Get It Girls (10 page)

She closed her eyes and said in a slow, strained voice, “After they confronted us, they pulled out a knife and they shoved us in the building. They pushed us in the back of the building and demanded our money. I gave them mines, but Denise refused to back down to them.”

The girls grew angrier by the second as they listened to her calculated lie. All of them wanted to yell out, scream, or just tell someone that she was lying, but they were helpless—again.

“That’s when she,” Cookie looked over at Jessica, “put the knife to her throat and . . .” Cookie lips quivered as she began to cry.

“Do you need some time, Ms. Wallace?”

She wiped her eyes with her hand and shook her head. “No.”

The judge handed her a box of tissues, and she took one and said, “That’s when she put the knife to her throat and pushed it in.”

The courtroom let out a loud gasp.

Mr. Steinberg waited until the courtroom died down to ask, “Let the record reflect that the witness pointed out Jessica Jones, one of the four defendants, who, for the record, is wearing a white shirt and red ribbons in her hair.”

Mr. Steinberg went on to ask Cookie a series of questions that directly incriminated all the girls. By the time he finished with her, she was painted as an angel who’d never done any wrong.

By the time the girls’ lawyers cross-examined Cookie, the damage had already been done as Cookie resorted to single answers and denied everything they asked. The lawyers were careful to not press her too much because a sympathetic juror could turn on the defense if they felt she was being harassed. Since all the girls had clean criminal records, it was still a matter of Cookie’s word against theirs, so the lawyers decided to let the girls’ creditability speak for its self.

One by one, Vonda, Tiny, and Lynn told their side of the story to the jurors and answered all the questions asked by both the defense and the prosecution. The girls had done an excellent job on the stand so far, and Jessica was expected to be called last. Mr. Butler couldn’t help but wonder why the prosecutor let all the girls get off so easily during the questioning. The only things he’d asked them was if they were drinking, did they do drugs, and where they were coming from prior to the incident, all which they answered.

Finally, it was Jessica’s turn to testify.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?”

With her right hand in the air, Jessica confidently answered, “I do.”

After Mr. Butler asked Jessica to run down her version of the story, Mr. Steinberg swaggered over to her and smiled. “Good afternoon, Ms. Jones. How are you?”

Jessica smiled lightly. “I’m ok.”

Mr. Steinberg nodded. “Good. Now, Ms. Jones, I have just a couple of question to ask you. Is that ok?”

She nodded.

“Prior to the incident on the night of June, 10th, could you tell the court where you were?”

Jessica edged closer to the microphone. “I was at my prom.”

Jessica’s lawyer had told her to keep her answers short and to the point only.

“At this prom, were you drinking any alcohol?” Mr. Steinberg asked.

“No,” she answered quickly.

“Were you doing drugs at this prom?”

“No,” she said, growing uneasy.

He nodded and slowly walked closer to her. “Were you and your friends, your co-defendants, drinking or doing any drugs when you were at the hotel the same night of the murder, Ms. Jones?”

The girls’ eyes lit up as their mouths fell wide open. Jessica suddenly felt sick as she stared at her parents and Kenny, who had his head down. She was speechless, but Mr. Steinberg would not let up.

“Ms. Jones, I ask you again, were you and your co-defendants at a hotel, drinking and doing drugs the night of June 10th,1981 right before Denise Jackson was murdered?”

Jessica could not move or speak. She looked toward her lawyer, who only stared back her with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Mr. Steinberg walked over to his table and picked a plastic bag and removed the contents. “Do you recognize this, Ms. Jones?” He held up a book of matches, the same matches that were dumped from Lynn’s pocketbook to the floor when they were being robbed by Cookie and her crew.

Jessica just stared at the matchbook with Marriott Hotel inscribed on the cover.

Mr. Steinberg held the matchbook high in the air for all to see. “Your Honor, I’d like to enter this into evidence as exhibit A-9.” He turned his attention back to Jessica for the squeeze play. “Ms. Jones, were you or were you not at the Marriott Hotel having sex, drinking, and doing drugs on the same night you murdered Denise Jackson!”

“Objection, Your Honor!” yelled her lawyer as he shot to his feet.

“Sustained,” said the judge. “Strike that from the record.”

“Sorry, Your Honor. I’ll rephrase,” Mr. Steinberg said with a smile. It was already too late. The damage was done, and he knew it.

Jessica sat shaking and crying as she wrapped her arms around herself like she was holding herself from falling apart.

Mr. Butler requested, “Your Honor, can I have a few minutes with my client?”

The judge nodded. “Ok, the court will have a twenty-minute recess.” He banged his gavel and hurried off to his chambers.

Jessica felt dizzy and caught between a rock and a hard place. Her worst nightmare was unfolding before her eyes as a million regrets swirled through her mind. She was caught in a lie and exposed in front of her parents and jurors. A personal and endearing secret now could put her away for years. Her parents were confused and wounded as they stood next to her lawyer who asked her what is this thing with the hotel, drinking and drugs—and he wanted the truth. Jessica closed her eyes and told her parents she was sorry and that she didn’t think the hotel thing would matter.

Her lawyer exploded and said, “Wouldn’t matter? Jessica, that one omission can make the difference in the whole case. We are at that point now where you may come off as a lying drug addict who committed a murder. I want you to tell me everything that happened that night without leaving so much as the color the hotel room out. Do you understand?”

Back on the witness stand, Jessica stared at both her parents and Kenny as they sat sullenly in their seats sensing the worst.

The judge ordered, “Mr. Steinberg, proceed.”

Mr. Steinberg stood to his feet and continued where he’d left off and walked over to the witness stand.

“Ms. Jones, on the night of June 10th, of last year, did you and your co-defendants go to the Marriott Hotel in Times Square to have sex, do drugs, and consume alcohol?”

“Objection, your honor. Irrelevant,” said Mr. Butler.

“Your Honor, I’m showing the state of mind of the defendants as well as their condition leading up to the murder.”

“Overruled,” said the judge.

Mr. Steinberg smiled and repeated. “Ms. Jones, I say again, on the night of June 10th, of last year, did you and your co-defendants go to the Marriott Hotel in Times Square to have sex, drink alcohol, and use drugs?”

Jessica stared at Vonda, Tiny, and Lynn’s dreadful faces, then at her parents. “I didn’t do any drugs.”

There was another loud gasp as she watched her parents put their heads down shamefully.

Mr. Steinberg wasn’t finished there. “Are you saying that you, Jessica Jones, and your three other co-defendants were at the Marriott Hotel together the same night of the murder?”

“Yes,” answered Jessica.

“So, when I asked the three other co-defendants the same question they lied under oath?”

Jessica paused and looked at her friends, then at her lawyer, and finally answered, “Yes”

Mr. Steinberg smiled to the jurors and said, “Ms. Jones, I have one final question to ask you. What was the full name of your escort you to the prom?”

Her eyes quickly shifted to Kenny and toward her parents. She reluctantly answered, “Kenneth Duboise.”

Kenny, sitting right next to Mr. Jones, wanted so badly to be invisible at that moment.

“Your Honor,” said Mr. Steinberg as he walked over to his table, opened a folder, and pulled out a sheet of paper and continued, “I have in my hand records from the Marriott Hotel, dated June 10th, 1981, at 9:38 pm, stating that four separate rooms we rented out by a Kenneth Duboise and paid in cash.” He held up the records for all to see as all the girls sank deeper into their seats.

Councilman Jackson beamed wickedly at the girls, who he felt took his only daughter’s life.

As the trial continued, the D.A. presented bloody crime scene pictures, the photos of the bloodied clothing they had on that night, and lastly, the eyewitness testimony that positively identified each girl.

**********

It only took the jury two hours to deliberate. They walked back into the courtroom in single file from out the jurors’ chambers.

After they were seated, the judge asked, “Ladies and gentleman of the jury, have you reached a decision?”

“Yes, sir, we have,” answered the jury foreman.

The bailiff walked over to the foreman, who handed the decision to the bailiff, who then handed it to the judge. The judge took the note and studied it, showing no emotion.

The judge looked at the girls and said, “Will the defendants please rise?” The judge handed the note back to the bailiff, who returned it to the jury foreman.

“Please read the verdict, Mr. Foreman,” the judge announced.

The foreman looked at the four and unfolded the paper. “In the case of manslaughter in the first degree, we jury, find the defendants, Jessica Jones, Claresse Maynard, Vonda Jamison, and Lynise Davis—guilty!”

T
he girls were grief-stricken when they were all sentenced to a seven-year bid in a state prison, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. They were immediately taken into custody as their loved ones watched in horror to see their children—their babies, their loves—walk away in handcuffs for the next unforgiving seven years.

The girls walked out of the courtroom with their heads up because there was no longer any tears in them to cry. Between the arrest, the trial, and the conviction, their innocence was lost somewhere along the way and they were numb to it all and wanted nothing more but to face the challenge that they surely had ahead of them.

They spent a month on Rikers Island Correctional Institution for Women prior to being shipped up north to Bedford Hill Correctional. Rikers was the first dose of reality they received, which was only a prelude to the conditions that they would be getting in a state correctional facility. For the most part, the month that they spent on Rikers Island was nursery school compared to what they would soon face ahead.

Though Jessica and Vonda never been to prison before, they maintained their poise throughout their tenure there, but the same could not be said for Lynn and Tiny. Lynn remained quiet and wide-eyed the entire time there and showed her weaknesses openly. Jessica and Vonda told her many times that she couldn’t show any weakness and she had to snap out of it. Lynn didn’t care and simply couldn’t help it, so they protected her all the same.

Tiny wasn’t as bad as Lynn, but her nerves were completely shot. Even before the trial, Tiny had been consuming more and more weed and alcohol just to keep from shaking. She began worrying herself to death and the more she worried, the more she stayed high. But, now that she was locked up, she shook and shivered like a lost, wet puppy in a rainstorm because she had nothing in her system. Jessica silently thanked God that they didn’t go sent straight to Bedford for all their sakes. They needed time to adjust to prison life and put the outside world behind them.

Whenever the four of them got time alone, they planned and went over the course of action they would take when they arrived at the big house. Vonda took lead because all her brothers took time out and schooled her on what to do when they got there.

1. Don’t Rat. If you and another inmate have a problem, you settle it amongst yourselves. You do not go to the CO. If you see something going on that shouldn’t be, keep it to yourself. It’s none of your business. You are an inmate, not a cop.

2. Nobody is your friend. Having a friend on the street and having a friend in prison is two different things. Prison will expose you to who you really are, and you never know who you will become once you get inside. It is a jungle mentality once you get to prison, and it becomes survival of the fittest. Your best friend could be the one who sets you up to the police, so watch everyone, and trust no one—because everyone changes.

3. You only got two days in prison that really matter: the day you walk in and the day you walk out. Everything in the middle doesn’t count, so do what you have to do to survive.

4. Fight or get fucked. If an inmate exposes you to be weak when you first get to prison, you will be fucked over your entire time there. In other words, if an inmate takes something of yours when you first get to prison, they will be taking from you till the time you leave prison. It’s no two ways about it.

5. If someone disrespects you in any way, try your very best to take their fucking head off and have no mercy when you do it.

6. Never accept anything from an inmate, because it is never free.

7. When you first get there, don’t look away from anyone, because they are trying to read you and betting on how long it’s going to take them to cop you. Don’t give them anything to bet on.

They went over this hundreds of times in their two weeks at Rikers, and by the last day before they were to be bussed upstate, Lynn and Tiny had finally seemed to pull it all together and now they were all focused. Ready for whatever lay ahead for them the next seven years.

**********

Bedford Hills Correctional Facility

Bedford Hills Correctional Facility was a maximum security prison that housed some of the most notorious and dangerous women in New York State. When the girls arrived through the gates of the facility, the first thing they noticed was watchtower that housed armed officers with shotguns. The second thing they noticed, and were very surprised to see, were inmates walking around the compound like they owned the place, gawking at the bus of new arrivals.