One day in August of 1995, a trustee who cleaned the walkway in front of my cell told me he had seen Sarah talking with some people who had come from Mississippi.
My heart sank. In the back of my mind I had always suspected they would show up eventually, but it was still a shock when they actually came. A few days later, I found out through the same trustee that Sarah had taken a lie detector test, and I knew I could look forward to new charges in the near future. I didn't learn the full details about what was going on until my mother sent me an article from the Muskogee newspaper. Sarah had confided to her lawyers about the Mississippi murder, and they advised her to work with the authorities if they could get her immunity from prosecution in exchange for her testimony against me. Eventually, he spoke with the district attorney from Mississippi and secured the deal.
The night I found this out, I made plans to kill Sarah and then myself. I didn't see the point of going on, knowing the severity of the crime in Mississippi. This was the plan. The sheriff’s deputies usually brought us to and from the court house together because reporters always waited for us outside like swarms of bees around honey. Normally, male and female prisoners were always kept apart, but it was easier for them to keep us together and made for a good clip on the news. The next time we were placed together, I planned to strangle her with the waist chains wrapped around us while we were locked in the back of one of the transportation vans. Thanks to my slim and flexible wrists I could slip my hands out of the handcuffs whenever I wished and strangle Sarah before the officers would be able to stop the van and pull me off of her.
Someone must have been looking over her, though. From that day on, we never rode together in the van again. I never told anyone my plans, so I know no one told on me. Eventually, my rage towards her lessened and the plan for her death was abandoned. Still, I hated her intensely.
Once when I saw her pass near my cell, I screamed at her through the Plexiglas until I lost my voice and bloodied my knuckles pounding on the walls. The guards rushed to my cell to find out what was going on and found me red-faced at the door of my cell.
The funny thing was, even with all the rage that would serge through me when I thought about her, I still had moments when I only wanted to be loved by her again. It was confusing and made the situation all the hard for me to process.