Jane and I were alone.
“Well, Duff,” she said. “Wha’dya think?”
“It’s a pleasure to watch you work, Jane,” I said.
“Yeah right, Duff. Stop the bullshit.”
“What?”
“You’re here to find out about Walanda,” Jane said, not asking but stating.
“It’s that obvious?”
“Hell yeah,” she smiled. “You’ve been taking my referrals for three years and this is the first time you come by? C’mon, man.”
“Jane—I’m trying to get a sense of what happened to her, that’s all.”
“Duff, in this place, who knows?” She put a hand on my shoulder. “We both know Walanda was a little nuts and a lot aggressive. That’s a bad combination in here.”
“You got any ideas?”
“Nah … though I don’t trust those three I threw out.”
“What’s their deal?” I said.
“They’ve been in for six weeks. All three were busted for a liquor store holdup. They hang together all the time in here, watching each other’s back,” Jane said.
“Gang stuff? They all seemed to have some tattoo on their hand.”
“Not real gang shit,” Jane took a seat behind her desk. “They’re from out in the boonies, near Forrest Point, outside of Eagle Heights—not exactly the South Bronx.”
“What’s the tattoo?”
“Got me.” She put her feet up on her desk. “It looks like some sort of crosshatching pattern, like tic-tac-toe. Over the years I’ve stopped paying attention to colors, earrings, belt buckles, and tattoos. I
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