Death House

Death House

Charlotte Scott

 

 

As I sit here on the edge of my cot, I reflect over the last two decades. What got me here? What’s kept me here? Is there really only one way out? My answers? Me, me, and yes.

It’s hot in here but then again it always is. Maybe I’m a little warmer than normal. My anxiety is higher than it’s ever been. I can’t stay in one spot. I pace then sit then pace then sit. The walls are covered with photos of my children. My baby just turned twenty-four yesterday. I can’t believe the distance between us.

“OK, everybody up and at ‘em. Times a wastin’”

I really don't like that guy. Do you know how it feels to be woke up like that every day? I miss my alarm clock. Of course I haven’t seen an alarm clock in twenty-two years.

“Ladies I won’t be coming back on this side to call you again. I suggest you get up and get ready for breakfast. It’s already four fifteen.”

I knew when I was twelve that I wanted to help people. My dad was a sheriff, rest his soul. My mom was an English teacher at the local high school. So, I guess it’s a DNA trait. If one exists. I wanted to help those who have been abused in one way or another.

My last patient Randy Watts was the epitome of what I wanted to do with my life. He had been molested by his uncle growing up. He trusted no one except me. He often reminded me of that very thing. What if I had been his mom? I don’t know, maybe he would have been in more trouble. That’s why I didn’t want kids in the beginning. It wasn’t until after being married for five years that I would even discuss having children. This world is enough pain as it is. Why would I want to subject another human to this?

Randy and I had a lot in common. I had also been molested by a family friend. I never told on him because my parents loved him and he said if I told he would kill them and make me watch. That was a hateful, evil thing to say to a five year old. He started it when I was five and didn’t stop until I was thirteen. I don’t know why he stopped. I was just glad he did.

When Randy first came to me he was a hot mess. He was just twenty-five and his wife had just left him. She waited for him to go to work and moved her and their son out of the house. She, according to Randy, was a cruel person. She put him down every chance she got. Since the separation, she was trying to keep his son away from him.

Randy was an average man. He lifted weights so he had rather large arms but, he was only five feet six inches. His hair was perfect. He kept his black hair in a military cut all the time. He had dark skin because his paternal grandfather was a Native American. When he first enrolled in the marines, he thought he would never make it. The next day, he thought he couldn’t make it, then the next day was the same thing until he realized one day he was going to graduate boot camp.

He was a tough man but, when it came to his wife and son he was weak as water. He would do anything for his child but now he couldn’t do much because he was with his mom most of the time.

“OK ladies, soup’s on. Back away from the door and face the wall.” I really hate him. He is so arrogant. He thinks that just because we are women stuck behind a door that we are weak and submissive.

His name? Joseph Wells. I swear that has to mean jackass in some language. I hate being a captive audience.

He had started here five years after my arrest. He was on general low security side then. It wasn’t until I had been on the row for about ten years that I saw his ugly face here. I know he has his way with women whenever he feels like it. ‘Til this day he has never touched me. Maybe I'm not his type. However, I’m a woman so I think that’s his type.

“Here ya go Debra.” He said as he put my breakfast through the tiny opening of my door. The same door I’ve been looking at for seventeen years. Twenty three and a half hours a day. “Enjoy. It’s not every day that someone knows the breakfast they have will be their last.” He chuckled as he said. He’s an idiot.

Yes this is my last breakfast. Tomorrow morning I’ll be transported to the death house. Here in Texas we know that death sentences don’t get overturned. I’ve already elected to skip breakfast tomorrow. I don’t want to be sick for my last few hours on earth.

I’ve asked my children to come see me tomorrow but I don’t know if they’ll show. I don’t know if they believe my explanation about what occurred that night.

My husband and I divorced two years before my arrest. He said he didn’t like being second fiddle to my job. He knew how serious I took my job long before we got married. Having kids didn’t slow my work either.

Since I had become single it gave cause for others to speculate why I got divorced, if I had an affair with a patient, or was I married to my work. Not everyone knew what happened to me as a child. But, I did find it difficult to be married after what happened. I found it hard to be excited about sex. My ex-husband John did most of the initiating during our relationship. It’s difficult to enjoy something that has such painful memories attached to it.

But, I was good to John and I was faithful to him. I kept my vows. But, not everyone believed that. That’s what got me here.

The night of my arrest, Randy called me. He asked if I could meet him at the local coffee shop. I agreed. When I got there, before I could exit my car, he got in and he had blood on him.

“Oh, my God Randy, what happened?” I could tell he was much more panicked than I was.

“Deb you have to get me out of here.” He said breathlessly.

“What did you do? Why are you covered in blood?”

“Please just drive me out of here and I’ll explain on the way.”

“OK. Where do you want to go?” I was so scared of what was going on but I felt I had to help him.

“Take me home with you.” What? Home with me? What was he thinking? I don’t take patients to my home. But, I had to this time.

“OK. I’ll take you with me. Now start talking.” I instructed him to talk as I drove away.

“It was Judith. She came over. She was supposed to bring Sam with her. But, she didn’t bring him. She left him with her boyfriend.”

“Then why did she come over?” I interrupted.

“To tell me that I would never see Sam again. She’s getting married and she wants me to sign my rights away so her boyfriend can adopt him.”

“Oh my, what happened?”

“I told her absolutely not. She got angry and an argument ensued. I kept refusing and she kept telling me if I didn’t she would make me pay. I told her that no way would I give Sam up. He’s the only good thing that came out of our marriage.” He was crying and seemed to cry harder whenever he said Sam’s name.

“Randy, what happened? Why are you covered in blood? Whose blood is it?” I knew the answer to all of those questions.

“I threatened to call the police and report her for not bringing Sam to me and she said if I did that and if I didn’t sign my rights away, she would call the social workers and say I molested him because of what happened to me.” He was sobbing now and my heart was torn over him.

He continued after a long pause and trying to calm down. “I lost it Deb, I can’t let her take my son from me. I told her to get out, go get Sam, and bring him to me. She refused and I started to go open the door to make her leave but she got between me and the door. I told her to move but she wouldn’t. so I shoved her. She stumbled back, fell, and hit her head on the end table. She was bleeding profusely. I thought she was dead. So I started trying to figure out what I was going to tell the cops. She began to stir and at first I was relieved but after a few minutes she looked up and said ‘you’re going to jail for this.’ I just grabbed my mag flashlight I kept by the door. I kicked her in the stomach then I was hitting her in the head. She was screaming and trying to fight me off but she wasn’t moving too well.” He stopped for a minute to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop. How could she threaten me about what happened to me? I would never hurt Sam and she knows that. She knows how much he means to me.” He was crying so hard by now that he was just heaving.

I was mortified. I didn’t know what I was going to do. 

So we reached my house. I gave Randy a clean outfit to wear. John had left some things behind and I never had the heart to throw them away. I took his clothes and put them in the trash. I didn't know how to go about calling the cops. What would I say?

So I took Randy out to a bar under the guise that we were friends who went out for a drink. No one needed to know I was his therapist. They may think I’m his mom. After all I am twenty-five years older than him.

Randy is a very handsome man and I’m a so so middle aged woman. I used a beauty salon to keep my hair brown. I had dark skin as well. I wasn't a Native American like him but I was one half Hispanic. At five feet seven I’m an inch taller than him and I had very dark eyes like him.

We finished our drinks, ginger ale for both of us. He didn't need to show any alcohol in his system and I don't drink.

We get to his house and go inside. Just as he described, there laid Judith beaten to death. When he walked through the door he began to cry. I can't believe I did this Deb. Look at her. I love her. How did I do this to her? How did I take her life over a stupid threat? But, I couldn't let her take Sam from me. And I would have lost him under that allegation even if it's just for them to investigate. Either way it would destroy me being away from him for so long. At least this way I get to keep him and raise him. No way are they going to blame me for this.

“OK we need to call 911. When they get here tell them that you found her this way. Stick to the story that you went out with a friend and this is what you came home to. OK?”

“OK but why are you telling me what to do? Are you leaving?” He asked out of confusion

“Yes I’m leaving. I can't afford to be found here. You can't explain me away Randy. Stick to the story.” With that I left.

About an hour after I got home there was a knock at the door. It startled me that someone would be there that late. I thought it may be Randy coming to tell me everything was OK. But, when I opened the door it was detectives.

“Ms. West?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Detective Anthony and this is my partner Detective Roger. We have a few questions for you ma'am. May we come in?”

'Yeah. Sure. Come in and have a seat.” I was an absolute nervous wreck. They had no business at my house they were never supposed to be there.

“Ma'am do you know a Randy Watts?”

“Yes. I'm his therapist. Is he OK?”

“Yes he's OK. We just came from his home where his estranged wife lays deceased. Do you know anything about that?”

“Uh, no. What happened?”

“Well we're hoping you can tell us. You see, Randy has already filled us in on what happened.”

“Oh good. I'm glad. I didn't think I could see him anymore after what happened tonight.” I was so relieved.

They asked for my version of the story and I told them. They listened astutely to my story. I could see on their faces in some of it they believed me and in others they didn't believe a word I was saying.

When I was done with my story they looked at each other and then at me. Detective Anthony looked at me and asked if he could take a look around and I said yes. When they finished they walked back into my living room and Detective Roger pulled out cuffs while Detective Anthony told me I was under arrest and started reading my rights.

“Why am I being arrested for Judith’s murder?” I couldn't breathe. I was about to throw up.

“We know that you killed her Mrs. West and we know why. We'll talk more at the station.” He was so rude now. He was polite when they first arrived.

Thirty minutes later I was sitting in the interrogation room by myself. The room looked like the inside of a cracker box. Flat, plain, and no color. A microphone was standing up on the desk. It did have a huge window in the room where other cops were listening. I don't know who they were trying to fool with that window.

I asked for a lawyer before I answered anymore questions. This was obviously a big misunderstanding. And I told my attorney that when he arrived.

You could tell he sat around probably doing paperwork all day. He was almost as big around as he was tall. The buttons on his shirt looked like they were about to pop. He was practically bald with the exception of a comb over. Wow.

“Here's the thing Debra, Randy told the police that you did it.”

“WHAT??!! why would I kill his wife?”

“Well he said you too were having an affair and she was getting in the way. He said you called her from his land line and asked her over and when she showed up you attacked her. Knocking her down onto the end table and then beating her about the head with a flashlight. His phone records show that she was called from his line. We have witnesses from “Bee's Bar and Grill saying you were there together having a drink. And they found blood on your trash can. The swabbed it and sent it for DNA matching.”

“Oh my God.” I whispered. “I’ve been set up and no one will ever believe me. Randy did this so he could be with his son.”

So it goes without saying that I lost my case and all of my appeals and now I've got a little more than twenty-four hours to live.

Now I’m in the death house and it really doesn't look much different except instead of a door with one small window this cell had a regular cell look to it. Just bars.

“Hi baby, it's mommy.” I called my daughter Elizabeth to see if she was coming.

“Sorry Mom. I have to work today. I can't be there and I talked to Amy and she's not coming either. But, while I have you on the phone I want to give you a final opportunity to tell me what really happened that night.”

“Baby, I swear what I told you was true. Randy set me up so he could get custody of his son. I love you. Please don't let me die alone. Please.” I wasn't just begging, I was crying my eyes out. Lizzy didn't like a lot of emotions. She was only two when I went to jail. John's parents raised her. She's a beautiful girl and I miss her and Amy so much. I haven’t seen them in at least five years. They don't believe me at all.

For hours I've been sitting here in this cell by myself. With the exception of the preacher who came to see me earlier. He helped me understand mortality and my need for salvation. My parents never taught me about religion. I accepted the words of the preacher and I accepted the salvation he told me about. I will die with only the preacher with me and that in itself is killing me.

My stomach has never felt this way. I've never been so sick. They've offered me meds to help me settle down but I refuse to take anything. I'll be gone in a few hours. I've had nothing to do all day so the time is passing slowly and all I have to think about is dying, and leaving my children for good. I love those two girls with all that's within me.

I think I’ll right Lizzy and Amy a letter telling them how much I love them.

To my sweet baby girls. I understand why you didn't want to be here today. Don't worry it doesn't make me love you less. Today is Saturday and I'll clearly be gone when you get this. I just want you to know that I’m not angry with you and I beg you to get rid of your anger towards me. Lizzy you were just a baby but Amy you were ten years old. Just a baby yourself but I know that you remember me and how much I love you and your sister. I know that you know I could never kill someone in cold blood. I have nothing to lose now. The Governor won't pardon me an there is no way out of this for me. The jailor isn't even going to read this so I can tell you the endless truth. The story that I’ve been telling for twenty-two, the story that hasn't changed, is true. I didn't kill Judith and I didn't have an affair with Randy. That is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I hope you'll realize someday that the story I’ve told you is the truth.

Amy I hear you've become a mom. The most rewarding job on the planet. Kiss that baby for me. I wish I would have gotten a chance to see her and get to know her, my first grand baby.

Lizzy, you're in law school and I’m so very proud of you. You're so smart.

The two of you are the only part of good that is me.

Thank you for being my babies. Please forgive me for even riding with Randy and trying to help him by lying. I know now that was wrong. But, girls I’m begging you to believe me when I tell you that I did not do this. I love you both. Above all else know that I love you and I would never lie to you.

 

Love Mom....

 

I have three hours to go and still no one has come to be with me. All I've done all day is listen to the guards talk and look at the walls. I've refused a last supper. I couldn't eat it if I tried. My stomach is still in knots. I did accepted a dose of xanax but it hasn't helped me at all.

I have two hours to go and the only person I’ve talked to is Reverend Paul. He has talked with me and prayed with and for me. I see God's love now and I know that fear has no place in a Christian's heart. But, according to Reverend Paul, Jesus prayed in the garden because he was in fear of death because knew he was going to die.

“You have a visitor West.” The guard called.

Who could it be at this hour, I wondered to myself. I got butterflies thinking it could be my girls.

But when I walked into the room I saw immediate that it wasn't my babies. A short man with his back to me. He had jet black hair and I could see that dark skin on his neck. I knew instantly it was Randy Watts.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as he turned around. Wow time caught up with him. That's for sure. Deep wrinkles outlined his face. His arms were normal sized if not smaller. He has three teeth missing in the front alone.

“I had to come see you Deb.”'

“What so yo want?” I was sort of angry but glad I could see him before my appointment with the man behind the wall at midnight.

“Deb, I am so sorry for what I’ve done to you. I hope you understand that I did this so I could keep Sam.”

“Yeah I gathered that. How is he?”

“He was great until about an hour ago when I told him the truth about his mom and framing you.”

“Well I’m glad to see you.” I said to him. “I need to forgive you. For what you've done to me. I'm a Christian now and I have to forgive in order to be forgiven. Thank you for coming by Randy. Have a good life and be there for Sam. And get off the meth.” I said all of that through my tears and as I turned to walk away I thought I might fall or walk into the wall.

My time is up. It's midnight. I've forgiven Randy, told my girls I love them, and now I have to say good-bye.

“Its time Debra.” said guard Jeff. “We gotta go.”

“OK.” I tried to sit up but I couldn't. Jeff and his partner at the desk had to come over and pick me up. My whole body is weak and my nerves are through the roof. I'm scared out of my mind.

My legs just gave out. They set me back down and Jeff left for a few minutes and then came back with a wheel chair. They picked me back up again and put me in the wheelchair. I can't help but heave as they are wheeling me down the hall. Thankfully I don't have anything in my stomach.

Oh my God, look at that gurney. This is it for me. I have a few minutes before I take my last breath. I thought as we entered that room. My stomach is sick and I’m still heaving. And I'm sobbing. My hands are shaking and they tingle. My legs are dead. Jeff and his partner have to lift me to the gurney. I can't stop the tears from flowing at this point. I'm sobbing and I don't care who sees.

“Please don't do this.” My voice is just a whisper. I’m begging Jeff. He's not speaking back. I know it's not up to him but I don't want to die.

They are tightening up the straps to hold me down. They're not necessary because I can't move. The rules I guess. I can't stop crying and begging in my whispery voice, “Please don't do this.” Not just to Jeff but anyone who is making eye contact with me.

Ouch! That hurt. I didn't even notice the phlebotomist starting the IV. I guess my limbs aren't numb and dead after all. She finishes it up cleans up all of her wrappers off the gurney.

“Would you like to speak any last words Ms. West?” I can hear him but I can't see him.

“Yeah.” I’m surprised I managed to get my voice that loud. Especially through all of the tears.

Jeff is helping me turn my head to see the gallery. Not one of my family members or so called friends are there. No one is here for me but Reverend Paul. He's standing at my feet and I can see his lips move in silent prayer.

“Well I can see you're all media. So I just want to ask one question. Could one or all of you please print in your story that my last words were to my babies, Lizzy and Amy. Tell them I didn't do this and tell them I love them.” I managed to say through my tears.

“OK Jeff, I’m done.” I said so he could help me turn my head back around.

This is miserable. Part of me is wishing that phone would ring, the other part wishes this was done and over with.

“OK Ms. West. Just relax.” I heard that voice again but still can't see him. The room is white and metal and of course a lot of glass at the gallery.

My tears are starting to dry up. Thank you Dear Jesus for saving me and now I ask you to receive my spirit and welcome me home.

I feel sleepy. The ceiling is coming and going white to black to white to black. Now it's gone. Just black.