Edward's Dilemma (4 page)

Next, Jerry related how there was a
jerk in the corner who started to get upset with him.   This jerk was sitting with another guy, and they both looked like losers.  They appeared to be arguing a bit with each other before everything went down.

“That’s when I made a wise crack,” Jerry confided.  “And t
he guy with the little mustache didn’t like what I said.”

John
laughed, and Jerry continued to tell his story.

He next described the altercation and how everything had gone to
pot in a big hurry.  He said that his friend Josh, who had earlier gotten up to go to the bathroom, returned in a nick of time and saved him from getting his face pounded in.  But his other friend, Edward, wasn’t much help.  The next thing he remembered was a guy lying on the ground with a frick’n knife stick’n in his stomach.  He paused for a moment, as he told the story.

The memory of this event suddenly triggered something in Jerry’s mind, and he began to rant and rave to no one in particular.  “
What the HELL happened?  I didn’t stab that idiot – so why did the police blame me?  Are they trying to frame me because they haven’t got another suspect?  This is supposed to be ‘Land of the free,’ and all that crap.  Whatever happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty?’  This seems more like China or Russia.”

John interrupted him with soothin
g words.  “Don’t worry about it, man.  You’ll get out of this mess somehow.”

Jerry thanked John for understanding; then proceeded to describe the two men who had been responsible for his misery.  “
Let’s see – the one guy – the white guy – he had a little mustache, and short hair.  I don’t know.   I guess he probably weighed about 180.  The other guy – the black guy – he weighed more like 210.  Other than that, I don’t remember much.”

By now, Jerry was getting tired.  He told John he wanted to sleep, and that they could talk later.  He pulled off his gray shirt-top, and adjusted the blanket so that it covered his entire body.  His thoughts began to slow, and within a minute he was fast asleep.

SEVERAL HOURS later, Jerry was on his bed writing a letter when a burly CO, accompanied by a female Triage-Nurse, entered the cell.  Right away, the nurse explained she was there in response to the kite Jerry had written the day before.  She asked about his leg, and Jerry lifted his pant-leg to expose the sore.

“Hmmm – that doesn’t look good,” she said with a frown.  “How long have you had this?”

“A few days, I guess.  What do you think this is?  Is it a spider bite?” Jerry asked nervously.  His quivering voice betrayed his apprehension.

“Not likely.  It’s probably MRSA, but we’ll have to do some lab work to confirm whether it is or not,” replied the nurse.

“What’s MRSA?”  Jerry’s face cringed as he uttered the question.  He’d heard a rumor about MRSA, and it wasn’t good.

“
Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus.  It’s a staph infection.”  The nurse seemed to enjoy deciphering the acronym for Jerry.  She enunciated the words slowly and deliberately as she simultaneously jotted down a note on a piece of paper.  She then gave Jerry some parting advice before leaving the cell.  “I’m going to make an Urgent-Appointment for you to go to the clinic.  It’s very important for you to go, and not refuse.  Do you understand?”

Jerry nodded his head, and started to thank her.  His show of gratitude was cut short, however, by
an all-too-familiar sound.

“SLAM!”

Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 2C

14
August, 9:32 AM

WHEN BAKERLY and Edward approached, Marcus knew immediately why the two were coming to him.  He was, after all, in the business of knowing other people’s business.  He was fully aware of Edward’s dire straits – ever since the day he’d heard him complain to the nurse about a toothache.  Marcus had been waiting for this day; he knew it was just a matter of time before his little worker-bee, John Bakerly, came to him with news about Edward.  John spoke up first.

“
Yo, Marco, how – how’s it going?”  Bakerly’s words lacked confidence, and were tinged with fear.  He wanted to sound hip, but he came off sounding like a white-collar nerd.

Marcus chuc
kled to himself before replying.  “Not bad, my man – not bad at all.  What’s hang’n?”  He reached out with his right hand to give Bakerly a high-five.  Momentarily, he was distracted by his thoughts. 
What a joke.  This idiot thinks I’m his friend
. 
I wonder if he has any idea at all that I’m play’n him like a guitar.  Moron.

“I wanted to introduce you t
o my friend, Edward.  He booked-in a few days ago.  He’s here for assault.”

“What’s up, homey?  I’m Marcus.  Some people call me Marco.  What can I do for
ya?”

Edward said “hi,” and then proceeded to explain his problem.  When he was done talking, he waited for Marcus to respond.

“Alright, this is how things is gonna work.  I’m gonna give you the pills you need, but I’m gonna need for you to do sump’n for me.  Don’t worry, it ain’t noth’n big.  I’m just a businessman.  I gotta look out for my interests just like yu’s look’n out for yours.  Do ya know what I’m say’n, homey?”

Edward shifted back and forth from one leg to the other.  He appeared to be hesitating a bit, so Marcus continued offering assurances.  “Listen, homey, I
ain’t noth’n to be afraid of.  In fact, if yu’s to help me out a bit, I’ll be the guy who watches out for you.  I got lots of friends in this here jail.  Just ask old Bakerly.  He’ll tell ya.  I’m a fair boss.  You treat me fair, and I’ll treat you fair.”

Just then, as if by fate, Edward felt a jolt of pain in his tooth.  By this time, an abscess had developed in his mouth, and the swelling made him look more and more like a chipmunk.  He winced, for a brief m
oment, and then made a decision. 
I’m gonna do it,
he thought.
  If this is what it takes to get some Ibuprofen, around here, then so be it.  Just do this one thing for this guy, and be done with it.  Hopefully, I can get in to the clinic pretty soon.
  With false bravado, Edward regained his composure and responded to Marcus’ entreaty.

“What is it you had in mind?  I mean, what is it you need me to do for you?”  As he said this, he hoped he’d appear a little less like a sucker, and more like a guy who knew what he was doing.  He didn’t want to sound desperate.

Marcus hadn’t missed a thing; he knew Edward was desperate.  He’d seen him wince, and knew he was on the hook.  Now it was just a matter of reeling him in.  A mischievous smile crossed Marcus’ face.  He quickly covered it up with the back of his hand, and then proceeded to explain what it was that he wanted Edward to do for him.  When he was done talking, he gave Edward a handful of Ibuprofen pills.

SEVERAL HOURS later, to Edward’s
surprise and relief, a Triage-Nurse finally responded to his Kites.  That night, he was called up to the med cart to receive his first dose of antibiotics and Ibuprofen.  The nurse told him that the medications were KOP meds, which meant that he could keep them on his person.  For the next ten days, Edward dutifully took his pills.

Stuart Co. Jail, Dentist Office

24 August, 2:20 PM

NORMALLY THE wait time for the dentist was at least a few weeks, but since Edward’s tooth was abscessed he was put on the Dental Priority list.  When he arrived at the dentist office, he learned that the dentist did not intend to do a root-canal or filling.  Instead, his bad tooth would be yanked out. 
That’s the price to be paid for being in this stink’n jail
, he reasoned.

When he left the dentist office, he had a wad of gauze in his mouth and a prescription for
Hydrocodone.   Although he was still in a lot of pain, life seemed to be getting better for Edward.  He decided he’d end his “contract” with Marcus by simply giving him some Ibuprofen pills out of his newly issued KOP medications. 
Fair is fair,
he thought.
  He gave me a few pills, and I’ll return a few pills to him.  I’ll even throw in a few extras as a way of saying ‘thanks.’
The conversation with Marcus had already faded and was no longer anchored in the forefront of Edward’s mind.

Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 2C

24 August, 4:20 PM

UPON ARRIVING back at his tank, Edward was confronted with a harsh reality. He was approached by Marcus, who no longer had a friendly demeanor.  His words were ominous and threatening.  “Yo, Edward.  How’s your tooth?”  He chuckled because he knew that the tooth was gone.  At that very moment, it was probably resting in the bottom of some trashcan.

“Uh, it hurts, but I think I’m
gonna be ok,” Edward replied.  The gauze in his mouth made him speak with a lisp.  He had to suck in occasionally to keep from drooling on his chin.  Whenever he did this, he made a disgusting slurping sound.

“Well, listen here, my man.  It’s time for you to start paying back the Boss Man.  Now that you’re getting some of the good pills from the nurse, I want you to do what I told
ya.”

“About that – slurp – I was wondering if you’d be ok with me – slurp –
giv’n you some pills from my KOP package?  I’ll even give you a few extra, and we’ll call our deal ‘square.’”  Edward ended his sentence with one big slurp.

Marcus made a motion with his eyes, and a big burly guy who’d been standing nearby, suddenly approached.  Edward reflexively took a step back from Marcus, and Marcus delivered his ultimatum.

“Listen here, you punk-a** b****, a deal’s a deal.  When you go up to the nurse to get your pill, I want you to ‘cheek’ that pill under your tongue.  I don’t care if the nurse turns you upside down look’n for that pill in your mouth.  Tonight, after the med-pass, you’d better be standing in front of me with a pill in your hand.  You got that!!?”  As Marcus said this, the big guy standing next to him reached out and lightly slapped Edward two times on his left cheek.  The two of them then walked away.

Edward stood there shaking.  His mind was numb, and a feeling of darkness – of desperation – filled his soul; he’d gotten the message.

Later that evening, he did exactly as he’d been told.  Though the Med-Nurse had looked into Edward’s mouth pretty thoroughly, he’d somehow missed seeing the pill that was tucked under the back part of Edward’s tongue.   When Edward presented the soggy pill to Marcus a short time later, he was frightened to learn that this was not a one time deal for Marcus.  In fact, Marcus wanted all of Edward’s pills.  According to Marcus, the contract wasn’t fulfilled until he said it was.

Again, Edward had a feeling of desperation.  He realized that he’d made a contract with the Devil, and he wondered how it would all end.  He longed to be at home, and away from this terrible, terrible place.

OVER THE coming days, Edward continued to ‘cheek’ his medication.  During this time, he noticed that the Med-Nurse was scrutinizing the inside of his mouth with increasing diligence.  Edward suspected that he’d eventually be busted.  When it finally happened, he felt embarrassed and ashamed.  The CO was notified of the infraction, and Edward was sent away empty-handed.  He dreaded facing Marcus.

The minute he returned to his bunk, Marcus approached.  Surprisingly, things went a lot better than Edward had anticipated.  He had thought – at the very least – that he’d get his face pounded-in by Marcus’ burly friend.  Instead, Marcus had simply stuck his finger in Edward’s face and said, “I warned you, punk.”  He then walked away.  It wasn’t until the next day that Edward discovered what Marcus truly had in mind.

Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 2C

27 August, 11:02
AM

A RUMOR began circulating in the tank that there was going to be a shake-down.  Shortly thereafter, the rumor proved to be true. 
No problem
, Edward thought.  Since he wasn’t hiding any contraband, he wasn’t particularly bothered about the prospect of a CO going through his stuff.  In fact, he was more curious than afraid; he’d never witnessed or experienced a shake-down before, and it was almost a welcome diversion from the monotony of everyday jail life.

Initially, everybody was herded into the exercise/common area of the tank.  As the shakedown progressed, Edward could see the COs methodically going through the belongings of each and every inmate.  He watched with anticipation as they approached his bunk.  He didn’t expect the search of his stuff to be any different than what he’d witnessed so far, but he was baffled by the intensity of the search when it came time for his stuff to be examined.  And that’s when it happened.

After lifting his mattress, and looking back and forth for a moment, the CO reached down and withdrew a big ole’ shank.  Edward was flabbergasted. 
What the...?  Where did that come from?  I didn’t put that there. 
His mind raced with thoughts as he tried to piece together why he’d been set up.  It didn’t take long before he settled on a name: Marcus!

Edward was quickly identified as the owner of the bunk.  He was singled out from the herd and immediately escorted to the front of the tank.  He was then placed in handcuffs, and told he’d be going to another part of the jail.  Though he tried to explain that he’d been set up, the COs would hear none of it.  Once again, Edward was ashamed by the turn of events.  As he walked through the big metal door, he noticed that all the other inmates were looking at him, snickering and laughing.  In a corner, Marcus stood with arms folded, and a big grin on his face.

“SLAM!”

The door closed behind Edward, and he was off to the Hole.  His heart pounded, and he was gripped with fear.
  Oh, God
, he thought,
I hope they’re not taking me to the Hole.

Stuart Co. Jail,
the Hole

27 August, 12:35 P
M

UPON ARRIVING in the Hole, Edward didn’t like what he was seeing.  Here, the atmosphere was much more oppressive than it had been in Tank 2C.  The ceilings were low, and there were no windows.  Instead of there being one big tank, like the one he’d just come from, this tank was comprised of eleven individual cells on an upper and lower level.  There was a common area which had a single table, but it was clear that this table wasn’t meant for socializing.  Nearby, there was a lone shower stall – and even it appeared to have a lock on it.  Overall, the place was depressing.  The only ray of hope he could see was the presence of an old telephone bolted to the wall.

As he was escorted into the tank, faces began appearing at the windows of the individual cells.  Everybody looked mean, or half crazy.  Many of the men were sporting tattoos.  Most had not shaved their beards in days, if not weeks.  There was also a strange look in their eyes.  At first Edward had thought they were just curious, but then he realized that what he was
seeing was something darker; it was hatred.  He’d never really seen this before, and it scared the hell out of him.

Edward’s senses were overwhelmed.  As he was led up the stairs, he glanced into the windows of several cells.  In one, he noticed a half-crazed guy who was “gratifying” himself like some wild monkey you’d see in a zoo.  Amazingly, this animal didn’t appear to have the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment at being seen doing what he was doing.  In another cell, a man sat on a toilet, bending forward with his face in his hands.  The floor around him was littered with garbage.  On the walls, there were smears of – something.

That’s when it hit him.  The smell of the tank was horrid.  It was a combination of sweat, dirty laundry, old food, and feces.  It permeated his nose, and filled his lungs.  The thought of taking a deep breath seemed revolting to Edward.  To reduce the nauseous smell, he tried breathing through his mouth – but this didn’t really help much.  Edward gagged as he trudged onward to “his” cell.

By now, the tank had erupted into a raucous symphony of jeers, hooting, and laughter.  The place had come alive to the presence of some fresh meat.  Edward knew he was the main dish, and he feared he’d be consumed within a matter of minutes.

When he finally entered his cell, it seemed like an oasis compared to the harsh environment through which he had just passed.  The cell was Spartan, and included nothing more than a cement bed, and a metal toilet/sink combo unit.  There was a little slit of a window, about 4 inches wide and 3 feet tall, but you couldn’t see through it.  The mattress was jammed up into a corner of his so-called “bed.”  Everything about the place was built for utility, and not comfort.  He wondered how he would survive.  He walked over to the bed and sat down.  With both hands he gripped his face, while sobbing uncontrollably.