Bloodsworth Read Online Free Page B

known as the South Wing of the Maryland Penitentiary—nine years of eating inedible food, shivering in a dim cold cell in the winter or sweltering in what became an unventilated sweatbox in the summer; nine years of being cursed as a child rapist and killer, of being threatened daily by other inmates, of having to lift weights with the Pagans and the Hell’s Angels in order to stayfit and able to fight for survival in the shower, of having to fend off shanks and clubs made of batteries crammed into socks, of hearing at night toothbrushes being sharpened into knives on the prison floor; worst of all, nine years of being despised by the outside world, of being mistrusted by his family, of being embarrassed about what he’d become and the way he had to live. Nine years of this before the afternoon Sergeant Hall tapped him on the shoulder and gave him the message.
    The first time Kirk had met Sergeant Cooley Hall, back in 1985, he’d told him that he was being held hostage, that Hall was holding an innocent man. When Hall heard this he laughed aloud. He had a deep bass laugh that he seemed to exhale like a shout. He was one of the few people who Kirk ever heard laugh inside the prison. “Everyone in the pen is innocent, mon, don’t you know?” Hall had told him. “You just one more innocent lamb, Mister Bloodmon. One more innocent lamb . . .” And he had continued to laugh as he walked away. But Kirk had reminded Hall nearly every day of the fact that he was innocent and that he was being held hostage. “You know you got an innocent man, here?” Kirk would say when Hall would walk with him to the commissary. “You holding an innocent man hostage, now. I just want you to know it.” Sometimes Hall, in that accent of his, would say quickly, “No, no, no! I don’t hold you nowhere! Da’ government got you, not me.” Kirk had repeated his claim of innocence, though, so often and so regularly through the years, that Hall had stopped laughing about it and stopped denying it. And then Kirk had stopped repeating it. It had become an unspoken token between them. Hall was just one of many in the prison who thought Kirk might be speaking the truth.
    While Hall had been standing there, the blood had drained from Kirk’s face as he’d reread the piece of scrap paper, then stared at it as if mesmerized. Kirk’s hand trembled as he asked Hall if he coulduse the phone. Hall smiled. His grin was gleaming white against his dark face. “Sure, mon,” he said. “Maybe your crab boat done finally come in this time, Mister Bloodmon.”
    Kirk could hardly see as he walked down the tier. The world seemed to squeeze itself into one small circle of gray, the place he had to step next. He rounded the corner, got to the phone, dialed the operator, and asked to make a collect call. He had the number memorized. He’d called it enough. The telephone rang and rang and finally Bob Morin’s secretary answered. When Bob Morin got on the phone Kirk asked him for the test results.
    â€œHow are you, Kirk?” Bob asked first.
    â€œFor christsakes, Bob, tell me the goddamn news.”
    Morin paused.
    â€œPlease, Bob. What did the test say? It is back, ain’t it?”
    â€œIt came back, Kirk, yes.”
    â€œWell, what did it say?” Kirk braced himself. His life had become one terrible disappointment after another.
    â€œThe sperm stain on Dawn’s underpants, though small, was good enough to use. The new test worked, Kirk.” Morin couldn’t hide his own emotion. His voice was cracking. “They found the DNA, Kirk. The DNA said it couldn’t have been you. You’re excluded. The man who raped and killed that little girl could not have been you.” Morin felt the tears well up in his own eyes. “The DNA said it’s not you,” he repeated.
    Time passed. Several seconds of silence. “Well, I told you so,