Chapter Text
Georgina Ellis did not know how she had ended up here. From ending up in prison, to then ending up in a riot, to then ending up in a maximum-security prison. She was really contemplating her life choices. Because this was a fucking nightmare.
She had been in and out of prison many times over the years, mainly for drug charges but this time around she was doing 8 years for shooting her husband or now ex-husband in the foot. Long story. The only reason she had gotten less time is because her ex-husband was a fucking pussy and was convinced, he could fix her. Good luck with that. Plus, she had two kids with the guy. That and she had a fairly decent lawyer who had managed to play the addict and mental health card. She was only 2 years into her sentence and if she were lucky, she would be out in 4.
But by the looks of it, her luck had run out.
Max was a really shitty place. Being stuck in ad-seg was even worse. She could not stop thinking either which was never a good thing. The more she thought about her situation the more ill she felt. It was unclear what had happened in the pool. One minute they were all holding hands and the next about thirty-armed men were storming in with guns.
Before the riot ended, Georgina had spent most of her time in the pharmacy. She wasn’t a drug addict. Nor would she consider herself one. She had been partial to cocaine back in the day sure, but it’s not like painkillers were on the same level. But that was just her opinion. That was besides the point, she had spent most of her time high on different prescription medications and living in her own little bubble as one does. But now she was here, and she was not feeling good about it at all.
She sat on the small bed in the cell trying to tame her curls with her fingers as the shitty little comb she’d been given was never going to work. Her ginger hair had gone all frizzy and her skin was significantly paler than usual, though she chalked that down to the lack of sunlight and just generally being a fair-skinned redhead.
She didn’t know how long they’d been here already. A week or two maybe. People were being brought out for questioning and the last thing Georgina wanted was to be questioned. Somehow, she always ended up pissing someone off or saying the wrong thing. In her 51 years of life that was the one thing that had not gotten better with age. She’s about done trying to untangle her hair when one of the COs starts banging on her cell door. Hellman or something. What a fitting name.
“Inmate get up. Time for questioning.” He says sternly.
Georgina huffs before reluctantly getting up. Soon enough she’s being led out of the cell and to a room where two federal agents sit. She’s uncuffed and then begrudgingly sits down. The anticipation was really killing her.
“So, Miss Ellis, let’s talk about the riot. You were there, correct?” States the woman.
Georgina looks at the woman with a confused look. What is with all the stupid questions?
“Well yes obviously.” She replies with condescension.
“Right. And what did you know about Desi Piscatella.” She says more firmly this time.
Georgina scoffs. Piscatella was a piece of shit. They should have killed the guy instead of letting him walk.
“Piscatella? He was a horrible guy and clearly hated woman. I mean why work in a woman prison if you hate woman. Doesn’t make sense.” She remarks.
“So you admit you disliked him.” Replies the woman.
“Yes, of course I did. Did you see what he did to Red? What he did to me? I mean look at my face! I look like a fucking clown for fucks sake!” Georgina replies angrily.
Georgina had also been a victim of Piscatella and his sick and twisted little game. Aside from scalping Red which was horrendous, slapping Nicky and breaking Alex’s arm he had given Georgina a new smile. A Chelsea smile or a Glasgow smile which ever you preferred but the point was her face was all fucked up. She’d had worse in terms of pain and he really hadn’t gone that deep. At least not deep enough for her to go to an actual hospital. However now her face looked all mashed up.
“So you admit to wanting him dead?” This time a man speaks.
“I wouldn’t say I’d be devastated if he died.” She replies sharply.
For a moment, the two agents just look at her. She’s confused but then suddenly that confusion starts to turn to realisation.
“He’s dead? When? How?” She blurts out.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell us.” Responds the male agent.
“What? You don’t think i did it? I didn’t kill the fucking guy. I didn’t even know he was dead until five seconds ago.” She says with urgency.
The last thing she needed was a murder charge. The woman looks at some document before responding.
“So, if you didn’t do it who did? You’re doing what, 8 years for aggravated assault? You’ve got two kids correct? 17 and 22. Do you want to see them again?” Says the woman.
“Of course I do. But I am telling you I did not kill him. I didn’t like the guy sure but I’m no murderer.” She emphasises.
“So if you didn’t do it, who did? Maybe give us a name.” Pries the man.
Now Georgina was no snitch. Regardless of how this went she had six years left on her sentence. If she snitched her life would be made a living hell. She also knew these women. Most of them had been her friend for years, so snitching on someone was a no go. She knew she didn’t have the guts to.
“I don’t know who killed him. It was dark and I could hardly see a thing, I doubt anyone else could.” She responds matter of factly.
“Fine. But if you want to save yourself and see your kids outside of here again, you need to realise that these women are not your friends.” Remarks the woman seriously.
The next couple of weeks were a blur. More investigations, more talking and lots of sitting around doing nothing. Georgina however started to get really worried when some of the other ladies were starting to get out of ad-seg and sent to gen-pop. How many people have gotten extra time? How many people have you snitched? Maybe she should start looking out for herself. But then again sometimes that’s a death wish. She had managed to get her lawyer back in the mix so at least that would help. Nonetheless she really wasn’t feeling too optimistic. She’s sitting in the cell when she gets taken out again for more questioning. Though at least she has legal representation with her this time. She sits down sighing.
“Let’s cut to the chase Miss Ellis. Is this you? Yes or no.” says the woman putting a picture down in front of her.
Said picture was of her on the roof a cigarette in hand with yoga, and those two racists she didn’t remember the names of. Oh, and Judy King tied to a cross.
“I’m sorry but I really do not see how this picture is relevant. My client had nothing to do with the riot. Her being on a roof doesn’t prove anything.” Replies her lawyer.
“We have strong reason to believe that Miss Ellis was heavily involved in the riot. We also have over a dozen statements from inmates that Miss Ellis was handing out bottles of prescription medications. Thousands of dollars worth.” Says the man this time.
“That’s not- I was hardly involved!” Georgina snaps back.
“If you take the theft, possession and distribution, you’re looking at an extra 60 to 70 years.” Replies the woman.
Georgina rubs a hand over her face. 70 years? Fuck that was serious. She would die in here with a charge like that. She didn’t even know who she’d rat out. She did not want to rat anyone out. Frieda maybe? She was the one who had that whole fucked up bunker situation going on in the first place. No, she couldn’t do that. Red? It was her who got Piscatella into the prison. But Red was one of the people she was closest to. No way she would rat on her. She couldn’t think of anyone nor had the heart to sell any of these women out.
“Or you give us a name.” Says the man.
“I can’t give you a name because I don’t know what the fuck was happening! How many times do I have to say it?” She replies angrily.
“Okay let’s just take a breath. My client is going to have a think about it.” Remarks the lawyer.
Georgina did think. For about two days she sat in that cell thinking of what to do. It shouldn’t be this hard. Any sane person would save themselves. Being a snitch in prison was a death sentence in itself. It was a lose lose situation. Clearly no one was getting off easy, and all this excessive thinking had made her ruminate on her childhood.
Her mom used to cook this meal, it was essentially just lamb and vegetables which 8-year-old her hated. So, she would sit there picking at it. Her mom used to give her this ultimatum either eat what she cooked or go to bed hungry. Again, a lose lose situation. She could either sit there and eat something she positively hated or go to bed early without any food. She didn’t know why she was thinking about her childhood so much. It was nothing special.
She had five siblings, four of which were girls, the youngest being the only boy. Georgina was from South Carolina, born and bred. But they moved to West Virginia when she was 13 to be closer to her father’s side of the family. All of which she couldn’t stand. She supposed a lot of her issues came from her childhood. Whose didn’t? Your childhood is basically the template for how the rest of your life is going to turn out. After two days of stewing in the cell, she finds herself in a room with her lawyer. However, this played out she knew she was going to get extra time.
“Here is where we’re at. You will not give names, you’ve made that clear, but you can take a plea. 10 years for your involvement in the riot and they’ll drop the drug charges. I know it’s not the outcome you were hoping for but honestly this is the best you’re going to get. With good behaviour you could probably knock it down a few.” Her lawyer says sympathetically.
10 years. Well, it was better than 70 but with the 6 years she already has left on her sentence she would be serving 16 years. A decade and a half in this shithole. Even if she could get out on good behaviour that’s still at least 13 years. Regardless of that, getting out on good behaviour was difficult and the parole bored was very selective about who they released. She was in the thick of it now.
“I would still be serving sixteen years! I’d be in my late 60s by that time. I’ve not even done anything wrong I- this is an injustice.” She replies vexed.
“Miss Ellis, I am telling you that this is the best you’re going to get. Deny the plea, take it to trial, but I’m telling you that your chances of winning a trial are zero to none. If you don’t want to die in here, then i implore you to take this plea deal.” He stresses.
Georgina puts her head in her hands. There was no getting out or fixing this situation. This was her reality and reality was cruel.
“Pass me the pen.” She mumbles exasperated.
Her lawyer slides her over the paper and passes her a pen. After a minute of letting the pen hover over the paper she’s signs it.