Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green Page 0,17
and covering her with kisses every chance she got. What had happened to that adoring mother who now sat in a cell at Indiana State Women’s Prison?
Dani didn’t know if she’d find any answers to this riddle when she sat down with Sallie, but all thoughts of the interview disappeared as the waitress delivered their lunch. The hamburger was blood rare, just as Dani liked it. She managed to finish every last french fry and her milkshake—which tasted as good as promised—before it was time to leave. It took them just five minutes to walk to the prison gate. The building dated back to 1873, when it became the first correctional facility in the nation to incarcerate only women and the first maximum-security prison for female prisoners.
They each showed their identification at the prison gate and were marshaled into the waiting area.
“What do you think she’s going to tell us?” Melanie asked. “Does she realize how close the execution date is?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if they’ve been communicating with each other since the trial. I mean, her testimony got him the death sentence. I would certainly understand if he wanted nothing to do with her after that.”
“Still, they were married a good number of years. And had a child together. Doesn’t that mean something?”
Dani suppressed a smile. Despite her intelligence and top legal skills, Melanie’s naiveté sometimes surprised Dani. Melanie grew up in a loving, intact family and didn’t yet appreciate how hurtful married couples could get with each other. Maybe Sallie and George continued to write each other from their respective prisons. Maybe they even used their hoarded telephone calls to see how each fared. It was just as likely, though, that the poison that led to the death of their daughter had destroyed their marriage as well. Dani didn’t expect Sallie to be of much help to them. She held out hope anyway.
After a half-hour wait, they were ushered into a windowless five-by-seven interview room. The walls were barren and the floor showed scuff marks. Sallie sat at the bare table and a female guard stood positioned outside the door. Dani looked her over before making introductions. She was a slight woman, severely underweight, with prominent neck bones and pencil-thin arms. The dark circles under her eyes looked painted on. Her chestnut-brown hair hung in limp strands framing an oval face. Her eyes focused on the table, and she made no acknowledgement of their presence.
“Sallie, my name is Dani Trumball and these are my associates, Melanie Quinn and Tom Noorland. We’re with the Help Innocent Prisoners Project, in New York City. We’re trying to help your husband.”
Her gaze lingered on the wooden table and she remained silent.
“Do you know where George is now?” Dani asked.
Sallie lifted her head. “He’s in hell.” The words spit out of her mouth like a hot ball shot from a cannon, and then, as if spent from the energy it took to speak, her head dropped down to the table again.
“Sallie, would you look at me, please?”
Slowly, she lifted her eyes and stared at Dani’s face.
“Sallie, George is in prison, just like you. Do you know why he’s there?”
Her voice was quiet now. She spoke barely above a whisper. “Because of Angelina.”
“Yes, that’s right. Because of Angelina. Do you know what he did to Angelina?”
“I know. I saw it.”
“Would you tell me, please?”
Sallie shook her head. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Nineteen years had passed, but Dani could see that it remained as fresh as yesterday to her. A struggle took place within Dani. Should she back off? She didn’t want to frighten Sallie into withdrawal. Although her responses had been terse, at least she was talking to them. Dani knew Sallie held the key to George’s fate, but she didn’t know how to turn it. Should she go more slowly, try to gain her trust first? Or just forge ahead? That’s what she wanted to do—jump right in and pull the answers from Sallie’s mouth, force the truth from her locked-up mind. But she sensed she’d lose any chance at answers if she pushed too hard.
“How are you being treated here, Sallie? Is there anything we can do for you?”
“They leave me alone, the other women. They don’t bother me.”
“Is that the way you want it?”
No answer.
“How do you keep busy?”
No answer.
“Do you have a job here?”
“In the kitchen—that’s what I do. I clean up the dishes.”
“You worked in a restaurant before—before you came here, right?”