Insiders (19 page)

‘I'm not sure why I'm asking,' Jennifer admitted. ‘I don't really have a plan yet. I just want to have … options.'

‘Well, I wish your option was to forget all of this and get out of here,' Lenny said.

‘Tom promised me he's going to really push Howard McBane.'

‘I wouldn't trust anything Tom said,' Lenny told her glumly. ‘And I'd reconsider that power of attorney. If he goes near your portfolio, I'm going to stop him. I'm telling you that right now.'

‘Look. He might not want to marry me, but he's not a thief and he doesn't want me ratting him out, either. And Donald is good for his word.' Lenny looked away. ‘I won't be here much longer,' Jennifer told him. ‘But it would be terrible to let this happen to the other women. Most of the ones I've met aren't criminals, they're victims.'

Visiting time was almost over, but Lenny wasn't prepared to leave. ‘Wait,' he said. ‘You have to open the box of stuff I brought. Don't you want to?'

‘Are you kidding?' Jen said and smiled. ‘I'm the original material girl. I liked stuff before but you can't imagine how we
love
stuff in here.'

‘It was all really nicely wrapped,' he said, and sighed, ‘but they opened everything. Kinda ruined it.' He held up a bright red bow and a piece of newspaper. It was a page of the
Wall Street Journal.
‘It was black and white and red all over,' he said. ‘I figured you'd have fun reading it.'

‘Hey. Waste not, want not,' she told him. ‘I'll take it. Unusual reading matter here.' She looked into the first opened box. ‘Oh God! Floris soaps! How did you know I love them?'

Lenny shrugged, then colored.

Jennifer looked at the other items in the parcel. There was more toothpaste, deodorant, and breath mints. There were Pringles, and onion dip, and Balsen cookies and there was even a box of high fashion chocolates – Richart – that had also been torn apart. ‘I'm sorry,' Lenny said. ‘They opened it all up.'

‘Looking for contraband,' Jen told him and shrugged. She looked down at the tiny, delicate chocolates, each one decorated exquisitely. ‘God, they're beautiful! At least they didn't eat any. My crew will go nuts over these.'

‘I'll bring you one every week if you like them that much,' Lenny said.

Jen looked at him. Could a man be this nice? Yeah, but only if he was boring, she thought, scanning his face. But the thing was, Lenny – at least the Lenny visiting her and working on this JRU thing – really wasn't boring. He wasn't like the close-mouthed, shut-down, unenthusiastic guy he was at Hudson, Van Schaank & Michaels. How interesting life is, she thought. You never could judge by appearances and maybe all men weren't …

‘What did you call Tom?' she asked him.

‘Tom? I said he's a yellow rat bastard. And he is.'

‘Right,' Jen said. Maybe all men weren't yellow rat bastards, she thought, looking at Lenny.

‘What's the matter?' he asked. ‘You're so quiet.'

‘Nothing,' she said. ‘I'm fine.' And she went back to opening her box of goodies.

Illegal for many years, private companies employing prisoners directly was again made legal in the mid ‘70s.

Prison Activist Resource Center

The intercom buzz brought Gwen out of her reverie. ‘The parole board is waiting for you, Warden,' Miss Ringling's voice sang through the speaker.

‘Thank you, I'll be out in a minute.'

Today was judgment day for Cher McInnery. And Gwen had nothing but good things to report on the woman. It was a blessing that someone was going to get out before Jennings took a dive. Gwen just hoped that Cher didn't cop an attitude like she had the last time she was up and screw herself out of the opportunity of being released. Sometimes it happened, though. The fear of the Outside and the unknown combined with the smugness of the parole board members was sometimes too much for the inmates and they would do whatever was necessary – even get into trouble – to get to stay in Jennings. But Cher McInnery was
not a career convict. She'd been watching her step for a long time and Gwen thought that she had seen a positive change in her attitude since Movita had taken Spencer in to her crew.

There were a lot of rules in the penal system designed by men for men that didn't work for women. One of the ones that caused Gwen the most profound pain was the enforced parole statute that prohibited ex-inmates from fraternizing with other convicted offenders. Among the male population this made a lot of sense because many young men had come to prison on a first offense, then learned illegal crafts and scams from more experienced prisoners, and then were pulled back into criminal behavior by their prison buddies once they were released. But women – particularly those incarcerated for long periods of time – often made deep and meaningful friendships with other inmates. Prohibiting them from making contact with their prison ‘families' Outside always struck Gwen not only as harsh but as counterproductive. For a woman to be cut off from all of her social contacts at a time when she was reentering society and needed all the support she could get seemed ridiculous. It was cruel and unusual punishment to pull someone like Cher out of her crew of ‘sisters' and legislate that she could never again communicate with Movita or Theresa or Suki, that she could never see them again or know how they were progressing not only in prison but afterwards when they were out.

So, Gwen pulled the McInnery file from the folder stacks on her desk, walked out of her office, and actually smiled at Movita. ‘Change is good for everyone, Movita, it really is,' she said, and went to be Mom, Teacher, and Caring Nurse perhaps for the last time.

After the board meeting Gwen tried not to disclose by her expression the outcome to Movita. She knew that she and Cher were tight, but the word for something so important as parole should come from the board, not through gossip or guesswork. Gwen Harding was so deep in thought that she actually jumped as the intercom buzzer sounded. ‘Yes?'

‘The JRU people are here to see you,' Movita's voice crackled through the tinny speaker. Was the disturbance static in the system or was it actually Movita's reaction to the group that was on their way to her office?

Gwen knew that Movita Watson wasn't a stupid woman and may well have figured out change was in the air here at Jennings. And on Gwen's night of drunkenness she may have revealed more than she should have, though she couldn't remember. Neither one of the women had ever referred to it.

Gwen pushed the red button on the intercom. ‘Send them right in when they get here please, Movita.'

‘Yes, ma'am,' the woman's voice responded.

She would miss Movita Watson more than anyone, Gwen thought as she placed her hands on the edge of her desk, pushed her chair backwards, and slowly stood up. She walked over to a small mirror that hung discreetly on the back of her door and looked at the small patch of discoloration that remained on her forehead. At least the visible signs of that incident had all but vanished. Gwen pulled out her makeup and covered the bit of bruise, then freshened her lipstick. She began to pace around her office, waiting for the group to arrive. She couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until she was fired. Perhaps it would be today. She stopped to look out one of the three windows of her
office, all of them overlooking the yard. Maybe there would be a transport van in the sally port waiting to take her away once the tour was over and the new JRU representative took her place.

Since the state's response, the JRU staff had been busy as ants at a picnic. There wasn't a corner of the prison they hadn't combed. If anything, Gwen felt more and more apprehensive about the changes coming. Today, she supposed, she was going to hear about them.

As always, it took a while for outsiders to clear security and be brought to her. Gwen's suit was nearly soaked with perspiration by the time there was a knock on the door. She took her seat as Movita popped her head in to announce the arrival of her ‘guests'. But there was a strange look on her dark face and she mouthed, ‘Only one,' while she raised her index finger into the air. What was going on? Gwen thought. Had JRU canceled the tour and only sent her replacement?

As Movita opened the door wider, Gwen tried to smile as she greeted a tall, thin woman with as hardy a ‘good morning' as she could muster. But she shouldn't have bothered. The woman was all business and cut right to the chase after the customary exchange of professional and personal niceties.

‘I'm Marlys Johnston and I've come to let you know what we – JRU – expect from you, Warden Harding, during this transition period,' she said even as she slipped into the chair across from her. The woman had a powerful aura. She was even more arrogant and self-confident than Jennifer Spencer had been the first time she stepped into her office, Gwen thought. Perhaps it was because she was older – thirty-six or thirty-eight by the look of her.

Marlys Johnston leaned forward and placed her leather briefcase in the middle of Gwen's desk. It was obvious the woman was well paid because never in all her working years had Gwen been able to afford such a beautiful accessory. The woman's fingertips gleamed in the overhead light as they wrapped around the edges of the case – professional manicure, where the tips of the nails were white and the rest was natural color. If Gwen could have afforded it she would have known what it was called. There was a loud click as the latches of the briefcase flew open and Ms Johnston pulled papers from the suede-lined interior.

‘You'll find everything you need in this report,' the Marlys woman said as she handed Gwen a neatly bound report.
Thinking Outside the Box
was printed in bold letters on the cover, along with the JRU logo. Gwen smiled. Somehow the phrase reminded her of Springtime, who was about due for another escape attempt. ‘I think reading this will help you to see the potential here at Jennings,' Marlys said with an emotionless smile. ‘I think you'll find that the observations that you made in your report to the state will look a little different if seen from another perspective.'

Gwen slowly lowered herself into the chair beside her desk. She looked down at the booklet. She hadn't had much doubt that she had lost the battle. But this news told her she was going to have to surrender. That her complete report submitted to the state, which was supposed to be confidential, had been passed on to JRU was the final nail. It made things very clear that the state was not – had never been – on Gwen's side. And Marlys Johnston was definitely not on Gwen's side, either.

But as the meeting continued it became equally clear that Marlys Johnston had been sent to Jennings neither to
ignore Gwen nor to fire her. She had been sent to wear her down or scare her away. ‘There is so much underutilized space here,' the consultant kept saying over and over and over again. ‘You have both indoor
and
outdoor recreational areas, as well as a visitation center, and both a library
and
an events and programs facility.'

Gwen would've itemized the same spaces as a locker room, a parking lot, a hallway, a virtual closet with some old books, and another closet with a folding table.
An events and programs facility?
Who in the hell was she trying to kid? And a
visitation center?
It was little more than a hallway divided by bulletproof glass. But her objections slid off Ms Johnston. ‘Perhaps' – Gwen tried to calm herself so she wouldn't stammer – ‘if you saw these spaces. Let me show them to you and you see what you think.'

‘I'm quite capable of reading a blueprint, Gwen. May I call you Gwen?'

‘We prefer a more formal approach here. I call the inmates “Ms” or “Mrs” and they refer to me as Warden. We expect the same of the COs.'

Marlys Johnston simply raised her brows and said nothing.

‘We're concerned that you're at about fifty percent capacity at this time,' Marlys observed as they passed through the cellblock. ‘These are four-man cells,' she said, while noting the fact again on her legal pad.

‘Yes,' Gwen agreed. ‘As I've explained to JRU staff time and time again, they were designed in the dark ages to be four-man cells, but now they are
two-woman
cells.'

Marlys didn't seem to catch the intent of Gwen's reply. She went on to see only what she wanted to see. ‘So, Gwen, I'm assuming that all other facilities here at Jennings are
equally underutilized.' She continued with her list. ‘The kitchen, therefore, was designed to serve twice the number of inmates,' she began, ‘and the laundry was designed to do the same. I'm assuming that the health care department would also be more than sufficient for the number of inmates currently housed here. Am I right, Gwen?'

Gwen gritted her teeth. She didn't want this woman to call her ‘Gwen'. But she took small, shallow breaths to try to keep her composure and to avoid the possibility of speaking in a stammer. ‘Perhaps if the equipment was all updated and we had a medical staff,' Gwen told her. ‘Then it might be sufficient.'

‘Oh, don't be so negative, Gwen.'

‘Miss Johnston,' Gwen said sternly, causing her guest to look up promptly and stop taking notes. ‘You and I both know that what you are saying only makes sense on paper. This facility was built over thirty years ago. No doubt with asbestos and then painted with lead paint. All penologists agree that there are and must be differences between prisons for men and those for women. If you read my report, you can't possibly suggest that Jennings could operate with twice the number of inmates.'

‘Warden,' Marlys said as kindly as Gwen was stern. ‘I'm here to help. I'm here to work with you to make this transition as smooth as possible. I want to work
with
you, Gwen – not against you. We just have to get you to think outside the box, that's all. Okay?'

Gwen wondered what the penalty would be if she slapped Marlys Johnston, but she nodded and tried her best to muster a cooperative-looking smile. She feared that Marlys Johnston was her last chance – small as it was – to get herself heard before more changes were made that
would forever destroy everything she had worked all these hard years to build. ‘I believe that any transition must be done at a slow pace,' Gwen told the woman. ‘A prison population can be volatile.'

‘I agree! That's why we'll make the first change small. We'll start with visitation day.' Gwen held her tongue. ‘To best structure the work week, the midweek visitation day will be eliminated. As it stands now the inmates have to earn merits to get that day applied to them anyway, so we'll just have them work that day instead.'

Gwen actually gasped. ‘But the visits are very important to inmate morale here at Jennings. And some family members work weekends, particularly in lower-level jobs. You can't just …'

Marlys Johnston smiled again. ‘Yes, we can, Warden. You just have to begin thinking outside the box. And I want you to make the announcement at dinnertime tonight about next Wednesday's visitation. Let the ladies sleep on it.'

‘I don't think they're going to sleep after hearing that. And don't you think it's best to give more notice? Some people plan a month or more ahead for visiting.'

‘Warden Harding, we need to move forward as quickly as we can so that the facility starts to earn a profit by the second fiscal quarter,' the beastly woman said. ‘That will mean cutting costs, cutting staff, and gearing up for productive work – work that industry will pay for.'

‘And how will that improve the lives of the inmates? I can't believe …'

‘If you want to succeed with JRU, Gwen, you're going to have to start thinking more positively.' The woman gathered her papers, closed her fancy briefcase with those fancy
painted fingers, and nodded a good-bye to Gwen, who only had the strength to nod back.

Gwen sat at her desk and thought about how badly she needed a drink. She
had
to have a drink. With the JRU International stage set and geared up for ‘transitions' she needed a drink. Gwen reached over to her drawer and pulled it open. She looked down at nip bottles she had lined up in rows. She pulled one out and twisted the cap open. She poured the liquid down her throat, replaced the cap back on the glass bottle, and inverted the bottle in the row in the drawer.

It was all psychological. She had to have routine in her life. She couldn't give up everything completely. No cold turkey for her at this time in her life. She had heard that people trying to quit smoking would often have a cigarette handy, hold it, pretend to flick the ashes and place it in the ashtray, even put it in their mouth and try to inhale. But the trick was to
never
light the cigarette. So she improvised with her gin. She bought little glass bottles, filled them with water, and kept them in her drawer. It was a false sense of comfort for her, but she needed comfort now with all the changes going on around her.