Beautiful Bounty(6)

Graduation was just a week away. She’d obviously be missing it, but her god dammed diploma. She wanted that. She wanted her life back. Her future. Her head was swimming.

The Tampa Bay deputy, who escorted her out of her cell, suddenly stopped and she felt a slight tug on her restraints. Ronnie felt her release the cuffs, and then she turned her around and indicated to Ronnie to put her hands in front. The deputy then reapplied them there. She wasn’t the least bit friendly about it either. And Veronica, Ronnie to her friends, couldn’t blame her. She probably saw all kinds of losers and criminals if her job was escorting people from the county lock-up over to the Courthouse every day.

Ronnie didn’t even try to engage her in conversation, let alone voice her innocence. She blew a stray pink streak of hair off her face. Hell, she never regretted her highlights until now, but she was rethinking them for sure. Her dirty blond hair, layered, and a bit messy and disheveled from her lack of grooming supplies in jail must look a fright! Added to that was the tangle of knots she had been unable to remove without a comb. Her pink streak would surely impress the judge, she thought miserably! Gad, she might fit the image of a drug dealer, supplier, mule, whatever, she thought, as lead filled her stomach. The charges against her, as told to her by the court appointed attorney, were numerous.

Deputy Morrison indicated with a tap on her shoulder that Ronnie needed to turn left at the end of the corridor. They were in some back entryway into the Courtrooms now. Ronnie could see the small plaques above the door indicating the numbered courtrooms, and a white board next to each door showed what hearings were being held. Ronnie made the turn the deputy told her to take, and one other orange jumpsuit clad prisoner sat on a bench outside the last door. This must be it, Ronnie thought, and knew she was right when she saw her name on the board.

“Take a seat. They’ll call when they are ready for you.” The deputy’s voice was dull as dirt as she leaned against the wall next to another officer who apparently was with the other prisoner.

Ronnie sat next to the other female prisoner who just nodded at her, said nothing, and looked down at her shoes waiting for her own name to be called. Mere seconds later, Ronnie was startled by the squawking metallic box above her that she hadn’t noticed earlier. It announced that prisoner Wanda Jones should be brought into the Courtroom.

The officer opened the door, and Wanda walked right in and turned to the right without being prompted. Hmm, Ronnie thought, Wanda had been here before it seemed.

An honor roll student with numerous awards for academic excellence, Ronnie was graduating a year early. She put the time in, taking extra classes, and doing extra field work. In just a week, she should be getting her Bachelors from the University of Maine. But no, instead she was attending a hearing to decide her future, probably would be unable to leave the state of Florida, and would be left to find a way to prove her innocence without anyone to corroborate or back up her story.

Ronnie waited, and then thought of the interviews she had lined up for the summer. She’d have to cancel them, and say what? Sorry, I’m standing trial for drug smuggling. What was this fiasco going to do to those chances? Her life, just a week ago, was full of possibilities. And now this, she thought dismally. She shook her head to force those negative thoughts out of her mind. Focus on the hearing. One day at a time. Breathe. Justice will be served. That’s all she could hope for right now. Still, Gary came to her mind. He was the key. He’d have his time, she thought ruefully, brown eyes narrowing.

Her court appointed attorney had not given her much hope. He basically advised she confess, and throw herself on the mercy of the Court. New frigging lawyer, had been her foremost thought, screaming like a freight train in her brain. Luckily, her mother had been able to send her a message this morning that they hired the guy she had in mind; he was out of town, but would be flying in from New York. The message stated he couldn’t be there for the hearing, to plead not guilty to all charges, and he would meet with her tomorrow at her mom’s house after she made bail. Be stoic, not weepy; be polite, the message ended. It was crumpled in her hand in the pocket of her jumpsuit. Stoic. Polite. She kept repeating those words as the internal clock in her mind ticked away the seconds of her life.

When the court appointed attorney was told by her this morning that she wouldn’t need his services after the hearing, that her new attorney would be meeting her the next day once she made bail, he just laughed. “Bail! Huh, good luck with that!” His scoffing mumbled remark was made as he snapped his briefcase shut, and his metal chair scraped against the concrete floor. Jail sounds were harsh, and everything echoed.