As the summer heat gave way to end of the season breezes, Dr. Price ordered me on bed rest once I was released from Southern Maryland Hospital. The only thing I was allowed to do was visit a cadre of doctors.
Tracy and John took turns taking me. I tried to schedule most of the appointments on Mondays because Tracy didn’t do hair on that day. But on the days when she couldn’t take me, John was right there with me; no pressure.
With nothing else to do, my TV stayed on the news channels, CNN and MSNBC. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t get enough of this political stuff. I was excited, though. America would have its first female President. I knew there was no way America would vote for an inexperienced, outwardly racist, arrogant throw-back from an era long gone. Who would want to travel back in time after the service of President Obama?
“Emails? Why are you so worried about emails?” I screamed at the commentator trying to over talk Van Jones on CNN. Just then my phone rang.
“Mrs. Jackson, this is Detective Smith from the Fifth District police station. How are you?”
“I’m doing good.”
“I hope my news makes your day great.”
News?
“The suspect in the murder of your husband is going to take a plea to second-degree murder.”
“What’s second-degree murder?” I asked as I picked up the remote control to turn down the volume on the TV.
“There was no premeditation on the suspect’s part.” Detective Smith spoke plainly as though teaching a class. He continued. “We can put him at the scene through eyewitnesses, cameras and his cigarette lighter. He knew there was no need to go to trial.”
Then I remembered what his mother told me, that she’d do what she could to ensure he’d tell the truth. I was sure she had gotten through to him.
“With him pleading guilty, how long would his sentence be?”
“Twenty years to life. The prosecution will push for the strongest sentence. The prosecutor assigned to your husband’s case is Pamela Wiggins. She will be in contact with you.”
I was quiet for a minute, feeling conflicted. Part of me wanted him sentenced to the letter of the law. But then I thought about his mother and his brother. This situation was tearing everybody up. Every second of every day, I had to focus on breathing. I had to focus on staying healthy for my baby. Then I heard that woman’s voice. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive.
Could I?
“Mrs. Jackson? Are you there?”
The tissue box fell on the floor as I grabbed for it.
“Yes, I’m here. I guess I’m trying to take all of this in.” “Mrs. Wiggins will send you the date and location of the sentencing. She may talk to you about what’s called a victim impact statement.”
He piqued my interest even more.
“What’s that?” I asked sitting up on the bed.
“Well, it can be either written or oral. But, it’s a statement that someone directly connected to the crime makes. It gives the judge an opportunity to hear how the crime has affected the victim or the victim’s loved ones.”
I’ll get a chance to speak for myself, my baby and Brian. Talking to the prosecution was something that I wanted to do now; I was not waiting for them to call me. I wanted to support the state’s case. The murderer needed to spend as much time as possible in jail for killing my husband.
“Please email me Mrs. Wiggins’ contact information.” “I’ll send it to you now.”
I thanked Detective Smith, and we hung up. Up next, talking to the prosecution to let them know that I wanted to make a statement on sentencing day. I would do everything that I could to ensure that the murderer was sentenced to as much time as he could get under the letter of the law.