Mom Protected My Attacker, I Went to Prison

In my fifth year in prison, my mother visited for the first time.

She was a nationally renowned lawyer and the key witness whose testimony put me here.

We picked up the phones on either side of the thick glass. Her eyes were red when she asked how I had been all these years.

I told her I was fine.

Just before the visit ended, she said, “Aubrey, I bought a house in Havenwood. You will be out in three days. We can start over.”

I smiled but said nothing.

We could not start over.

She did not know that to end the suffering of my cellmate Brenda, who had late stage cancer, I helped her die.

For that, I was sentenced to death.

My execution date was in three days.

A cold draft seeped in through the cracks in the iron window.

Only the static hum of the phone line filled the visitation room.

Mom took a stack of documents from her bag and pressed them against the glass.

“Aubrey Hayes, this is the deed. It’s in your name.”

“And this is a letter of recommendation for the art school you always wanted. I’ve arranged everything.”

Mom pointed at the documents, then instinctively looked toward me.

“After you’re released, go abroad for a while. Let things settle. Come back when people have forgotten…”

I nodded, offering a few polite, dismissive words.

Seeing the visitation time was nearly over, I hung up and stood to leave.

As I rose, my mother suddenly slapped her palm against the glass, agitated.

“Aubrey, are you still mad at me?”

“No need.”

I took a few steps back, keeping my distance. My voice was calm.

“Ms. Hayes, please mind your image.”

“I wouldn’t want your colleagues to misunderstand.”

As I turned to leave, she seemed to call out something.

The soundproofing was too good-I didn’t hear it clearly.

Only my prison uniform was soaked with cold sweat, sticky and uncomfortable.

I casually rolled up my damp sleeve.

In the dim light, the old scars from where I’d cut my wrists years ago became visible.

I paused, then remembered.

Today marked my fifth year in prison. Seeing Mom, there was no hatred as I’d imagined, none of the hysteria from when I was first locked up.

I was calm, as if looking at a stranger.

Back in the cell block, the guard had already opened the iron door.

I pulled down my sleeve and walked towards my bunk.

Brenda, the woman on the bottom bunk, a convicted murderer, gave me a complex smile.

“Hey kid, you’re back? I’ve sorted out all your stuff for you.”

“Take a look, see if there’s anything you want to keep. Anything you don’t need, just toss it. Might as well leave cleanly.”

I opened the box. The first thing I saw was a fountain pen Mom had given me before I was incarcerated.

It had a few words engraved on it:

“To my beloved daughter, Aubrey Hayes.”

Brenda suddenly became interested.

She leaned over and said, “Oh, your mom gave you this? Looks expensive. She must have really doted on you back then.”

She eagerly looked at the engraving on the pen.

After seeing the familiar signature, she froze, her voice trembling slightly.

“Victoria Hayes?”

“Is that the ‘Iron Lady’ of the legal world?”

“The top attorney who never lost a case, who sent countless powerful figures to prison?!”

Brenda’s gaze shifted to me, filled with shock and bewilderment.

“Aubrey, your mom’s so incredible, how on earth did you end up in here?”

I tossed the pen into the trash, my voice flat.

“Because I’m her daughter.”

The daughter she personally fabricated testimony against and sent to prison to avoid any hint of impropriety.