Authors: Carys Jones
‘Cheek!’ Isla threw the tea towel from beside her at Aiden but he caught it mid-air.
‘Nice try,’ he laughed, and Meegan joined in.
‘Well, I am busy tomorrow, too.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Meegan and I are going to get beautified at the local salon. They were more than happy for me to take her there whilst I got my hair done. I could never have done that in Chicago.’
‘See, we are already reaping the benefits. I’m home; you are now a God-fearing housewife…’
‘And since you are home, you can prepare tea tonight with me for a change.’
‘What is on the menu for chez Connelly?’
‘Spaghetti bolognaise.’
‘Ah, bellisimo!’
That evening was one of the most pleasant Aiden had experienced in a long time. He cooked dinner with his wife, played with his daughter, and as the sun set he didn’t feel exhausted and drained, he felt alive. He sprawled across the couch, glass of wine in hand, surrounded by cardboard boxes in various stages of unpacking. The house was slowly starting to come together and feel like home. Isla had already started to paint some of the walls which made a huge difference. A little time and a little love and it would be amazing. He looked out into the garden wistfully, imagining summer barbeques with friends, Meegan playing happily with Edmond’s grandson, Grant. The men enjoying ice-cold beers, the women nattering over some wine. Isla seemed to be settling in which was good news. This was all such a culture shock for her but she was taking it really well. Aiden assumed that finding the beauty salon had made a big impact on her mood. His wife loved to pamper and shop. Since shopping was confined to the few stores Avalon had to offer she would have to make do with pampering for now, not that he was complaining.
‘You coming to bed, baby?’ Isla asked from the doorway.
Aiden craned his neck to see her and noticed a familiar, knowing glint in her eyes. He sprang up from the couch and bounded upstairs like an excited schoolboy. Oh yes, he most certainly could get used to this life.
From the little research that Aiden had done, he knew that Eastham Ladies Penitentiary was a maximum security prison for the most serious offenders. This didn’t unnerve him too much as he had expected as much. In his ignorance he felt mildly relieved that it was a female prison, knowing how much more intimidated he would feel about his impending visit if it were a men’s institution. He had seen one too many prison movies and avoided male prisons as much as he could.
The previous night he had enjoyed a deep, dreamless sleep and had awoken so refreshed he truly felt that he could take on the world. Full of optimism he kissed his wife and daughter goodbye and, with Betty’s directions, headed out to Eastham.
The prison was not hard to find, it was well signposted for pretty much the entire journey. Aiden had been driving along empty roads that seemed to lead to nowhere for a good forty minutes when a huge, grey castle appeared on the horizon. Instead of a moat there were rolling fields with various layers of electrical fencing. The gate was dozens of barriers and enforced metal doors which grudgingly slid open when he stated his name and purpose to the hard-faced security man. From a distance Eastham seemed strangely beautiful. A huge blot on the endless expanse of rolling prairies, it looked like something from another world. Aiden half expected to be greeted by Spock as he parked up and headed towards yet another guarded entrance.
All the outer walls were a dense grey, the only fleck of colour coming from the blue uniform worn by the guards. Despite being surrounded by luscious acres of green grass, none grew within the walls of the immense prison. Aiden wondered if this was a result of all the electrical fencing, or if nature just knew that she was not welcome here. This was a place for those who did not deserve to hear the sweet lullaby of birdsong, or breathe in the luscious scent of a blooming flower. Here, the condemned were at the last outpost before hell, but no doubt many felt like they were already there. Whilst from a distance Eastham looked impressive, once inside you realised just how imposing a structure can really be. Aiden had only just arrived but was already looking forward to being able to drive away.
‘Freedom’, he mused to himself, ‘is much too underrated’.
Inside was not much better. The air felt decidedly cooler and the indifferent grey of the stone had crept along the interior walls in the form of paint. Green doors, though the colour of baby sick, were a welcome break from the dismal decorating. Aiden was led along countless corridors, his footsteps echoing on the plastic-tiled floors. He was ushered through so many security gates that he began to worry if he was ever going to be able to get back out.
‘Prisoner 929 is in maximum security,’ the burly female guard had told him when he had finally made it to reception, her voice monotonous as if she had forgotten how to express emotion. He was currently being led by another, equally ample female form, down a labyrinth of corridors. His palms were sweaty and his attempts to make small talk had not even been acknowledged. The women who worked there were tough, he supposed that they had to be. But no matter how tough they were, he knew that they would be no match for what lay behind the locked doors which they were now passing by. Aiden had expected hands grasping through railings, voices crying out their innocence, but all was quiet. Those cells he passed where you could see in, the lone occupants were sat, sometimes reading, sometimes just staring space; none so much as fluttered an eyelid as he clomped past.
Finally he was motioned into a small room where one wall was made entirely of Perspex glass. Beyond the glass, there was a lone chair facing him which was flanked by two guards. On Aiden’s side of the glass there was a basic desk and chair.
‘929 will be with you shortly,’ the woman told him. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’
Aiden nodded and thanked her but she was already gone before the words had even left his mouth. He moved the chair and positioned himself opposite the currently vacant chair. Placing his briefcase on the desk he took out a Dictaphone and a notebook. He had no idea what to expect from Prisoner 929.
‘Are you ready?’ one of the guards asked from the other side. Aiden merely nodded in response.
‘Send her in!’ the other guard yelled. Her. It was the first acknowledgment that Brandy White was indeed a woman and not just a number.
Prisoner 929 was ushered into the room. She was wearing a garish orange jumpsuit and her hands were handcuffed. Eyes trained to the floor she obediently followed the guard’s instructions and sat herself down in the chair opposite Aiden. Still she did not look up. She placed her cuffed hands in her lap and he noticed how tiny they were. The thick metal bracelets overwhelmed her small wrists so much so that he wondered if she could easily free herself from her constraints if she so desired. Not that the guards needed to worry if she did come free. When she shuffled in Aiden assessed that she was no more than 5ft 1 and incredibly petite in build. They could easily lift her up with one arm. Her bleach-blonde hair fell in waves upon her shoulders and down her back. She appeared like a fairy child, not a murdering monster. Finally she raised her eyes to meet his and Aiden looked upon his first client in Avalon.
His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he gazed at Brandy White. She was devastatingly beautiful. Her lips were a deep red, plump and permanently pouting, the skin which was exposed on her face and hands was as white and as delicate as the finest china. Her face was a perfect heart shape, with a delicate button nose. But it was her eyes which had captivated Aiden. They were so round and wide in her little head, the colour of autumn leaves, fringed with dark, curled lashes. Her eyes bore into his, questioning, confused.
‘Mrs. White, I am your attorney, my name is Aiden Connelly.’ He noticed her relax at his introduction.
‘How do you do, Mr. Connelly?’ Her voice was soft and melodic, laced in a lazy Southern drawl. ‘I thought you might be a priest.’
‘A priest?’
‘Yes, sir. I asked them if I could see a priest but I haven’t been visited yet.’
‘Why do you want to see a priest?’
Brandy seemed alarmed by his question.
‘Why, Mr.Connelly, I have not been to church in well over a month, it is a matter of urgency that I see a priest, my immortal soul is at stake!’ He wondered if she was joking but he could tell by her anxiety that she was being quite earnest.
‘Well then, I will see if I can set that up for you, Mrs. White.’
‘Please, call me Brandy. It just doesn’t feel right being called Mrs. White.’
‘Very well, Brandy, I am here to represent your case at your upcoming trial. I will need to go over details of the event with you, verify your statement with the one you gave to the police. If you have any questions at all…’
‘Are you from Avalon?’ she interrupted.
‘Yes, I am.’
She furrowed her brow.
‘I do not mean to be rude, Mr. Connelly, but I don’t recall ever seeing you around and Avalon is a mighty small place.’
‘I’m new, moved there less than a week ago.’ He felt uncomfortable that the conversation was moving towards him; it was important to never reveal personal information to clients.
‘Must be different from living in a big city.’
‘City?’ He nervously wondered how she could possibly know where he was from.
‘Relax,’ she smiled, noticing his tense expression. ‘Your suit gave you away. You can’t buy smart suits like that in Avalon, and if you did you would find little occasion to wear them. In all honesty I’m mighty touched that you made such an effort to come and see little old me!’
He searched for the cynicism in her comment, but saw only a warm smile and kind, yet frightened eyes.
‘Well, let us get down to it.’ Aiden leant and retrieved a file from his briefcase and switched on the Dictaphone. ‘Can you please just state your name and age, for the recording?’
‘Brandy White. I’m twenty-four.’
‘Thank you. So on April 6
th
of this year, you were charged with the murder of your husband, Brandon White.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Records state that you yourself made the distress call to 911 at approximately 11.23pm.’
Brandy nodded. ‘Can you please answer vocally for the recording?’
‘Oh, yes, I made the call.’
‘Did you call because you regretted what had just happened?’
‘Oh no, sir. I waited until he was dead, then called.’
‘So, you admit that you deliberately stabbed your husband,’ he checked his notes, ‘six times in the back and chest?’
‘Yes.’
‘Waiting until he was dead and then called 911?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you say that you were of sound mind when the incident occurred?’
‘Oh yes, for the first time in my life I saw things clearly.’ Aiden found her responses puzzling and was beginning to question the young woman’s sanity. She did not appear to be the least bit remorseful and was quick to admit her guilt. On all accounts she should come across as callous and cold, but there was a warmth in her eyes and in her smile that suggested that deliberate murder was something she could never have committed, even in her wildest dreams.
‘Was the murder pre-meditated?’
Brandy flushed with embarrassment and Aiden realised that she had not fully understood his question. ‘Was it planned out?’
‘Yes and no.’
‘Can you be more clear, please.’
‘Well, I knew it had to be done, I just didn’t know when until the opportunity arose. So I guess that it was sort of planned.’
‘OK.’ Aiden jotted down a few notes. ‘So that you understand, Brandy, you have pleaded guilty to the murder of Brandon White and say that you did this of your own free will whilst of sound mind.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘This means that at your trial, if the Judge is satisfied that you are guilty of first degree murder, under state law, you will receive the death penalty.’ Aiden felt sick to his stomach as he said it. Brandy nodded in understanding and tears pricked her eyes but they did not wash down upon her cheeks. She took a deep breath, quickly composing herself.
‘I am happy to accept the consequences of my actions.’ There was something bizarrely noble about her attitude.
‘Very well, then. As your attorney you can address any questions you have to me.’
‘Oh good, since no one talks to me in here. I’ve been getting kind of lonely.’ A sadness seemed to envelope her tiny frame. Aiden wondered if the reality of what she had done was beginning to set in.
‘Well, I’ll come back in a few days so that we can discuss things further.’
‘I’d like that,’ she smiled. The guards moved forward as their time together came to an end.
‘Will you be attending church this Sunday, Mr Connelly?’ Her question caught him off guard.
‘Why yes, I believe I will be.’
‘Well then be sure to send Father West my regards.’ With that she left the room and the atmosphere suddenly grew much more oppressive. She was a light and Aiden felt a pang of guilt that he would be assisting in helping to extinguish it.
As Aiden passed through the security gates and started his journey back to Avalon he reflected upon his first meeting with Brandy. During his career in law he had encountered many men and women accused of murder, some guilty, some not so guilty. They varied in age, ethnic background, financial status, but one trait that they all had in common was that when you were with them, no matter what they were saying, be it professing their innocence or describing the murder in gruesome detail, there was always an element of anger and, dare Aiden say, evil, lurking behind their eyes. Whilst these people may seem perfectly normal on the outside, he could always sense that malignant rage and malice which would drive them to do something as terrible as taking another life. What puzzled him about Brandy was that in her eyes all he saw was sadness. Something about the case just wasn’t adding up.
Besides the fact that she did not seem in any way monstrous, which was a silly conclusion anyway, she was more than likely putting on a show for Aiden, hiding her true self. But even if that were the case, there were the simple physics of it all. Brandy White was tiny; she could not weigh more thana hundred and ten pounds. How had she managed to overpower her husband? It was hard to imagine that her husband could have been of even slighter build than she. It was possible but still, he couldn’t make a sound judgement whilst Brandon remained an enigma. Aiden noted that he needed to do more background research on Brandon White. He needed to know why a seemingly sweet and innocent woman would murder her own husband in cold blood and then so freely admit to it.