The Police Lieutenant's Wife

Angels and Demons

Spring 2022, Salt Lake City, Utah

After endless days, each bleeding into the other, Deirdre came to see Allison.

"I have great news for you," she said, with a Cheshire smile."

Allison looked at Deirdre wanly. She had come to view Deirdre with a great deal of guardedness. Deirdre spoke patronizingly to Allison, as though she were slow-witted. When evidence that Allison was bright confronted Deirdre, she became offended, so Allison often presented as neutral as possible to her attorney. She only expected from Deirdre news that would in some way serve Bonnano.

Deirdre was disappointed that Allison didn't jump at her pronouncement. With resentment she said, "I've worked very hard on this, you could show some gratitude!"

Allison sighed and looked at Deirdre, "I'm sure that you will tell me what the news is," she had grown tired of Deirdre's games.

Deirdre fussed with her skirt. Deirdre had fuzzy, mousy hair. She was younger than Allison, but she looked quite a bit older. She was overweight by at least fifty pounds. Her face was plain, her complexion mottled. And, she frequently had an unpleasant, haughty expression.

Deirdre looked at Allison with a self-satisfied smirk, "You're going to be released," she said, "My former colleague, "Brandy Herringbone who used to work over Mental Health Court as a defense attorney came up with the idea to have you entered in probation there."

Allison guardedly asked, "How would this be done?"

"Well, we just decided that you are Bipolar, and this excuses your crime. At the end of a year's probation, your charge is dismissed."

Allison, slowly digesting the fallacy which was being created said, "But, I am not, and I have not been diagnosed nor seen any mental health professional."

"Oh," said Deirdre, "We already have a record now that you are. It's a legal fiction, but it works to save you, save everyone involved really. It's basically done. You just have to agree to it, and it doesn't matter if you do or don't - unless you want to go to prison. We can have you released in two weeks. Isn't that fabulous?"

Allison, again realized the lengths to which they were protecting Bonnano. So, she wasn't going to be fully guilty, she was going to be found "crazy."

"The attorney who defended Bonnano? Where will I be released to?"

Allison had learned that many inmates with no place to go were found interim or temporary housing in programs for either drug addiction, mental illness, or economic need. While Allison was in jail, her money had been in the bank where Lou was over the fraud department. Her account had been emptied, and the police would not investigate, at the discretion of the bank. She qualified for one of several temporary housing programs. She looked expectantly at Deirdre.

Deirdre played with her paisley, pioneer-style skirt, "Oh, well, there's no program for you. You'll be released to a county mental health provider. They will be providing classes and therapy for you. Your housing will be on the street. You'll have to fend for yourself, you see. You really should not have accused such a good, good man as Lou Bonnano."

Allison said nothing in response, and her face remained impassive. She would not give Deirdre the satisfaction of any emotion or acknowledgement.

Deirdre said, "All you have to do is plead 'No Contest,' and I'll take care of the rest."

After the strip search, Allison was lead back to her cell. Her bunk-mate, Masha, on the top-bunk, was a young girl in her early twenties, a girl who had grown up in foster care. She was a bottle-blonde, very cute in a rough way, in need of orthodontia. Masha had lived on the streets for about four years. She had confided in Allison, had taken to Allison. She had explained about street families and how people adopted each other. She said, 'You be my jail mom 'an shit," at one point to Allison, as she gave Allison half a Poptart, a prized treat in jail, to seal the deal.