The guard walked me to the elevator where we joined other inmates and were handcuffed, shackled, and told to stand facing the back – as if we were so hideous our faces shouldn’t be seen. We were then taken to a garage and put in a transport van. It took only five minutes to reach the unloading area of the courthouse.
I was one of the first prisoners led out, handcuffed to three other inmates and taken to the courtroom. I could only hope my attorney had told me the truth…
“All rise!”
Everyone in the room stood, and then sat in unison as the judge said, “You may be seated. Will the defendant please come forward?”
A guard tapped my shoulder, I was uncuffed and walked to the bench. My court appointed attorney met me there, smiled and nodded.
“Sir, do you know why you are here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.
“And why are we here?”
“My capital murder indictment has been dismissed.”
“That’s correct. Now, I’ve spoken to the DA, and I’ve also spoken to your attorney. From what I understand, you have not been in any trouble in jail. I don’t see any contact with the jail staff.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Sir, the District Attorney has filed a motion to dismiss the indictment against you for capital murder. Based on the information I have here, I am going to grant the dismissal. What this means is that once the paperwork is processed, you will be released.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” I was so relieved I almost fell down.
“Now, don’t get too excited,” the judge took off her glasses and held them in her left hand. She paused. “I want to make something perfectly clear. You are getting a second chance. There will not be a third,” she said, emphasizing each important word with her glasses.
“If you come before me with any trouble at all, and I mean any at all, you will go to prison for the maximum amount of time allowed by law. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” This time I knew there would be no more trouble. This was going to be the last time I appeared before this judge or any other.
“You are excused,” she said, dismissing me before signing some papers and handing them to one of the guards.
With that, I was on my way out. I didn’t know how long it would take for the paperwork to process, but I knew I would not wake up in jail tomorrow. I was escorted back to the other prisoners and handcuffed at the end of the line. When all of us were taken back to the jail, I was left in the holding area.
‘I can’t believe it! I’m really getting out of here!’ All I could think about was taking a real shower, sleeping in a real bed, and eating real food. I couldn’t wait to get the stench of jail off me. I sat in the holding area for some time, and as each guard passed the window, I was certain it would be the one to bring my street clothes and take me to processing. But each time they kept walking.
Another inmate was brought in. I had seen him in the jail, but I didn’t know who he was.
“Getting out?” asked the stranger.
“Yeah, just as soon as they process my papers.”
“Don’t be in too big a hurry. Probably won’t be till after midnight.”
My heart dropped. How was I going to last till midnight? The other inmate stretched out on a bench and fell asleep almost immediately. Dinner came. I let my new cellmate eat my portion. Even if I did get released after midnight, I could eat then. I couldn’t stand the thought of another bologna sandwich. I dozed off and woke up to the sound of the cell door – sliding open.
A guard walked in and called my name, “Time to go.”
I shook off sleep, walked out of the cell and made my way to the processing area. Another guard handed me a plastic bag that held all the belongings I’d arrived with – my wallet, some loose change, and the keys to Mom’s house. It also had the ticket for speeding and no seat belt. I signed a sheet of paper stating I had received it all. Another guard handed me my street clothes. I changed and made my way down the hall. I came to a stop at a metal door, and someone watching through a camera triggered the door to open. I followed the corridor around to the main desk.
I showed the guard at the desk my paperwork. He nodded, motioned for me to come forward and grabbed my left hand. He marked it with a rubber stamp. I looked down. The mark said ‘Released’.
I smiled and walked the few feet to the front door before taking the final step outside. I wasn’t the person I had been when I got locked up, and I’d never been as excited about anything as I was about starting my new life.
That’s when the banging began. “Offender, are you eating breakfast?!” a guard barked as he hit my cell door with his nightstick.
I glanced at my clock and it read 3:55 a.m. ‘Fuck! It was just a damn dream.’
“No, get away from my door!” But, it was so real…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Roderick Newton spent years on death row, but is now serving life in a Texas Prison. He has been working on his memoirs and can be contacted at:
Roderick Newton #1690483
Telford Unit
3899 State Highway 98
New Boston, TX 75570
