Jailed

The story of my life – I'll call myself "Alicia Moore," not my real name – since I turned 19 is proof that truth is stranger than fiction. Undoubtedly part of the bad things that happened to me were due to the fact that at 19 I was a completely confrontation-averse person who had led a sheltered life, and maybe could even be described as a milquetoast; but mostly I was just a victim of evil.

I lived a nightmare (not counting my marriage) for almost a year. I probably would have been scarred for life if not for some fortuitous circumstances during my ordeal. My lawsuit against the County is still on-going, but my suit against my ex-husband and his girlfriend has been terminated in my favor, so I'm getting my pound of flesh from those assholes.

****************

I was just too young and naïve when I married Deputy Sheriff Justin Grimes of Apricot County (all names have been changed in this story to protect the guilty, but the facts are accurate). As a sheltered 19 year old I had no business marrying a worldly 27 year old, but the sex was good and we seemed to be compatible. By the time that I was 21 I knew that I had made a huge mistake. Some of the many reasons for that were: he became very controlling about everything; he wanted me to quit college – even though I was paying for it with a partial scholarship, a part time job, and personal loans – and get a full time menial job; he insisted on maintaining separate bank accounts and I had to virtually beg him for money to buy groceries, even though they were for both of us and I was always tasked with the reasonability of preparing meals; and he seemed to have a wandering eye and showed no respect for my feelings in social situations.

The coup de grace – I guess I really should have expected it – was when I came home to the condo we had purchased, with half the down payment supplied by my parents even though they couldn't really afford it – from class on a Monday afternoon at an expected time (that is, NOT an unexpected time). I found him in our bed fucking some tramp who I later identified as Misty Hart. I screamed! As he continued to pump away he told me to "get the fuck out." I called him a fucking asshole and her a whore. The asshole actually waited until he busted his nut before he climbed out of bed with his cock still dripping, and shoved me out of the room, and into a wall in the hall.

"If you weren't such a bad fuck I wouldn't have to do this you miserable cunt," were his words of explanation. "Now leave until I'm finished with round three and then maybe I'll let you suck my cock."

With that he pushed me into the wall again, and left bruise marks on my arms from where he grabbed me in order to shove me into the wall.

I called the cops. The two who arrived both knew Justin. I don't know what ridiculous story that he gave them – because they insisted on talking to him alone – but after a few minutes of discussion with Justin they both chuckled. When they came back to me they said "Sorry Alicia but we don't get involved in verbal arguments between spouses."

"What are you talking about," I whined. "Don't you see these bruises on my arms, and I'm sure that my back is red and sore from being banged into a wall twice."

"You could have bruised your arms some other way, and we just can't take your word for it," one of the cops snickered.

I started crying, and they simply left.

Justin and Misty were both smirking at me from the doorway to the condo.

I got in my car and drove to my parents' house, as distraught as I'd ever been. The next day while Justin was at work I got all of my things – I had to miss class because it required two trips in my small car – out of the condo, and though they could ill afford it my parents paid for a divorce attorney to file papers. Justin was served – at the Sheriff's office – on Friday.

The worst part of my nightmare started shortly after that.

Justin made it as difficult as possible in the divorce. He made all sorts of claims that weren't true, and delayed things as best he could just to torture me and drive up the costs. In the meanwhile he had moved that tramp Misty into our condo. When driving I got pulled over twice by Apricot County cops for phony reasons, and even though I didn't get tickets – because I had done nothing wrong – they were obnoxious and harassing. I also got two bogus parking tickets that I eventually defeated, although I had to spend several hours in going to traffic court to contest them and then still got hit with "court costs."

The divorce had been going on for about five months – with little progress even though Justin obviously no longer wanted to be married to me, and I even heard rumors that his whore was pregnant, which subsequently turned out to be false – when just as one of my classes at college ended two detectives came into my classroom and loudly announced that I was being arrested for various cybercrimes.

As I was crying, protesting, and being led away fortunately one of my female friends collected my books and papers and told me that she'd take care of them. The cops had my laptop and also asked for my smartphone. As they were leading me out one of the cops smirked "Justin says hi."

Never having been even to the principal's office I was such a "good girl" and so trouble-averse, I sobbed uncontrollably in the interview room. Fortunately I had the wherewithal to deny everything, and when I dissolved into a puddle of weeping self-pity on the interview room floor, they stopped questioning me and put me in the county lock-up.

For some reason it took two days for there to be a court appearance. The public defender I was assigned seemed like she got out of law school the week before, and she was as intimidated by the proceedings as I was. I found that the crimes I was being charged with all related to that slut Misty Hart.

Allegedly I had set up numerous email accounts and sent all sorts of threatening emails to Misty – whose full name I didn't even know until the hearing – with the seminal event that precipitated my arrest a posting on Craigslist about a rape fantasy gang bang, giving Misty's name and the address of my former condo. According to Misty (subsequently proven false) two guys actually showed up and attacked her in the condo's garage and she somehow managed to escape and call 911, with her blouse ripped and scratch marks on her shoulders and arms.

The judge set bail at an impossible amount for my parents to post – it sure looked like the fix was in – so I ended up back in county lockup.

Jail was horrific. It would be horrible for anyone, but for a sheltered milquetoast like I was at the time it was beyond ghastly. I was constantly picked on and intimidated by the other inmates and guards, and was even smacked around a couple of times. The fact that I cried as a result probably didn't help my situation.

Then – when I had been in jail for sixteen days – my life changed.

One of my three cellmates was slapping me around while the other two snickered when I snapped. I don't really remember all of the details, but I do remember that I somehow got her by the hair and smashed her face into the metal pole support for the upper bunk. That caught her by surprise and may have knocked her delirious if not unconscious. I just kept on smashing her face into the pole, time and again.

The other cell mates called for the guards and when they couldn't easily pull me off – it was like I had the strength of Samson – one of them Tasered me.

I woke up in the infirmary handcuffed to the bed with the jailhouse doctor looking me over.

After talking to me a few minutes and testing my vitals the doctor said that I could return to lockup. However, the Sheriff (Justin's boss and friend) was there and he insisted that I be taken to the police station and interrogated about "my assault of an innocent cellmate" with the idea of charging me with felony assault and battery.

While being led to the police station I felt totally different than I ever had before. There were no tears – I was simply pissed; and I felt empowered since I saw my bleeding tormenter cellmate unconscious in another bed in the infirmary as I was led away.

When I got to the interview room one of the two cops who initially arrested me – the one who said "Justin says hi," whose name was Detective Smith – came into the room with a young guy that I had never seen before.

"Do you remember me Alicia?" Smith asked with a condescending smile.

"Yeah – you're Detective SHIT, a fat fuck with a micro-penis," I shot back.

He was taken aback. "You're in big trouble..." he started to sneer.

I shot back "You're the one who's going to be in trouble, you stupid shit-for-brains blimp, when I get through with you."

The "interview" degenerated into a shouting match. I couldn't believe it but I was giving better than I got. The young guy was sitting there with a bemused look on his face. At one point I yelled "Listen, Detective Shit, why don't you go stick your micro-penis in a gerbil like you do most nights after work instead of harassing me."

I swear that Detective Shit lost his cool and would have hit me if the young guy hadn't intervened. Fuming, Shit told the young guy "Stay here and watch this bitch; I'll be back," and then exited. Shit gave me a dirty look as he exited – I gave him the finger and said "Say hi to Justin, fat fuck."

Once he was gone I looked closely at the young guy. He was neat, clean, and nice looking, and had a smile on his face. He obviously had considered the proceedings good entertainment. I gave him a genuine smile and tried to look as alluring as I could in my orange jumpsuit.

"I didn't get your name or why you're here," I smiled holding my hand out to him. "I'm Alicia Moore – I guess technically still Alicia Grimes until my name-change is approved by the court."

He shook my hand, and I was sure to hold his longer than was appropriate, and even raked a finger across his palm when I finally let go. His smile got bigger.

"Hi; I'm Paul Jenkins. I'm getting my Masters in Criminal Justice and got an internship with the Apricot County Police Department for three months. I get to observe all aspects of police work; I have to say that this is the most interesting activity I have observed – including a couple of drug busts – in the two weeks that I've been on the job," he laughed.

"Glad that I could provide some entertainment," I giggled. I don't normally giggle – but then again I don't normally kick the shit out of people, swear at cops, or otherwise stand up for myself, so why not. "Maybe this dude can help?" I thought.

"So why were you in the slammer before doing facial reconstruction on your cell mate?" he chuckled.

I was the most efficient ever in my life in relating my story to Paul over the next five or six minutes – before another detective, Detective Wynn – came into the interview room. I told Paul virtually everything. He seemed interested, and even wrote down several notes.

When Detective Wynn introduced himself – I had never seen him before – I politely shook his hand. "I'm hoping that we can have an intelligent discussion," he started out.

In a well-mannered non-confrontational voice I said "Actually Detective Wynn, we have nothing to talk about. If you review the video from the jail and talk to my other two cell mates, Jeannie and Starlet, you'll clearly understand that what I did was self-defense, with sufficient provocation. I'm sorry, but that's all I'll say; any other questions you can ask my attorney.

"OK," he shrugged his shoulders. He opened the interview room door and yelled for a uniformed cop to escort me back to jail. I took that opportunity to whisper into Paul's ear – in the most provocative voice that I could muster – "If you help me I'll make it worth your while."

He smiled.

As I was escorted back to my cell I was more proud of myself than at any other time in my life. "I wonder if being Tasered re-arranged my nervous system and brain." I asked myself. I was also proud of being sexually provocative toward Paul, another thing out of the ordinary for me.

*************

About now you're asking yourself what I look like.

I'm probably in the top 25% in the looks department for women my age, but definitely not in the top 10%. Most heterosexual men wouldn't kick me out of bed, but truly hot guys wouldn't give me the time of day; although I do have certain assets that some guys may find particularly interesting so that even a hot guy with certain proclivities may want to give me a try. I'm normally not sexually provocative or flirty – but I saw that changing after my jailhouse seminal event.

In a shocking breach of protocol the jail keepers actually put me back into my cell with Starlet and Jeannie. Julie – the cunt that I messed up – wasn't coming back, but no 4th cellmate had yet been assigned. Starlet and Jeannie looked at me with new-found respect since Julie was the bully of the cell.

After they welcomed me back I motioned them close to me and whispered to Starlet and Jeannie "When you're interviewed you better tell the truth about me acting in self-defense. If you don't when I get out of here – and I will someday – I will track you down and what I did to Julie's face will look like a trip to the beauty parlor compared to what I'll do to you."

"We'll definitely tell the truth," Jeannie mumbled, with Starlet nodding agreement.

Nothing ever came of my "assault." Julie refused to cooperate, Jeannie and Starlet backed up my self-defense claim, and any video the jail had didn't contradict what I said, and even supported harassment by Julie in the days before the seminal event.

It was about ten days after I met Paul that Wilma – my court-appointed defense attorney – got me out of stir for a strategy meeting in the jail's unmonitored conference room. I was surprised when Paul joined us. Since there were no cameras in the room I gave Paul a big hug and even bigger smile.

Paul had done a cyber forensic investigation of his own – the cops and D. A. were dragging their feet on theirs since they had me in jail – and came up with some interesting information. It turns out that Paul's main goal in the criminology field is to be a cyber specialist, and with his computer abilities he quickly and easily found information clearly indicating that I had not set up the email addresses from which Misty's threats had been issued. Not only that, he demonstrated to a high level of certainty – with only access to Misty's computer, which he expected Wilma could get a warrant for, needed to confirm it – that Misty had been authoring the threatening emails herself.

As one small example, the Craigslist rape fantasy email was sent while I was actually in a class where computers and cellphones were not allowed, and the professor and several classmates confirmed my presence and the absence of electronic devices – which were at the front of the classroom in cubbies.

I got Paul's cellphone number before I left the interview room, and gave him an even bigger hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Even an attorney as inexperienced as Wilma could run with Paul's information. Since she could see a big win in her future – especially since this case had gotten not just local but national attention – she was keen to get started.

Within another ten days I was released on my own recognizance.

Since I had missed so much class time – I was in jail for 36 days – I couldn't really make up my work. With my new-found kick-ass attitude I went to the Dean and related my plight. She agreed to refund my tuition for the quarter at issue and enroll me in the same classes the next quarter, and to keep me on partial scholarship.

I also went to the class where I had been arrested. After I talked to the professor before class he allowed me to make an announcement at the start. I told the class my story and after that (since this was a class where the professor allowed laptops and cellphones) I asked "Does anyone have video or audio of my arrest, especially the part where one of the cops said 'Justin says hi'?"

Two of the classmates said that they did. Apparently the professor considered my situation much more interesting and informative than what they would be going over that day – and convinced himself that this was a good learning experience – because he allowed the two classmates to hook up their cellphones to the classroom computer system and run the videos on the large classroom monitor. On one of the videos you could clearly hear Detective Smith saying "Justin says hi," and on the other one you could partially hear it and see – something I hadn't even focused on at the time – how roughly I was handled and the smiles on the cops' faces. The professor even recorded the videos on a memory stick and handed it to me.

After twenty five minutes I left the class with my profound thanks – I'm sure that they didn't get much done the last twenty five minutes of class that day, but everyone had a smile on his or her face when I exited.

Since I wasn't in school – but fortunately my part-time job had been held for me – I had a little time on my hands while the D. A. was considering the evidence that Paul had collected, and Wilma had presented to him (along with the two videos of my arrest). I called Paul.

After some chit-chat I said "Say – tomorrow can you meet me at noon someplace near the police station?"

"Sure – where," he excitedly replied.

"I'll give you the address – it's only four blocks from the station," I said, and gave it to him. The address was that of a testing lab.

Paul was a little surprised when he got there. "Why here?" he asked.

"Because I intend to make you the happiest man in Apricot County, and that means no condoms. Let's get tested – I'll pay," I giggled as I took his arm and led him into the lab, where I already had appointments.

Paul and I went into different rooms. We both had blood drawn, provided a urine sample, a cheek swab, a physical inspection while naked, and in my case a vaginal swab. I knew that Paul would also have to provide a sperm sample.

I was done before Paul, and when I saw the male doctor or technician (I don't know which) exit his room I snuck in. Paul was still naked and starting to masturbate to provide the sperm sample. His eyes got wide when I entered.

"Let me give you some help with that," I giggled. He didn't really say anything but his eyes got wider. I took my top off, exposing my bare tits, put a little lube from a jar on the counter on my hands, and started jacking him off. He really loved it – so much so that his eyes started to glass over so I reminded him that he had to have the vial positioned properly to collect his cum when he ejaculated. He must really have been excited, because his cum slightly overflowed the vial.

"That's just a sample of what's to come, dude," I chuckled as I wiped the lube off my hands, put my top back on, and exited the room. Just before I left I mouthed "Meet me outside."

I arranged for the clinic to have both results sent to both Paul's and my email addresses. When we met outside I said "The test results will be available by Friday morning. Assuming no issue, if you don't have any plans this weekend, my parents are gone – as you know I moved back there after I left my husband – and we can have Friday night, all day Saturday, and until early afternoon Sunday – to get better acquainted."

"I...I...I'd like that," Paul stammered.

"You don't mind that I'm still technically married?" I teased, running my hand over his chest.

"No...uh...like the good investigator that I am, I read your divorce proceeding papers; you're as good as divorced, and in any event I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth," he smiled while blushing.

I handed him a slip of paper with my parents' address on it, gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and giggled "See you about 7 p. m. on Friday."