A Mother's Tears

A Mother's Tears

Marcella Pitts

Copyright © 2021 Marcella Pitts

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-2495-3 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-2496-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

My Life Story

Puppy love

Getting Married

Gone Again

Moving to Arkansas

Custody of My Boys

They Took My Children

The Proposal

Going to Jail

Going to Primary Hearing

Trial

Going to Prison

The Last Bus Ride

Holding Things Together

Civil Suit

Moving On

Marcella Pitts, AKA Tootie

I heard our names over the loudspeaker, Grace Dill, Colleen Dill, Gina Miller, Marcella Pitts, and a few other girls. A sinking feeling gripped my stomach. It was like being called into the principal’s office. I knew some form of punishment was coming. At the least with the principal, the most you expected was detention. This felt much worse. This was different. This was not school. This was my adult life. This would affect me the rest of my life—the one place I never expected to end up. How could it have come this far? I kept asking myself over and over. How? And why? I had no answer.

The cling of the chains echoed in the holding cell—every slight movement leading to a cascade of sound. There were icy cold chains around our ankles. I was trapped like an animal. Was this why coyotes chewed their own legs off? My hands were bound to the chains around my waist, barely able to make gestures. I felt subhuman, like a wild animal on a leash. I could see its reflection in his eyes or the officers as they herded us out and on to the bus. We were seated at the back of the bus, away from the general population. We were in protective custody. We were to do time for a crime that was never committed. Some of the women on the bus were headed back to a world they have created for themselves, laughing with excitement on their way to see an old friend they have left behind. We did not say much to each other, but the thoughts were all over our faces.

The chains rattled as my hand quivered, and my eyes began to burn. My mother’s face was tight and stiff in a way that just does not look natural for her. I could see the faint tremble in her lips and the faint shine in her eyes. I was thinking to myself, My poor mom, how did she get wrapped up in this mess? I felt like they came after Mom to get me. Colleen was less stolid. A little sniffle came from her down case face. She was always the tough one of the families, not one to show too many emotions, a little rough around the edges. Gina—I could see the pain on her face. She just had to leave her brand-new baby girl. Be brave, I told myself. And so, I was on the outside anyway. Fingers clenched to fists, spine straight. I pulled up from deep within myself to find the strength I needed to toss a smile over to my family. I wanted them to know everything will be all right. But will it? Will it be all right?

This was a three-hour bus ride. I had sat here on this bus and rehashed the last couple of years of my life. Even though I had lived every minute of this nightmare, I still couldn’t believe it has come this far. How did this happen? It had finally hit me. This was not a dream. No one was going to wake me up and say you had a nightmare. It felt like death. My life was running through my head. Was my life over? My babies—how will they make it without their momma? How will I make it without my babies? We should not be on this bus headed to a world and life so unknown to us.

The scenery was familiar. So many times, we had driven these hills. This reminded me of the camping trips we went on with our children—our kids running around, exploring everything in sight, running back to show us every little find. We cooked on a campfire where the food never tasted better. Will I ever do this again? My attention was drawn to a passing car all packed up to go on a trip. Where are they going? Maybe going camping, so incredibly happy, carefree smiling, laughing, loving their lives. The children sitting in the back seat looked up and saw that I was watching them. They smiled and waved at me. For a short moment, I replaced their little faces with the faces of my own children—waving one last time to say goodbye to me. They did not know I was on a prison bus, and I was dressed up in an orange jumpsuit, heading to prison to spend 373 years for a crime I never committed.

My Life Story

Allow me to introduce myself. My friends called me Tootie. My given name was Marcella. I was born in beautiful Ventura, California, on July 30, 1955. I had three wonderful sisters and two brothers. My oldest sister was Princella. Then there was Clovette. I was the next born. Then there was Wayne Jr., my dad’s only boy. Colleen—she was the baby of the bunch. Rusty, the oldest of us all, was raised in Hawaii by his grandparents. He had come to visit when he was a teenager. Rusty and Princella were from my mom’s first marriage. We lived in Ventura only a couple of years after I was born. We moved on to Coalinga, California, this small town where we spent the next eleven years of my life, a town where everyone knows your name and your business as well. Either you knew them, or they were your kinfolk.

My father worked for Union 76 oil company. Mom kept up with us five kids. We had lots of aunts and uncles—which, of course, meant there was an abundance of cousins to play with. We were a large family and remarkably close. After my great-grandmother died, we moved in with our great-grandfather. We called him Whity. Right out the back door stood the most beautiful wiping willow tree I have seen. My father said the first time I saw that tree, I asked him why the tree was crying. From that day forward, that tree became my friend. I played under that beautiful big old tree for years. Whity also had a big-fenced yard out behind his house. We called it the chicken yard. It was full of rabbit pens full of rabbits. The ground was covered in chickens. Also, in that yard was a covered wagon. Whity would set and tell us stories about coming to California in that very wagon all the way from Oklahoma during the dust bowl. My grandmother and grandfather lived right next door. My grandmother’s brother, Uncle Millard, lived right behind her house in an apartment. We were all remarkably close to each other. I loved my childhood. Whity passed, and Grandma and Grandpa moved to the coast. I had spent most of my life trying to get back the closeness I felt with my family as a child.

When I was thirteen, my father got a job in Bakersfield, California, which changed our lives forever. Christmas break, 1969—we packed up our belongings, and off to Bakersfield, we went. I would miss our little town and all the people that molded me into the person I am today. Princella was married and not at home anymore. She did not make this move with us to Bakersfield. We never knew all our neighbors in this big old town. We did somehow adjust to the changes. Clovette was just seventeen months my senior. She was also my best friend, and if I have my family, I will be fine anywhere. The people here were so different. I was so used to knowing everyone I saw. Now I felt like we lived among strangers—no grandparents, no aunts, no uncles, and no cousins to play with. Daddy worked out of town a lot, which left Mom alone to deal with us kids. We had been there in Bakersfield for almost two years. Moving to a bigger town offered new opportunities as well as new challenges—one in which hit like a ton of bricks.

One morning, I was late getting out of bed. When I went into the living room, everyone had a strange look on their face. Mom was not home. This was very unusual for Mom not to be there when I awake. Daddy said that Mom would be right back soon. He also said, I need to talk to you. I looked over at my siblings, and the look on their faces told me something was very wrong. They all looked so sad. I did not know what is going on, but I knew everyone knows but me. So much was running through my young brain. Was someone sick? Had someone died? He opened the door for me to follow him out. My siblings watched as we walked out the door, looking at Daddy like he has done something wrong. I felt fear come over me as we walked out the front door on to the lawn, still in my pajamas and bare feet. No, I did not want to hear what my father had to say. I wanted to cover my ears or cover his mouth so he could not speak. The look on Daddy’s face scared me. Then these words came out of his mouth, I have fallen in love with other women, and I am moving out. Those words cut me like a knife. I knew exactly who this other woman was. One of my mother’s best friend had started hanging around again. I might only be fourteen, but I was not blind. After Daddy moved out, our lives were so different without him there. Daddy and Sharon got married. He moved two hours away.

It seemed everything fell apart after Daddy left. Mom was so full of anger. Of course, she took it out on us kids. Sometimes, I believe she saw Daddy in us kids, which made her angrier. Colleen kept us busy chasing her around town all the time. She was a wild child, running with older guys, drinking, doing drugs. There was no holding her down. Wayne was like me—mellow. He did not cause too many problems. Clovette was ready to get away from home, and at seventeen, she moved in with her boyfriend. She left me just like Daddy did. Mom and I started fussing all the time. I believe most teenage girls do not get along with their mothers. One night, during a heated argument, I broke my poor mothers’ heart. I said that I wanted to live with my father. I called Daddy and said to him to come get me. So he did, and off to Fresno, I went. My dog and I packed up and got out of there. No, it was not what I thought it would be. I had never been away from my siblings or my momma. I missed them all very much. Life was hard for Mom and me. Moving away sure did not help. The sting of Daddy moving on for us kids slowly healed. My mom never got over it.

Starting a new school without my siblings was so very strange and scary. This school was a lot bigger and a lot more students. I was in my second year of high school. I did not know a soul. My stepbrother Toby was not in high school yet. I never had problems making friends. I still missed my old friends. My best friend in Bakersfield came to see me for a couple of days. When she left, I wanted so bad to go with her. I felt like I was out of place at my dad’s house. I did not feel like I was a part of their happy little family. The holidays came, and I went home for Christmas break. I missed my family very much. I could not do Christmas without them. Daddy was nice enough to drive me home for the holidays.

While I was home, the boy next door had a friend over. His name was Johnnie. He was the most handsome man I have ever seen other than my father. I walked over to the fence that stood between the neighbor’s house and ours. I stood in the tall grass, trying to think of something to say. Then I remembered that they asked me to go skating with them. So I asked if they were going skating. The neighbor and Johnnie walked up to where I was standing. Johnnie did not have a shirt on. He had hazel eyes and a tanned body with a smile that made me melt. When he said hi, I blushed. I could feel my face turned bright red. It seemed every word out of his mouth made me laugh. I had a big case of the jiggles and a big crush on this boy they called Johnnie. We spent a little time together during Christmas break. Of course, we went skating every Saturday night until Christmas break was over. I told him I would be back when school was out for summer.

When Daddy picked me up, I worked up the nerve to tell Daddy that when school got out for summer, I wanted to move back home with Mom. She needed me at home to help with the other two kids at home. I was not a part of their little family, and I wanted to go home. My stepbrother would insult my mother every chance he got. He would tell me if my father wanted me, he would still live with me. I did not wait for summer. I came home before school was out. I guess I needed my mother more than anyone. Believe me, life is not the same without my siblings. Johnnie gave me one more reason to come home. Daddy did not seem to mind that I wanted to go home. I just did not fit in that little family.

Puppy love

When I got home, Johnnie asked me to be his girl. I believed they called it puppy love. He was working on some apartments right behind our house. I loved watching him work. We spent every minute we could together. He would stay each night until Mom would say, Johnnie, go home. Then we would stand on the porch, and our good night kiss would last until Mom would call out one more time, Johnnie, go home. Johnnie made me feel some feeling I have never felt. I could not wait for the night to end, so I would be in Johnnie’s arms again. I was still going to school and rushing home each day to see my boyfriend. He had quit school and went