Authors: Paul Adan
Since this was the second time Josh had been to the Hole, he wasn’t too surprised at what he saw when the door to his new home swung open. With a sigh of resignation, he carried his bedroll over to the bed and sat down. For a few minutes after the CO had closed the door, Josh reflected on the events of the night:
WHAT a night
! he thought.
One of these days, Josh, you’re gonna get yourself in over your head. And then you’ll be the one in a sorry mess. You’ll be the one with the broken jaw who has to eat jello and pudding through a straw. Ha! Wouldn’t that be something? Oh well, if that ever happens, it happens – se la vive. I wonder how poor Oscar is doing. I wish I could see his face when he reads my note. Better yet, I’d like to see Marcus’ face. I betcha he’ll be ticked-off.
Josh un
-wrapped his bedroll, and prepared to go to bed. As he did, he was distracted by some of the things previous inhabitants of his cell had either written or scratched on the walls. The most prominent etching was a two inch tall heart with the name, “Leanne,” nicely printed in the center. Beneath the heart was a little rose with a big thorn in the stem. A drop of blood dripped from the thorn. To the left of the heart, an obviously disturbed inmate had drawn what appeared to be a self-portrait; it was surrounded by clouds, and little demonic figures which were jabbing knives and forks into his torso and neck. Further along the wall, numerous other inmates had left inscriptions with an attached name or date. Josh was surprised to see that some of these dates went all the way back to the late 80s.
Still fascinated, Josh examined the various names and dates a little more closely. As he did, he thought that h
e recognized some of the names. But he wasn’t a hundred-percent sure. All of them belonged to people he’d known while he was in high school. Josh again immersed himself in thought as he remembered the carefree days of his youth:
Was that the guy who was on the Turnbuckle High football team – the guy that got in trouble for smok’n pot? Nah, couldn’t be. I heard he left town to go to some fancy college. That girl he was dating was definitely a babe. Hmmm – this name also looks familiar. Ha, Ha!! This would be the ultimate irony; the guy voted “Most Likely To Succeed” was here in this stink’n hole. No way! I wonder where he is now. Probably smok’n dope and running for prison president. Ha! I gotta tell Ben about this when I get out!
Suddenly, as he looked further down on the wall near the toilet, Josh was astounded at what he saw. There, in a small area
that was partially obscured by the toilet, was the following inscription: “Edward Bryant Was Here”. Directly beneath the name was a date. Josh was again beside himself; if he was remembering correctly, the date on the wall was recent – very recent. In fact, according to Josh’s best guess, it was approximately two weeks ago!
Stuart Co. Jail, Visiting Room #2
22 September, 3:12 PM
ONCE AGAIN, Ben found himself waiting to go through the security screening prior to his visit with Josh. The process didn’t take long, but it was still a little annoying. As he waited, Ben entertained himself with his thoughts. His mind wandered from topic to topic, but eventually it settled on Josh.
Josh, Josh, what the heck have you gotten yourself into this time? How is it that you keep
gett’n into trouble? Even when we were kids, you were always stick’n your nose where it didn’t belong. Still, you always managed to get yourself out of whatever mess you were in – most of the time, anyway. I gotta hand it to you, I guess. I really have to hand it to you...
Ben continued to reflect back on his childhood years, growing up with Josh, terrorizing the neighborhood, and giving his mother numerous headaches; until his thoughts were jarringly interrupted by a disturbance at the security desk. Some big fat lady, holding a crying infant in her left arm, and the hand of a rambunctious toddler with her right hand, was becoming increasingly agitated and angry at the CO who was sitting at the desk. She simply could not understand why her name wasn’t on the visiting list, even though her inmate boyfriend had told her today was the day. Her voice grew louder, and her body language more animated, as she vented her frustrations at the officer.
Ben watched the lady for a while, but soon grew tired of the distraction. He had his own problems, after all, and he couldn’t allow himself to worry about some lady he’d never met. His thoughts returned to Josh, and his current predicament. He felt badly for his brother – his own flesh and blood – and he was more than willing to help him out in any way he could.
WHEN BEN finally arrived in the visiting room, Josh was already sitting on the opposite side of the partition. As before, the two brothers greeted each other, and then briefly discussed family news. Ben was more than a little anxious to hear what it was that had led Josh to call him a few days earlier. At the time of the call, Ben was concerned because he thought his brother’s voice seemed strained, even worried.
It didn’t take long before the conversation turned to the reason Josh had called. In a whisper, Josh explained everything that had transpired in the last three or four days. He also related what he’d overheard when he was eavesdropping on Marcus and his lieutenants. Ben was flabbergasted. He had long suspected that there was more to case than what was being reported in the media. He vowed to help Josh, regardless of the consequences.
Josh then explained to Ben what he wanted him to do...
Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 3North
Holding Room #2
23 September, 7:50 AM
EDWARD’S MIND was in a fog, and he wondered why his attorney wanted to see him. He would have preferred to stay in his cell, but he was happy the wheels of justice were finally turning. After some prodding by the CO, Edward quickly composed himself so that he looked more presentable. He then headed down the hallway to the holding room. His feet were in ankle bracelets, his wrists in cuffs.
The meeting only lasted about five or ten minutes. During this time, Edward’s attorney explained to him that he’d come to see him days earlier, but that Edward was unavailable at that time. Edward
pondered what was meant by the usage of the word “unavailable,” but he didn’t press for an explanation. As the meeting progressed, Edward learned what Jerry and Josh had already been told by their attorneys several days prior; that is, he and his friends were now being charged with murder.
Edward was devastated by the news, and spent the rest of the day on his bed. Most of the time, he
was curled up in a ball.
Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 3North B
24 September, 2:01 AM
HIS EYELIDS flickered, occasionally, as he tossed and turned in his bed. He was dreaming, but his sleep was far from restful...
♦ ♦ ♦
SCARED AND alone, he hurried from his house to the backyard shed. As he approached the door, he momentarily stopped in his tracks, and debated whether he should return to the safety of the house. His courage wavered as he looked back at the house, warm and inviting, and then at the dark little shed. He decided to go forward; there was something he had to find – had wanted to find for several days – and he couldn’t wait any longer.
Upon entering, Edward noticed a rancid smell in the air – making him gag – and an unusual window high up on one side of the shed. Only a tiny amount of light filtered in from the street making everything appear monochromatic; and though it should have been familiar to him, the shed interior was nonetheless different.
Suddenly, Edward became afraid as the darkness enveloped him. Blindly, frantically, with flailing hands, he quickly traced the entire perimeter of the door in search of the light-switch. But when he finally located it, after what seemed like an interminable search, and flicked it on, he discovered that the light was so dim that he could barely see.
Oh, my God!
, he thought.
What is going on?
He was terrified, and his heart beat like a drum of war. THUMP – THUMP – THUMP – THUMP.
The drum
soon slowed, and Edward began looking for a silver key. It was the spare key to the house, and had been hanging from a certain nail for more than a year. Edward had occasionally made use of it, but he was always careful and diligent to return the key to the nail. Recently, however, for whatever reason, the key had disappeared. And Edward was afraid that his dad would blame him for the disappearance.
With outstretched arms, and fumbling fingers, Edward rummaged through the contents of the shed. He looked in drawers and shelves, on nails, and in jars. He even looked on the floor directly beneath the nail. But his search was fruitless.
He grew increasingly frustrated, and his mind groaned in protest. Eventually, when he could take it no longer, he...woke up.
♦ ♦ ♦
EDWARD STARED blankly toward the ceiling of his cell, and considered his circumstances – again. His mind was starving for intellectual and emotional input, and it was reflected in the paucity of detail in his dreams. Whereas he had once had colorful dreams, full of happy moments and bright lights, now everything was dark and foreboding. Even more disturbing to him, he was beginning to forget the world outside of the jail. Things which had once been the centerpiece of his life had become distant memories. Now, his thoughts and emotions were being born in the depths of a deeply disturbing and frightful jail-cell.
Originally, Edward had attributed the change in his dreams to the medications he was taking. But now, as he thought about it, he wasn’t so sure. He had, after all, stopped taking his medications some time ago, and yet he was still having weird dreams like the one he’d just had a few minutes prior.
Could it be,
he thought,
that my mind really is drying-up? Am I turning into a vegetable?
Edward’s anxiety deepened, and his clouded mind struggled for answers.
Stuart Co. Jail, In Transit
26 September, 9:16 AM
ONCE AGAIN, Edward was on his way to a courtroom; this time, for a competency hearing to determine whether or not he was mentally fit to stand trial. He had met with a psychiatrist two days prior, for at least an hour or two, and had undergone a psychiatric evaluation in order to determine his level of mental stability and capacity. The meeting had consisted, mostly, of answering a series of questions based on hypothetical scenarios. At the time, Edward had not learned much about the results because the psychiatrist kept insisting that he’d find out in due time. This response had not sat well with Edward, because he was already fearful that he was slowly going insane.
As he was trudged along in the hallway, with shackled hands and legs, Edward was astonished to see his friend Jerry
in a nearby sally-port. Excitedly, Edward yelled out Jerry’s name. But then a disturbing thing happened: even though their eyes met for a brief moment, Jerry did not immediately recognize Edward. Instead, he stared back at Edward as if he were a ghost – or something worse. Edward was stunned by his friend’s behavior, and crestfallen by the apparent snub. By the time he’d regained his composure, and the confidence to yell out again, he had already turned a corner and was trudging down another hallway.
After about five minutes of navigating through hallways, with eyes directed towards the floor, Edward approached a holding room. It was lined with three windows facing into the hallway, and had a thick door to the right of the windows. Edward was suddenly tired, and had barely looked up from the floor ever since he had seen Jerry. But as he passed by the windows, he briefly raised his head and saw his reflection in the windows.
Edward was shocked – and terrified – by what he saw staring back at him. His beard had grown several inches, though unevenly and in patches, and his hair was a complete mess. He had also lost a considerable amount of weight since his arrival in the jail, and his jail uniform hung off of him like a floppy bag. Even more disturbing was the sight of his face: his normally bright eyes had sunken- in, and his jaw and cheekbones seemed to protrude in a ghastly manner. Ugly red blemishes were everywhere. Edward was mortified at his appearance, and suddenly understood why Jerry had not recognized him.
Like a lost and forsaken soul, Edward followed the CO into the holding room and took a seat. Here he remained for the better part of an hour as he awaited his turn to face the judge.
County/City Building, Stuart Co.
Superior Courtroom Number 2
26 September, 10:45 AM
EDWARD ENTERED the courtroom, escorted by two burly Corrections Officers, and took a seat next to his impeccably-dressed attorney. Once seated, the shorter of the two officers unlocked his wrist “bracelets,” thus enabling Edward to scratch a certain itch for the first time in over an hour. Edward was appreciative, even though the ankle restraints and belly chain remained in place. His attorney spoke a few words to him – which didn’t even register in his mind – and then he quietly sat in his chair while awaiting the arrival of the judge.
Deep down inside, Edward felt numb. He’d only been in jail for a month and a half, but it seemed like eons ago that he and Josh had gone into a courtroom, similar to the one he was now in, to be arraigned.
How could this have happened to me?
, he thought.
Will this nightmare ever end?
He tried to remember how he had felt during the arraignment hearing, what he had looked like, and what he had talked about with Josh and Jerry while they were in the holding room together. But the haunting image of himself in the window, a few minutes earlier, kept reappearing in his clouded mind and interrupting his thoughts.
Not too far away from where Edward sat, a bailiff suddenly stood up from his seat and announced the arrival of the judge: “Please rise. Court is now in session. The honorable Judge Jenny Frederick is presiding.” Everyone stood, momentarily, and again sat down when instructed to do so. The bailiff continued to speak.
“This is a competency hearing, as it pertains to case number 1995 dash 5325, the people of State of Colorado versus Edward Bryant. The defendant is charged with the following two counts: Count 1 – First Degree Assault; and Count 2 – Destruction of Property. Will the attorneys of record please identify themselves at this time?” Edward’s attorney identified himself first, followed by Prosecuting Attorney Arthur Klipp. When the introductions were complete, Judge Frederick began the proceedings by quickly summarizing the reason for the hearing.
“The Prosecution has asked for this hearing to address the mental status of the defendant, and whether or not he is
competent to stand trial. The Prosecution has also requested a court order which would require the defendant to take his oral anti-psychotic medications, as prescribed by a psychiatrist, and should the defendant refuse to take those medications, they will be administered to him via injection, with or without his consent. The Prosecution has already submitted a formal report from a board certified and licensed Doctor of Psychiatry which addresses the mental status of the defendant. Has the Defense had sufficient time to review the report?”
“Yes, your honor,” Edward’s attorney replied.
“And how would you like to proceed?”
“The Defense has no immediate objections to the findings of the report. However, Defense would request a stay of one week in order to allow time for an independent review – a second opinion, if you will – in order to confirm the findings discussed in the report.”
“So granted,” Judge Frederick replied. “In the meantime, will the Prosecution please read the report right now, so that it can be submitted into the record?”
“Yes, your honor,” Arthur said as he shuffled through his briefcase for a copy of the report. When he had found it, he put on his glasses and began to read:
“Edward Bryant: Mental Status Assessment, Dated 24 September, 1995. The summary findings of this report are as follows: Mr. Bryant displays acute symptoms of manic depressive disorder, compounded by episodes of paranoid schizophrenia. In addition, Mr. Bryant displays classic symptoms of Bipolar disorder. These disorders, though debilitating at times, would not render Mr. Edward unable to...” The report droned on in nauseating detail for another ten minutes.
By now, Edward had stopped listening. His mind was a mile away, and he was fuming inside at what he’d heard so far.
How can they do this to me? Is this America, or some communist country? How can they force me to take medications I don’t want? I thought I had rights. To hell with them! If they want to try to give me an injection, then let them try. I’m sick and tired of the way they’re treating me. When are they gonna start show’n me a little respect?!”
Edward continued to stew in his anger, and before he knew what was happening the hearing was over. Ten minutes later he was back in his cell, sitting on his bed.
A plan of defiance began to crystallize in Edward’s mind. Not only would he refuse to take their “crazy-meds,” he’d also refuse to eat the slop they called “food.” If they wanted to forcibly give him injections, then fine; he wasn’t going to make it easy for them. In addition, by refusing his food, the authorities would be forced to show him the respect he felt he deserved.
“SLAM!”
Edward scratched his cheek, even though it was sore. When he withdrew his hand from his face, he thought it was strange that there was blood on his fingers.
I’ve gotta put in a Kite,
he thought.
Maybe they can figure out why I have this sore on my cheek.
Serenity Lane Apartments, #205
26 September, 11:12 PM
THE WHITE glow of the computer monitor illuminated Ben’s weary face. He had already been sitting at his desk for several hours, and it was beginning to have an effect on his body. His fingers were cramping up a bit, and his back was getting a little sore. Every few minutes, he adjusted himself in the chair and tried to get a little more comfortable. Whenever he moved, the chair squeaked in protest. He yawned, and then yawned again. “A few more minutes of this and I’m done,” he quietly said to himself.
For much of the evening, a cup of cold coffee and a half eaten piece of pizza had sat in front of him on the desk. Both had long ago lost the aroma of food, and were hardly appetizing. Every so often, however, Ben had picked at the pizza – not because he was hungry, but because it was there. At about 10 PM, when his stomach had woken-up again and started to growl, he had eyed the sustenance with increasing
interest. A few minutes later he had pounced on it like a hungry lion.