Stories of the Falsely Accused – The Text Messages

Most days, he sat alone. There was a squat oak tree on the south side of the yard that gave enough shade to make the heat bearable. More than that, it was quiet.  Nobody bothered him there. The razor wire that surrounded the prison was just out of sight, so he could pretend he was free again.

He wasn’t. For the next twelve years this would be his home. Venture ten feet beyond the tree and he was back in hell again.  Although it was minimum security, drugs were still everywhere. Gang fights broke out regularly just beyond the guards sight. He always had to watch his back, just in case.

Still, he shouldn’t be there. A few years earlier his ex-girlfriend accused him of sexual assault. He denied it then even as he denied it while incarcerated.  People advised him to get a good lawyer, so he got one that was highly recommended. The lawyer took the case, and advised him to seek a plea deal. The evidence against him was too much. He was told that winning was impossible; especially in a case like this.  A few weeks later, he stood in front of the judge and signed the papers, twelve years instead of twenty-five. 

There was never any assault. They had dated for two years. They had been intimate the entire time. He was the reason for their breakup (a fact he never denied), but never assaulted her. One week after he took the plea deal, his defense lawyer took over the position of district attorney.  That lawyer also took credit for putting another violent sexual predator behind bars.

So he sits and thinks, and tries to stay out of the way. He knows he’s not the only one. 

The evidence they had against him was an argument he and his ex-girlfriend had through text messages, and her story.  A decent attorney would have fought and won the his case.  He and his ex did fight. Shortly after that they broke up, and he moved out; weeks after she said it happened. There was no real proof, but the police are allowed to lie, the prosecution is allowed to lie, and his ex-girlfriend, apparently, is allowed to lie. 

So he sits and thinks, but there is nothing he can do. Time’s up. It has only been an hour. The guard shouts “Yard’s closed!” He walks back to his building, mentally preparing for the drugs, filth, and violence that wait for him. Three steps in. He wasn’t a criminal before but he has learned to be just like them.

Still, most days he sits alone.