Property of the State Page 4

  “He can be. But anybody trying to stay out of jail shouldn’t care how much their freedom costs.”

  “Yeah, I guess you got a point there,” I agreed. I mean, she was right. And, besides, my mother can definitely afford to pay a top attorney, even if it came down to her selling her house. Hell, my mother could sell my grandmother’s house too, since it would be willed to her after my grandmother’s death certificate was issued and filed by the estate’s attorney. So we should be good. “Where is this attorney’s office?” I asked.

  “His office is off Laskin Road, in Virginia Beach. She can Google him and get his number.”

  I don’t know how, but we instantly hit it off. Aside from giving me pointers and the dos and don’ts of how to navigate around this county jail, we even talked about who I needed to stay away from while I was in this cell block. She gave me the lowdown on every chick on this block. She even gave me the lowdown on the COs too. There was a lot to take in, in so little time, but I had no choice in the matter. It was either do or die. And it was as simple as that.

  3

  JUDGMENT DAY

  The following morning, I was hauled off to court. My mother was front and center when the two court marshals escorted me into the courtroom. Immediately after I blew a kiss at her, I was placed next to the attorney John Fletcher, the lawyer that the inmate Sandra recommended should represent me. He whispered a few words to me, and then we both faced the magistrate judge, only to be told that I was going to be remanded until my trial. They could’ve left me in jail for this bullshit! The law enforcement system is screwed up. This justice system is set up to keep people incarcerated. It’s all a fucking scam. I just wished that I could turn back the hands of time. I really don’t know how much more of this shit, I’d be able to take.

  While we stood there, I entered a not guilty plea. Mr. Fletcher also asked for a speedy trial. According to him, I have a right to a speedy trial. And the fact that we’re gonna use that self-defense angle, he’s confident that I could get an acquittal. My mother seemed optimistic, since we’re going to play on the fact that I was an abused woman and that I acted in self-defense.

  But I soon found out that I was wrong, because eight months later, my day of reckoning crept on me. My heart thrummed against my chest bone and sweat drenched my brow. The hum of people talking and mumbling sounded so loud in my ears as I sat in the stuffy, hot courtroom. It was the kind of sounds that probably wouldn’t have bothered me if I wasn’t so nervous and sick to my stomach about my fate.

  I was on the spot. I was the main attraction and all eyes and thoughts were on me. My legs swung in and out, and I chewed on my bottom lip like it was a meal. The irritation around my ankles from the leg irons was suddenly more painful than it had been during my ride to court from county. I tried my best to ignore the hum of the crowd in the courtroom, but the longer I sat, the louder it got. It wasn’t lost on me that everyone there was talking about me . . . a murderer. My story had shown up on the news and all over the Internet and social media.

  Some people were there because they wanted a piece of me. Terrell’s family wanted justice for the wrong I had done to them. I’d seen his mother and sister glaring at me when I was led into the room. There were other people there that just wanted to be nosy and see the monster the media had made me out to be. I can’t lie. The nervousness I felt was literally making me sick.

  I didn’t think I’d ever wish I were back in county lockup. I had been in county for eight months, going back and forth over my case, before my lawyer had finally told me, “Pleading guilty is the only way out of this without facing life.”

  He’d explained that if I took responsibility for my actions, the court would agree to a deal where I’d get some leniency since it was an act of self-defense. I had refused at first, but Sandra and the girls I’d grown close to in lockup told me it was probably the only way out. That was just how our criminal justice system worked. I was cautioned that taking my case to trial would’ve been very risky. If I had done that, any deals I could’ve gotten by pleading guilty would’ve been completely off the table. That was pretty fucking sad, if you asked me. I would be forced to stand up in court and say I killed Terrell intentionally, when, in fact, I had done it to save my own life.

  “They won’t believe you, Misty,” my attorney had warned. “If it was self-defense, you would’ve called the police right after or during. You wouldn’t kill someone and dismember and trash the body.”

  “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do, so I panicked and made a bad judgment call. I mean, I didn’t think that anyone would report him missing, because he’s a fucking asshole and everyone hates him,” I whispered.

  Instead of commenting or tossing me a rebuttal, he looked at me like I had lost my damn mind. And right now, if I could go back to that night, I would’ve, for sure. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. I couldn’t help but rock back and forth, something I did when I was in distress.

  * * *

  I replayed it all over again: what had happened after I knew Terrell was dead. I saw myself sitting on the floor of my living room for thirty long minutes, trying to process what had just happened between Terrell and me. Terrell’s gouged and bloody eyes had stared straight, haunting me.

  I had told myself to call the police, explain everything to them about Terrell attacking me and vowing to kill me. But I hadn’t called the police at all. Instead, I had finally gotten up off the floor and dragged myself to the bathroom. I had tried to avoid looking at my face in the mirror, but I couldn’t. I had to see what mess I was in. The bruises, scratches, and rings around my neck probably would’ve been a good defense for me at the time. I couldn’t chance it, I had told myself. I couldn’t get locked up if the police didn’t believe me. I had been torn, caught in the middle.

  “Oh my God!” were the only words I had uttered in that moment. The gravity of the situation had gut-punched me so hard, I had doubled over and dry-heaved for what seemed like hours instead of minutes. I had to think quick in that moment. With trembling hands, I had called my cousin Jillian. Thank God she answered on the first ring. Jillian was street-smart and levelheaded.

  “Hello,” she answered, her voice had been gruff with sleep.

  “Jill! I need you to come over my house right now,” I had said, my words coming out fast and shaky.

  “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” she had asked. I could tell she’d sat up in her bed.

  “Jillian, I can’t talk over the phone. So please come over here right now,” I had pled. “Alone.”

  When Jillian had arrived, she’d taken a total of five steps before she had stopped in her tracks and gasped. “Oh my God! What the fuck? Is that Terrell? And is he dead?” she had huffed, clutching her chest.

  “Sh!” I had scolded. “Yes, he’s dead.” I hated to say it.

  “What the fuck happened, Misty? And why is he dead?” Jillian’s questions had kept coming rapid-fire. I told her what happened and let her know that she wasn’t there for details. We needed a plan, a solution to the problem lying in front of us.

  “So, what are you going to do?” she had asked as she immediately started pacing the floor.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I called you,” I replied, bouncing nervously on my legs.

  “Think anyone seen him come here? Maybe one of your neighbors?” Jillian had asked as she rushed over to the windows and peeked out.

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “It all happened so fast. He was acting the fool outside, and I let him in. He attacked me and I fought back. And here we are.”

  “With everything we got going on, we don’t need this distraction right here,” Jillian had said, pointing toward Terrell’s body.

  “So, what are we going to do with him?” I had asked, biting my nails.

  “We’re gonna have to chop his fucking body up and put it in trash bags and take that shit out of here,” she had replied, dead serious.

  Jillian had been so calm, it sent an eerie chi
ll down my back.

  “I—I can’t do it,” I had said, trembling.

  * * *

  The same chill shot down my back now. The courtroom was even more packed than it had been a few minutes earlier. Everyone wanted to see me get sentenced to life, I was sure. I knew the one person who had ever really loved me was in the back of that courtroom, though.

  I kept seeing my mother’s face behind my eyelids like I was watching a projector screen. I could picture her in all of the stages of our lives—when I was a little kid and she’d take me places; when I was a preteen and she took me to get my first bra and explained the birds and the bees to me after I’d gotten my period; when I was a teenager and giving her pure hell; and now, as women, both of us in pain and distress over my actions. My mother had been there through it all and it hadn’t changed. She was a rider and I was lucky to have her.

  The court officer’s booming baritone interrupted my thoughts. “All rise! The Honorable Martin Mason presiding.”

  Just my luck! The judge had the same last name as Terrell. What kind of message was the universe sending me? Karma was definitely a bitch, and she didn’t play fair. Thankfully, they weren’t related. The courts wouldn’t allow a relative of Terrell to preside over this case. It would be a conflict of interest. But as I said before, the fact that they had the same name gave me a blow to the chest.

  The rustle of suits and dresses as the crowd inside the packed courtroom rose to their feet made me feel like I was listening to nails being dragged across a chalkboard. I wasn’t going to lie, I felt dizzy. Thank God I didn’t have anything in my stomach because I probably would’ve thrown it all up, right on the spot. Trying to eat breakfast had been a dead issue earlier. Who could eat when the fate of their life was about to be decided? This was a fucked-up situation I had put myself in, all because I was looking for more. I was greedy. I was ungrateful. And now, I was fucked.

  My legs felt like two strands of cooked pasta as I stood up. The muscles burned in every part of my body like I’d worked out for hours without stopping. The result of the all-night tossing and turning I’d done back in my cell. My attorney stood next to me, clutching my right elbow as if he could sense that I was about to take a spill onto the courtroom floor. My lips curled from the wave of nausea that crept up from the pit of my stomach to my esophagus.

  The judge took his seat. He looked like an evil character from a Marvel comic book. He wore what seemed like a permanent scowl and his bald white head gave him a sinister look. He waved his wrinkled hand and motioned for everyone to be seated.

  “Except for the defendant and her counsel,” the judge grumbled.

  My lawyer gave my elbow a quick squeeze. I ignored him.

  “Counsel, I am going to address your client directly. No sense in prolonging this with silly motions to prolong the inevitable. Your client pled guilty and I am prepared to sentence her today. Is that understood?” the judge announced.

  My attorney nodded his agreement. I stared straight at the judge. My vision blurred a few times as I stared straight ahead. My thoughts were racing. My heart was pounding. Sweat ran down my back in lines. The sound of my own blood rushing filled my ears until I had to struggle to hear anything. My legs were moving, but I wasn’t making them move. I also couldn’t make them stop moving. I was swaying, like at any minute I’d lose the strength to stand and then drop.

  “Ms. Heiress, the crime you have committed is a serious one. In my opinion, people like you, who murder for nothing, deserve the maximum sentence allowable under the guidelines. You had a relationship with the victim, and as the government alleged and you admitted to, you lured the victim to his death and then illegally disposed of his body, preventing his family from having a respectable and proper memorial,” the judge was saying.

  What? I screamed in my head. My jaw rocked feverishly because I wanted to tell this judge off so badly. They never even heard my side of the story about what had gone down. Just because I got spooked and had Jillian’s friend Tedo dispose of Terrell’s body didn’t mean that I set out to kill him, nor did I lure him to my house to kill him. My chest heaved as I continued listening to that evil-ass judge. The whole courtroom seemed to be spinning around me.

  “Under the Commonwealth’s sentencing guidelines, this court is prepared to sentence you to life in prison without the possibility of parole. However, under due process of the law, we will consider that you’ve cooperated with the government in a case against a large organized crime syndicate, which significantly helped that case. Also, during your plea hearing, you took responsibility for your actions, which I may or may not consider in deviating down on your sentence. It is also your right under this court to have the opportunity to tell me and this court why I should not render the maximum sentence available to me under the guidelines. You can tell me why, in your own words, I might have leniency on you and maybe sentence you to twenty-five years to life with or without the possibility of parole. What that means is maybe one day some parole board will have mercy on your soul and let you back onto the streets.

  “Before I render a final sentence, you will also have the opportunity to present members of society that can speak on your behalf, to tell me why they think I should have leniency on you during this sentencing. Ms. Heiress, I must say, that just as it is your right to bring forth others that can speak for you, it is also the victim’s family’s opportunity to tell me why I should put you away for the rest of your natural-born life. Under this process, it is their right as well. Do you have any questions?” the judge said loud and clear.

  The gravity of everything he had said felt like a thousand-pound sack of bricks had just been hung around my neck. I realized that the small flash of light that fluttered at the back of my eyes was me getting dizzy. I could only imagine what my mother must’ve been thinking and doing when she heard what the judge was saying. She was probably crying, biting her lip, and wringing her hands so hard that her skin was raw. I knew her so well. I had seen a quick glimpse of her when I was first led into the courtroom. She never took her eyes off of me. Aside from the first quick glance, I couldn’t look at her directly, so I lowered my eyes. I was too ashamed to be her daughter in that moment.

  “Ms. Heiress, after I hear you out, I have the discretion to formulate a sentence as I see fit, according to the sentencing guidelines. Whatever sentence is imposed, you will be remanded and transported to state prison for the duration of your sentence. We are prepared to hear your statement. So, do you have anything you would like to say to the court or the family members of the victim who are present in the courtroom today?” the judge said with an eerie finality.

  I sucked in my bottom lip and tasted the blood from where I had bit so hard it had split. I was prepared to recite the story of what happened, which I had replayed over and over again with my lawyer. But, now that I had the floor, I opened my mouth several times to speak and no words came out. Finally, when the words were about to come, I heard a familiar voice yell out.

  “This is not over! You can’t get away with everything you did and think it will be over!” It was Terrell’s sister. “I got people on the inside and that guy you fucked over—he does too! You won’t get away with this shit, Misty! I’ll make sure you don’t! Karma is a bitch, and so are you! You a dead bitch!”

  “Your Honor!” My lawyer jumped to his feet. “My client is being threatened!”

  I felt like somebody had hit me in the chest with a big metal sledgehammer. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. A flame ignited on my skin and my entire body felt like someone had set me afire. I didn’t turn around; fear wouldn’t allow my body to move. I was afraid of who else I might see if I turned around. My entire body shook. I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. The court officers rushed over to Terrell’s sister to remove her.

  The judge banged his gavel wildly and screamed, “Order! Order in the court!”

  “You killed my son, you grimy-ass hussy! You won’t get away with this, Misty! I never liked you, anyway! So
you are going to pay dearly! Mark my words!” Terrell’s mother screamed.

  I swayed on my feet. Tears burned at the backs of my eyes. The chaotic scene made the spot directly above my right ear throb with pain. I closed my eyes and immediately remembered the day I saw Terrell’s mother on the news.

  * * *

  “My son, Terrell, would not get up and leave town without telling me or his family. We all have a good relationship. People tell me all the time that he was a mama’s boy, so if he hadn’t said anything to anyone else, he would’ve at least called and told me. But I do have a strong suspicion that his ex-girlfriend, named Misty Heiress, had something to do with his disappearance. The police tracked his phone and the last pinging alert was a cell phone tower only a mile from her apartment. Now I’ve talked to her a few times and she’s done nothing but lie. So I’m standing here and pleading to anyone that knows his whereabouts, please call the police. You don’t have to leave your name. Just call us if you heard or seen anything,” his mother had said while tears had run from her eyes and flooded her face.

  I remembered instantly seeing the pain in Mrs. Mason’s eyes. She had been doing everything in her power to find her son. A few weeks after that, another encounter with Terrell’s family told me they weren’t going to give up. Out of nowhere, I was sitting on Mrs. Mabel’s sofa and I heard loud knocking outside the front door. Then came the angry voices.

  “Open up the door, bitch! We know you’re in there!” a woman had screamed.

  Alarmed, I had jumped to my feet, tiptoed to the front door, and looked through the peephole and saw four women standing outside.

  “Open this door, bitch, and come out here and face us!”

  I realized then that Terrell’s mother, two sisters, and his cousin were standing outside my front door and banging on it. I had stood there for at least five minutes, listening to them berate me. I silently thanked God that they didn’t try to open my front door, because if they had, they would’ve definitely had access to my apartment. I had quickly grown sick of their noise, so I had decided to call 911. As I waited for the police to respond, Terrell’s family continued ranting and yelling.