Free Love Her Madly by Mary-Ann Tirone Smith Page B

Plexiglas was spotless, the metal mesh embedded within it as thick as chain link. The room was wired for sound. This would not be a private conversation.
    Shank escorted her in. She was manacled, ankles and wrists, and she wore a bright orange jumpsuit. When Shank got her seated, he walked a few feet away and took up a position behind her against the wall. She wiggled her fingers at him and he wiggled his fingers back, and then she turned to me.
    Most people have three names, but only a certain class of Southerners goes by all of them. Miss America will never be Jane Doe because southern girls win. She’ll always be Jane Laureen Doe. I was reminded of that when Rona Leigh and I greeted each other. She smiled and said, “Please call me by my first name.”
    Fine. “I’m glad to meet you, Rona. I’m Poppy Rice.”
    And she chirped, “Begging your pardon, ma’am, it’s Rona Leigh.”
    I said, “Excuse me. Rona Leigh.”
    Her skin was indeed as smooth as marble. But Michelangelo notwithstanding, the sun hadn’t touched her face in seventeen years.
    She said, smiling, “I don’t know why the FBI has sent someone to see me. I just spoke on the phone with my husband, and he said, ‘No, Rona Leigh, the Lord sent her.’ He said that if you feel I have truly repented, you will make a case for me to the governor.”
    I apologized again. “I’m sorry, that’s not accurate. I will make a case to the governor if I feel there is evidence that you didn’t have a fair trial.”
    The smile, which reflected curiosity, became benevolent. “Though I appreciate the effort you are making, I can tell you right now that I did evil. I deserve to pay for my crime, Miz Rice, an eye for an eye. But all the same, God has singled me out. He wants to make me an example—that in delivering to us His only Son, in sacrificing Him, He meant to teach us repentance and forgiveness. He meant to give us an alternative to retribution.”
    â€œThat really has nothing to do with the role I see for myself. I know that…”
    She leaned forward, still smiling. “I only know this: If there is still some chance that our good governor will spare me, I will spend the rest of my days in prayer and praise of the Lord and in work for good causes.”
    I looked into the lovely eyes of the condemned and asked Rona Leigh Glueck why she thought she had been chosen, why she thought she should be spared.
    â€œI cannot question Jesus but only put myself in His mighty hands. When we give our lives over to the Lord, we must trust His judgment and not question it. I thank Him every day for my fate. I thank God for the gift He has given me. I know in my heart that the Lord Jesus never makes a mistake. I must follow where He leads me.
    â€œHe has allowed me to understand there has been reason for my tribulations. Just part of the path I have had to travel so that I could reveal His blessed message. I don’t understand what you think you can do for me, but God has told me to listen to you. Ma’am, at first I told my husband I didn’t see the purpose in havin’ a visit with you because even if you find some mitigatin’ circumstances that mean I shouldn’t be put to death, it will be of no use. You may be the FBI, but you ain’t Texas. I hold no hope that anything you find will sway the parole board or the governor when it comes to paying for the crime I committed.”
    I would try to get her to see where I was coming from. “Rona Leigh, I’m not talking about mitigating circumstances. What if there is something of substance? Something that might shed suspicion on the decision to convict you?”
    â€œWell, then, they’d kill me all the faster. Matter of pride. But none of that matters. I’m not innocent. I did it. I have taken responsibility for what I have done, even if you find that some lawyer forgot to enter in a piece of