Page 7 of Fighting for Tawny

“You finally noticed? It’s creepy.”

“He escorted me out of solitary. Said he liked to watch me fight.”

“Still creepy. But he’s not one of the bad ones.”

Tawny wanted to ask about the “bad ones,” but needed to gain Jo’s trust first by discovering more about her. “What are you in for, Jo?”

Jo leaned back and stretched out her legs on the bench below them. “Manslaughter. Drunk driving accident. I’m serving a fifteen-year sentence. This is year five, I think. Stay in here long enough and you lose track of time.”

“Did you have a decent lawyer?”

She snickered and shot Tawny an incredulous look. “You kiddin’? PD. I’m lucky Judge Cohen didn’t sentence me to life.”

“He was my judge, too. Gave me five years for drug possession. That bag of coke wasn’t even mine.” Tawny paused as an inmate approached them.

“Got any smokes?”

Jo and Tawny shook their heads as the bleach-blonde, heavyset woman plopped down beside them. She met Tawny’s eyes and grinned. “I saw your fight with Yolanda last week. You got a reputation, girl. My name’s Bette. As in Midler. Wish I had her fortune.”

“Tawny. We’re talkin’ about how we got here. I’m in for drug possession, and Jo committed manslaughter. What’d you do, Bette?”

“Same as you. Drug possession. Shouldn’t even be here, but Judge Cohen sent me upriver anyhow.”

“You have a lawyer?”

“Nope. Just a worthless PD.”

“Us, too.”

Bette gazed around the yard and lowered her voice. “I got a theory. There’s a conspiracy goin’ on.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “C’mon. We don’t want to hear none of that shit.”

“I do.” Tawny smiled. “I’m into that kinda shit. Go ahead, tell me.”

“First of all, was your PD a guy named Jones? Perry Jones?”

Jo’s dark eyes widened a bit. “Yeah, he wasn’t no Perry Mason, let me tell you.”

Tawny’s pulse quickened with interest. “Yeah, he was mine, too. At my hearing, he didn’t bother to put up any kind of a defense and dropped me as soon as Judge Cohen sentenced me.”

“He’s arraigning women specifically on a weekend. I was one of them. I heard he even tried to pull that shit on a district attorney arrested for killing her husband. The point is, unless you got a lawyer on speed dial and plenty of money, no one but a PD is comin’ to help, you see? That D.A. had herself a fancy lawyer to represent her, I forget his name, but he’s a big shot. Those other women? Not even a PD showed up to their arraignment. That’s totally against the law. I know, ‘cause I watch a lot of Law and Order.”

Jo’s posture straightened, and she turned rigid as Bette spoke. “So, what’s your theory?”

Bette’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That Judge Cohen and Perry Jones is workin’ together to send offenders here. They got somethin’ goin’ on that ain’t right. My cellmate died from a supposed drug overdose, mysterious-like. She never did that shit.”

“Who was your cellmate?” Tawny asked.

“Lucy Conner.”

Tawny’s heart dropped into her stomach. Her friend was Bette’s cellmate.

CHAPTER THREE

The guards shouted at the women to line up for the midday meal and herded them inside the building in a single file, like elementary schoolchildren marching to the lunchroom. The cafeteria, a large, cavernous space, held about three hundred inmates. To offset the institutional color of the dull tan walls, inspirational posters offered advice like Live Your Best Life and Determination Is the Key to Success. People smiling while performing their various jobs accompanied the banal maxims. Due to reforms prompted by investigations into the food served at prisons and jails, CIFW served better, more nutritious meals that tried to incorporate fresh vegetables, meats, and fruits into each offering. The result was a healthier population ready to integrate back into society upon their release. Issues such as heart disease, diabetes, high cholesterol, and blood pressure were greatly reduced. Those who suffered from existing medical conditions had a better chance of managing their health with proper treatment, diet, and exercise.

But women were dying of drug overdoses.

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