Property of the State Read online

  Saying it out loud in that moment made me sadder than I had expected. Up until that moment, and with so much going on around me, I hadn’t really stopped to think about Terrell and everything that went down. I had always wanted Terrell to be a good man. I’d tried to do everything right, but he still shifted into a monster from time to time. The ass whuppings I took from Terrell weren’t even fit for a man, much less a woman he claimed to love. I closed my eyes and thought back to the fateful night that put me in this predicament.

  * * *

  It had started with Terrell calling my cell phone like a crazy person when he’d seen Agents Sims and Montclair leaving my apartment. I had contemplated ignoring Terrell’s calls, but after what had seemed like one hundred straight calls, I finally answered.

  “Terrell, what do you want?” I had grumbled into the phone, feigning sleep. It hadn’t worked. Terrell had demanded to be let into my apartment. When I refused, he’d caused a loud scene outside my door. Yelling and hurling threats. Anything could spark his menacing and jealous rages. I just wished that I’d taken heed to all the red flags in the early part of our relationship. Damn!

  “If you don’t open this fucking door, I’m gon’ go up to your job tomorrow and tell one of those Arab niggas that the feds is watching them!” Terrell had screamed.

  His words had sent a hot feeling of fear all over my body, but I still refused to let him inside. I knew when Terrell got like that his behavior could escalate.

  “Get away from my house, Terrell. You ain’t shit!” I had barked, hoping he’d get the hint that I didn’t want anything more to do with him.

  Terrell had pounded the door with his fists and had kicked it so hard the entire apartment seemed to shake. I had contemplated calling the police, but I didn’t want to bring any heat around me. It was bad enough those state agents had found their way to my house, to begin with.

  “Leave me alone, Terrell! Go home! I don’t wanna see you!” I had yelled some more, on the brink of tears.

  “Y’all neighbor named Misty Heiress is an FBI informant! If you’re selling drugs, she’s gonna snitch on you!” Terrell had screamed out for my entire neighborhood to hear.

  “Oh my God,” I had gasped. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I had had enough at that point. With fear gripping me, I had hopped out of my bed, raced to the front door, and snatched it open.

  “What the fuck are you trying to do to me?” I had gritted at him, my eyes stretched wide. “You want these niggas around here to kill me? Is that it, Terrell?”

  Terrell’s nostrils were flared and his eyes were ablaze. He’d bulldozed into me and stormed into my apartment like a wild tornado. He’d slammed the door so hard, two of my framed pictures fell off the walls.

  “I knew I’d getcha ass to let me in after I said that,” he had chortled. “You like fucking with me, right? Huh, Misty?”

  Terrell then accused me of being a snitch and we had argued heatedly. He’d gotten in my face and grabbed me roughly. That had been my first indication that one of his ass beatings was coming. I had already promised myself after the last time he hit me, I was going to fight back the next time. I was tired of being his punching bag. I deserved better, but for some strange reason, he wouldn’t let me move on without him.

  “Fuck you, Terrell! Don’t put your fucking hands on me! Get out of my house!” I had screamed.

  “I ain’t going no fucking where,” he had protested, holding my arm so tight, pain shot up and down like electricity.

  Without thinking of the consequences, I had kneed him in the balls.

  “Agh!” he’d screamed. “You bitch!”

  He had doubled over and that’s when I had grabbed his arm and tried pushing him toward the front door, but I couldn’t move him. He was in pain, but he hadn’t missed a beat with calling me all kinds of “bitches” and “whores.”

  I had threatened to call the police on him to get him to leave. That hadn’t worked. Then I came up with a plan. I told Terrell I had slept with someone else while we were together. As soon as I said it, I knew I had broken his heart.

  I had watched darkness come over him and knew I had gone too far. Terrell had gotten to his feet, his pain seemingly dissipating in an instant. He had stood there for a couple of seconds, like he was trying to process everything I had said. I thought I had said enough to make him leave. I was wrong. Terrell squinted his eyes, rushed into me, and backhand slapped me with so much force that I crumpled to the floor like a boxer who’d just been hit with a clean chin shot.

  Immediately after I had fallen down on the floor, I’d scrambled to get back on my feet, but I couldn’t because Terrell had crawled on top of me.

  “Get off of me!” I had screamed while swinging at him a few times with balled fists.

  “Shut the fuck up!” he had growled as he grabbed my neck with both of his hands and started choking the air out of me.

  I gagged, trying to breathe at the same time. I had even tried to use my strength to push him off me, but it didn’t work.

  “Somebody help me,” I had rasped. It wasn’t loud enough. Terrell applied more pressure to my neck. He was trying to kill me.

  “Bitch, I said shut the fuck up,” he had hissed. I looked up into his eyes and I saw fire. I knew then he wasn’t going to stop until I was dead.

  “You said I wasn’t fucking you good! You said my dick was whack, you dirty bitch! You trying to attack my manhood? You gon’ die today, bitch,” Terrell had barked, still clamped down on my neck.

  I had felt myself fading fast. I kicked and bucked my body because something on the inside of me told me to fight. I still don’t know how I did it, but in my fighting, I had managed to force my arms out from under him and I reached up to his face and dug my fingers into his eye sockets.

  “Ah! You fucking bitch!” Terrell had screamed.

  I thought that would’ve made him loosen his grip on me, but it didn’t. He started choking me even harder.

  “You fucking bitch! You’re gonna die!” he had growled.

  Darkness started closing in on me. I had known then that I was losing consciousness. But suddenly a light had come on in my head.

  Misty, you gotta stay alive. Your family needs you. You can’t let this man kill you. Fight back, girl! You can do it. An inner voice had spoken to me.

  And, with the last bit of energy I had left in my body, I had bucked my body so hard that Terrell fell off of me. I quickly rolled on top of him, and I dug my fingers deep into his eyes until I had felt gobs of blood and human tissue between my fingers.

  “You fucking bitch!” he had screamed. He couldn’t see me.

  I frantically searched for my cell phone. That time had given Terrell a few minutes to gather himself. He grabbed me by my hair and snatched me toward him.

  “I’m gonna kill you now, you fucking ho!” he had roared, slamming me against the wall. My body hit the wall and caused one of my paintings to fall off. Terrell and I had wrestled against the wall. “You fucking bitch! I’m gon’ kill you!” he had kept saying.

  As we fought, Terrell had dragged me against the wall, and that’s when the nail from the painting had scraped my upper shoulder. I don’t know how I did it, but I had dragged myself back over to the left side of the wall and grabbed that nail out of the wall. Terrell had been too busy choking me to notice. With the long nail in my hand, I had lifted it and stabbed Terrell right in his face. He had screamed out and let me go. A few seconds later, he had collapsed onto the floor. Blood had spurted out of his neck every time his heart pumped.

  I had stood there shaking all over. I had saved my own life. I had waited for him to move, but he wouldn’t budge. After I had kicked his foot, he still didn’t move.

  “Terrell, get up,” I had said breathlessly. I had kicked his foot again. Nothing. Panic had engulfed me.

  I had dropped the nail on the floor and stared at Terrell’s lifeless body lying in a pool of his own blood. “No!” I had screamed, and dropped to my knees.


  * * *

  “So you had to kill him? There was just no other way out, huh?” the butch asked.

  I blinked a few times, her voice snapping me out of the nightmare of reliving the murder.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill him. It was an accident,” I said honestly, my voice shaking. “I swear it was all an accident. There was just no other way. It was going to be him or me. Period.”

  “Did anybody witness it?”

  “No. We were there alone,” I said. I don’t know why I was telling this stranger all of this, but it felt good to get it off of my chest.

  “Sounds like you’re going to need a good goddamn lawyer,” she pointed out.

  I let out a long windstorm of breath. “That’s why I need to call my mother. To see if she can get someone down here to help me out of this shit. Because I shouldn’t be here. God knows the truth . . . I had no choice. It was either me or him,” I replied sadly.

  “That’s what we all say.” The butch chuckled. “Didn’t you know that everybody behind bars is innocent?” she commented, and then she chuckled.

  I knew that after she laughed, she was pulling my leg. But I wasn’t amused by her fucking joke. This was not a game. My situation was serious and I didn’t see anything funny about it. Someone happened to have lost his life, and the other person had to sit in freaking jail because of it. So there were no winners in this.

  “What’s your name, anyway? I’m here talking all my business, but don’t even know your name.” I sized her up again from head to toe, wondering if I could take her on if she ever tried to come at me with some drama. The butch would kick my ass was the conclusion I came to in my mind. Her hands alone would probably crush me. She truly looked and carried like a man. She was probably a whole hundred pounds heavier than me too. Like I said, she would probably have crushed me.

  “I’m Patricia, but everybody in here and on the streets calls me Pat,” she replied confidently. That immediately told me that she had a reputation.

  “So you’ve been here before?”

  “Hell yeah, I’ve been in here over a hundred times. All the COs know me,” the butch bragged. I crinkled my face. Who boasts about how many times they’ve been in jail? This bitch was crazy. And I knew that if I wanted to keep my ass out of harm’s way, I would either have to befriend her or stay the hell out of her way.

  “How long have you been in this time?” I asked.

  “I got here about six hours ago,” she replied. “As soon as they put you in this little-ass cell, they close the doors and from there it seems like the clock stops. And don’t knock on the door and ask them how long it’s gonna take them to process you. ’Cause if you do, they’re gonna really take their time. Most of these COs are assholes with chips on their shoulders. But I don’t pay their asses any mind. I do what I do, and they do what they do.”

  “Have they allowed you to make a call yet?”

  “Yeah, they let me use the phone probably like an hour after I got here. So don’t worry, they’ll let you do it as soon as the new COs clock in,” she said.

  “I hope so. I can’t sit here with this anxiety much longer,” I replied, my legs moving in and out.

  The butch and I talked for another two hours until the shift changed and the new CO on guard called out my last name and allowed me to make my one phone call. A black female CO pulled me out of the holding cell and escorted me to the phone station. “Press zero to get an open line,” she instructed me.

  I called my mother like she was on speed dial. Thankfully, she answered my call on the second ring.

  “Misty, is this you?” she said in a low whisper.

  “Yes, Mommy, it’s me,” I replied, immediately breaking down. The sobs came so fast and furious, I could barely breathe, let alone get my words out.

  “Baby, please don’t cry,” my mother said, her voice cracking as if hearing me cry so hard was crushing her.

  “Mommy, you’re going to have to get me a lawyer right away. The more time that passes, the worse this thing will get for me,” I cried. I needed her to understand that what I was facing was serious. I was fighting for my literal freedom. And if I took this thing lying down, then I was going to be fucked.

  “I know, darling. I’ve already started making calls. I’ve talked to a couple of secretaries and a paralegal. I told all three of them what you’ve been charged with and the jail where the cops said that they’re gonna be taking you to.”

  “Did they say how much the attorney is going to cost?”

  “I asked, but they said that they couldn’t give me that information. But the lawyer could, so I’m waiting for them to call me back now.”

  “Well, did they say that their attorney handles cases like mine?” I continued, barely able to speak.

  “Yes, baby. They all specialize in murder cases.”

  “Do you remember their names?”

  “Thomas Schwartz is one of them. The second one’s name is Patrick Cohen. And the third guy’s name is Todd Murr. From the conversations I had with the secretaries and the paralegal, all of the lawyers seem like they’ll do a good job representing you,” she assured me.

  “You have one minute left,” an overweight red-haired white male CO announced from a few feet away from me.

  “What are they saying?” my mother asked.

  I let out a long sigh. “He said that I have one minute left to talk.”

  “Have they given you a bond yet?”

  “No. And I don’t think they’re gonna give me one either. But I will see the judge in the morning. I’m so scared, Mommy.”

  “Don’t be afraid, baby. The worst is over. Neither one of us is dead. God spared our lives, so we’re gonna be fine, sweetheart,” my mother said, trying to console me. But it wasn’t working.

  My mother was a weak woman. She has never been able to handle things life had thrown at her. And now that I’m here, and she’s in that house all alone, God knows what could happen.

  Not knowing how to respond to what she had said, I decided not to comment and instead said, “Mommy, I’m gonna really need you to watch your back because—”

  I wasn’t able to finish my sentence before the line went dead. My heart sank. I wasn’t able to warn my mother that very dangerous people were still after her and after me. They weren’t going to stop until they got what they wanted.

  “I told you that you had one minute left,” the CO reminded me. “Now go on back in that cell until we call your name.” He pointed toward the chipped-paint metal door. I dreaded going back in that small-ass cell, especially with that loudmouth-ass repeat offender. But I had no choice. I was in jail. And in jail, you have no control over what you do, what you eat, or where you sleep. I was officially property of the state. Now, how fucked-up is that?

  As soon as I walked back into the holding cell, that chick, Pat, had a windstorm of questions for me: Did you get to talk to your mama? Is she gon’ get you out of here if the judge gives you a bond in the morning? Did you tell her that you’re gonna need a lawyer? And did she say what y’all are going to do if you don’t get a bond in the morning?

  I mean, this chick went on and on and on, like I made the call for her. I guess, since we’re locked up, nobody’s business is off-limits. Go figure.

  * * *

  Not too much longer after I got my phone call, I was processed and given an inmate number and a cell on the fourth floor. When I was escorted on the block, I was greeted by a slew of black female inmates, whistling and shouting, “Fresh Meat!”

  “She’s pretty too,” one female inmate uttered.

  “You might as well forget it because she’s mine,” another female inmate said, while the others chuckled and laughed at all the chaos.

  Carrying a county-issued wool blanket, one dingy sheet, a plastic cup, a toothbrush, and a plastic spoon, I marched into the cell block with the CO by my side as she pointed to the cell I was assigned to.

  “You’re gonna sleep on the top bunk. The mattress should alrea
dy be there,” the female CO told me.

  So I headed into the cell and was greeted by a white female inmate that was lying down on the bottom bunk. She was reading her book and only spoke after I spoke to her first. And she did it without looking in my direction. Talk about a warm welcome. She made it perfectly clear that she was not a part of the welcoming committee. So I knew at that very moment that shit was going to be different. I was in this place alone. And I was going to have to look out for myself. Period.

  After I made my bed and set my plastic cup and toothbrush down at the head of my bed, I headed out of my cell and into the day room, where the phones and the TV were. Eyes were on me like white on rice. I took a seat at one of the metal benches and was immediately approached by a woman. She looked to be at least five years older. She introduced herself.

  “First time in?”

  “Yes,” I replied, still trying to make sense of how I really got here.

  “What are you in here for?” she continued, looking straight into my eyes. She gave me this look as if to say, Don’t lie to me. You better keep it real. I’m gonna find out the truth either way.

  “Murder,” I finally said.

  She smirked. “Who pissed in your bowl of cornflakes?”

  “It was self-defense,” I added.

  “Can you prove it?”

  “Yes,” I assured her. But I knew it was going to be hard to convince a jury that I killed Terrell in self-defense, especially since I had his body dismembered and tossed out in garbage bags like he was trash. In my mind, that nigga was a piece of trash because he treated me like shit.

  “Well, then, you’re gonna be all right,” she said, and then paused. “Got a lawyer yet?”

  “My mother is trying to get me one right now.”

  “Well, if she hasn’t retained one yet, tell her she should get John Fletcher. He’s a beast in the courtroom. And he has beaten a lot of cases for his clients too.”

  “Is he expensive?”