Smart, Pamela - My Time With Convicted Murderer...
My Time with Convicted Murderer Pamela Smart
Behind the Razor Wire
Katie A.
Raymond-Santo,Yahoo! Contributor Network
Jul 7, 2006
Pamela Smart , convicted murder, and I have been in contact for almost 4 years now. Here is our story.
Approaching my senior year in college I decided to stray away from my major. I always had this fascination with the criminal justice system, yet it was an avenue that I never explored. The first course of this nature I took was "Women and Criminal Justice." Without any background at all, most deemed I would be a failure. About a week into the course we received our first written assignment. It read: "Pick an infamous female offender from the list provided and write a well-crafted paper discussing the role of gender in the outcome of the case."
Dr. Casey Jordan went around the room and asked each student whom they wanted to write about. It was the first subject matter we had covered in the semester, and would play a significant role in the grading. Each student told the class who they were writing about. Aileen Wuornos, Mary Kaye Letourneu, and Karla Faye Tucker. One after another these names repeated. We had already studied most of the offenders they had chosen. Wuornos was the basis of the movie "Monster" from which Charlize Theron won an Oscar. Karla Faye Tucker had been executed a few years prior after much debate. Then there was Mary Kay Letourneau. Everyone knew what she did with Villi. Nobody had mentioned one name: Pamela Smart. I decided then and there that she would be my topic. Her name looked unfamiliar to me. Even my professor had mentioned she was a "good choice but a tough one." Very quickly I would become familiar with Ms. Smart. The unfamiliar name would soon make my life much more interesting.
Pamela Wojas (Smart) met Greg Smart at a New Years Eve party in the late 1980's. The two began dating and soon after were married. Just before their one-year anniversary Greg revealed that he was having an affair. Greg had changed since when they first got married, growing out of the long hair and heavy metal music, into a successful insurance salesman. This change left Pamela disenchanted with her husband. The school district of Hampton in New Hampshire had hired her as a media services director. Her job duties entailed coordinating programs ranging from self-esteem to guest speakers for all of the schools. While doing a program on self-esteem at Winnacunnet High School, she met 15-year-old named Billy Flynn. He was like the younger Greg Pamela had been attracted to. They soon began having an affair, and Flynn became infatuated with Pamela.
Flynn claims that he was a virgin before meeting Pamela. Sex became the integral part of the relationship. An alleged threat to end the affair was a primary component to murder. In his testimony Flynn stated that Smart's words ranged from "You have to get rid of Greg" to "If you want to keep seeing me, you'll have to get rid of my husband." Smart gave them rules of "not to let the dog (Halen) see the murder," to "keep the lights off so Greg would not think something was wrong" and to "move the speakers around, so it looks like a botched burglary." He was 15 and in love. After two failed attempts at murder, on May 1 1990, Flynn and his friend Pete Randall shot Greg Smart, while he pleaded for his life on his knees. Vance Lattime, another friend of Flynn waited in the car outside.
That night Pamela would come home to the sight of her husband's body lying by the kitchen floor. She was shocked and crying and immediately called police. Just as asked, Greg was gone. What ensued was a trial heavily touted in the media. It became a media circus way before O.J. Simpson. The trial of Pamela Smart was one of the first televised trials. The public became enthralled.
Pamela Smart at walked into the courtroom with no expression. Newspapers and magazines had coined the nickname "ice princess." The premise was something made for a television movie: love, seduction, deceit, murder. The case took no legal precedence, it was simply too meaty of a story for the media not to sink their teeth into. After a lengthy trial the sentence was life in prison without the chance for parole.
The release date on her prison paperwork reads "9999" It was the last number the computer system could go up to.
Every fact scenario pointed to Pamela being involved in the murder. There were wire taps, the boys testimony and Pamela's alleged confession to her close friend. Her sentence of life without parole left room for debate. Even now there is hype about her case. I wanted to write a thorough paper, but I needed more pertinent facts. I had a few options:
A)Write
the paper and forget about it.
B)Just make it up as I went along without really understanding my topic
C)Contact Pamela Smart
I chose C.
Later
that night I e-mailed Dr. Jordan a simple sentence "would it be wrong if I
wrote a letter to Pamela Smart?"
The next day I received an e-mail back. "There is nothing wrong with
contacting Pamela Smart. However, don't get your hopes up. There is a 96%
chance that she won't respond, and a 4 % chance that she will respond and say
"no thanks"
At first my motivation was to get a good grade on the paper. But very quickly
it evolved into seeing what an inmate was really like.
Dear
Ms. Smart,
My name is Katie and I am a student at Western Connecticut State University.
For my women and criminal justice course we have to do a paper. I have chosen
you. After reading all the research and news articles on your case, I figured
the best way to get the real story was to go to the source. I was hoping that I
could hear from you, and maybe visit so we can talk.
Sincerely,
Katie Raymond
I put a stamp on the envelope and mailed it out the next morning.
It felt like I was in high school waiting for the college acceptance letter. Since I was scared, I used my work address as the return address. Three days later I got the call from work. My letter had arrived.
Katie
Hi, I received your letter today. I appreciate your interest in my life. I will
try to help you as best as I can. I think it is admirable that you don't appear
to take everything you read at face value.
You can visit if you would like to. The visiting hours are anytime between 830
and 330 weekdays. Just let me know when you want to come. All you need to bring
is a driver's license. That would be nice if you want to come.
I was on my way.
There is a certain level of fear that comes with visiting a prison. Watching
television news, specials and movies, I had really become scared. Besides the
prisons on television, I was completely intimidated by going alone. I asked if
Dr. Jordan could come with me.
When you know you are traveling to a job interview, how you dress is so important. Most agree that it reflects how much you want the job. Was this applied to prison as well? Did what you wear determine what the inmate might say to you? I thought of my mom's warnings when I was young and traveling into New York City.
"Don't wear your gold cross or your nice watch. You don't want someone stealing it."
Now that was in the Bronx at a Yankee game. Was this true for prison as well?
When I was in high school my law class went to a men's maximum security prison. We were told not to wear certain bright colors as they were gang related. We also would be traveling within the prison, not just the visitor's area. The inside is much more dangerous. My class was hustled out of one ward after almost causing a riot. One young girl wore bright yellow and black, the colors of the Latin Kings.
I did not want to be too overbearing with what I wore. I was generally unaware of the Bedford Hills population, whether the majority were white, black, Latino. By dressing up I would risk being too stiff. My nerves would cause the polyester of the business suit to stick to me. I decided jeans and a sweater.
I went to pick up my professor at school. It was a beautiful sunny day. The sky was a bright blue with only a few passing clouds. Bedford Hills is far from prison country. Picturesque landscapes of lush green are always within eyesight. It was a quaint but charming small town. As we took our first left towards the prison, I noticed some rather large houses and condo complexes. This hardly seemed like a place for cold and calculated criminals.
As the road began to wind two prisons came into view on either side of the street. On one side was the Taconic Correctional Facility, a medium security women's facility. On the other side was Bedford Hills, the maximum security facility. The Taconic Facility was more set back in the woods, whereas Bedford was right on the road. As I came down the hill to the entrance, I looked above the buildings and razor wire. There were beautiful rolling hills and green trees. I can drive and see those trees every day. Pamela can only look at them from a cell window.
I parked the car and got out. Dr. Jordan turned to me "Your face is white Katie, are you okay?" I smiled. "Remember to bring in two forms of identification. I have the singles."
Singles and quarters are essential to any prison visit. In some cases, this is the only way to get an inmate to speak. In my case, it would help all of us to become less uncomfortable. Sometimes the food in the vending machines is the best they will get for weeks.
My professor and I began walking towards the visitor check-in building.
The building is separated from the prison. The only thing that connects it is a walkway lined with both barbed and razor wire. I walked in and picked up a visitors registration sheet. Name, weight, age, height, address, who are you here to see, why, what relation…I felt as if I was being interrogated on paper. A couple minutes later I handed my sheet to the officer and walked through the metal detector. With my black-light stamp on my right hand I was ready to go in.
I felt naked at that point. No cell phone, no wallet, no pen, no paper, no purse. All of these things that I relied on were not on me. I was in safe hands, but my heart was racing. We waited for the heavy metal door to unlock. There was no turning back now.
The
visiting area looked more like my junior high school cafeteria. There were
small tables, about 30 of them in the room. To one side there were vending
machines with soda, juice, snacks and other items. Oddly enough, there was a
bright white line about a foot in front of the machines. I wouldn't know what
this was until later. My hands suddenly got cold and start to shake slightly.
My professor put a can of ice tea on the table. "Hold onto this so you
won't seem so nervous." Was it that obvious?
I looked around. In the back of the area there was a small children's area run
by both inmates and professionals. There were bright colors, big stuffed
animals and lots of toys and books. There were two children in their with her
mom. I can't remember her exact inmate number listed on her jumpsuit. I don't
know what she was serving time for. All I can remember about that moment were
her children's faces. Her young daughter in braids looked up lovingly at her
mom and laughed. Her son gave her a hug. They looked so happy. For a moment it
didn't seem like a maximum-security prison.
We waited for about ten minutes. As each minute passed by my nerves grew. What was taking so long? She should be sitting here right now. Maybe she backed down. Maybe she didn't feel like visiting a college student.
Pamela came out of the side door accompanied by a correctional officer. She didn't look like the Pamela I had seen in pictures. The newspaper clippings showed a twenty-three year old attractive woman. The infamous photos that Pamela had sent to her lover in lingerie had been plastered all over newspapers. Now she looked harder, more tired, almost like she was wasting away. Pamela was much thinner, almost skin and bones. She was frail with dark circles under her eyes. I took a deep breath and stood up.
"Hi Pamela, I'm Katie, and this is my professor." I said as I stuck out my hand. Those would be my only words for about ten minutes. I just sat at the table and stared. I could not believe I was here. Pamela writes:
On the first visit you seemed kind of shy. However, I soon learned that you have a great sense of humor. I did not feel awkward with you…I felt that you were very direct, but also kind. You weren't asking me rude or invasive questions.
It startles me that she looked at me that way. My words didn't come out right when I asked questions, and I was shaking the whole time. I was scared of the prison, and I was scared of her. This first meeting was all about her story. I listened only slightly, being more attentive to her physical features. The cream colored sweater, the gold necklace with the cross. Her nails seemed to be perfectly manicured. Was this a maximum-security prison? I looked around and saw the razor wire. I guess it was.
As the visiting hours ended, I found that my senses were too overwhelmed to really take in everything Pamela had told me. My eyes tended to stray away from Pamela to the children. I had heard a saying once "Prison babies never smile." Now I don't know if these would be considered prison babies, being 5 maybe 6 years old tops, but I saw nothing but smiles. Whatever their mother was in for, whether it is murder, drugs, larceny, none of that mattered when she looked into her child's eyes. There was nothing but love there.
The correctional officer stood up and announced "five minutes until end of visiting hours ladies, you know what to do" I watched the mother with her children. She hugged both of them and gave them each a kiss on their foreheads. The little girl quickly ran to put the toys away. Hand in hand, the son on one side, daughter on the other they approached "that" door. "That" door that separates her from her children every day. She let go of their hands as she walked towards the door. She got down on one knee. She had tears in her eyes and waited for the door to open. The inmate was now through the door. The little girl was grasping her grandmother so tightly. At that moment I felt tears begin to well up behind my eyes.
Dr. Jordan, Pamela and I got up. Pamela asked me if it was okay to give me a hug. Without thinking I said "sure" Her hands were cold, she felt very weak. I put my arms around her and said thank you. My professor and I walked out. I had just been hugged by one of the most "infamous" people in the United States. But that wouldn't consume me for the ride home or early the next morning. It was the scene of the mother with her two children that was constantly on my mind. I had sympathy for the children, but I also found myself feeling for the mother. I could not imagine the feeling of having your child pulled away from you. But I had to keep in mind one thing: whatever decision that mother made put her in this prison.
The
next few days were completely different for me. The outgoing, bubbly Katie had
turned introspective. I did not like it.
Sleep was difficult for me that night. I tossed and turned. Both my mind and my
body were restless. When I first closed my eyes I saw the laughter and smiles
the children had shared with their mother. But slowly the scene would progress
towards nothing but tears. I would sit up the rest of that night.
The
next morning I wanted to travel and see my professor. The conversation would be
simple:
Thanks for coming to the prison with me. I really appreciate it. Can you tell
me why I am losing so much sleep over these two children? Aren't I supposed to
be cold and uncaring about the whole situation…I mean it is a prison!
I never went in to see her. I decided to stay home and sleep all day.
It
would be two months before I would take a trip back to the prison. Part
of me was really scared to go alone. Pamela had sent me four letters since my
first visit. In each letter she sounded more and more depressed. She had been
put in solitary, for what, she never said. This meant she was separated from
her housing unit. She felt extremely depressed. Her parents were heading down
to Florida, which mean she would have few to no visitors. I can't wait to go
back to the girls in my unit they need me. She would always write.
Pamela had been placed in the mental health unit of the prison. This was not
because she was insane, but she saw it as another form of punishment by the
warden. Instead she decided to make the best of it, teaching other inmates and
planning various programs. Her letters were almost like those you would write a
friend in summer camp. The only difference was that at summer camp, you could
use a real knife with lunch.
These letters were so conversational and trusting in tone that it scared me. It
made my emotions become completely out of whack. What was I supposed to think
or feel about the whole situation? She was convicted of murder. She did have an
affair on her husband with a fifteen year old. Now whether she says she was
framed or did not influence the killing is beside the point. In the eyes of the
state and by a jury of her peers she is a murderer. But she is also human, as
are all the other women locked up behind bars.
I got in my car and drove to the prison. It was around Christmas, a
particularly lonely time for the inmates. I checked in and walked to the
visitors building. Again, ten minutes later Pamela came out. She didn't look
like a prisoner. I looked down at her perfectly manicured hands.
"Pamela," I asked, "Why don't you wear your wedding
ring?"
She looked down at her hands. "They don't want us to wear stones, my mom
has it, and I was afraid someone would steal it here."
The conversation quickly switched topics.
The answer took me by surprise as I had seen other inmates with bands on.
As we were chatting about school and the grade on my paper an elderly woman
came to the table with a plate. It had an assortment of Christmas cookies.
"Here girls, these are for you." I smiled as she put them down. She
headed back towards the Children's Center. I thought to myself "How nice
of that older woman to volunteer here" I looked down towards her waist and
saw the inmate i.d. card dangling.
Sh-t, grandma's got a gun, and she wants me to eat these cookies! Hell
no!
It turned out that she too, was a convicted murderer. She was 66 years old and
had murdered her husband. Her sons are fighting for clemency.
Pamela would be like that in this prison some day. I wondered if I would still
be visiting her then as well.
Those sugar cookies with the green and red sprinkles could be deadly. I passed
and offered them to Pamela. For someone so skinny, she ate four cookies in
under five seconds. But she wasn't done yet.
The
razor wire
"Do you want something to drink or anything else to eat?" I asked,
showing her some singles. She smiled and walked with me over to the vending
machines. About six inches from the front of the machines is this big white
line. I gave Pamela seventy-five cents. She just looked at me
"Katie I can't put this in here, you have to get it for me."
"Well I guess you could look at it as having a waitress service, but
without the tipping" I said and smiled. She wasn't impressed.
Getting a soda from the machine is just one of the many freedoms they have
taken away. No voting, no vending machines. I'd be more pissed off about the
vending machines.
Two Diet Pepsis and a 7-11 burrito later, we were back at our table.
She opened the can of soda. "I love this stuff," she said with a
smile.
"Diet Pepsi is like my form of crack," I said. Two inmates stopped
everything and looked at me. Oops. My prison etiquette hadn't quite kicked in
yet.
Visiting
hours came to a close and I was on my way back to Connecticut. The experience
was both a little nerve-racking and strange. When I finally got into my car I
just stared at the guard tower. How does it feel to know you are never getting
out of that place? I took out my digital camera and snapped a few shots. As I
began to drive away I wondered if I should really stay in contact with Pamela.
She was a murderer, housed with other murderers and drug dealers. Would she try
to manipulate me? Was I strong enough not to let that happen?
My mom was home when I pulled in.
"Hey Katie hat did you do today?"
This was her regular routine.
"I went to the prison; I've been there since 12:45.
"Katie, sometimes I just don't understand you," she said with that
motherly look. I smiled and went into my room.
When I first went to the prison I told everyone about it. It made me the center
of attention. It took my somewhat bland life, and made it fun. My conversations
would consist of:
"Hey, you ever hear of Pamela Smart? Yeah the one who murdered her
husband? Well I visit her and write her in prison."
A barrage of questions would follow.
"Were you scared when you first went?"
"Did she say she did it?"
"Does she talk to the two boys?"
"What did she think of that movie 'To Die For'"?
That night, before I went to bed, I realized something. Americans will never stop loving true crime stories. We become fascinated by these intricate details of murders or various other crimes. This is why we have Court TV and all these "legal eagle" programs on the twenty-four hour news networks. Now, in my own small way, I was a part of this world.
Each
time I visited the prison or wrote to Pamela I wondered about the children I
saw on my first visit. How were these children affected by what was going on?
What is their "family life" like at home? Do they visit their mom
often? I only saw the children that one time, but there are many more just like
them out there.
According to Jean Harris, ex-Bedford inmate, "75% of women in Bedford are
mothers, with 2/3 of them having children under the age of 10." Harris was
convicted of murdering her husband, the Scarsdale Diet Doctor. Her observation
is evident especially on Mother's Day, where the prison closes the visiting
room and opens up the gym. There are just too many visitors for the room to
accommodate. This shows how important mothers are in the life of their
child-whether they are behind bars or not.
In 1999, when a father was imprisoned, nine out of 10 times the mother carries
out the parental responsibilities. When a mother is imprisoned only 28% of the
fathers took custody of the child. The grandparents would take the child 53% of
the time, while ten percent wind up in foster care (Sokoloff 261).
As I read on, the study noted that seven percent of all black children in the
United States have one imprisoned parent. White children had less that one
percent.
This presents the case for a large racial gap in society. The majority of
female offenders are for non-violent crimes, such as drugs. This
"lifestyle" in some cases is passed onto the child. Many times the
child is present when the mother is arrested-in some cases opening the door for
the police. This leaves an incredible amount of guilt and shame by the child.
The "If I only" scenario is always played out in their minds. Without
any real stable family life, the children get into trouble, sometimes with
drugs, and other times murder and violence.
I leaned back in my office chair amazed. There really is a great societal
problem among these children. Too often I would hear the three words
"tough on crime," but not once a mention of the inmate's children.
Are these children one of America's "dirty little secrets? The majority of
them fall through the cracks, committing the same offenses as their parents.
Why though? The answer is simple. In regular life is hard to keep a family
together. While in prison it is even harder.
"Maintaining close family ties during incarceration has been shown to
result in decreased recidivism rates, improved mental health of inmates,
greater potential for parole success and family reunifications" (Sokoloff
265).
In other words, every child needs a family.
Yet
studies such as the aforementioned one seem to bar no impact on institutional
and sentencing policies. It is true that some inmates are ashamed and wish to
have no inmates from their children. However, the majority of mothers love to
see their children-they still have, and want to keep that mother-child
bond.
The fact of the matter is though, that most of these mothers and children do
not get the number of visits they really need to keep this bond in tact.
54% of 439 mothers (in a California study) say their children have never
visited them.
17% say once a month
12% every 4-6 months
7 % once a year or less
10% once or more a week.
Why are these numbers so low? 43 % say the distance from home accounts for the
lack of visits. 61.5 % of children live over 100 miles from where their mother
is incarcerated.
This number is mind-boggling.
Pamela, who has no children, is from New Hampshire. Both of her parents still
reside there. Why is Pamela so far away from her parents? The prison says it is
for her safety. The majority of inmates believe the distance is just another
form of punishment.
I made a point to consistently write to Pamela. It wasn't a matter of being
"friends" but more of a personal evolution. I did not feel pity for
her, nor would I work for her release. When it came to her guilt or innocence,
I decided that I should take a step back. Pamela's mom had been writing letters
and testifying in front of juries in support of her daughter's release. Her
letters went to all levels of government, including the governor of New
Hampshire. Mrs. Wojas felt that her daughter should be granted clemency. She
always notes "Charles Manson at least gets a chance to speak in front of
the parole board even though we all know he will never get out."
Pamela has exhausted all of her appeals. She filed habeas corpus stating that
her life senetence with no parole was "cruel and unusal punishment."
She noted that there are many men who commit heinous crimes who serve only ten
to twenty years. She blames this primarily on the media, a career she had
longed to be a part of. In her opinion with her face all over television she had
no chance at a fair trial.
To whatever extent that may be true, there is one fact that permeates this all:
from age 23 until death, Pamela Smart will never feel freedom.
When she was first sentence, Pamela almost felt like she could taste freedom.
Pamela had never lost anything before. She was always in control. Eventually
she would have to come to grips with the fact that somebody else would control
each move she made for the rest of her life.
She wrote to me one day " I can't believe they finally caught Saddam. What
a fitting end to such an asshole. The only thing I find ironic is that after a
trial he will probably get life without parole. So I'll be serving the same
sentence as a man who tortured, brutalized and killed scores of people. Could
someone please explain the justice in that? It gets me aggravated to even think
about it."
Pamela
doesn't open up to just anyone. She receives letters in the mail, and even if
she responds it is just a quick "thank you." She has hardened
somewhat, and doesn't want to trust anybody. Sometimes the letters and
envelopes she sends turn up on Ebay, and other times she gets marriage
proposals. Still, she is the center for some kind of dark cult
phenomenon.
She believes everyone has some kind of ulterior motive.
Pamela is still considered a high-profile inmate. When her latest appeal was
denied it was top news on both local and national news channels.
The "fascination fest" with Pamela inspired two movies: one starring
Helen Hunt called "Murder in New Hampshire: The Pamela Wojas Smart
Story" and debuted in 1991. The other was a dark comedy loosely based on
Pamela's story called "To Die For" starringNicole Kidman and Matt Dillon. In 1996
Kidman won the Golden Globe for her role in the comedy. It originally was a book
by Joyce Maynard, who says Pamela's trial inspired it. The first, starring
Helen Hunt came out to mixed reviews. However, "To Die For" was a box
office success in 1995 and put Pamela in the spotlight again. Even though she
feels the story was quite obscured.
When I felt a little more comfortable and daring at the prison I decided to ask
Pamela about "To Die For," and her emotions throughout the trial and
through the verdict. Oddly enough, she was very willing to talk about it.
"I was flipping through the channels about a week ago and the movie
"To Die For" was on." I said
She rolled her eyes.
"Well obviously you have an opinion on it, so what did you think of the
movie when it first came out?"
She looked down at the table and her hands became fidgety. Again, her nails
were perfectly manicured.
"Nicole Kidman looks nothing like me." She said "I look nothing
like that. They made me out to be this sex, career-crazed monster."
I looked at her.
"But in some respects, didn't you bring that upon yourself?"
She looked down.
"I was devastated that Greg was having an affair. I didn't want him to be
murdered."
"But you like to be in control, right" I asked
"Yes, but not so much where I would have someone murdered. I'm not cold
and calculated like everyone thinks I am."
Before Tanya Harding Pamela Smart was known as the "ice princess."
Throughout her trial she kept a cold, emotionless face.
One of the only ways Pamela tries to stay sane in the prison is through
writing. When asked in numerous television interviews before her trial about
her lack of emotion, she stayed silent, almost dumbfounded. Finally, in 1993,
through personal prison writings she was able to explain what she was feeling
at the time of the verdict. Her innermost thoughts of the verdict and her first
trip back to prison knowing that she was in for life were put on the paper. She
gave this to me.
Will the defendant please rise, he said matter of factly. I stood. The judge
sat solemn faced on the raised platform, turned to the jury and asked,
"Madam foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?" Yes your honor,
came the reply. To the charge of accomplice to first degree murder, how say ye?
He asked :Guilty" she replied. "I hereby sentence you to the New
Hampshire State Prison for for the remainder of your life…"When I entered
the prison, I was put in the holding tank. I was taken and strip-searched, then
returned to my unit.; I took off my clothers and went in the shower. As soon as
the water hit me, I began to cry. My friend Bridget came in to ask me if I was
alright, but I couldn't even talk. She just grabbed my washcloth and soap, got
in there with me and began to bathe me. I cried, and cried and I cried. The
pain just pured out of me. All the months of being stoic came rushing upon me.
All the months of being stoic came rushing upon me. I cried for all the times I
sat numb in the courtroom overwhelmed by the media and the accusations against
me. I sobbed for my family who had stood by me through the roughest moments.
Bust most of all, I wept for my husband, his young life lost. For the first
time, I felt it all. It was a pain so intense, so real, so complicated, so
unexplainable."
After reading this piece for the first time I began wondering about Pamela's
guilt and innocence. It would be the first time that I had sat and contemplated
the totality of what Pamela was in prison for. She had never vocally stressed
her innocence to me. She seemingly avoided certain questions I asked her about
her husband. I could not tell if her avoidance was out of guilt, or just a
flood of bad emotions to bring up. Nonetheless I put myself in her shoes that
day. The day when any freedom you had was taken away. Was I sorry that my
husband had died, or did I feel pity for myself simply because I didn't get
away with murder.
Normally
when I would visit Pamela at the prison she would be upbeat. Since I was one of
her few "real contacts" with the outside world, I was always greeted
with a smile. Sometimes I would drop of hermengically sealed soap in the
visitors building for her. I never gave her money. She never asked, and I
wouldn't have anyway.
One early afternoon I surprised her with a visit. This day seemed to be a
little bit off for Pamela. She had on her full prison uniform-something I had
never seen her in before. Her nails weren't done, and she seemed a little bit
unkempt. For someone who longed for control all the time, this startled
me.
"Hey Pamela, are you sick?" I asked.
"No I'm just really depressed today, I was just sitting in my cell with
the pillow over my head." She answered
"Well, do you want to talk about it? I mean, I can stay until visiting
hours are over if that helps."
"This is just something I have to figure out."
"I understand" I answered "but sometimes it helps to let people
in."
She began looking at some of the children visiting their parents. I think I
knew what was wrong.
"Pamela, did you ever wonder about having children?"
I startled her.
"Yeah, I mean, I could have children. A lot of the inmates have kids with
the prison guards here. But I really don't feel that is fair to the child. I
really wanted to have children with Greg. I wanted to have grandchildren for my
mom and dad. That was going to be a part of my life."
She
could not even look me in the eye. "I just feel like I never contributed
anything to society, I'm basically useless."
"But Pamela, do you only think that having a child means you contribute to
society?" I asked
"No, but it's one of those things I thought I was going to do. I was 24
when I was put in here. I had my whole life ahead of me."
She didn't feel like talking to me anymore that day. I watched her walk over to
the door back to the prison. She was slumped over, dejected. I got up from my
chair and continued to watch her body language. She took a quick glance and
gave me a half-smile and a wave. My visit was over. I wouldn't hear from Pamela
again for over a month.
On the next page is a piece Pamela had written in 2004. It was about how she
could never have a child and felt barren because of it. If I had read this
piece, I doubt I would have asked her about having children. The details and
emotions are both intimate and alarming. Towards the end she exclaims "By
virtue of my sentence, I have been robbed of her. (the child)"
Every
time I receive a letter or visit Pamela I learn something new. My prison
"experience" has grown, but that is artificial compared to what
morally it has taught me.
I think I was along the same lines as most people: inmates are criminals and
not human beings. Ultimately most of society believes this is how they should
be treated. I was so scared going into the prison for the first time because I
was scared of the people in it. But the more I visited and had brief
conversations with other inmates I realized that they were human beings.
I was in some ways star-struck when I first met Pamela. How many people can say
they have a movie made about them? Many people had wanted to visit and speak
with her. America loves the idea of deceit, love and murder. If we didn't,
there would not be a Lifetime Television Network or even Court TV for that
matter.
That is part of the problem. We engulf ourselves in crime cases-from Natalee Holloway to the Duke Rape Scandal, our thirst is for crime. Each time I visit the prison I unearth another layer of Pamela and the inmates. Pamela always ends her letters with one phrase "Until next time." There will always be a next time for Pamela, and it will always be behind bars.
Date of Information: 04/24/06
DIN (Dept. Identif. Number) 93G0356
Inmate Name: SMART, PAMELA
Sex: FEMALE
Date of Birth: 08/16/1967
Race/Ethnicity: WHITE
Custody Status: IN CUSTODY
Housing/Releasing Facility: BEDFORD HILLS
Date Received (Original): 03/11/1993
Date Received (Current): 03/11/1993
Admission Type: NEW COMMITMENT
County of Commitment:
Latest Release Date/Type:
(Released Inmates Only)
Crime 1, Description: MURDER 2ND
Crime 1, Crime Class: A1
Crime 2, Description: TAMPER W/ A WITNESS 1ST
Crime 2, Crime Class: B
Crime 3, Description: MURDER 2ND
Crime 3, Crime Class: A1
Crime 4, Description:
Crime 4, Crime Class:
If all 4 crime fields contain data, there may be additional crimes not shown here. In this case, the crimes shown here are those with the longest sentences.
Aggregate Minimum Sentence: LIFE Years, 99 Months, 99 Days
Aggregate Maximum Sentence: LIFE Years, 99 Months, 99 Days
Earliest Release Date: 99/28/9999
Under certain circumstances, an inmate may be released
prior to serving his or her minimum term and before the
earliest release date shown for the inmate.
See "Help" for further information.
Earliest Release Type: PAROLE HEARING DATE
Parole Hearing Date: 99/9999
Parole Hearing Type: FULL MAXIMUM
Parole Eligibility Date: 99/99/9999
Conditional Release Date: NONE
Maximum Expiration Date: LIFE
Maximum Expiration Date
for Parole Supervision:
Post Release Supervision
Maximum Expiration Date:
Parole Board Discharge Date:
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