Assariyah (13 page)

“Hi I’m Siobhan Givens,” she said, pushing up her glasses. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened tonight step by step.”

I was pretty shaken up but managed to tell her everything.

“What is going to happen to me?” I asked anxiously.

“There is no way to sugar coat this Miss Jones, you are facing between twenty to thirty years.”

“Twenty to thirty years, I’m as good as dead. I won’t survive in prison. Please you’ve got to help me.”

“I’m afraid that is the minimum sentence you are looking at for the crime you committed.”

I was doomed, I didn’t even know why I agreed to have a duty solicitor. Everybody knew that duty solicitors were a load of shit. They didn’t give a fuck what happened to me, they worked for the system. The bitch just reinforced that with the crap she was throwing my way. So when the time came for the police to interview me I decided to remain silent.

“It will be in your best interest to tell us what happened,” one of the officers said.

I replied, “No comment.” In the end they finally gave up trying to interview me on that night and threw me back in the cell.

Throughout the night I was in intense pain, I experienced really bad cramps and I could feel the blood in between my legs. I was devastated, I felt my baby dying and there was nothing I could do to save him or her. I cried out for help but the pigs just banged on the cell doors and kept telling me to shut up.

It was only in the morning when one of the officers found me sprawled out on the floor with blood in between my legs that I was rushed to the hospital. I was exhausted and the cramping only got worse. Tests showed that I had heavy doses of Mifeprex in my blood. Even though I hadn’t taken any Misprostol, the levels of Mifeprex in my body had caused me to have a complete miscarriage.

The doctors advised the police that, under the circumstances, it was best for them to keep me in the hospital overnight. I was handcuffed to the hospital bed, with two officers guarding the room. The shorter of the two officers walked into my room holding a Krispy Kreme doughnut in one hand and
The Sun
newspaper in the other.

He held it up high, “Look you made front page news,” he said pointing to the headlines.
‘Wife of MP Stephen Richards Murdered In Cold Blood By Jealous Ex-Best Friend Assariyah Jones.’

He threatened, “You’re going to have to start speaking soon or chances of your pretty face seeing the light of day again are finished.”

I closed my eyes and thought of Mama, this would destroy her.

I still hadn’t exercised my right to make a phone call so once I got back to the police station that was the first thing I asked for. I dialled Mama’s number, she broke down crying at the sound of my voice.

“Assariyah what have you done? You are all over the news. Please tell me it’s not true.”

“I’m sorry Mama I don’t have long to explain but I need your help. I need a really good solicitor.”

“I called Cameron earlier this morning.”

“You did what?”

“I didn’t know what else to do. He told me that he would get you a good solicitor.”

“He did, well okay I’m being held at Wimbledon, I’m so scared tell him to hurry please Mama. Thanks, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I was shocked that Cameron was still willing to help me after everything I had put him through, but more than anything I was grateful for his help. Lord knows that without a good lawyer, I would have spent the best years of my life rotting away in a jail cell.

Being the good man that he was, Cameron was true to his word. He got me one of the best lawyers in the UK, Barry Grant, who studied at Oxford University and was renowned for a ninety nine percent success rate. After several strenuous months of fighting my case, he managed to get me off on a lesser charge of voluntary manslaughter. He argued that I was provoked by Jasmina, who abused her position as a doctor. He presented her as a jealous and angry wife who resented the fact that her husband had an affair and impregnated another woman, thus poisoning me and unlawfully aborting my baby.

The judge sentenced me to seven to ten years in prison, which was still a long time for me but it was a lot better than the original twenty to thirty years I was looking at. I can only describe my time in Holloway as hell. Locked up in a cell infested by cockroaches, repeating the same procedures over and over again. Every day was the same, the sound of the guards’ footsteps, rattling keys and heavy metal doors slamming. Women screaming all night out of desperation, wanting to escape the inhumane conditions we were confined to.

It was too much for some of the women, many suffered from mental health issues and would often self-harm. It is still very difficult for me to digest the images of people wrapping tissue around their body and setting themselves on fire. Unfortunately, in the end, after several bids, many finally succeeded with their suicide attempts.

As sad as it was I tried not to allow myself to dwell on those things. Only the strong survived behind these walls. I had to learn to block a lot of things out of my mind. I found that meditating helped me a great deal with handling the stress, well it has helped me maintain my sanity so far.

I was fortunate enough to receive support from the outside world, some of the others were not so lucky. They received no mail and no visitation, imagine how lonely life is for them. Although Mama didn’t come to visit me, she wrote to me all the time. She came to see me once but it was too unbearable for her so she put her feelings down on paper instead. Cameron wrote to me throughout my trial and, even when it was over, the letters still kept coming. He even came to see me about once every six weeks. I appreciated Cameron for sticking by me even after the way I treated him. He was heaven sent and that only makes me regret the fact that I took our relationship for granted even more.

For most of the time, it felt great to see a friendly face. At other times it made me miss the outside world even more than I already did. Two and a half years had passed and his loyalty and support remained priceless but things were about to change.

This time round when Cameron came to see me he told me that it would be his last ever visit. “Assariyah I’m getting married soon and my wife to be is not comfortable with my appearances here.” His words pierced a hole through my heart. He hadn’t mentioned anything about being in a relationship so it was totally unexpected.

“But I need you Cam,” I cried.

“I’m sorry Assariyah but I’ve gotta go now. I’ve done all that I can for you. Take care of yourself, okay.”

He gave me a hug then kissed my forehead the same way he used to all those years ago.

“Thank you for everything Cameron,” I struggled to choke out.

He waved and as I watched Cameron walk out my life for good, a part of me died when he disappeared through those doors. There were a million and one things I would do differently if I could start my life from scratch. Way back then it was supposed to be me and him, I should have been his wife, not her.

I sat in my cell crying, Mama’s words haunted me, she was right. I could have had it all, if I never sweated it all.