I'm Innocent

The Writer’s Cramp

Have this line in bold to begin your story or poem, "They made everybody sign it."

I’m Innocent!

         "They made everybody sign it."  I found myself standing over my antagonist and my words echoed off the concrete walls of the small room.  His eyes were wide, his face drawn in controlled rage as he looked up at me, my heart pounding in my chest. 

         “Calm down and sit down Ms. Gonzales!”  His voice was tempered and stern.  “Just tell it to me again.”  He pushed the glass of water toward me as I settled onto the metal chair.

         “But I’ve told you twice… I don’t know what else I can say…” I sipped at the tepid water.  “They said I couldn’t leave unless I signed it.  It was in Spanish – I don’t speak Spanish – they said it had something to do with my luggage… So I signed it!”

         “What was your business in Cuba?” 

         “My friends sister was getting married, she asked me to come along – I’ve never been to Cuba.  It was free, all expenses paid… So I went!”  It was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.  “Will you tell me why you’re holding me?”

         I felt so exposed.  After they took my clothes, I was put through the embarrassment of a thorough body search and then given a paper hospital gown and paper slippers.  Sometimes I could swear he could see me through the blue paper. 

         His nametag read Nick Dolce, heavy set and balding; his blue eyes flashed at me every time I would answer his questions.  It was like he was trying to look into my soul. 

         “I don’t know what everyone else signed young lady, but you and your friend Cassandra Rocco signed loyalty oaths to the Cuban Republic.”  He put his pen down on the note pad and sat back, his chair squeaked loudly.  “A pound of C-4 was found in your girlfriends suitcase and ten blasting caps sewn in the lining of your jacket.”

         I was searched when we left Havana and nothing was found there and Casey would never be involved… 

         The door opened and two matrons came in.  Nick flipped the folder closed and picked it up as he rose from his seat.  “You are being charged as a terrorist…”

         He took his reading glasses off the bridge of his nose and slipped them into his shirt pocket.  “You have the right to remain silent, if you give up that right, anything you say can and will be held against you.  You have the right to an attorney, if you do not have or cannot afford an attorney, the courts will appoint a public defender to represent you.  Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you, and do you give up any of these rights?”

         I stopped breathing.  My mouth hung open, but I didn’t know it.  I suddenly felt so little, naked and weak.  I don’t know how long I just stared at him, not knowing what to say or do…

         “Do you give up any of these rights?”  I still just stared.  “I’ll give you some privacy.”  He quietly turned toward the door and left. 

         One of the women placed a bundle on the table and a pair of rubber shower thongs; the other tossed a plastic bag with new briefs on top of the pile.  “Please take those things and come with us.”

         I started to cry; I didn’t do anything.  It had to be planted on me.  Who would do that?  ‘Why…’ was all that went through my mind, I think my heart stopped when they cuffed my wrists together.

         “Please get up and take your things.”  The voice was cold and uncompassionate.

         “But I didn’t do anything!”  They flanked me and grabbed my arms.  They easily lifted me to my shaking legs. 

         “Calm down lady.  Just come along and behave, everything will be just fine!”  They let go of my arms and my knees were shaking.  “Here, take your stuff.”

         One of them put the bundle in my arms and I followed one matron out the door, the other followed directly behind me.  I don’t remember where we walked, but it was quite some distance through offices and halls, my butt showing through that awful paper gown all the while.  I could hear some snickering and a wolf whistle. 

         In the back of the building was a locker room with a shower.

         The two women ushered me into the large shower room.  One took the bundle from me, the other removed the cuffs and handed me the shower shoes.  “Take that paper gown off, “ she pointed at a large trash barrel, “put it in here and…  shower.”

         I was in college the last time I showered in a public place, but never with two uniformed guards watching me.  The water was cool to lukewarm and the room was cold.  Showering quickly, they tossed me a torn white towel.  I found the briefs were the type my granny wore.  The garment was an orange jumpsuit.  This time they cuffed my wrists behind me.

         As we left the locker room we came face to face with Cassandra and two more guards, she also wore a paper gown and was carrying her clothes.  She had a scolding belligerent look that she dropped from her face when she saw me. 

         “Lisa, I’m sorry.  I did it.  I didn’t know…” True sorrow flashed across her face for a second.  “You weren’t supposed to be involved…”

         All I could think was ‘what did you do?’  The guards attempted to avoid a confrontation pulling me into the first door, which was a men’s shower. 

         All I could hear her shout was, “SHE’S INNOCENT!”

* * *

         Because I was classified a national risk, they put me in isolation.  I sat in that cell for two days before a gentleman in a business suit arrived and introduced himself as Mr. Dougherty of the State Department. 

         He told me that I was to be released… “All you have to do is sign a few papers…”

Word Count = 998