Part I, Chapter 9

Previously in "2nd Time Around":

In 1996, Sarah Griffin walked in on her neighbor, who had murdered his family. in 1998, she was convicted and sentenced to death for these killings. In 2006, the state of Virginia failed to execute Sarah in the electric chair.


2014:

... When Grace finished with her part of the account, she passed the microphone down the table to Donna. The older woman took a deep breath and adjusted her glasses, determined to keep her nerves in check. After all, this was a professional setting, even if on the borderline of that.

"My name is Donna Smith," she said, hoping she wouldn't have to repeat herself. "I attended Drexel University and the Earle Mack School of Law in Pennsylvania. unlike these other folks, I am not a criminal attorney. In fact, I'm not the greatest at public speaking and I don't often appear in a courtroom. I specialize in disability law and education law. I deal with getting the necessary accommodations which students need in their schools, an issue that becomes more prevalent with more and more disabled students now being mainstreamed."

She stopped to drink some water.

"Doug recruited me for this unique case based on my reputation," she continued. "I had never been inside of a prison, but when I met Sarah for the first time, I wished I had gotten there a lot sooner ..."

2006:

"... My name is Ryan Duffy," The corrections officer said, approaching the two women in the corridor. "I'm the captain of this unit. This is Officer Mike Cook. He'll take you through the tier."

He pointed towards his colleague. Neither man moved to shake hands, so Grace and Donna didn't try. Everyone wanted to get this business finished.

It took a lot of pushing on Doug's part and a court order to grease the wheels. After the wrangling, the women were granted permission to visit Sarah in her cell. Given her profession, Donna insisted on seeing the environment where her new client lived, not willing to compromise on this issue. She and Grace needed to undergo extensive searches before they were admitted, with the prison staff conducting almost everything but cavity checks.

Being unfamiliar with the prison, Donna had asked Doug for someone more knowledgeable about that world to accompany her. Thus, Grace was selected. The younger woman had peppered Donna with facts about prisons and the death penalty throughout the hour-long drive from Richmond. Donna hadn't found it entirely annoying, though this new information troubled her.

Now, they were just outside the maximum security unit, receiving final instructions from Captain Duffy, who was saying it was all for their safety.

"She's on the bottom tier," he described. "The last cell on the right. You stay to the center until you get right in front of it. Officer Cook will escort you the whole way. You stay by the cell until you are both ready to leave and you stay right with him both ways. You do not go near or talk to another inmate. You do not exchange items with any other inmate. Is that understood?"

Both women nodded, understanding why he was being so firm about these rules. Having people going onto the cell block wasn't a common occurrence. Every possible precaution was being taken to ensure their safety, though they did have to sign liability waivers. After all, this was a maximum security facility, home to the prison's toughest inmates.

"All right," Captain Duffy said, turning to Officer Cook. "They're all yours."

He returned to his office.

"Follow me please," Officer Cook said, his tone all business. He led the way to a large metal door, which another corrections officer in a nearby booth opened remotely. A loud buzzer sounded as the heavy door slid aside, making groaning and metallic clicking noises as it moved along its track. Following Officer Cook's lead, the two women stepped across the threshold.

"Civilians on the tier!" a corrections officer called out. This seemed to be a warning for everyone in uniform to be on alert.

But it didn't seem to change anything. The officers continued patrolling the three or four levels of the unit, occasionally speaking with inmates. Two officers were further down on the second tier, escorting a woman in handcuffs. Inmates kept calling out to one another from their cells while someone was saying something over a P.A. system. The entire structure was made of metal and concrete, looking more like a warehouse than a place where people lived.

Donna was reminded of the trips she took to Sam's Club to stock up for parties and events. Those excursions were much more pleasant than coming here. As she walked deeper into the place, she felt surrounded. There were cells on both sides, ten or more on each. The space between the two sides measured about ten feet across. Donna knew she'd have to drift a lot to be in range for someone to be able to reach out and grab her. But she remembered Captain Duffy's instructions and stayed in the center.

As they walked, a foul smell hit her, though she couldn't place it. She could see inmates in their cells, mostly two women being housed together in the sixty-square-foot spaces while a few were by themselves.

Some women looked back at Donna and Grace, curious about these visitors. Others were reading or applying makeup while others were just lying or sitting on their bunks, not doing anything. One brunette came up to the bars of her cell and sneered at the visitors. They were all wearing orange t-shirts and pants with black numbers stenciled across every article of clothing. On everyone's left wrist were bracelets similar to those for hospital patients.

"These are the toughest gals we've got in the system," Officer Cook said. "Most have a murder charge on their sheet, but almost everyone here has drugs in their history. They're pretty calm most of the time, but it's always a powder keg in here ... you never know when something might blow. I mean, these are women who are potentially spending the rest of their lives in here. They've got little to lose in a situation like that and, in this population, power and respect is everything. Many will do just about anything to get it and keep it. It's a means of survival for them."

Donna wasn't really listening. She was noticing everything around her and it only made her cringe even more. Grace's descriptions had not prepared her for this. Before Doug solicited her, she had worked primarily with students and schools, making plenty of on-site visits to those institutions. But even the dreariest, gloomiest, most dilapidated schools and group homes couldn't compare to this place. Donna's heart raced as she wondered what exactly she had gotten herself into by agreeing to take this case.

She glanced over her shoulder at Grace. The girl seemed to be less scared than she was or maybe she was just better at hiding it. Then again, she was studying criminal law, so this might not be her first time in a prison. as far as she knew, Donna had never even driven past a prison. Deciding to follow whatever sort of example Grace might be setting, she wiped her sweaty hands inside the pockets of her pants and put on the bravest face she could muster.

After what felt like the longest walk of Donna's life, they reached the last cell on the right side of the bottom tier. Sarah was there, lying face-down on her bunk. She was one of the few women to have a cell to herself. Since she was the state's only condemned woman, and the first to face execution in Virginia in nearly a hundred years, the prison did not have an official section dubbed "Death Row". According to Doug, the officers instead applied a few extra security measures, such as not assigning her a cellmate.

"Open 36!" Officer Cook said into his radio.

As the bars slid aside, he looked at Sarah.

"Griffin, your visitors are here."

Sarah didn't move or speak.

"She's in her own little world again," a dark-haired woman in the neighboring cell said, stepping up to the bars. "She thinks she's too good for this place. Why does she get people coming to her cell anyway? The baby-killer's that special?"

"Mind your own business," Officer Cook cautioned.

Donna watched as the woman glared at him, baring teeth which a dentist would be interested in fixing. She glanced back down the row of cells, wondering how long it'd take to reach the end.

"Bet it's because she's now a cripple," the woman remarked. "Doesn't make her special in my book."

She turned towards Sarah's cell, barred from being able to see into it by a concrete wall.

"You hear that?" she hissed loudly. "You ain't special. You're a rotten, whoring baby-killer and you deserve everything that's coming at you. Mark my words."

"Mind your own business," Officer Cook repeated, "or I'll write you up."

The woman glared at him.

"That's supposed to scare me?" she queried. "I'll be collecting social security when I get out of here. You gonna push that back because I'm exercising my right to speak freely?"

She then noticed Donna and was about to add something.

"I can have your visiting privileges yanked," Officer Cook replied, his even tone and stern expression never wavering. "Maybe for a month or two."

The woman's eyes narrowed as she looked at him again.

"Fine," she said, "but tell Ms. Cripple she ought to have just killed her boyfriend ... lot less messy. Being the jilted woman ain't worth killing some innocent babies."

She retreated to her bunk and picked up a magazine. Sarah was still face-down, seemingly oblivious to everything that just happened.

Donna swallowed, trying to stay calm. Her legs wouldn't stop shaking. She glanced at Grace. The younger woman's eyes were darting back and forth, but she showed no other signs indicating fear or concern.

Officer Cook stepped away from Sarah's cell, adding that he'd be watching everything from nearby. Sarah still didn't acknowledge anyone's presence.

To Donna, the cell's layout looked exactly as Doug had described. A single bunk ran along the entire wall on the right side with a small shelf bolted into the concrete by one end. A pillow was on the end closest to the bars, currently mashed against Sarah's face. A thin, gray blanket lay crumpled against the wall. Across from the bunk were a sink and toilet. Donna noticed some things stored underneath the bunk, though she couldn't tell what they were. She could see the hairbrush, toothbrush, soap, and toothpaste crowded around the sink's faucet.

Unsure if her legs would support her, Donna stepped into the cell while Grace stayed by the door, watching. She approached the bunk. Sarah remained face-down, her face buried in her pillow. She was breathing but Donna couldn't imagine she'd be sleeping. How could anyone sleep in a place like this?

"Hello, Sarah," she said. "My name is Donna Smith. I'm the attorney who Doug told you about. Can we talk?"

"Sure," Sarah said, her voice muffled as she kept her face buried in the pillow.

"Can you look at me?"

Sarah didn't move.

"I've heard you've been getting some injuries in here because you're not getting the help you need," Donna said, crouching down. "I wanna know what's going on."

Sarah still didn't move or speak.

"Sarah," Donna tried, "I know nothing about capital punishment. I could not help you in that regard in any way. I am a disability rights attorney. I am here because Doug told me that you need help. If I'm going to help you, I need to really look at you."

Sarah said something, but it was successfully rendered unintelligible because of the pillow.

"What was that?" Donna queried, remaining patient.

"Can you help me get up?" Sarah asked.

"Sure."

Donna had fulfilled requests like this before. Her concerns about being in a prison forgotten, she moved forward to help this disabled woman who was her client.

She took hold of Sarah's shoulders and pulled her up from the mattress. She slid her legs over the side of the bunk and turned her torso so they were facing one another. She kept her hands on Sarah's shoulders to help her stay upright as she crouched down in front of her again. The two women were now at eye-level with one another.

Though she had never seen anyone without eyeballs, this wasn't the most startling sight for Donna. She already found things which were much more concerning. Sarah had cuts and scratches on her face, hands, and arms. She also had a bruise under her right eye socket and some dried blood on her cheek. Donna realized the foul smell she had noticed earlier was stronger in here and she also realized what it was. Sarah probably hadn't had a real chance to clean herself up since she was returned to this cell. Her teeth also looked like they could use a stronger acquaintance with a toothbrush. They weren't as bad as her neighbor's, but they were getting there. There wasn't a white one in the bunch.

Donna gasped but was otherwise able to hold her tongue. Commenting on Sarah's condition wouldn't help the budding trust between them. For her part, Sarah said nothing. Grace stood frozen outside the cell door, watching them both. Donna noticed Her hand reflexively moving towards her pocket as if to get her phone. They had to leave those in the car before entering the building, so this gesture wouldn't help.

"What happened to you?" Donna asked, focusing on Sarah again.

"Where do I start?" Sarah asked.

"Wherever. Just tell me everything."

Sarah sniffled.

"I regularly fall out of bed," she described. "I then have to pull myself back up into it all by myself, something I do not have the strength for all the time. Sometimes, I just continue sleeping on the floor. I can't use the showers because I can't get in there in a wheelchair. Occasionally, they'll bring a bucket for me to get cleaned with in here. I hurt myself on the stone walls and this metal bunk all the time. If I need to use the bathroom, I have to crawl over there and it takes all my effort and willpower to not fall off the toilet. The only thing that gets done around here is the delivery of my pills."

She began to cry.

"It's worse than ever in here," she continued. "I can't do anything. I just wanna die."

She broke down sobbing. Donna carefully set her back on her bunk so she was lying on her side. She stepped back into the corridor and walked up to Officer Cook, demanding he summon Captain Duffy right away. She could hear the woman snickering in the neighboring cell, but she ignored this.

The captain soon arrived, wondering what the cause of this sudden uproar was.

"What ... on ... Earth?" Donna asked through gritted teeth, still absorbing what she just saw and heard.

Captain Duffy seemed unable to come up with a reply. Donna heard the woman in the neighboring cell snicker again, but she kept ignoring this.

"How can you let her do this to herself?" she asked, pointing at Sarah, still lying in her cell, some of her injuries now visible. "This is no place for her. she cannot live like this."

She watched Grace go into the cell and crouch down by the bunk. the younger woman said something to Sarah but was speaking too softly for Donna to hear.

"I've put in reports about it," Captain Duffy said. "I'm aware that there are problems."

Donna whirled to face him again.

"We're way beyond 'problems'," she snapped. "She is endangering her life and health like this. I wouldn't be surprised if she already has an infection of some kind."

"Miss," Captain Duffy replied, "I have done everything I could do."

"Then let me speak to your supervisor."

* * *

Donna wasn't entirely surprised when Captain Duffy's supervisor passed her along to his own supervisor. She simply demanded to speak to the next person up the chain of command and got the same run-around as the first time. This happened again before Grace suggested they just go straight to the warden. Donna demanded such a meeting, all concerns about being inside a prison forgotten.

The prison warden, Susan Cryer, agreed to meet with them at 3:00 that afternoon. Donna made sure to be outside her office by two and made it clear she was fine waiting. When she was admitted and seated, she proceeded to repeat all the problems Sarah was having. Warden Cryer said she hadn't received any reports, but Donna didn't care about what might have happened to the paperwork.

"You are endangering Sarah's health," she said. "I am not leaving this prison until I know her situation has begun improving."

She briefly wondered if the warden would call this bluff and stick her in a cell.

"There are procedures and protocols ..." Warden Cryer began.

"You allowed Sarah to grow her hair out before her last execution so it could be donated to make wigs for cancer patients," Donna pointed out, having heard about this from Doug.

"Allowances can be made in certain cases."

"In 1998, the warden of this prison refused to enforce a state-wide ban on cosmetics for female inmates. she did it because she felt that the women had a right to these cosmetics if they wanted them. This is a far more serious infraction on someone's rights than withholding makeup and you are sitting there telling me that you can't do anything?"

"The department was concerned about drugs being smuggled into the facility in the cosmetic cases. we already had the equipment available for us to pick up on these sorts of attempts, so it didn't ..."

"You are killing Sarah's spirit. The state sentenced her to die and you are now killing her spirit So that when the execution date rolls around, she's nothing but an empty shell wanting to go ... that is if she doesn't accidentally kill herself first because of your negligence."

"State protocol mandates a Death Row inmate is held in a maximum security unit. our maximum security unit isn't equipped to handle ..."

"I don't want to hear it. one of three things is going to happen today. Sarah's accommodations are improved, she is transferred to a location that can properly accommodate her basic needs, or I file a lawsuit against this department, this facility, and you."

Having made her point, Donna crossed her arms, waiting for a response. This was no different than the cases she'd handled on behalf of disabled students. She understood Sarah would not be leaving this prison, but there had to be a better place within the facility for her.

Warden Cryer took a minute or so to think things over before she reached for a radio on her desk.

"Warden to base," she said, watching Donna as she spoke.

"Base here," A voice responded.

"Have a stretcher sent down to the maximum security unit. Have Sarah Griffin transferred to the infirmary. I want her held there until further notice."

"Copy."

Warden Cryer put the radio back and surveyed Donna.

"It's a temporary solution," she pointed out. "We don't have the expertise."

"Leave that to me," Donna said. "You'll just work with what I put together."

Warden Cryer didn't say anything, So Donna ended things with a terse "thank you" and left the office.

* * *

Having left Grace with Sarah, Donna found them in the prison hospital's main room. She was struck by how much this place looked like any other hospital. Tall curtains partitioned the area, each space having a stretcher and various medical equipment. The only noticeable difference was a row of cells along one wall.

Sarah was lying on a stretcher, one wrist cuffed to its side, as a nurse examined her. It turned out she'd contracted a minor infection in one eye socket.

"We'll start her on some antibiotics," The nurse said.

Donna nodded, indicating she wanted to be alone with her client. The nurse walked away. Out of the corner of her eye, Donna noticed a corrections officer watching them from across the room.

"I've spoken with the warden," she reported, stepping up to the side of the stretcher. "you're gonna stay here until I come up with a way to keep you safe and everyone else happy."

"Okay," Sarah said flatly. "thanks, I guess."

"Sarah, why did you not say anything when this first started? Doug and your family saw your injuries and you avoided explaining them."

"They've got enough on their plate."

"That's no excuse. Look, my job is to get people what they need to be as independent as possible. That includes you. Now it's gonna take time, so you'll have to rely on the folks around here for a little while. If anything goes wrong or you feel you're not getting what you need, I want you to say something to Doug or Grace or anyone else immediately. It is my job to come running. I do not know the first thing about filing any appeals in your case, so this is my only responsibility. You got that?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Sarah didn't sound convinced, but Donna would take it for now.

* * *

"I knew things weren't rainbows and puppies for her in there, but I didn't realize it was this bad," Doug said with a scowl. "I wish she'd told me something."

"Forget it," Donna said with a wave of her hand. "she knows to tell you from here on out."

They were sitting in Doug's office, recapping Donna's first meeting with Sarah. Grace had to go back to North Carolina, so the women parted company shortly after leaving the prison.

"The only thing which is working is that she's getting the heart, liver, and kidney medication she needs," Donna continued, frustrated. "just enough to keep her alive for the time being. Everything else the department is doing is garbage. It's not helping her whatsoever."

"So, what happens now?" Doug asked.

"We'll need to install support rails in Sarah's cell. I doubt the Department of Corrections will ever be game for letting her keep a wheelchair in there and I got the distinct impression that they don't want to transfer her, as much as having her where she is now only serves as a major inconvenience for everybody."

"To them, she's a condemned killer. one of the most high-profile women in the state, especially with this mess still brewing."

It had been three months since the botched electrocution and the story was still mentioned across the various news networks, mainly because the investigation into what happened was ongoing.

"we'll have to compromise," Donna concluded. "Don't worry. That's my specialty."

Disability rights and education law cases didn't often go to court. They were instead settled via other means, such as mediation.

"The Department of Corrections won't be too keen on putting anything in Sarah's cell that can be deemed a potential weapon," Doug cautioned. "You're talking about installing support rails while they're thinking about how she'd use those rails to assault corrections officers."

Donna understood he didn't mean to sound pessimistic, but he was right. The Department of Corrections had to consider the risks. Even she understood that.

"We'll just have to find a way to appease them," she said. "I'll make some calls."

"What about Sarah herself?" Doug asked. "What can we do for her?"

"Her living circumstances set aside, it's kind of a unique situation. sure, plenty of people have more than one disability, but they don't often start out with more than one so severe at the same time. We're looking at a real cross-section. I know Braille So I can teach her."

"She's known a blind guy for years. she might know some already."

"She'll need to learn how to manage herself," Donna continued, not concerned with Sarah's history with blindness. "hygiene, organization, etc. I can round up an occupational therapist for that. The most important thing is she'll need physical therapy. She needs to gain some upper-body strength and learn how to move around without hurting herself."

Doug raised an eyebrow so it arched over the lens of his sunglasses.

"How many physical therapists do you know?" he queried.

"Plenty," Donna replied. "Not too many will be keen about entering a prison to do their work. Plus, Sarah's paralysis is pretty advanced, so we'll need someone who can work with her. I know a guy I might be able to convince."

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Garrett White said, his slight southern drawl evident as he spoke. "You want me to load up my equipment, take it all into a maximum security prison, and work with a woman who butchered three people and threw a fourth down some stairs and who could very well die for all of it? Did I get that right?"

"Yes," Donna said as though this wasn't so strange. "Though she didn't really butcher anyone. The victims were stabbed and their throats were slit."

"Much better."

Donna, Doug, and Garrett were in Garrett's office, where Donna was outlining Sarah's condition for the physical therapist, waiting until the end of her narrative to mention where this new client lived.

Garret White was a bald man of average height. Though he looked almost as thin as her, Donna knew he was pretty strong ... at least strong enough to move his clients as needed. Deceiving appearances. He wore glasses, which he secured with a band around the back of his head while he worked. He always wore blue pants and some sort of dark-colored polo shirt. Today's color was forest green.

"You're crazy," Garrett said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Hey," Donna shot back. "A week ago, I never thought I'd walk into a prison. It's not much more of a stretch for you to do the same now."

"No way."

"Oh, come on. You'll just turn this woman away because of where she is?"

"Yes."

Garrett said this with a note of finality. His tone was much like what Donna used with Warden Cryer. He said it as though his response wasn't strange at all.

"Garrett, this is me," Donna said. "How many clients have I sent your way over the years?"

"Don't get me wrong," Garrett said. "I'm grateful. I've even managed to kick a few folks back to you. But this is above and beyond any of that. This woman is a killer."

Doug was about to say something when Donna asked him to wait outside. Reluctant, he left and she turned on Garrett.

"Look," she said, "I don't care what you think about her guilt or innocence. I don't care what the crime that landed her on Death Row was. I don't care. But this girl is scared and upset. She thinks the next trip to the toilet in her own cell could get her killed."

Donna could tell Garrett's willpower was beginning to falter.

"Please," she said. "Just help her. If you think the state should kill her, fine. Just don't let her die now because she didn't get the help she needed."

Garrett looked at her for a long time. Then, his shoulders slumped.

"Fine," he conceded, "but if she tries to shank me, I'm out of there."

Donna couldn't tell if he was being serious or sarcastic, but she didn't care.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you."

If she didn't have the good sense to remain professional, she'd have hugged him. That, and if the idea of doing so didn't make her very uncomfortable. Why couldn't she be so confident in social situations?

"When do I start?" Garrett asked in a defeated tone.

"I'll call you," Donna replied. "I just need to work out the details with the Department of Corrections. Thanks again."

She left the physical therapy clinic, keeping her pace down to a brisk walk.

"You owe me big for this!" Garrett called after her.

Donna waved her hand back at him.

* * *

Doug was finishing up a phone call and swearing when Donna came outside. His angry expression turned to skepticism when she told him Garrett was on board.

"Really?" he queried. "That guy?"

"I know," Donna agreed. "But he knows what he's doing and he won't sabotage Sarah because of what he thinks, so I'll take his beliefs along with his skills. We don't have many other options."

"Okay," Doug said cautiously as they got into his car.

"So, what was that call all about just now?"

Doug swore again.

"I spoke to Richard. He went out to see Sarah today. He got there and found out she was moved back to her cell last night."

"What?!" Donna asked in shock as Doug began driving. "It's been less than a week. They haven't done anything to help her, right?"

Doug nodded.

"It gets worse," he continued. "Last night, she accidentally rolled off her bunk and broke her nose and chipped a tooth ..."