I MARRIED A PRISONER FOR MONEY WHILE HE WAS SERVING A TWELVE-YEAR SENTENCE — BUT AFTER HIS CONVICTION WAS OVERTURNED, HE CAME TO MY APARTMENT WITH A BLACK BOX AND SAID, “NOW IT’S MY TURN TO BE HONEST.”
I never once cared whether Silas was actually innocent when I agreed to marry him.
I was 27 years old, buried under rent notices, raising my little brother completely alone.
When his mother offered $2,000 a month for me to become his wife on paper, I said yes before shame had any chance to catch up with me.
“Visit twice a month,” she told me plainly. “Write letters. Let the court see he still has family who cares.”
We married behind scratched prison glass, a bored guard watching the clock the whole time.
I braced myself for coldness. Maybe cruelty. Instead, I got gentleness I never expected.
