My deputy from Kellerman was standing eleven feet away. Two women from my old church. Nobody said one word, and the two officers with me stood and waited rather than move me on, which I have thought about a great deal since.
I said, “Take care of Cass.”
And my husband laughed and said, “We’ll see whether a judge thinks a felon gets to be a mother.”
Brynn put her hand over her mouth.
That was the worst four seconds of my life and I want it in the record that it was not the handcuffs.
They took me down the service stairs.
There was a young officer in front of me and an older one beside me, sixty or so, with a worn uniform and a limp, and the name on his tape was PREWITT.
At the second landing, where the stairwell turns and there is no camera on the inside of the corner, I let my foot go on the edge of the step.
He caught my arm. “Careful now.”
