Six Months Later
The trial was short and sweet. With so many eye-witnesses to the crime at Cody’s and Dirk’s two prior arrests for assault, it only took the jury five hours to render the verdict. Dirk was convicted on a “First Degree Murder” charge and given forty to life by the judge, with no chance for parole. Unless he lived to be nearly one hundred years old, Dirk Harrison would die in prison. His court-appointed attorney made a weak attempt to get the judge to reduce the sentence, but because to the violent nature of the crime, the judge refused.
During the sentencing phase, the judge made no secret of his disdain for Dirk Harrison, calling him a menace to society. As a means of further punishment, the judge assigned him to the dreaded Florida State Penitentiary in Raiford, Florida-a maximum security prison that boasted of such infamous alums as serial killer Ted Bundy, the handsome sociopath who confessed to murdering over fifty women.
Dirk wasted no time in making a name for himself at Raiford. A control freak by nature, he became indignant when the leader of one of the many gangs inside the rough and tumble facility asked him to join his gang. Dirk refused and the gang leader immediately threatened him with bodily harm. Enraged by the threat, later that day Dirk smuggled a knife out of the cafeteria during his kitchen duty and stabbed the man in the back. The wound wasn’t fatal, but Dirk received thirty days in solitary confinement or the “Hole” as the inmates like to call it. After his release from the hole, he was given a brief hearing. At the hearing, prison officials assigned him to the Supermax wing of the prison where only the most violent of the prisoners reside. Dirk found the Supermax facility to be almost unbearable, with little time allotted for exercise and most of the day spent in a small, stark cell with an unprotected toilet sticking out from the back wall. With absolutely no hope for an early release and now living in “Hell”, Dirk became even more uncooperative and surly, spending much of his time in solitary.
It was Wednesday and Dirk was enjoying one of his rare respites from the “Hole”. He was lying on his back on the thin, worn mattress on his tiny bunk staring aimlessly at the ceiling. The narrow bunk was barely long enough to hold his six foot frame. Terribly bored, he yawned and rolled up and out of the bunk. He stepped over and looked through the small barred window above the worn and stained toilet. The light from the morning sun was starting to rise above the bleak, gray brick building next door. He couldn’t see the sun from his cell no matter what the time of day, but at least he could see its light rising above the top of the building in the morning. Back in Lady Lake, he loved to sit at his desk each morning and wrap his thick hands around a warm cup of coffee and look out at the sun rising above the swaying palm trees that lined the shopping center across from his cycle shop. He longed for those days at The Cycle Shop when he was a free man.
After briefly observing the stilted sunlight, he walked back over and fell on his back in his bunk. Prison gives a man a lot of time to think, and since his incarceration, Dirk had been doing a lot of that. He spent a lot of time thinking about his loss of freedom and the loss of control of his life, especially since his assignment to Supermax. He often thought back to the first time he met Cathy Roberts at Cody’s. His buddy Reg had tried to warn him that he was getting in over his head, but he didn’t listen. Certain that he was more than a match for some rich broad at The Villages, he ignored his buddy’s pleas. He remembered how he was turned on by the delicate, expensive looking jewelry she was wearing that night. She was a rich lady on the prowl and he loved it, there was a genuine electricity between them. He regretted now that he never got the “rich bitch” in bed, although he had made it with her over and over again in his imagination. Every time he spoke with her on the phone or met with her, he got aroused. She was the most unique and dangerous person he had ever known. Dirk smiled, but it soon vanished. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Got company coming at ten this morning, Harrison; you got half an hour to clean up and get ready. The Warden wants you looking neat and tidy when you meet with your visitor.” The big guard slid a tray containing a blue Bic razor, a cheap mirror, a small canister of shaving cream, and a pan of water under the small opening at the bottom of the cell.
Dirk rolled quickly up to a sitting position at the mention of a possible guest. Since his incarceration some three months earlier, his only visitors had been his friend, Reg, and his wife, Daisy, on just two occasions. During his trial, aware that he would most probably be going to jail for several years, he had agreed to sell his business to Reg on contract. Nobody else had bothered to make the trip to Raiford, located in northern Florida near Lake City to see him, not even his sister Naomi and his little nephew Earl.
“Who is it? Who’s coming? I never got a visitor application.” His eyes begged more information from the big guard.
“Sorry, you should have gotten a visitor application. I’ll find out why you didn’t. In the meantime, you better get ready. Your guest’s name is Naomi Harrison, must be kin.”
Dirk abruptly turned away from the guard and stared at the dark, cement floor. He spoke quietly, almost under his breath, “It’s kin all right. It’s the only kin I got.” Dirk’s eyes glazed over. The only soft spot in the rock-hard exterior of this ill-disposed man was his sister, Naomi, and his nephew, Earl. Dirk was taken aback by the announcement of the unexpected visit. The forty grand he gave her was the only good thing to come out of the whole sordid experience with Cathy Roberts. He began to sob at the very thought of seeing her. Embarrassed by his tears, he turned away from the guard.
Sensing Dirk’s distress, the hardened guard excused himself. “I’ll be back in ten to pick up the shaving stuff, Harrison.” Dirk could hear the heavy footsteps of the guard moving down the concrete floor to the next cell.
Dirk lifted the blanket off the bed and buried his face in a wadded corner and continued to cry. Years of holding back his emotions seemed to be exploding from inside of him. After several minutes of unbridled sobbing, he was able to stop and wipe his face dry with the wadded blanket. His red, blood shot eyes looked at the clock on the wall across the corridor from his cell. It read 9:41.
Dirk stood and stepped over to the front of his cell and picked up the tray left by the guard. Knowing the guard would be back shortly, he set the tray on his bunk and quickly sat down. He placed the mirror on his knees, shot a wad of shaving cream into his open palm, spread it all over his face and began to shave. No sooner had he finished, than he heard the footsteps of the returning guard. He cupped his hands and ran them through the cool water in the pan, splashed his face clean and quickly dried off with a small towel draped over the head of his bunk. He scooted to the end of his bunk and slid the tray of shaving supplies through the small opening and scooted back to the other end just before the guard arrived.
The big guard stood watching Dirk. There was a wisp of a grin on his square face.
Red-eyed, the combative Dirk, got defensive. “What the hell you staring at, Ellsworth?”
“Calm down, Harrison.” The guard reached inside his pocket and handed Dirk a small comb. “It’s your hair. It’s going every direction.”
Dirk leaned over and snatched the comb out of the guard’s hand and ran it through his hair several times. He handed the comb back to the guard.
I’ll be back in ten minutes, Harrison, be ready!” The guard bent down, lifted the tray and walked away.