Chapter 1 (A Bad Day For Pigeons)
It is a dreary, rainy day in Chicago. The sky is black with ominous angry clouds that are drenching the city. Shampayne is pondering whether to stay in her car in the parking garage, run away, or wipe away her tears and wander upstairs to her office. After a few minutes, she gains control of herself and gets out of the car and slowly walks to the elevator. As she reaches the 29th floor the door opens and she plods down the long hallway to her office. She opens the door and she feels cold dampness in the air and she shivers uncontrollably. She drops her attaché case and purse on her desk and stumbles over the trash can. She manages to get to the window and she extends her hands and places them on the window sill. Her legs feel wobbly and she falls to her knees and she starts to cry uncontrollably. The feeling in her body is that of despair and desperation.
She is startled as something lands on the ledge outside of her window. It is a falcon and it has captured a pigeon and it begins to pull the feathers out of the hapless creature. Normally she considers pigeons as dirty and disgusting, but today she feels a strange bond with this bird. Shampayne and the horrified bird make eye contact just as the pigeon shudders and dies as the falcon’s talons intensify their grip. What a horrible scene to witness, especially the way she is feeling today. It seems her life is totally ruined and her feelings go out to the pigeon as she watches the falcon ripping the flesh off its’ body. In a strange, macabre way, she almost felt envious of the pigeon, for its’ troubles are over and hers have just begun.
How desperate and hopeless she was feeling in her own life due to circumstances that had evolved over the years due to her husband’s constant emotional abuse. What started out as a carefree, loving marriage has turned into a horrible downward spiraling vortex into a black hole of no return.
He has made her feel like a nobody, like the dirt under his feet. She sees no value in herself and sees her husband as the devil incarnate. He belittles her every chance he gets and lets her know that she is but a tiny speck of no good. He is using his wrongdoing to blackmail her and says he is going to make her pay for what he did. She watched as the falcon took the pigeons life, now is the same going to happen to her?
I finally pull myself together enough to stand up and continue to look out over the dreary city, but I'm still sobbing lightly. I'm startled by a hand on my shoulder and gasp as a familiar soothing voice says, “Are you alright?” I immediately turn and wrap my arms around him, it's Corey Stockton, the building manager. I pull him close and I feel so safe, all of my fears just seem to melt away and I want this feeling to last forever.
Corey and I have become close friends over the past year as we are usually the first ones in the building in the morning. I'm an administrative assistant for the law offices of Strump, Hayward and Connors, a large corporate law firm in downtown Chicago.
My mornings usually start with arranging all of the necessary paperwork and scheduling for the firms' attorneys for the day and usually Corey will drop in and see if everything is running smoothly, lights, air conditioning and so on as that's his job.
As of lately, there has been a spark between us, but it may only be wishful thinking on my part. Corey knows I'm married with two k**s and because he's a nice guy and I'm an old fashioned kind of girl that respects the boundaries of marriage, our relationship has never been anything but platonic. I do know that Corey's wife was killed in a terrible car crash a couple of years ago by d**g-crazed carjacker fleeing from the police, but other than him mentioning that he is very guarded about the subject, so I never bring it up.
I'm suddenly snapped back to reality and realize I may have crossed the boundary with Corey and jeopardized our friendship by leaping into his arms, but it feels so safe there. I pull away and look into his deep blue and apologize and turn away from him and dash to the women's restroom to compose myself.
I lean on the cold marble countertop and stare at the mirror at a barely recognizable face staring back at me with tear-stained mascara. What have I done? I may have lost my one true friend. My husband has turned everyone against me and aside from work, keeps me pretty much isolated at home Sometimes I think if it wasn't for him allowing me to go to work to secretly snoop through the files for information on the firms' clients upcoming mergers and IPOs or other things of value so my husband and his shady cohorts can use to make illicit investments.
Maybe my husband has been right all along, I'm just a worthless piece of crap that the world would be better off without. Why did I ever allow him into blackmailing me for something he did but placed the blame on me?
It's too late now, my husband called me on my way to work this morning and told me the federal agents were at the door and wanted to talk to me. He told me I was on my own, he would deny any involvement and it was all on me. How could the nice guy I married and had k**s with turn out to be such an asshole?
I expect any minute the feds will show up here at my work to arrest me. I know full well that the SEC comes down hard on inside trading and it carries a huge federal felony charge. My mind flashes back to that poor pigeon and I weirdly envy it as it has no more worries.
I'm snapped back to reality when a sharp rap on the ladies room door and it's Corey. He tells me in a worried voice, “Two men from the government are here to talk to you.” I compose my self as best I can and exit the restroom to accept my fate.
When I walk out, I pass Corey and he has a concerned, quizzical look on his face and I give him the best smile I can muster as our eyes meet briefly. Oh, how I wish Corey didn't have to witness this.
I encounter two very stern well-dressed men and one of them is holding a piece of paper and announces, “Shampagyn Moretti, you're under arrest for security violations, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.
They handcuff me and as they lead me away and I make eye contact with Corey one last time. He looks confused and concerned. Oh, how I wish I could be in his strong arms forever and all this was just a bad nightmare that would vanish and I roll over in bed to my husband, Corey, sleeping soundly beside me.
I have horrible images flashing through my mind and I now know what death row prisoners feel as they’re led away to die. I’m barely able to walk and the sound my high heels make on the cold, dark office floor seems deafening in my ears as my captors lead me to the exit doors of my office. I look up to see Mr. Strump holding the large glass office door open for us.
“I hope you get everything that you deserve” He says as his voice trails off as we pass.
One of the men releases his grip on my arm and presses the elevator call button then firmly takes my right arm again as we wait what seems like forever for the elevator to arrive. The familiar beep anouncing the elevators’ arrival at our floor startles me and I feel my legs start to tremble uncontrollably and I almost faint when the door opens. Other people are beginning to arrive at work and as they exit I see them staring at me and faintly whisper among each other. I never felt more ashamed and embarrassed in my life.
We step onto the now empty elevator and Corey steps in behind us. This is one time in the entire year we’ve known each that I wish I’d never see him again. He inserts a key into the elevator panel and selects fire service mode and presses the first floor button. They elevator door closes and I feel the walls closing in around me and the car seems to darken as we begin our downward decent. I’m feeling claustrophobic and faint as the car seems to fall away under my feet. Down, down we go not stopping at any floor.
I look at Corey who has not uttered a word and he has his back to me. Was he in on this? Did he know all along that they were going to arrest me? I feel forsaken and betrayed and feels tears once again streaming down my face and drip off my chin. I hang my head in disbelief and close my eyes.
The elevator finally reaches the first floor in what seems an instant, yet seems also like it took forever and the doors slide open and a throng of curious people part the way for our entourage to pass. Once again I hear low mutterings as we pass them by.
I turn to look for Corey. Somehow in my twisted thinking I had a glimmer of hope that this has been a bad dream and he would be my knight in shining armor and come to my rescue. All I saw was him staring at me as we continued on. He had a look of concern about as our eyes locked for one last time and I knew that I would probably never see him again.
As we exited the building, I broke a heel off my shoe and know I was limping as my captors hustled me toward an awaiting large black SUV. One of the men opened the rear door as the other steered me to the back seat and pushed my head downward at the same time so I wouldn't hit my head.
As I turn to sit down, I hear the faint screeching of a falcon far above me. Was it taunting me? A thousand crazy thoughts raced through my mind as I try to distract myself from reality. The door slams with a resounding thud and I’m instantly snapped back to reality. Where are the taking me? I’ve never been more scared in my life.
The two men walk around the vehicle and one gets in the drivers seat and one gets in the rear seat along side me. The vehicle starts and takes off with a lurch. I turn to my seat mate and weakly ask him where we are going. He dryly replies, “No talking ma’am” without even turning his head or making eye contact.
The cacophony of sounds that are usually ignored become so amplified now. I hear the swishing of the windshield wipers, the raindrops hitting the car, the roar of a delivery trucks engine as it pours past us and the black sooty smoke exiting from its’ tailpipe.
I gaze out at downtown Chicago through misty eyes at a route I’ve seen a thousand times, out there on the wet, dreary sidewalks people are hustling to find there way to their destinations. Some may be barristas, some may be janitors, others may be high level business people. They all have one thing in common that I do not share with them, they are free and I am not.
My little pity-party is suddenly interrupted as the driver looks in the mirror and say, “We’re nearing the Sally Port.”
“What an odd name.” I think to myself. I would come to find out Sally Port is the name given to the entrance to prisons, or in this case, the Cook County Jail. That term and dozens more I didn’t know existed, would soon become part of my everyday vocabulary.
Our SUV passes California Avenue then turns down Sacramento Avenue. I’ve passed by those streets before and they’ve always conjured up romantic, faraway destinations that one day I’d hoped to explore. California, the gold coast, Sacramento, gold rush days. All things I’d read about but never visited. Now those two streets have suddenly taken on a darker image of doom and gloom that replaced my romantic images of California and Sacramento in a flash.
The driver announces our arrival at the gate to a professional, no-nonsense voice coming from a dripping rain soaked speaker, and soon the ominous, scary gate slides open with a grating noise. We drive up to a large forboding building and an overhead door opens and we enter and it closes behind us.
The driver exits the vehicle and opens my door and both men escort me to a heavy plain door that is marked in large letters and numbers that have no meaning at all to me. I hear a loud buzzing sound as the door is unlocked and we step inside. The door closes with a bang behind us as the door ahead of us buzzes us in. We were isolated in that tiny room and I would come to find out each step we take deeper into the bowels of the jail, all means of escape have carefully been crafted over time to assure once you enter, you cannot go back out unless you are allowed to by your captors.
“All hope abandon ye who enter here” From Dante’s Divine Comedy flashes into my mind as we continue onward into the drab innards of the jail. “Funny how the mind splices fragments together” I muse to myself still hoping that all this has been a nightmare that I will soon awaken from.
(More to come...)
She is startled as something lands on the ledge outside of her window. It is a falcon and it has captured a pigeon and it begins to pull the feathers out of the hapless creature. Normally she considers pigeons as dirty and disgusting, but today she feels a strange bond with this bird. Shampayne and the horrified bird make eye contact just as the pigeon shudders and dies as the falcon’s talons intensify their grip. What a horrible scene to witness, especially the way she is feeling today. It seems her life is totally ruined and her feelings go out to the pigeon as she watches the falcon ripping the flesh off its’ body. In a strange, macabre way, she almost felt envious of the pigeon, for its’ troubles are over and hers have just begun.
How desperate and hopeless she was feeling in her own life due to circumstances that had evolved over the years due to her husband’s constant emotional abuse. What started out as a carefree, loving marriage has turned into a horrible downward spiraling vortex into a black hole of no return.
He has made her feel like a nobody, like the dirt under his feet. She sees no value in herself and sees her husband as the devil incarnate. He belittles her every chance he gets and lets her know that she is but a tiny speck of no good. He is using his wrongdoing to blackmail her and says he is going to make her pay for what he did. She watched as the falcon took the pigeons life, now is the same going to happen to her?
I finally pull myself together enough to stand up and continue to look out over the dreary city, but I'm still sobbing lightly. I'm startled by a hand on my shoulder and gasp as a familiar soothing voice says, “Are you alright?” I immediately turn and wrap my arms around him, it's Corey Stockton, the building manager. I pull him close and I feel so safe, all of my fears just seem to melt away and I want this feeling to last forever.
Corey and I have become close friends over the past year as we are usually the first ones in the building in the morning. I'm an administrative assistant for the law offices of Strump, Hayward and Connors, a large corporate law firm in downtown Chicago.
My mornings usually start with arranging all of the necessary paperwork and scheduling for the firms' attorneys for the day and usually Corey will drop in and see if everything is running smoothly, lights, air conditioning and so on as that's his job.
As of lately, there has been a spark between us, but it may only be wishful thinking on my part. Corey knows I'm married with two k**s and because he's a nice guy and I'm an old fashioned kind of girl that respects the boundaries of marriage, our relationship has never been anything but platonic. I do know that Corey's wife was killed in a terrible car crash a couple of years ago by d**g-crazed carjacker fleeing from the police, but other than him mentioning that he is very guarded about the subject, so I never bring it up.
I'm suddenly snapped back to reality and realize I may have crossed the boundary with Corey and jeopardized our friendship by leaping into his arms, but it feels so safe there. I pull away and look into his deep blue and apologize and turn away from him and dash to the women's restroom to compose myself.
I lean on the cold marble countertop and stare at the mirror at a barely recognizable face staring back at me with tear-stained mascara. What have I done? I may have lost my one true friend. My husband has turned everyone against me and aside from work, keeps me pretty much isolated at home Sometimes I think if it wasn't for him allowing me to go to work to secretly snoop through the files for information on the firms' clients upcoming mergers and IPOs or other things of value so my husband and his shady cohorts can use to make illicit investments.
Maybe my husband has been right all along, I'm just a worthless piece of crap that the world would be better off without. Why did I ever allow him into blackmailing me for something he did but placed the blame on me?
It's too late now, my husband called me on my way to work this morning and told me the federal agents were at the door and wanted to talk to me. He told me I was on my own, he would deny any involvement and it was all on me. How could the nice guy I married and had k**s with turn out to be such an asshole?
I expect any minute the feds will show up here at my work to arrest me. I know full well that the SEC comes down hard on inside trading and it carries a huge federal felony charge. My mind flashes back to that poor pigeon and I weirdly envy it as it has no more worries.
I'm snapped back to reality when a sharp rap on the ladies room door and it's Corey. He tells me in a worried voice, “Two men from the government are here to talk to you.” I compose my self as best I can and exit the restroom to accept my fate.
When I walk out, I pass Corey and he has a concerned, quizzical look on his face and I give him the best smile I can muster as our eyes meet briefly. Oh, how I wish Corey didn't have to witness this.
I encounter two very stern well-dressed men and one of them is holding a piece of paper and announces, “Shampagyn Moretti, you're under arrest for security violations, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.
They handcuff me and as they lead me away and I make eye contact with Corey one last time. He looks confused and concerned. Oh, how I wish I could be in his strong arms forever and all this was just a bad nightmare that would vanish and I roll over in bed to my husband, Corey, sleeping soundly beside me.
I have horrible images flashing through my mind and I now know what death row prisoners feel as they’re led away to die. I’m barely able to walk and the sound my high heels make on the cold, dark office floor seems deafening in my ears as my captors lead me to the exit doors of my office. I look up to see Mr. Strump holding the large glass office door open for us.
“I hope you get everything that you deserve” He says as his voice trails off as we pass.
One of the men releases his grip on my arm and presses the elevator call button then firmly takes my right arm again as we wait what seems like forever for the elevator to arrive. The familiar beep anouncing the elevators’ arrival at our floor startles me and I feel my legs start to tremble uncontrollably and I almost faint when the door opens. Other people are beginning to arrive at work and as they exit I see them staring at me and faintly whisper among each other. I never felt more ashamed and embarrassed in my life.
We step onto the now empty elevator and Corey steps in behind us. This is one time in the entire year we’ve known each that I wish I’d never see him again. He inserts a key into the elevator panel and selects fire service mode and presses the first floor button. They elevator door closes and I feel the walls closing in around me and the car seems to darken as we begin our downward decent. I’m feeling claustrophobic and faint as the car seems to fall away under my feet. Down, down we go not stopping at any floor.
I look at Corey who has not uttered a word and he has his back to me. Was he in on this? Did he know all along that they were going to arrest me? I feel forsaken and betrayed and feels tears once again streaming down my face and drip off my chin. I hang my head in disbelief and close my eyes.
The elevator finally reaches the first floor in what seems an instant, yet seems also like it took forever and the doors slide open and a throng of curious people part the way for our entourage to pass. Once again I hear low mutterings as we pass them by.
I turn to look for Corey. Somehow in my twisted thinking I had a glimmer of hope that this has been a bad dream and he would be my knight in shining armor and come to my rescue. All I saw was him staring at me as we continued on. He had a look of concern about as our eyes locked for one last time and I knew that I would probably never see him again.
As we exited the building, I broke a heel off my shoe and know I was limping as my captors hustled me toward an awaiting large black SUV. One of the men opened the rear door as the other steered me to the back seat and pushed my head downward at the same time so I wouldn't hit my head.
As I turn to sit down, I hear the faint screeching of a falcon far above me. Was it taunting me? A thousand crazy thoughts raced through my mind as I try to distract myself from reality. The door slams with a resounding thud and I’m instantly snapped back to reality. Where are the taking me? I’ve never been more scared in my life.
The two men walk around the vehicle and one gets in the drivers seat and one gets in the rear seat along side me. The vehicle starts and takes off with a lurch. I turn to my seat mate and weakly ask him where we are going. He dryly replies, “No talking ma’am” without even turning his head or making eye contact.
The cacophony of sounds that are usually ignored become so amplified now. I hear the swishing of the windshield wipers, the raindrops hitting the car, the roar of a delivery trucks engine as it pours past us and the black sooty smoke exiting from its’ tailpipe.
I gaze out at downtown Chicago through misty eyes at a route I’ve seen a thousand times, out there on the wet, dreary sidewalks people are hustling to find there way to their destinations. Some may be barristas, some may be janitors, others may be high level business people. They all have one thing in common that I do not share with them, they are free and I am not.
My little pity-party is suddenly interrupted as the driver looks in the mirror and say, “We’re nearing the Sally Port.”
“What an odd name.” I think to myself. I would come to find out Sally Port is the name given to the entrance to prisons, or in this case, the Cook County Jail. That term and dozens more I didn’t know existed, would soon become part of my everyday vocabulary.
Our SUV passes California Avenue then turns down Sacramento Avenue. I’ve passed by those streets before and they’ve always conjured up romantic, faraway destinations that one day I’d hoped to explore. California, the gold coast, Sacramento, gold rush days. All things I’d read about but never visited. Now those two streets have suddenly taken on a darker image of doom and gloom that replaced my romantic images of California and Sacramento in a flash.
The driver announces our arrival at the gate to a professional, no-nonsense voice coming from a dripping rain soaked speaker, and soon the ominous, scary gate slides open with a grating noise. We drive up to a large forboding building and an overhead door opens and we enter and it closes behind us.
The driver exits the vehicle and opens my door and both men escort me to a heavy plain door that is marked in large letters and numbers that have no meaning at all to me. I hear a loud buzzing sound as the door is unlocked and we step inside. The door closes with a bang behind us as the door ahead of us buzzes us in. We were isolated in that tiny room and I would come to find out each step we take deeper into the bowels of the jail, all means of escape have carefully been crafted over time to assure once you enter, you cannot go back out unless you are allowed to by your captors.
“All hope abandon ye who enter here” From Dante’s Divine Comedy flashes into my mind as we continue onward into the drab innards of the jail. “Funny how the mind splices fragments together” I muse to myself still hoping that all this has been a nightmare that I will soon awaken from.
(More to come...)
2 years ago