THE FISHBOWL JUST GOT SMALLER

Before I transferred from the prison in Detroit to my current facility, I had heard about their school secretary, a middle-aged white woman, arriving for work on her scheduled days off so she could finish the academic program’s ACA (American Correctional Association) standards. Of course this was just a front, her way of arranging an ongoing dalliance with a younger inmate doing time for murder. And not just a garden variety I-lost-my-temper-and-pulled-the-trigger type of killing either. From my recollections of what I’d read in the Detroit Free Press and saw on the WDIV news station, this fellow was involved in the St. Aubin Massacre, where bodies were found hacked into pieces.

Of course, from my previous post, you already know there are no secrets in prison, that we work in a fishbowl. So it’s no surprise that this woman had been under a cloud of suspicion. Perhaps someone walked in on the two lovebirds kissing, or maybe the typical snitch kites started flying. A brief investigation ensued and what transpired next may have been a blessing in disguise (for her anyway). Once upon a time it wasn’t a felony for having sex with an inmate; instead, the guilty employee was simply fired. That’s exactly what happened in this case, leaving her with an opportunity to pursue work elsewhere.

It gets weirder. One day, while I was having dinner with my wife, she asked, “Do you know a Pat W--?” I had learned that this former secretary found a better job, a promotion actually, with the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality. The DEQ had offices in the same building where my wife worked. “Her coworkers hate her guts,” my wife added. “And the rumors are flying that she married a convict. Do you know anything about it?” Did I ever. Approximately one year later, I started teaching in the building where Pat W fell in love. Imagine that.