Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (25 page)

The next week was the same routine, and I was getting close to finishing my internship. The lady in charge of the entire lab gave me amazing compliments on my work and interactions with the patients, and I was excited. The hospital environment felt natural for me, and I could easily picture myself working in it forever.

The chance of this happening was about to be shot down, along with everything else that I would never have.

It was only a few days before I would get my credits for my internship at the hospital. I loved training for this career, and I was excited at the possibility of working at the hospital. After finishing my hours for the day, I went home and waited for Derrick to get off work. I was hungry, but it was hard to make anything decent because we still had not gotten the gas turned on. There’s only so much you can make in a microwave. I was complaining about this to Derrick as soon as he walked in. I used the pregnancy as an excuse. I knew he would cave in and find a way to make me a healthy dinner. He went to the store and came back with a miniature grill with a small propane attachment. He also had a pack of steaks and some sides. “Yes! I haven’t had steak in so long! I am starving! Hurry, hurry!” I excitedly pressured him. I changed out of my scrubs and into a cute nightgown that I had. It was a little short and risqué, but I wasn’t going anywhere so I didn’t care. I had nothing else clean to wear. I plopped down on the couch and put my aching feet up. I turned on the TV and got an unexpected kiss from Derrick as he was walking out the front door to cook. “What was that for?” I asked, wondering why he was being so nice. “What? I can’t give my girlfriend and baby-mama a kiss?” he replied. “I love you, that’s all.” “Love you too,” I said. At the moment, I loved the smell of the steak more.

As I was relaxing and watching my show, I heard Derrick begin to say something outside. I ignored it and figured he was talking to a neighbor. I was shocked when I heard a female voice. “Elizabeth? It’s Becky from the Lake Tahoe Police Department. I need you to step outside,” she said. What the hell? I thought. “Um okay, let me put my pants on because I am in a short nightgown,” I said. “That isn’t necessary. Just step on out here,” she said, with a more stern voice. That’s when I knew what was about to happen. I walked outside, barefoot, praying silently in my head.
Please God - just don’t let them arrest me. I’m doing the best I can - please don’t let me go to jail.

“Hello,” I said, probably appearing hesitant. Right away, a male officer came up behind me and asked me to put my hands behind my back. “You have the right to remain silent,” he recited from memory - the words that I feared and hated. I wasn’t sure why I was being arrested. I knew it didn’t have anything to do with Zoe because I didn’t do anything wrong. “Can you tell me why I am being arrested?” I begged, as tears were rolling down my cheeks and off my chin. “I can’t give you much information, except for that you are being charged with willful cruelty to a child,” he replied.

I felt a blast of shock and dread hit me so hard I thought I might lose my balance. Derrick sat there, helpless. They walked me down the street where their vehicle was parked around the corner. They must have hid their car thinking I would try to run if I saw them. I was put in the back of the car, and they headed toward the police station. As I was sitting in the back trying to control my tears, the officers were having a casual conversation and listening to a catchy new pop song. It was playing sort of loud. The female spoke of how hungry she was and the male said something about pizza. I looked out the window as they drove me down the highway. I knew that I wouldn’t get to see the outside for a long time. I worried that I was going to have my baby in jail.

The officer pulled into the parking garage, opened the door, and directed me to exit the vehicle. I was embarrassed because I was literally wearing lingerie, and there were more male officers than female officers. I walked into the booking area with the officers behind me. I was directed to stand in front of that same blue wall and listen to that same recording that I heard a year earlier. I was un-cuffed and patted down. I was directed to sit on the concrete bench where the booking officer was sitting at a desk in front of a computer. They went over the charges with me and told me what my bail would be. I was stunned, and I knew that this amount was not a good amount because it meant that they did not want me to bail out. “Your bail is $50,000. Do you think you're going to get out tonight?” he asked. “No, there's no way that I'm going to be able to make that bail.” “Okay then, I'll call one of the other officers and let them know to get you set up to go over to H pod.” I was then brought into that same, cold holding cell. This time I knew that I was probably not getting out any time soon. I didn't know what to expect, and I didn't fully understand my charges. I knew that I wasn't being charged with the actual assault because that would be under the assault category. After doing research later on, I discovered that it was a child endangerment charge.

I was only in the holding cell for a short time, but I had enough time to make my free one-minute call to Derrick. Of course, I was crying and upset and scared. He was on the other end of the phone crying too. Between sniffles I asked him, “What are we going to do if they don't let me out before the baby is born? I don't want to have my baby in jail. Derrick, I'm scared.” “Elizabeth, we're going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen. For now just don't talk to any detectives if they try to talk to you, and I’ll call your Public Defender tomorrow to let her know that they arrested you.” The phone suddenly cut off, and I wasn't able to finish the conversation. A few minutes later a female officer opened the door and instructed me to follow the blue line down the hallway, once again, to go to the dressing room.

This female officer was close to my age, and she wasn't very nice. Unlike the first time I was arrested, I wasn't spared having to get naked in front of someone and bend over so they could make sure that I didn't have something smuggled up my butt. It was completely humiliating and, at that point, I looked more bloated than pregnant so I was very self-conscious of my body. After the humiliation was over and I was dressed in my horrible orange pumpkin outfit, I was again directed to follow the line down the hallway. I walked into that all-too-familiar day room. It looked like everyone had just finished with dinner. I was hoping to God that I would have my own cell again, but I wasn't that lucky. I was put in a cell downstairs with bunk beds. The women's pod appeared to be booked to its maximum. I walked into my cell and put my green container with my hygiene kit and blanket on the floor. The bottom bunk was empty, so I assumed it was mine. It looked like there were blankets on the top one but I didn't see anyone. I had to pee really bad and flushed the toilet connected to the sink forgetting how loud and startling it was. Suddenly, the blankets on the top bunk began to move and flail around. There was someone sleeping there. She was an older woman, but she wasn't missing any teeth or anything, so I was relieved. She seemed relatively normal. I later found out that she was in jail for attempting to run a pedestrian over in the grocery store parking lot. She wasn't a bad cellmate. She kept to herself and was quiet and clean. The only thing that sucked about it was that there was no privacy. If the food in the jail didn't sit so well with my digestive system, I would have to either warn her that I was about to blow up the toilet or, if she was asleep, I would just have to do it as quickly as possible.

My first day in jail wasn't as bad as the first time I was arrested because I knew what to expect. Another thing that made it easier was that I knew a couple of the girls that were in there and they were around my age. One of them, Crystal, was a cute bubbly girl, and she had always been really nice. I remembered her from when I was five years old, and she lived in the same apartment complex as we did. One year on our birthday (I think Merri and I were turning six) she brought us a present. It was a fish bowl with a few goldfish and guppies. We were so excited. I had no idea she would be in jail, and later I found out that she was there because she was in a rollover car accident with her son in the backseat. They later determined that she was intoxicated from drinking alcohol and shooting up meth. It was really sad, and I never thought that she would have ended up using drugs. By this time, I hadn't used drugs in three or four months.

I had no intentions of informing anyone of my pregnancy until I knew what was going on. I didn’t know if it would or wouldn’t have a negative or positive impact on the Judge. The next day I had my arraignment. My Public Defender was there for a quick minute to explain the charge on the form that the Bailiff handed me. There were a few other inmates being arraigned as well. I pleaded not guilty and was scheduled to go back to Court for my bail review on Monday. This meant that I would worry through the entire weekend not knowing my fate. It was hard not to have hopes that I would be released. Jail was such a degrading and boring place, and I was stripped of anything and everything personal. They even washed the underwear and gave them to different women on laundry day. I wondered how many gross criminals had worn the underwear I had on.

On Saturday, my Lawyer came to visit me. She looked like she felt bad for me. I tried to keep myself from crying. “So, what are they saying I did? Why am I being charged with this?” I asked. She shook her head and lifted her hands in defeat. “I don’t know. I mean, they aren’t saying that you are the person who did it, but they want to hold someone responsible. They are at least trying to blame the foot fracture on you,” she explained. I shook my head. “I know you hear this all the time, but I really don’t even believe that she had a foot fracture! I would have known and her daycare would have known!” I affirmed. My Lawyer continued, “I’m not sure how much time they are going to give you, but I’ll see if we can get you released on your own recognizance on Monday. Don’t get your hopes up though. And you have Court for the custody case on Monday as well, remember?” I had totally forgotten about that. Not good. I would have to go to Court to try to get my daughters back while sitting in jail. I didn’t even know how I would have a chance to get them back now. I walked back into the women’s pod and headed to my cell to lie down and try to sleep. I wanted to stay asleep until Monday and I practically did.

Criminal Court was humiliating that day. The room was packed with free people, and I was forced to try to walk to the Defendant’s table with both my wrists and ankles shackled. The Court really had their way of making you feel like trash. The District Attorney, a short and mean man, made sure he was there when my case was called. He did not want me getting out of jail.

He was quick to publicly explain why. “This woman is a danger! This woman inflicted an injury on her daughter’s foot so bad that it fractured the bones! Your Honor, to even consider releasing her is a very dangerous idea,” he practically yelled. My Public Defender was in the mood to fight for me that day. “Your Honor, Elizabeth is a victim in this as much as her children. No one knows exactly what happened, and there is no evidence to prove that Elizabeth is responsible! She is only nineteen years old. Despite her mistakes and lack of judgment, she is a good mother and needs to be out of jail to work on getting her daughters back home with her!” she exclaimed. The Judge was scratching her head between flipping through paperwork. “Ms. Jeter, I want to release you on your own recognizance, but I simply do not have enough information about this case to be confident with that decision. For now, I will reduce your bail to thirty thousand, and we will schedule you to return for your next Hearing where you can plead guilty, innocent, or no contest. Your Public Defender will go over the details with you.” I stood up and walked back to the chair I was sitting in before. They couldn’t schedule me in for another three weeks. I wanted to die. I did not know how I could manage another three weeks without knowing what was going to happen. I was completely miserable.

I went to the Family Court hearing embarrassed and miserable as usual. The Judge noted that I was incarcerated and asked me if I wanted to schedule visitation with the girls while I was in jail. “No, Your Honor. No, thank you. I just don’t want the girls to ever have memories of seeing me in jail,” I politely said. “I understand and I don’t blame you Ms. Jeter.” The Hearing was quick. It was just to check up on the status of my reunification plan, which, so far, was okay on my end, or so I thought. I could tell that the Social Workers were gleaming with joy. They loved the fact that I was in jail. After that Hearing, I called my mom in a panic. “Mom, if you don’t take them, we’ll never see them again. I am so serious! They are going to stop the reunification plan because I’m in jail. If they do that, the next thing that will happen is my rights will be terminated. We will never see Chloe and Zoe again!” I begged and sobbed. I figured that since I was already unloading a bunch of bad news, I might as well tell her that I was pregnant. “You are?” she asked calmly. She didn’t get mad or throw blame or judgment at me. I was relieved that I had gotten it out of the way.

My mom came to visit me at least once a week. I anxiously waited for Court so I could find out what my fate would be. She tried to help calm my anxiety. On one of the visits, she told me that she and my stepdad hired a Lawyer, and they were going to try to get the girls out of the Foster Care System. She initially couldn’t take them because her husband was building their home, which was still basically a frame. CPS would not approve it as safe enough if she tried to keep the girls there. They ended up renting a home and having it inspected and approved for custody. The Court did an ignorant job at deciding where to put the girls. The Social Workers always had some pathetic excuse as to why they couldn’t go with my mom.

When the day my Criminal Court case finally came, I was called to the door that would lead me to get ready to be shackled up. I was four months pregnant and starting to look it. When I sat down on the side of the Courtroom, my Public Defender sat next to me and handed me some paperwork. “Okay, Elizabeth, I sat down and spoke with the Judge about your case. I explained the situation to her, and I told her that you would be willing to go to rehab if she released you. This is your plea bargain.”