Stacy Hempstead sat stiffly in the Atlanta courtroom as the federal judge announced her husband's sentence. Next to her, she could hear his mother start to cry, and seconds later when the judge stated he must report within two weeks, her sobbing grew louder. In reality, there was no surprise, as it had all been part of a plea arrangement, but hope is a powerful thing, and until the final gavel fell, they all had prayed for a miracle.
Barton Hempstead had grown up in a lower-middle-class family and from childhood had been a driven individual. Through hard work, he had managed to land a scholarship to a first-rate private university, and upon graduation, he joined a boutique financial firm where he spent the next eight years moving swiftly up the ranks. He was smart, ambitious, focused and ferociously loyal. These traits had served him well throughout his career but ultimately played a key role in his downfall. The company had come under intense scrutiny regarding several federally supported loans used in a community real estate deal. The goal of the project was to reinvigorate a blighted area of town, but it was oozing with conflicts and the supporting documentation had been improperly created. In addition, there was the specter of funds being used to pay-off certain civic leaders. It quickly erupted into a big scandal that was impossible to control and drew the feds in like flies. The ironic aspect was that Barton had only been a peripheral player in the transaction. However, rather than come clean, he initially took a position to defend the firm and by the time he realized his mistake, all the good deals had been cut. The result was that most of his less loyal colleagues received relatively minor sentences while he got hit with twenty-six months in a low-security prison.
Stacy met her future husband through mutual friends two years after graduating from college. After their introduction, they seemed to run into each other often and struck up a friendship that was ultimately converted into a relationship after Barton finally asked her out. Since he was just two years older, they shared many of the same interests, and never lacked for things to do. Eighteen months later, they were married, and two years after that Stacy gave birth to their daughter, Regan. Despite Barton's dedication to his work, which typically involved long hours, the past few years had been a pleasant whirlwind for the young wife.
"I still think you should have told them to stick the deal. Two and a half years is a long time and it wasn't your doing!" Barton's father declared the next day when they were together for dinner.
He was a retired lineman for a large public utility and shared many of the same characteristics as his son.
"Dad, we've been through this. The lawyers said it was the best thing to do," his son replied.
"Damn lawyers. I've never trusted a single one," he countered.
"I hope you're close," his mother said in a strained voice.
"The word is it will be Folkston," Barton responded while patting her shoulder.
"That's a long drive," she replied.
"Enough of this talk. Let's eat," the elder Hempstead said, purposefully changing the conversation.
Despite the well-prepared meal, it couldn't overcome the somber mood. Everyone wanted badly to create an ideal two weeks for Barton, but the harder they tried, the stronger the reality hit home. Then, just two days before he was to report, they learned that he would be assigned to the facility in Texarkana some seven hundred miles away. It was like a kick in the gut to the assembled family and the women spent most of their time crying. Even Barton's older sister, a normally stoic school teacher in Florida who had flown in for the final visit, couldn't hold back her tears.
On a dreary Thursday morning, the newly designated felon reported, and as Stacy and his family looked on, Barton disappeared into the brick building with the heavy iron door clanking loudly behind him. The courtroom had been a tough moment, but this proved to be even harder and it took all her willpower to turn and move towards the car.
The odd choice of location that the federal prison system had selected had thrown them a curveball. It was clearly too far to drive on a consistent basis, which would impact their costs significantly. Their research showed that the closest airport was Shreveport which was an hour's drive away. It meant, that in addition to the airline ticket, a rental car would be required along with a hotel and meals. The cost of Barton's defense had devasted the couple's finances to the point that they had to sell their home and move in with his parents. After talking through different approaches, it was decided that Stacy would visit her husband every month while his parents would make it as often as possible, but on different days so they could maximize the number of visits. Stacy thought it would be impossible to take Regan on every trip, due to the logistics and since she was just a one-year-old but hoped as she got older her visits might become more frequent.
"Are you sure you want to stay with it?" Stacy's dad asked as they talked over the phone.
From the moment of the indictment, he had challenged her about remaining married. He had made it very clear that he was not pleased about a felon as a son-in-law. In truth, he had never gotten along that well with her husband and didn't think they were a good match.
"Dad, come on. Please don't start this again. I...I can't abandon him. It would be so unfair," she replied.
"Seems he wasn't thinking about that when..." he started.
"Please stop," she interjected.
"Okay, honey. I'll put your mom on now, but at least think about it," he said.
Stacy's mom and dad lived in a mid-sized town in Virginia. Her father was partnered with two other men in an accounting practice while her mother worked as an elementary school teacher. Numerous times, they had offered financial assistance and suggested she move home with the baby. It had been a kind and somewhat appealing gesture. However, Stacy knew that they were already helping her brother start a business, so she turned it down. Plus, she had recently been able to land a decent marketing job with a regional distribution company that would help provide for her the needs of mother and daughter while her husband was away.
Visiting days at the facility were Saturday and Sunday and Stacy made sure that she was ready for the first weekend, which involved extensive paperwork. She knew that suddenly being locked up would be a traumatic event for her husband and wanted to make sure he saw a friendly face as soon as possible. So, early on Saturday morning, she made her way to the airport and after a short flight, she landed in Shreveport. From there, it was a one-hour drive and she arrived at the prison just past noon. Making sure to follow the rules to the letter, she went through security and was directed to the visiting room which was filled with well over a hundred people. It took another twenty minutes for Barton to appear, and in that time, she took notice of those around her. There were many families present, including small children, but she also spotted numerous one-on-one situations. All races were represented, and she surmised by the look of some of the people that they were part of a white-collar situation just like her.
The one thing she hadn't expected was the leering looks she got from many of the men, both visitors, and inmates. Stacy, a slender blond, was 5'7" tall, with green eyes and shapely C-cup breasts. She had worked hard to rid herself of her pregnancy weight and had made it to within three pounds, which had settled on her hips, giving her a more mature look. She had purposefully dressed in jeans and a simple long-sleeved blouse to be nondescript, but it didn't appear to matter.
"Stacy," she heard her husband's voice and turning she saw him moving towards her spot.
"Honey," she replied and rose to give him an allowable kiss.
Then, holding hands, they sat, and for the next hour, chatted about the baby and family. She showed him some recent photos she had taken and some coloring Regan had made. She tried to steer clear of asking him any questions about the conditions in the prison, but as the conversation began to die, she finally broached the subject.
"How...I mean...what's it like?" she asked.
