Archive for May, 2010

A Day of Days

Friday, May 7th, 2010

     As I sat in the holding cell I was shaking.  My breath labored in gasps as the marshall called my name.  “Zoukis”‘ he called.  I stood up and followed him into the courtroom where my fate would be sealed.  Although it wasn’t a courtroom, but an auditorium of sorts, who was on the menu?  Me, that’s who.  Who was the entertainment?  Me, just me.

     As I walked to the table where both of my lawyers sat, I saw the audience.  Twenty-five or so of my closest friends and family.  They sat in the chairs behind me, just twenty feet away; so close, but so far.  To my right sat my adversary, the prosecutor.  Funny if you think about it, the one who persecutes.  Saul must of been like this before he became Paul.

     I sat in my chair with my back to my family.  The court jester stands and calls all to rise.  His majesty, the judge hobbles in and slumps down into his large, black leather chair.  In his old age the chair just about swallows him whole.  The court is in session.

     My name is spoken, the charges too.  By now I am in a cold sweat.  My knees tremble, my breath catches in my throat.  Over my shoulder I see my aunt crying.  The tears well up in my eyes and the speaking begins.

     I am accused of this and that.  I am torn apart.  I have been reduced to a dog.  As they kick me time and time again, I sink deeper and deeper into my chair.  My leg cuffs feel sharp on my ankles.  Now it is our turn.

     Strong and tall my lawyers do battle.  They hold their own; blow for blow.  It’s my turn now.  I slide forward.  I speak the words I’ve spoken for months now.  My memory kicks in.  I am so sorry, I have learned from the errors of my ways.  My actions were stupid, not criminal.  I shuffle my pages through one by one until I am done with the fifth.

     Words are spoken, my fate is sealed; one hundred and fifty one months, no light.  One hundred and fifty months; now there is no fight.  My breathing is labored, my hands are shaking.  I am held by the arms and stumble away to my dungeon; the holding cell.

     A day of days.

The above was written by Christopher Zoukis, an inmate at FCI Petersburg Med, in Petersburg, VA 23804.