Heroine: California Dreamin' (17 page)

First I thought I was dreaming. Then I closed my eyes and opened them again. There in the audience room sat my husband. Daniel. He had come. The plane with him on board had not crashed, he hadn’t taken off with his female boss – he was here and waved to me with a friendly smile. All the tension from the last two days caved in and I started to cry uncontrollably. Everything would be fine now. The mechanical rigidity in which I had retreated since my coming to jail dissolved and my emotions overwhelmed me. Beside me the little skinny Mexican woman who had been chained to me all that time made some loathing sounds. I didn’t care. All I wanted was to get out of here and go home.

A loud manly voice announced the ‘Honorable Judge’ whose name I didn’t understand. Somebody pulled on my chain and I was forced to get up. My knees buckled and through my teary eyes I could see only in silhouettes the impressive statue of a man clad in a black robe who entered the room. I turned my head to Daniel and kept on looking at him. What was going down here didn’t interest me. Somewhere in my head a friendly voice said that everything would turn out alright and that I could go home with my husband in a moment.

After we were seated again a lot of people started talking at the same time and with all that confusion I didn’t even understand half of it. What I did understand was that the judge complained that the accused women of which most of them had been indicted on DWI (driving while intoxicated) charges or other smaller offences were brought here like dangerous criminals or felons. One after the other were set free once bail was posted. However, they had to remain seated beside me until the hearing was over. Only their handcuffs were taken off.

An older woman approached me. She wore a chic gray costume and a red breast pocket handkerchief in her jacket. Her gray hair was diligently combed to a perm and her teeth were splendidly white and perfect. She wore either jacket crowns or dentures. A lot of rouge was necessary to hide the wrinkles around her somewhat stifled mouth in her pale face.

She asked me something. I looked up to her reluctantly. Why wouldn’t they let me go to Daniel? She repeated and it took me a while until I understood that she referred to me. The woman wanted to know what my name was and she asked whether I would understand what I was accused of. I shook my head and said that I had been abducted but that nobody would believe me.

“That is not relevant at the moment and that can be clarified in the main hearing. What is important now is if you plead ‘guilty’ or ‘not guilty’”, she insisted quite forcefully.

“Prosecution accuses you of ‘prostitution for the purpose of acquiring illegal substances’. Do you plead ‘guilty’ or ‘not guilty’? Among other things that is important whether you are granted to post bail or not.” Without answering I looked at her blankly. Have they all lost their mind here? The longer I was subjected to these legal ‘experts’ here the more severe became these accusations. The woman in front of me turned to the judge and said with a loud voice:

“Your honor, this woman is obviously still under the influence of drugs. I therefore request that she is
not
released on bail. She is a foreigner with a work permit. In that respect she is a legal alien. But she has abused her status to commit crimes in this country. If she is set free it could happen that she leaves the country and would then no longer be available for questioning about possible accessories or pimps.”

“Do you have an attorney?” the judge asked me with a serious look in his face. I denied.

“Then the court will provide one for you”, he ordered. “Do we have anybody from the public defender’s office present?” he turned to a woman who sat opposite typing into a PC. There were no attorneys available; they were all busy in other courtrooms.

“What else would speak against posting bail?” he insisted with the gray-haired.

“Your honor, prosecution has been presented with the statements of several police officers and witnesses that confirm that this woman had come to a meeting with two men to Watsonville out of her free will. Later on she accused a well-known citizen from Los Angeles who runs for public office in congress to have committed murder. This honorable person was verifiably in Los Angeles at the time of question. The local police and coworkers of an airline have confirmed that. Our officers searched the alleged crime scene. They found no traces or evidence for an act of violence at the site as indicated by the accused. They even used canines in their search. The officers from the murder squad in Prado suspected that Miss Noula wanted to boost the charges for her illegal services when she learned that one of her customers was a prominent personality. This politician is extremely appalled about these false allegations and he has asked us via his attorney to examine if Miss Noula is being used by people in the background to concoct a political conspiracy against him. For that we would like to conduct further investigations and therefore it is necessary to keep Miss Noula in custody”, she repeated her request from before.

“And who is this candidate for congress?” the judge inquired quietly so that only the people next to him could understand. The representative for the prosecution stepped up and whispered something into the judge’s ear. The judge grinned and sat up again.

“Bail denied. For the time being the accused remains in custody.” He slammed his mallet onto the table before him.

“But you can’t do that”, I heard Daniel call out in desperation. “This is my wife. I can post bail.” The judge frowned. With a loud voice he turned to Daniel.

“Listen to me, young man. You have no right to call out during these proceedings. If you do that again I have you arrested on contempt charges.” Then he seemed to think again and asked quietly:

“Are you an American citizen?” Daniel’s awful foreign accent had probably provoked this question. When Daniel explained that he was German too the judge replied:

“That’s a pity. Otherwise I might have reconsidered. But now there is the risk that the two of you would leave the country. Go and get a good lawyer for your wife then you can clarify this matter in the main hearing.”

Two hours later I sat beside Estrella again in the cell. I felt nothing. Like an empty cocoon I had followed mechanically the orders of the guards who brought us back to jail. Daniel’s aghast face hovered before my eyes for a while until it dissipated at the entrance area of the cells. The other women had come back with me to hand in their stinking jail uniforms and to pick up their belongings. Most of them laughed and were joyous. For two students who had been arrested for public drunkenness this was little more than an adventure with that they could brag in the classroom.

When I asked the judge how long it would take to the main hearing he first frowned and seemed to have some mean comment on his mind. I probably didn’t comply with the rules again. But then he looked at me over the rim of his glasses and said amiably:

“Not more than three months; by then I’m sure everything has been sorted out. Perhaps you will be allowed to stay in the country and they don’t deport you.” The gray-haired one had looked at him angrily. I collapsed. Three months in prison. After that deportation. I knew what was waiting for me.

Estrella waited for me at the cell door. She and Linda were the only ones who didn’t have a court appearance. The other two were set free on bail or were transferred to another block as she explained. When Estrella saw me she took me into her arms. I had expected everything else possible. Beatings, kicks, denunciations or worse. In reality-TV they portray prisons in this country like nasty rowdies and sadists would torment and rape young women on a regular basis. Now this monstrous woman pulled me onto her enormous bosom and held my head when I burst out crying.

“Three months”, I sobbed. “I must stay here for three months and then I will be deported. My husband was here and he wasn’t allowed to post bail because I am a foreigner. That stupid cow from the prosecution told them incredibly bad things about me only because some congressman had incited them.” And I continued. Estrella didn’t say anything but just held me in her arms. She stank incredibly but I didn’t care. I felt protected.

Later I lied down on my bunk and didn’t even get up when lunch was served. The cell door stood open and from outside I heard the noise of the metal dishes and the chattering voices of my fellow inmates. Linda put an orange on my bed after she had come back and she smiled at me.

“This must be your first time in jail. Those first days are always the worst. But you get used to it. Until Sunday you’ll have settled down and then it is only boring.” It sounded encouraging but it wasn’t a real consolation. Nevertheless I thanked her because she was friendly to me. After her return Estrella lit herself a cigarette and I was glad that she had some left from the pack I had given her. I didn’t trust all that peace here and I was scared that she might turn aggressive again when she ran out of cigarettes. Then I fell asleep. But it wasn’t even that one hour had passed by when I was awakened rather rudely. One of the female guards stood in front of my bunk and shook me vehemently.

“Noula, get the hell up. You can sleep off your drug hangover at a later time. You have a visitor”, she snarled at me. At least she didn’t beat me out of bed with her truncheon, I registered grim-faced. When I walked through the gray corridor handcuffed to her I became aware that I felt my feet again. And wasn’t there a trace of sarcasm in my head? It seemed I was back to life. The short sleep apparently had done me good.

A man in a gray suit greeted me in a bare room furbished with a long table and some metal chairs. He was thirty years old the most. The black short cut hair was combed diligently sideways and his pale face featured some brown freckles that stood in strange contrast to his dark hair. He was reasonably handsome but the tie he wore showed absolute lack of taste. It was bright green with cyan stripes with red edges. In addition the tie was cross-striped and covered with little black figures that resembled a golf player at tee-off. I didn’t know whether I should laugh about it or despise it.

‘Perhaps this is the way how they want to torment me’,
went through my head
‘and this sight is the first level of torture.’

The visitor introduced himself as Mr. Panivelas, attorney at law. He was court appointed to look after me. I felt relieved. At this moment I didn’t care about his taste for ties. The main thing was he would get me out of here.

“Miss Noula, the court has ordered me to represent your rights”, he started to speak after we sat down. The jail dragon who had brought me here sat down on a chair in one corner and looked at the wall, bored. Mr. Panivelas didn’t bring more than this short sentence over his lips. He didn’t look at me, we didn’t shake hands before and now his restless eyes scanned through the files in front of him. I didn’t care about his behavior. Important was only that he would get me out of jail as fast as possible.

“What did you arrange with my husband?” I interrupted him. “Can he get me out of here posting bail?” The attorney looked up. His look seemed somewhat perturbed as if he was surprised to see somebody sitting opposite of him.

“Why your husband? Are you married?” he retorted. I looked at him dumbfounded.

“But didn’t you have with my husband …” Then I interrupted my own sentence. I hadn’t listened properly. In the beginning he had stated that he was here at the order of the court. No word about Daniel. I felt angst creeping up my spine.

“Oh well then”, I stammered uncertain. “What will be happening now? Can you get me out of her fast?”

“Miss Noula”, he answered in a harsh tone of voice. “The best I can do for you is to reach a deal with the prosecution. With the accusations that have been made against you in this indictment we might be able to negotiate down to four perhaps five years. At best we suggest the following …” I interrupted him with a scream. I had my hands clenched into fists which I lifted up to my mouth in panic.

“Four years? Are you crazy”, I screamed. I saw from the corner of my eyes that the guard had gotten up and looked quite concerned.

“I have done nothing, nothing at all. They have abducted me and now I should remain in prison?”

“Calm down, Miss Noula.” The lawyer had become even paler and lifted his hands in defense.

“The charges are grave. If we don’t negotiate a deal than it will get tight for you. Please believe me. I do everything possible. Yesterday they added to the charges of drug abuse, prostitution and false statement another charge, namely extortion. The lawyer of your
‘friend’
– let’s call your customer from Los Angeles that way to keep it polite” – Panivelas made a facial grimace in disgust – “has demanded from prosecution to adopt this fact in addition to the other charges because you wanted to boost your payment with this kidnapping story.” My horrified look must have told him how much I was stung by these incredible new allegations because he looked again at his files in dismay and acted as if my presence was unpleasant for him. My heart raced in fear and I felt how the fingers on my face trembled. I was close to losing my mind. It took quite a while until I could utter something again. Headaches flared up and my feet were as cold as if bathed in ice water. Extortion? Prostitution? Drugs? And why my ‘friend’ from Los Angeles? I didn’t understand anything at all.

“What is being played here?” it suddenly burst out of me. The sentence was not planned or thought through; something inside me caused it to come out.

“What did they pay you to con me into that?” I screamed at him. The guard had jumped up and twisted my arms to my back. Only now I became aware of it that I had held my fists in front of his face. The lawyer was suddenly fire red in his face that he held lowered and when he began chewing his fingernails I suddenly knew that he had been bought. The fat guy from Watsonville paid this bastard money to con me.

“How much? How much did they give you to betray me, you corrupt pig?!” I continued to scream while the female officer already pushed me with all might to the door.

“I want an honest lawyer, not a fraud like you!” I didn’t stop screaming on the corridor and demanded to talk to my husband Daniel. Why wasn’t he here? He should have at least called me. Two more uniformed women joined us and the three of them carried me into another cell while I struggled and yelled that I wanted to see my husband. When the door banged shut behind me I was alone in a narrow room with only one bunk. The door was made completely of steel and I couldn’t hear a sound from the outside. In desperation I threw myself onto the hard bedstead and I cried uncontrollably. A few minutes later the steel door opened abruptly with a loud bang and two stocky guards entered, a man and a woman uniformed like prison guards. Through my teary eyes I only saw their silhouettes. They held something in their hands which I only recognized when they came closer. They carried black Tasers which they pointed at me while they gave me threatening looks. In fear I put up my knees and trembling I crawled into the farthest corner holding my hands in defense in front of me. Behind the two another man in a white coat appeared carrying a bag, obviously a doctor.

“Noula, calm the hell down”, snapped the fat female officer who stood next to me.

“If you keep on acting up then we will calm you down with these little toys here. And you don’t want that, do you?” her voice changed its tone so that I suspected that she might actually have fun shooting those little darts into my body. I nodded carefully but kept up my hands.

“The doc here will give you an injection, then you’ll feel better immediately. If you act up and attack him then you’ll be getting some injections from us. Do you dig that?” I nodded again. What the two brutal looking characters meant with their version of ‘injection’ was quite clear. The companion of the two was a man small in stature with a beer belly and gray unshaven beard in a wrinkled face; he squeezed through between the two guards with the facial expression of a concerned doctor who administers some medication to a small child for the first time. He reached his two attendants just about up to their shoulders and probably weighed maximally half of what each of those would bring to the scale. It seemed they had sent to me their two most obnoxious guards for difficult cases.

“Hello, Miss Noula. I am a physician. I’ll give you something now that will calm you down and then you’ll get yourself a good night’s sleep”, he nodded at me with a trustworthy smile. His appearance helped me to somewhat find my senses again. What did he want? Give me an injection? Why and what for?

“What kind of medication is that?” I inquired carefully. Something in the back of my mind informed me that this is not good. There was something I had to watch out for.

“Please lay back and relax”, the medical man asked me and smiled again. I remembered that the last time I saw a doctor was about a year ago. That was at Paul. He also had asked me to relax and to lean back. And what happened then? The doctor drew the liquid into a syringe. When he sat down beside me and looked into my eyes encouragingly I remembered
everything
. That damned RSD. If he administered me any kind of drug now I would go bonkers.

“Doc, please don’t. I am not healthy and I can’t tolerate it. I have an allergy. That stuff would kill me”, I said quietly and looked at him as quiet as I could. On the inside I felt as if I would stand at the edge of an abyss. If he’d put that needle in me now I would simply attack him. That was the bottom line. The two, the monstrous woman and the bully stared at me in a way that would make Arnold Schwarzenegger cringe with fear. They wouldn’t hesitate a moment to finish me off.

“Is that a tranquilizer?” I inquired again. He nodded slowly and looked at me alertly across his rimless glasses without saying a word.

“If you inject this to me right now it will unleash in me a psychosis.” He understood. The syringe disappeared in his pocket after he diligently took care of the cannula. Relieved I took a deep breath. At least this one time I had diverted some danger from me.

“Tell me about it”, said the man in the white coat much to my surprise. He folded his hands before his belly and smiled at me in a friendly way. I looked at him questioningly. Did he really want to take his time to talk to me? Carefully I glanced over his shoulder to the two ‘Rottweiler’.

“They won’t be doing anything to you as long as you stay calm”, the doc said friendly. “Tell me openly what’s going on with you”. I looked at him searching for words. What could I tell him? He beat me to it.

“Do you have the feeling that your inhibition thresholds dissolve when you take these medications? Or do you see any scary things, feel threatened?” I shook my head.

“I feel uncontrolled sexual desires”, I revealed to him. Perhaps I could trust him.

“Then I see beautiful colors, hear music. It is like floating in the air.” He looked at me with sad eyes.

“Miss Noula, I’m afraid I can’t withhold the truth from you. You suffer from withdrawal symptoms. What you are telling me corresponds exactly with the symptoms of people who take hard drugs on a regular basis and then stop taking them.” I started to grow angry. He mixed up things completely.

“You don’t understand me. I have these events if somebody like you gives me such medication. Without medication I am completely normal. I do not take drugs and I don’t need drugs.” The doctor pondered for a while.

“Good, I leave you alone. But we must keep an eye on you. I cannot risk that in the end you come up with some withdrawal symptoms as they appeared in your meeting with your lawyer. We will house you in a solitary cell. If you give us problems we will need to take you to the Valley State Prison. There they have a ward for people with mental illness.” That came so calm and clear from his mouth that I couldn’t think of anything that I could have replied. But I felt greatly humiliated. The malicious rumor that I would be a drug addict has taken its own course. Nobody here could or wanted to help me.