Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Robert Presley Detention Center
Riverside, California
Jack walked slowly into the lobby of the Robert Presley Detention Center, Lizzy toddling along beside him. Rose had called him half an hour earlier to tell him that she had been released and needed to be picked up.
Rose was sitting in the lobby, thumbing idly through an ancient magazine, when he arrived, looking none the worse for her night in jail. She hadn’t told him why she’d been released, or exactly what had happened, promising to tell him when she didn’t have an audience.
She looked up as he came in, setting the magazine aside. Leaping to her feet, she ran to him and hugged him, then scooped Lizzy up and swung her around.
"Mommy!" The little girl giggled in delight. She’d been very worried when her mother hadn’t come home the night before, even after her father had explained to her that Rose had gotten into some trouble and was doing a grown-up’s time out.
"Lizzy!" Rose gave her a hug, then set her down. "It’s about time you got here," she told Jack. "I was about ready to start walking. After all, UCR is only a couple of miles away, and I’ve walked so much since we’ve been there that it would be a piece of cake. But I didn’t want to worry you by disappearing. Besides, Mari told me that they were going to release her this morning, too, so I was waiting for her."
"Well, we’re glad to have you back. What happened, by the way? Did someone bail you out? Do you have to show up in court?"
Rose shook her head. "They let me out because I’m not being charged with anything. The cop who arrested me is in trouble for doing so. It seems that he’s repeatedly arrested people who are not committing crimes and are not suspected of committing crimes—mainly people who happen to annoy some bigwig. But I think he’s done it one time too many."
"And what about Mari?"
"You were right. She’s only being charged with misdemeanors. She has to be in court tomorrow, but she shouldn’t be in too much trouble—she’ll probably just get a few days in jail or community service."
"And when did you get to be a legal expert?"
Rose shrugged, then grinned. "One of my cellmates was a hooker. She’s been arrested several times, so she knows a lot about how these things work."
"You do meet some interesting people, Rose."
"Hey, I’m not the only jailbird around here." She looked at him significantly.
Jack nodded, conceding her point. "So, how was your night in jail?"
"Well...I’ve had more pleasant experiences...but I survived. I…um…I tried to start a new protest, over the fact that minorities and the poor tend to get harsher sentences for the same crimes and are arrested more often than those who happen to be rich and white, and also speaking out against filling the prisons with people who haven’t actually harmed anyone." She paused, looking a bit guilty. "It didn’t work so well. I thought it was a good idea, and so did my cellmates—they were the ones who gave me the idea in the first place—but the guards were afraid they’d have a riot on their hands, so they shut it down pretty fast and separated me from the others. I wound up in a cell by myself where I couldn’t start anything." She looked up at him. "I’m still not sorry, though, about anything except that the demonstration at Raincross Square got out of hand."
"Your demonstration, out of control or not, may have helped, believe it or not. There was an article about it on the front page of the newspaper this morning, and then there was a smaller article saying that the plans to develop the hills behind UCR have been canceled."
"Really?" Rose’s eyes lit up. "Then there is a point to speaking out!"
"It may have been just the push that was needed. Then again," Jack cautioned her, “it may have been something else that made the developers and city council people change their minds, but I think the newspaper supported the decision. In spite of their claims of unbiased reporting, the Press-Enterprise doesn’t hide the opinions of its editors well.”
Rose grabbed his hands, whirling him around. "This is great! Even if the protest wasn’t the reason why things were decided for the better, it’s still wonderful news." She picked Lizzy up. "Isn’t it, Busy Lizzy?"
Lizzy just stared at her, not sure what was going on or what her mother was so excited about. She put a finger in her mouth, then giggled as her mother danced around with her.
Rose handed Lizzy to Jack. "I’m going to find out if Mari is going to be released any time soon. Then we can go." She walked up to the window separating several jail employees from the lobby.
"Can I help you?" The man at the desk looked at her strangely, wondering if she’d managed to obtain some illegal substance in jail. Rose’s antics were unusual, to say the least.
"Mari Lopez is supposed to be released this morning. Do you know when she’ll be out?"
The man stared at her, not sure how to answer the question. "I’m not sure I can give you that information," he told her. "Let me ask my supervisor."
Rose tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to come back. When he returned, she leaned on the desk. "Well?"
"We don’t know when she’ll be released. Her immigration status is being checked."
Rose gave him a confused look. "Her immigration status? Why do you need to check that? She was born in this city."
"Until we can get those records—and that can take some time, bureaucracy being what is—she’ll have to stay here. We need to make sure she isn’t here illegally."
"Mari’s not an immigrant. She was born in Riverside!"
"We have to check."
"Then why aren’t you checking my background, then? I might be an illegal immigrant."
"There’s no indication that you’re not an American."
"Why? Because I’m white and have the last name of Dawson? My maiden name was DeWitt-Bukater—quite a mouthful. How do you know I’m not here illegally?"
The man sighed, annoyed. "We’re psychic."
Rose stared at him, her mouth twisting in contempt. "Bullshit!"
"Besides, your husband is American—I’m assuming the man over there is your husband?"
Rose nodded, but didn’t give up. "He’s from Wisconsin—up near another foreign country, Canada. How do you know he’s not Canadian?"
"Because, if what you say is true, he’s from Wisconsin, which is in the United States. Now, get out of here."
"Well, if you believe me about him, why don’t you believe me about Mari?"
"Look, lady—"
"It’s because her last name is Lopez, isn’t it? A Hispanic name—which you assume means she’s an illegal immigrant from Mexico—even though she was born in Riverside."
"Look, I don’t have anything to do with it. It’s the judge’s call, not mine. Now—"
"If I bring a copy of her birth certificate from the county, will you let her out?"
"No."
"Well, then, if you’re going to violate her rights as an American citizen, you’ll have to violate mine, too. I’m going back in."
She strode to the door leading to the area where visitors could talk to inmates, only to find it locked. Yelling, she banged on the door, demanding to be let in.
"Rose!" Jack called, setting Lizzy in a chair and hurrying after her. "Stop! Do you want to get into more trouble?"
A guard from the lobby took hold of her arm. "You’re being released from jail, and that’s final. You’ve caused enough trouble already."
"No!" Rose yanked her arm away, heading for the door again.
Jack was about to stop her when the guard shouted at him, "She’s your wife! Call her off!"
At that, he stepped back. Call Rose off? Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. She was his wife, not his dog—and she had a mind of her own. He wasn’t about to try to stop her.
The guard had pinned her arms to her side. Even as she kicked and shouted furiously, he picked her up and carried her toward the door.
"Put me down! Put me down right now! You’re not supposed to touch me!"
"You’re right." He set her down at the door, opened it, and shoved her through. "I don’t want to see you back in here!" He slammed the door behind her.
Jack waited a moment, not sure if Rose would come bursting through the door again, then followed her out. She was stalking across the parking lot toward the car, her posture giving away her fury.
"Rose..." He caught up to her, Lizzy balanced on his hip.
Rose just stomped around to the passenger side of the car. "That sanctimonious son of a bitch!"
Jack knew better than to argue with her when she was in this mood. Unlocking the doors, he buckled Lizzy into her seat and got into the car, giving Rose a chance to calm down.
But at the sight of her mutinous, scowling face, her lower lip stuck out comically, he couldn’t help it. He started laughing, inciting more ire from Rose.
"What’s so funny?" she demanded, glowering at him.
"I’m sorry, Rose, but that scene in there..." He clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stop laughing, to no avail. "I’ve never seen anyone so determined to go back to jail before."
"They’re violating Mari’s rights. She is a citizen. Some of her ancestors have streets named after them!"
Jack finally stopped laughing. "Be that as it may, you won’t help her by breaking into jail. That will just cause more trouble. Trust me on this."
"They won’t even let me help clear her name! I could get her birth certificate from the county records and bring it in, but no. They want her to sit in jail while they fight through the red tape! And here you sit, laughing about it!"
"That’s not what I was laughing at. You looked so funny—"
"Don’t tell me how funny I look! I’m trying to do the right thing here!"
"Look, Rose, I know you’re trying to help. And you’re right. There’s plenty of proof that Mari is an American citizen—and it shouldn’t be that hard to find. Driver’s license, social security number, university records, birth certificate...all of those. But staying in jail won’t help. You can probably do more good out here by finding out why this happens."
"Save me the ‘I know more about jail than you’ spiel, Jack. I don’t want to hear it right now. Let’s just go back to the college, okay?"
"Fine." Jack sighed, pulling out of the parking lot and turning back toward University Avenue. They drove back to the university in silence.