Turning the Tables: From Housewife to Inmate and Back Again (24 page)

A little after that, I got the
best
news when I had my team meeting with the camp administrator and my case manager. They told me that I would definitely be leaving the camp on December 23! I was so overwhelmed with joy that I had a firm date when I would be reunited with my family and that we would be spending Christmas together. That news really helped me get through the next months. Spending the holidays with your family is such a blessing. I am one of the lucky ones.

T
oward the end of my first month at Danbury, I got my work assignment: wiping down tables in the dining room after breakfast, lunch, and dinner on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays for twelve cents an hour. I was given a uniform for that, too. I wore a white button-down shirt and black-and-white checkered pants. I expected to be there for at least two hours a day, but there were four of us assigned to table duty. Rina, the woman who worked alongside me, and I finished cleaning our tables in five minutes.

“That’s it?” I said to her.

“Yup! We’re done!”

The two other girls who were there with us asked if Rina and I wanted to take mornings, since they hated to get up early. They said they would take lunch and dinner.

“Fine with me,” I said.

I’m a total morning person, so I didn’t mind getting up early for my job. I mean, I was usually already up, so it wasn’t a big deal for me. Then I had the rest of the day free.

Since I couldn’t do anything there without everybody yapping about it, I soon heard that some of the other inmates were complaining about the job I got.

“Why did she get a cushy job when other women have to clean the toilets?”

Then, of course, the tabloids got wind of it. Here’s the bottom line: Anybody who has been to prison knows that there are rules and regulations. We were all treated equally and there was no favoritism. I couldn’t get away with anything that anyone else couldn’t get away with. I conducted myself in a respectful and dignified manner, and as a result I was treated by the staff and the women respectfully.

In fact, eight months or so into my stay, the officials told me that they appreciated how much I had kept to myself and flown under the radar the whole time I was there. Now, put that in your tabloid and print it.

B
y now, I had a pack of good girlfriends in there: Tonya, Nikki, Franchie, Katie, and a few others. We hung out all the time. We ate together and watched TV together. I went all the time to Tonya’s room in A Dorm, where she would give my hair a colored rinse or paint my nails while we talked. She even did my makeup for me before my family visited me on weekends. We just really clicked and I liked being with her.

We all tried to work out together when we could. I worked out three times a day, and sometimes someone would join me in the morning for the bike and weights or some kind of workout DVD, or at one of the 5:30 p.m. classes, and then come to the gym with me after that. One night, after Tonya painted my nails, Franchie measured our arms, legs, waist, and hips. We were on a mission to lose inches! It looked like we were on our way . . . I could already tell that my body was tightening up and getting leaner and stronger. Ironically, I honestly had never felt so good in my life.

After my nails dried, we all went to Katie’s room, where she told me she had heard that the media was looking to pay a hundred thousand dollars to anyone who could get a picture of me in prison. That got me mad. That was
big
motivation for someone to get a picture of me. Where? In the bathroom? In the shower? Now I felt like I couldn’t ever let my guard down. I went to the gym and rode the bike as fast as I could to get my frustrations out.

My night got much better after that, though. Gabriella had sent me a long email, detailing every moment of her day, which I absolutely loved. She told me everything. Gia would say a lot in hers, too. Milania? Not so much. She was too impatient to sit there and type out a novel-length email. Honestly, it made me happy to know all my children were out in the world, living their lives.

The next day, Joe and the girls came to visit me and showered me with hugs and kisses and couldn’t wait to tell me everything they were up to.

After Milania, Audriana, and I colored, I got up from the table, took my honey aside, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered in his ear how much I missed him—and that I had learned about some new things I wanted to try out with him when I got home . . . He laughed and said, “What exactly
are
they teaching you in here?” I didn’t say anything but just gave him a sexy smile . . . The girls in Danbury had also told me about a few things I had
never
heard of before and would just keep to myself . . .
Madonna mia
, I was dreaming of my husband, my Juicy Joe . . .

When it came time to leave, he broke down again. He was sobbing and he hugged me and told me he wished I weren’t in there. “I love you, Tre . . .”

I love him so much and it killed me to see him so upset. After a dinner of “triangles”—which look like big wontons that are filled with chicken, peppers, onions, and cheese—I went to Mass at 5 p.m. Since I had gone to prison, I had been praying every day, reading the Bible, going to the chapel during the week, and attending weekly Mass. I always felt so good when I got out of Mass—like God was really present with me. I needed God’s help more than ever these days, and I was glad I had my faith to rely on in there.

It was Milania’s birthday. My baby was turning nine! I couldn’t call her, but I emailed her, telling her I wished I could be there in person, but I was there with her in her heart. I sent her a prayer, asking God to give her a beautiful year. I cried as I typed the email to her, because I wanted to be there with her so badly . . . It made me feel depressed the whole rest of the day. But I got some emails back from her and she sounded good, so that lifted my spirits.

B
esides all the parties I was going to at Danbury, another thing I hadn’t expected was that you basically had spa services at your disposal there—prison-style. By this time, I had become a regular in Diamond’s salon. Tonya painted my nails at least once a week and did my makeup for me before visitation. So I was thrilled to find out that you could also get massages! You could pay someone to do it by buying her items in the commissary—or simply give her one in return.

I’d heard that Camila, a petite, talkative Dominican girl, was the best masseuse in the place, so I asked her for one. I went to Franchie’s room and lay down on her bed while she stood at the door as a lookout for the officer on duty because we could have gotten in trouble for doing this. This felt like heaven! Camila’s hands were small but strong. She put just the right amount of pressure on my muscles. I had been working out so much and had been stressed out by not being able to talk to Milania, so this felt sooooo good. Camila was in there for two years for bank robbery. She told us she was so young when she committed that crime that she hadn’t known any better. Prison really makes the young ones grow up fast, though. Now she knew better.

“Quick! Someone’s coming!” Franchie whispered.

We could all hear the keys on one of the officers’ belts jangling down the hall.

I scrambled to pull my shirt down and get up. We just sat on the bunks and talked, like nothing was going on. He walked right by Franchie’s room and went to talk to another inmate. When he left, we all looked at each other and laughed. I pulled my shirt back up and sank back into a deep relaxation. This massage was definitely worth a couple bags of chips, Diet Coke, mascara, and shampoo. I would have never, ever have dreamed that I, Teresa Giudice, would literally be
bartering
. But in that moment, I felt what I can only describe as the prison version of content.

I
had never read so many books in my life than when I was in prison. I love to read, but it was always hard to find the time to do it because I was always working, taking care of the house and the girls, and running them around all day. After a long, crazy day, I would pass out the minute I got to bed, or when my head hit the pillow after getting busy, if you know what I mean!

At Danbury, I read pretty much every night, after I wrote in my diary. I read Victoria Gotti’s memoir,
This Family of Mine: What It Was Like Growing Up Gotti
,
Mafia Prince
,
The Women’s Devotional Guide to the Bible
,
The Five People You Meet in Heaven
, Andy Cohen’s latest book,
Most Talkative: Stories from the Front Lines of Popular Culture
(I’m in there!), and Jackie Collins’s classic
Hollywood Wives
. (Jackie Collins passed away when I was in prison, which made me very sad. She and I once appeared on
Watch What Happens: Live
together, where she told me she was a big fan. I was floored because I thought she was amazing. She was so much fun and we had a blast on Andy’s show together.)

I had also never watched so much TV before in my life. In my former life, I did try to catch the
Housewives
shows on Bravo when I could. Before I went to Danbury, I tried to never miss
Dancing with the Stars
, which is my favorite show. But in prison? I never missed an episode, which was great. I watched pretty much every Bravo show that was on:
Shahs of Sunset
, all the
Real Housewives
shows,
Watch What Happens: Live
(of course), and
American Idol
. I also liked
Suits
,
Mistresses
, and
Law & Order
. In the morning I would always try to catch
Good Morning America
and
Live with Kelly and Michael
. I also tried to watch CNN as much as possible to catch up on the news.

I’ve never seen more movies in my life than when I was in Danbury, either. My favorites?
The Theory of Everything
,
Safe Haven
,
My Sister’s Keeper
, and
The Count of Monte Cristo
, which is now one of my favorite movies of all time. I love how after years in prison, the count goes on to lead a triumphant, fulfilling life. That is what I want, too. I want to be called the Countess of New Jersey! (Just kidding . . .)

As with everything else Chez Danbury, there were lots of unwritten rules when it came to the rooms where we watched TV, but rules you had to know. They had five TVs for two hundred women. There was one for the people who spoke Spanish. Then there were two TVs mainly for sports. I’m not a sports fan at all, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it, so two TVs trained on ESPN it was. So really, there were two TVs for everyone else.

I learned very quickly that the inmates gravitated as a group to certain shows and things on TV—and basically took control of that TV. They had a sign-up sheet outside each room so you could write down what shows you wanted to watch, but it wasn’t a strict system.

The African-American women would mostly gather in one room and watch shows like
Empire
,
Scandal
,
The Real Housewives of Atlanta
,
Love & Hip Hop: New York
,
Basketball Wives
. I liked a lot of the same shows they would watch, so I was in there a lot with them. They were great. They told me they were happy I was there, which made me feel good. I made some really close friends in that room—and shared a lot of good laughs with them.

Like the African-American inmates, the Hispanic women also watched TV together. (They lost their room months later when they used that area for Skyping.) They took over another TV room and would watch Univision and the
telenovelas
they loved so much. Even though I speak Italian, I don’t really understand Spanish, so I wasn’t in there much, though I would pop in now and then to say hi to somebody I knew and catch up. The white ladies commandeered another TV room, although women from all backgrounds would come in, depending on what was on. They liked to watch a lot of the Bravo shows, HGTV,
Extra
, the Food Network,
Access Hollywood
,
Dancing with the Stars
, Lifetime,
Scandal
,
Grey’s Anatomy
, talk shows, and the news, so I was in there a lot, too. As for the Asian women, there weren’t enough of them to command their own TV, so they were at the mercy of whatever was on in those rooms. I basically just bounced around depending on what was on or which of my friends was in a particular room. Everyone welcomed you.

They were happy you were there—unless there was some kind of disagreement over what people wanted to watch, which happened
all
the time. I would say most of the arguments or fights I witnessed in Danbury were over the TV. The only time everyone came together peacefully was when it was movie time on weekends and holidays. They would only show one movie at a time and the officials selected it and that was it. They would start showing a movie at 1 p.m. and keep showing it until the last viewing time at 6 p.m.

Within the groups of different women, there were cliques, of course. Sometimes one clique wanted to watch a show that another did not. That’s when they would start shouting and swearing, and if it was escalating, they would stand up, maybe push each other—and then all hell would break loose.

While the women were territorial over seats in the dining room, when it came to the TV rooms, they created a whole system to keep control over their turf. Every group had a senior member who would dictate what everyone was going to be watching that day. Then there was the Gatekeeper—the one who was always in control of the remote. When that inmate had to go to work or to eat, another one would watch over it—like her life depended on it.

Months into my stay there, someone from the African-American group somehow got control of the coveted white women’s remote. They were in that room, kicking back and laughing and watching whatever it was they were watching, when someone from the white group walked in and saw this. Shirl, a bony but muscular woman in her early fifties, who was in there for some con job she’d concocted, went up to the thief who’d dared to take that room’s remote.