Mindf*cked

Josephine replied to the email and was put in touch with the director of the program. She talked to a woman who was coordinating the interviews. She was told that they were very eager to address and bring to light those wrongly convicted, in hopes that raising awareness would help change the way the legal system was run. They even offered to pay for transportation, lost wages due to the trip, and hotel expenses. Josephine wasn't sure at first if it was worth the hassle. She worked at home but had never been a fan of traveling and staying in hotels. Deciding her curiosity was worth it, she pressed for more details. “Will any of the officers that I knew in jail be present?” “We're actually expecting quite a few,” said the woman. And so it would be that Josephine was bound for Arizona in a couple of weeks. Other than when she was being interviewed, she wouldn’t have to miss work since she could manage the blogs she worked on online. Because she would be going on national television, she was told to wear something comfortable yet presentable. She didn’t want to be underdressed, but she didn’t want to be overdressed either. She decided on a very casual cotton dress and a simple pair of shoes. They would consist of muted colors so she wouldn’t stand out more than she should. She was also told that before the interview, a makeup artist would do her makeup. The day she arrived in Arizona, she met with people to go over the questions she would be asked, and Josephine found them reasonable enough. They simply asked her about the case and what it was like in jail, and she had no problem stating the facts. She wondered, however, how much detail she might be expected to give when it came to the officers who had worked at the jail at the time. She just wasn’t sure how much information she should divulge, especially regarding Johnson. She decided she didn’t mind bringing up the basics, but she saw no reason to name names unless the conversation naturally led in that direction. She didn’t want to make a point of calling any of the officers out, directly or indirectly. She simply wanted a chance to be heard, even if it was 18 years too late. She wanted the world to know what her former neighbors had done to her and how the police and public defender had both lied to her, along with her feelings on the judge’s ridiculous sentence and the laws in general when it came to non-violent crimes, whether the defendant was guilty or not. When she first got to the jail, where the interview was to take place, Josephine recognized the reception area where new inmates were brought in and old ones were released. She looked around at the mingling faces but didn’t recognize anyone. She thought she might have spotted a few familiar ones, but with the passage of nearly two decades, it was hard to say for sure. Eventually, she was brought into a room where she was introduced to five other women of various ages who had been falsely convicted and jailed, just as she had been. They gave each other brief updates on their cases and were introduced to the host of the documentary as well as the people in charge of filming and other logistics. Next, she and the others were brought into an empty dorm, which was where the interviews were to take place. Although Josephine had never stayed in one of the large general population dorms, she recognized it right away. The bunk beds were all pushed against the walls. “Where are all the inmates?” she asked no one in particular. An unfamiliar face answered, “They’ve been temporarily relocated to other dorms.” Those to be interviewed were seated in plastic chairs side by side, facing a room full of people. Josephine continued to scan the crowd for familiar faces, and while she thought she saw some, she just couldn’t be sure. No one looked the same after 18 years. Let’s just get this over with so I can get home and get back on with my life if I’m not going to reunite with anyone interesting, she thought to herself. And so the interviews began. She was the last one to be interviewed because the host, a conservatively dressed woman in her 60s, began at one end of the row, and Josephine was seated at the opposite end. Josephine listened intently as each woman described her nightmarish ordeal with the law. Two were falsely convicted of drug-related charges, two for prostitution, and one for assault. When it came time for her to speak, she found herself oddly calm. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t naturally shy, nor was she easily impressed with others or overly concerned with how she appeared to them. She simply was who she was, and that was that. She did, however, feel herself become a little angry as she remembered the way she had been tricked, manipulated, lied to, and even threatened into pleading guilty for something she wasn’t even charged with. “You didn’t know you were being charged and convicted of a threatening letter?” the woman asked her. “No, not at all. I was under the impression it had to do with the journals. At least that’s what I was led to believe.” “And what happened to the officer who falsified the evidence against you?” “As other complaints were lodged along with mine, and numerous instances of him abusing his position were brought to light, he was ultimately let go.” “Josephine, let me ask you something.” “Sure.” “Do you ever live in fear of retaliation from either this former officer or your former neighbors?” Josephine inhaled deeply and chose her words carefully, knowing that the likelihood of these assholes seeing this interview was high. “At first, yes, I was. But over time, my fear was replaced with anger and a determination not to remain their victim all my life. So now, no. I won’t let myself live in fear or be controlled in any way. To be even more candid with you, there’s been a part of me that wished they would have the nerve to come to my door. But I know that even though they could probably find me if they tried hard enough, these cowards won’t do that. They prefer to hide behind the law. That was their shield. But now their shield is gone, so what else do they have?” “Do you think you can forgive them someday?” “Nope. No way. Absolutely not. This wasn’t about them accidentally spilling wine on my new blouse. Nor was it about flinging a slew of verbal insults at me or getting me fired from a job. This was literally about turning my life upside down and inside out for years. You don’t forgive that. At least I don’t. So no, I don’t think I ever could forgive them, even if I wanted to.” “How do you feel the detention officers treated you when you were incarcerated?” This was a simpler answer for Josephine. “I found most of them to be surprisingly friendly, and I quickly came to realize that they were just people doing a job, just like a teacher does their job or an engineer does theirs. They were simply people, and there are good people and bad people in any field.” “Were there any you didn’t like?” “Yes. There were a few I didn’t care for who seemed unnecessarily high on power-play.” “Has life been good to you since this legal nightmare ended for you?” “I wish I could say it has, and yes, for the most part, it has. But I lost my husband last year to a severe illness, and things have gone downhill from there.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman said with sympathy in her voice. “I have a steady income and a nice place to live, but it’s been lonely without him. I miss him terribly.” “I’m sure you do. So, Josephine, what will you do now?” “Well, I wish I could give you an interesting, witty, and clever answer, but in all honesty, I just keep on living. That’s all I really can do.” Those in the makeshift audience clapped as Josephine suddenly recognized a familiar face—with certainty.