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“And Newman Franklin,” the man to her left says.
“Counsel?” the judge says.
“Marian Henley for the prosecution.”
Lola rises. “Lola Briggs for the parolee, Mr. Bellamy.”
“Very good. Ms. Henley, please call your first witness.”
Ms. Henley rises. “Good morning, Your Honor, members of the parole board. I’m here representing the state in the matter of the parole revocation of Mr. Falcon Bellamy. We believe that Mr. Bellamy has violated the terms of his parole, specifically the condition of attending weekly meetings with his parole officer and possession of a firearm. I’ll call as my first and only witness Mr. Leo Ficus, Mr. Bellamy’s current parole officer.”
The questioning doesn’t take long. All he says is that I’ve missed my last two weekly meetings, and I was involved in an incident with a firearm.
“We rest, your honor,” Ms. Henley says.
“Do the members of the parole board have any questions for the witness?”
The board members confer for a moment until Ms. Guzman says, “No, your honor.”
“Very well. Ms. Briggs, you may call your first witness.”
“I call Mr. Falcon Bellamy,” Lola says.
I rise and get sworn in by the bailiff.
Then I begin reciting what Lola told me. “Good afternoon, Your Honor, members of the parole board. I appreciate the opportunity to address these allegations. I want to start by saying that I take my parole seriously and have been working hard to reintegrate into society.”
Lola asks questions, and I answer precisely and concisely, as she instructed, keeping my demeanor cool and collected. I tell them the story of the last few weeks of my life.
After that, I launch into my second recitation from Lola. “I fully understand the gravity of my actions, and I’m committed to making amends. Revoking my parole would be devastating to my efforts to rebuild my life. I’m willing to accept whatever sanctions the parole board deems necessary to address this lapse and prove that I can continue to rehabilitate successfully.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bellamy,” Lola says. “We rest, your honor.”
“Does the board have any questions for the witness?” the judge asks.
They confer again, this time longer.
Fuck.
Finally, though, “No, your honor,” Ms. Guzman says.
“Very well then.” Judge Rodriquez bangs her gavel. “We’ll recess until the board makes their decision.”
“All rise.” From the bailiff.
Once the judge leaves for her chambers, Lola and I head out of the courtroom.
“Well?” I ask.
“It could go either way, but the fact that the board didn’t ask you to explain anything further is a good sign. All we can do is wait.”
So the waiting begins.
It’s the waiting that kills you.
The waiting each day on the inside, for your prison cell to click unlocked. To stand outside the door, waiting for inspection.
The waiting in line to get your shitty food.
