Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Prison

News of Tracey Whitney's crime and sentencing was featured on the front page of the New Orleans Courier-Journal, along with a photo of her taken by the police department.Several major news agencies carried the news to their respective newspapers across the country.As Tracy was led out of the courtroom to be sent to state prison, a group of television reporters surrounded her.She covered her face, trying to avoid this humiliation, but she couldn't escape the lens of the camera no matter what.Joe Romano was in the news, and it was even bigger news when a beautiful female thief tried to murder him.Tracy felt surrounded by enemies.Charles will get me out, she kept saying to herself.God, let Charles save me.Our children cannot be born in prison.

The officer on duty did not allow Tracy to use the phone until the next afternoon.Harriet answered the phone. "This is Mr. Stannob's office." "Harriet, this is Tracy Whitney. I want to speak to Mr. Stannob." "Wait a minute, Miss Whitney." She heard the secretary's voice hesitate. "I—I'll see if Mr. Stannob is here." After an excruciatingly long wait, Tracy finally heard Charles' voice.She was so happy that she almost cried. "Charles..." "Tracey? Is that you, Tracy?" "It's me, honey. Oh, Charles, I've been meaning to talk to you..."

"I'm going crazy, Tracy! The papers here are full of horrible things about you. I can't believe what they're reporting." "That's not true, dear. None of it. I..." "Why didn't you call me?" "I called and couldn't talk to you. I..." "Where are you now?" "In--in a jail in New Orleans. They're going to lock me up, Charles. I'm not guilty of the crime they say." She sobbed. "Don't hang up. Listen to me. The newspaper said you shot a man. Isn't that true?" "I shot him, but..."

"Then it is true?" "It's not what they say, my dear. Not at all. I can tell you the details. I..." "Tracey, they said you committed murder and stole famous paintings. Have you already pleaded guilty?" "Yes, Charles, but only because..." "God, need the money so much, you should tell me...to kill people...I can't believe it's true, my parents are like me. You made the Philadelphia Journal headlines this morning News. There has never been a scandal like this in the Stannob family." Tracy heard Charles struggling to control his voice, and she realized how miserable and hopeless Charles was.She was expecting Charles to come out and support her, but he took their side.She restrained herself from screaming. "Honey, I need you. Come to me. You can help me out."

There was a long silence. "I don't seem to be able to help much. You've admitted those things, what else can I do? Our family can't have anything to do with this kind of scandal. You must understand that this incident has hit us too hard. It seems that, I didn't really know you before." Every sentence was like a heavy hammer, and the sky above her head fell down on her body.Never in her life had she felt so alone and alone.Who will she beg, who will she sue? "So—what about the child?" "You'll have to figure out what to do with your kids," Charles said. "I'm sorry, Tracy." The phone hung up.

She stood there, holding the dead receiver in her hand. A prisoner behind her said to her, "If you're done, baby, I've got to call my lawyer." When Tracy returned to the cell, the female guard informed her: "Leave in the morning and get ready. I will pick you up at five o'clock." Someone came to see him.It had only been dozens of hours since I last saw Tracy, but Otto Schmidt looked like he had aged several years.He looked haggard, as if sick. "Let me tell you, my wife and I are very sad. We know that whatever happens, it's not your fault."

If only Charles had said so! "My wife and I are going to Mrs. Doris's funeral tomorrow." "Thank you, Otto." Mom and I will be buried tomorrow, Tracy thought sadly. She couldn't sleep all night, lying on the narrow bunk in the cell, staring at the ceiling.She thought over and over again the conversation she had with Charles.He never gave her a chance to defend herself. She has to think about what to do with the baby.She had read stories of women giving birth in prison, but those things had nothing to do with her at the time, and the people seemed to live on another planet.Now, this kind of thing is her turn.You've got to figure out what to do with your kids yourself, that's what Charles said.She is going to have a baby.Still, she thought, they won't let me raise my kids.They'll take the baby away because I'm going to be here for fifteen years and the kid better not know who his mother is.

She sobbed. At five o'clock in the morning, a male guard, accompanied by a female guard, entered Tracy's cell. "Is that Tracy Whitney?" "Yes." She was surprised, her voice sounded odd. "By order of the Louisiana Criminal Court in Orleans County, you are ordered to be transferred immediately to the South Louisiana Women's Penitentiary. Let's go, girl." She was led down long corridors and past rows of cells filled with prisoners.The prisoners yelled at her and booed. "Bon trip, baby..." "Where did you hide the painting, Tracy baby, I'm going to share the money with you..."

"If you go to prison, go to Ernestine Littlechap, she will take good care of you..." Tracy walked past the telephone she had spoken to Charles. Goodbye, Charles. She walks into a courtyard.A prison wagon with bars on the windows was parked there, the engine not yet running.Five or six female prisoners were already sitting in the car, and two armed guards were guarding them.Tracy studied the faces of her traveling companions.One seemed rebellious, another was numb and lethargic, and the others were downcast.Their previous lives are coming to an end.They are expelled from society, and will be driven into cages again, like a herd of wild beasts.Tracy wondered what crimes they had committed, whether anyone was as innocent as she was.She wondered what expression they saw on her face.

The drive to the prison was long and endless, and the car was hot and smelly, but Tracy didn't notice it.She was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she was oblivious to her traveling companions and the verdant countryside the prison van was passing through.She's in another time, another place. She was a little girl on the beach with her mother and her father.Dad carried her into the sea on his shoulders, and she cried, and Dad said, don't be afraid, Tracy.He threw her into the cold water.The water was over her head, she panicked and felt suffocated, her father lifted her out of the water and lowered her again, since then she has been afraid of the water...

The auditorium of the college was full of students, parents, relatives and friends.She gave the valedictorian speech on behalf of the class.She spoke for fifteen minutes, and her speech was full of high ideals, vaguely recalling the past and looking hopefully to the bright future.The dean gave her a key to the outstanding students' fraternity.I'll give it to you, Tracy said to Mom.The proud look on my mother's face is really touching... I'm going to Philadelphia, Ma, I got a job at a bank. Her best friend, Anne Maller, called.Tracy, you're going to love Philadelphia.The cultural life here is extremely rich, the scenery is beautiful, and there is a shortage of women.I mean, the men here are really hungry!I can help you find a job at this bank where I work... Charles shared the bed with her.Looking at the projection on the ceiling, she thought, how many girls are envious of me!Charles is the object of many women's pursuit.She was suddenly ashamed of the thought.She loves him very much. "You! I'm talking to you! Are you deaf? Time to go." Tracy looked up. She was still in the yellow prison van.The prison van was parked within the eerie stone walls of the five hundred acres of pastures and woodlands enclosed by nine walls topped with barbed wire, the South Louisiana Prison for Women. "Come out," said the guard, "here we are." To hell.