By Janet Campbell Hale
Cecelia trap Welles, an Indian legislations pupil and mom of 2, is jailed on her 30th birthday for inebriated using. hung on an outdated welfare fraud cost, she displays again on her lifestyles at the reservation in Idaho, her days as an unwed mom in San Francisco, her marriage to a white liberal, and her selection to come back to school. This combined inheritance of ambition and melancholy brings her to the threshold of suicide. “The Jailing of Cecelia catch is a fantastically written booklet. Janet Campbell Hale’s presents are actual and deeply felt.”—Toni Morrison
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Extra resources for The jailing of Cecelia Capture
Of course it was because the breathalyzer was not working right and they needed the blood sample for evidence. She was drunk and therefore somewhat anesthetized and also trying to remain detached from all of this, yet she did feel a surge of anger as she watched them stick the syringe into her unwilling flesh. She felt violated. She watched the tube attached to the syringe fill with her life's blood, deep, dark red. Her very blood was taken without her permission. Except for the grey concrete floor, the holding tank was painted yellow.
It looked as if it hadn't been swept out or otherwise cleaned for a week or more and had held many temporary inhabitants in that time. Its shabbiness matched the shabby way Cecelia felt: unbathed, hair uncombed, teeth unbrushed, still wearing the rumpled clothing she had worn since early the morning before. At least, she thought, there were no wine stains on her dress. The cell had a bad smell to it, too. Just, she supposed, body odor. Cecelia had two cellmates: Velma and Ethel. Velma was a thin white whore with needle tracks up and down Page 5 her arms.
She didn't mean to stare at Velma. It was just that the cell was so small, and there were not many places to cast one's eyes. "The hell! " Ethel spoke without moving or Page 6 opening her eyes. Her tone showed that she meant business. In a quieter voice Velma asked Cecelia what she was in for. "DUI," Cecelia answered. " "Drunk drivin'," Velma said self-righteously, "is worse than peddlin' your ass. Drunk drivin' kills and cripples. Damages property. " "Tha's right," Ethel said, eyes still closed, eyelids completely motionless.