Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [17]
Later on our drive to the prison, we got to talking about Gabby’s dating history. She said she was always attracted to successful people, but it was hard for her to find anyone she really liked. She had dated one man who was a Republican politician, which made for ideological differences. He later tried to run against her for the congressional seat she held, but lost in the Republican primary.
She dated a doctor with offices all over Tucson. There wasn’t enough chemistry. She dated another man who had recently sold his computer company for tens of millions of dollars. He picked her up in limos and wined and dined her, but then he spent two weeks skiing in Italy and neglected to even call her. Gabby didn’t want a man who could disappear for two weeks without thinking of her. When he returned, she gave him the brush-off.
“It’s not been easy finding someone,” Gabby told me. “Not every guy wants to date a thirty-four-year-old career woman.”
“Well, I’d date you,” I said. I don’t know what made me say that. I think I was confused about whether this death-row visit was an actual date. It certainly wasn’t dinner and a movie.
When we got to the prison, the warden was happy to give Gabby a tour, hoping it would help her make decisions as a state senator. We were given full access, and I noticed that Gabby was pretty fearless, propelled by curiosity and a need to understand the societal and governmental issues that informed this place. For both of us, it was quite an education. We had to wear shields over our faces as we entered one of the cell blocks. We were told some inmates would throw feces or other things from their cells. We also were given “stab vests” for our protection.
Gabby had a lot of questions, though sometimes I found the conversations to be surreal.
In one maximum-security wing, she met with an inmate in his cell. “So why are you in here?” Gabby asked him. He was a giant man. He looked like he could be the twin brother of Michael Clarke Duncan, the six-foot-five, 315-pound actor from The Green Mile and Armageddon.
“I’m in here for murder,” the inmate said. He had the deepest, scariest voice I’d ever heard. He sounded like a tuba.
“Who did you kill?” Gabby asked.
The man corrected her. “You mean, who was I accused of killing?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Gabby said, not missing a beat.
“Well, I was accused of killing my girlfriend,” the inmate told her. “But I’ll be getting out of here.”
“Oh,” Gabby said. “When are you being released?”
“Six years from now, in 2015,” he said. I did the math in my head. It was 2004. We were actually eleven years away from 2015. But I wasn’t going to give him the bad news, and neither was Gabby.
Gabby then asked him what he liked best about this prison. He said he liked having a television in his cell.
“Well, thank you for your time,” Gabby said. “It was nice visiting with you.” She was cheerful and friendly to voters and nonvoters alike. (Convicted felons can’t cast ballots.)
The warden told us that the televisions in cells were actually more of an accommodation for the guards than the prisoners. “A large percentage of these prisoners can’t read,” the warden said. “Without TV, they’re bored and completely unruly.”
As our visit continued, I was so impressed with Gabby. She wasn’t there on a lark. She truly wanted to learn about the justice system, incarceration rates, and what elected officials could do to improve the prison system in Arizona.
We stopped by the plant where the inmates made furniture and license plates. We talked to guards and other prisoners, including a sex offender who told Gabby about the lack of good treatment options in the system. “I’m glad you shared your story with me,” Gabby said. “It’s helpful for me to know this when we’re voting on which programs to fund.”
And then we got to Death Row, where Gabby asked detailed, intelligent questions and I behaved like a tourist, asking to step inside the gas chamber. I sat down and pulled