Dead to Rights

Her right hand didn’t hold a weapon-could not have held a weapon. The whole hand was horribly maimed. Useless, mangled fingers bent crookedly across a partially missing thumb.

“What kind of a dog is this?” Ha

“Half golden retriever, half pitbull,” Je

Je

For Joa

Maybe what Ha

“Just a piece of bread or two would be fine,” Ha

“I was going to bake a couple of pork chops,” Joa

Je

“No argument, young lady.” Joa

“No argument at all,” Joa

Without further discussion, Je

Ha

“Before you and I say anything more, Mrs. Green,” Joa

“Don’t care none about my rights and can’t afford no fancy attorney,” Ha

“If you can’t afford an attorney-”

“Besides,” Ha

Joa

“See there?” Ha

Joa

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I did it?” Ha

“He went out and I went chasin’ after him, tellin’ him to bring it back-to bring it back right now. But he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t no way. Jus’ kept right on walkin’-didn’t even have no coat on-and I kept right after him, yellin’ my fool head off, tellin’ him to give it back. And then somethin’ happened. He musta tripped and fell and didn’t get up. The next thing I knowed, I was standin’ over him with a rock in my hand, bashin’ the back of his head in, all the while screamin’ at him at the top of my lungs. ‘Give it to me. Give it back!’ “

Ha

Maybe she is crazy, Joa

Sitting there hunched in the breakfast nook, with her multiple chins resting in her good hand and with the ruined one once again back in its concealing pocket, Ha

As Joa

“And then,” Ha

With the meat in the oven, Joa

“They do,” she answered without conviction. Even if television sets were available to inmates, it didn’t seem likely that Ha

How is it possible, Joa