Grace Carson was just your ordinary everyday slightly introverted transgendered woman trying to make her way through life. She never expected to be tested, ran through the fires of hell, and face the very worst humanity has to offer. But, who does? This is her story.

Author’s Note: Everything in this story representing the more fundamentalist beliefs in our society is unfortunately very true. One only has to visit Westboro Baptist’s hate site, or Jack Chick’s deranged fundie cartoon world. Your author has attended Holiness church services and Southern Baptist in her formative years — so nothing Westboro or Chick says is new or shocking. There’s some explicit violence and bigotry contained herein — I firmly believe you cannot hide hatred and make it go away. You must expose, educate, and in some cases punish people to make it finally stop.
Please let me know in the comments if you liked it, hated it, or have some critiques! - Jenny Sugar

Chapter 1 Amazing Grace

“Of all tyrannies a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.” — C.S. Lewis

It was a typical Monday morning for Grace as she gathered up all of the stuff that she needed to start her day. Her cell phone dropped into her purse — a lovely Coach purse, her favorite. She opened her cigarette case — checked to see how many were in it… then grabbed a spare pack and dropped it in. Keys, sunglasses, and then she made one glance around to make sure everything was turned off. She stopped near the front door and checked herself in the mirror. Brunette hair pulled back into a French twist, light makeup — earth-tones as always. Gold stud earrings, but nothing ostentatious for Grace Carson.

It was a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky. Grace looked forward to the drive ahead and to her appointment with her therapist.

She locked the door and started for her tired old car when her phone began blasting Meredith Brook’s song “Bitch” from inside her purse. She always meant to change it to something more modern but she always stopped herself. She just really adored the song. She paused on the cracked sidewalk outside of her apartment and made the fateful decision to answer the call.

The caller must have blocked CID, as no number showed on the display, but Grace hit the button and answered,
“Hello?”

“Hello is this Grace Carson?” replied a soft female voice with a very slight southern drawl.

“Yes it is. Who is this?”

“I’d… rather not say my name. Someone gave me your name and number and asked me to call you.” There was a short pause. “Madeline Seaver?”

Grace recognized the name right away and replied “Yes, I know Madeline. Is something wrong?”

“Well, sort of… look, Grace… I can’t afford to get too involved here in this. I have to keep my name out of it and you can’t go telling anyone I even called you ok?” The woman sounded quite nervous, and slightly upset.

Grace replied while walking back to her door and unlocking it. “Look, Miss, just please tell me what you are calling about and what’s up with Maddy, would you?”

Grace sat down and quickly dipped into her purse for her cigarette case, and as the woman replied she lit up with a practiced ease. Grace was a heavy smoker and rarely talked on the phone or drove a car without one going.

“All right Grace. Your friend, Maddy? She... err, he… got into some trouble here. He asked me to call you and gave me the information. That’s all I can tell you really. He’s in a work camp here in Wonderland, Colorado.”

Grace paused in taking a drag when the woman switched pronouns, then took a quick one before responding, “You know Maddy is a transsexual I take it? And what is this work camp?”

The woman sounded slightly testy when she responded, “Look I don’t understand all this transsexual stuff and I really don’t want to but I don’t like what I saw and he asked me to call you. So, I called. It’s the county work camp ran by Reverend Hayes. It’s called “The Carpenter’s Light”. The Sheriff sends his inmates there and some parents send their kids there too. I hope you can help him. I really must go now. Goodbye.”

Grace heard the phone disconnect and looked again at the display of her battered old Motorola phone showing no caller ID.

Grace sighed and pulled out another cigarette and quickly lit it.
Should I go? Well, duh, of course I have to go! I can’t just ignore Maddy, we go back a long ways and she always helped me when I needed it most.

Sitting there, she smoked her cigarette and thought about Maddy.

Six years earlier…

It was Grace’s first visit to this particular bar, a bar she’d heard of on AOL chat as being “T-girl friendly” from her other transgendered friends online. She’d walked in, eyes stinging from the permanent smoky haze hanging in the air and finally chose an out-of-the-way table for two in a corner. Grace was a naturally shy and introverted person growing up, but her new feminine persona was slightly more outgoing.

The waitress was an exceptionally tall but passable girl who looked to be around 25 at most. She introduced herself as Violet and took Grace’s order — a Rum and Coke.

Once Grace had her drink she dug a pack of Marlboro Lights from her purse and lit one. She didn’t smoke all that often, perhaps ten cigarettes at most in a day — yet the atmosphere and the drinks when she went clubbing always seemed to force her conservative habit to greater heights. She didn’t really mind the heavy fog in the air if she was smoking as well. Nearly everyone in the bar had one going so it necessitated her own, she felt.

She looked around, finding many other girls like herself spread across the room. Some were dancing at the far end to the jukebox while some were at tables. Grace noted quite a mixture here — T-girls of all types, some passing well, some rather new at it as she was herself. She noticed a few drag queens, some gay men, and of course the “straight” men — usually married — cruising for some hot tranny sexual adventures. She was not here to “hook up” at all — she just liked being out and about and doing so in a place where she could be herself without worrying about being “clocked”.

Grace thought herself ninety-percent passable at best. She had a decent figure, hormone-enhanced ‘A’ cups that she hoped would grow, and fairly feminine facial features. The latter was a gift from her mother, who she resembled remarkably well.

Unfortunately any physical comparisons to her mother would only be made in Grace’s memories, as the poor woman had died of breast cancer just two years ago when Grace turned twenty-two.

She was about halfway through her drink, and was reaching for her cigarette pack when a woman spoke, almost in her ear. “Honey those short little cigarettes are maybe okay for the guys but for girls like us, longer and slimmer is always better!” This statement was followed by an extended pack of Virginia Slims Lights held in a hand with bright red perfectly manicured nails.

Grace half-turned and found she was looking at a smiling blonde with beautiful hair, bright blue eyes, perfect makeup, and an inviting smile. She was in a peasant blouse, denim skirt, ankle boots and a simple thin gold chain around her neck. Her look definitely worked for her. Grace noted her ‘D’ cup breasts right away, and felt a moment of jealousy.

“Hey there! I’m Maddy. Mind if I join you, hon? Or, were you expecting someone?” the woman said. Her accent screamed ‘Texas’ for certain.

Grace offered her hand and they shook briefly and she responded, “No, I’m not expecting anyone. Please, sit down. Oh, I’m Grace.”

“Well Grace, thank you and it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, help yourself to the cigarettes if you want… or don’t. I just saw you sitting here looking lonely and thought I’d come be lonely with you!”

Grace offered a smile and thought “why not? I always wondered what these ‘girly’ cigs were like” and removed the cellophane and opened the box. She extracted one and admired the length. It was slightly longer than the Marlboros she smoked. Maddy leaned over and offered her a light. She took her first drag and found the taste to be quite good, which she voiced after another drag. “Thank you Maddy. This tastes really good! And I think I like the look!”

Maddy smiled and lit her own before replying. “You’re quite welcome, Grace. I always preferred the more feminine things in life, of course, and this is just one of them! Actually these are shorter than my usual ones, but they were out and I got a couple packs of these. So, is this your first visit to The Barn?”

Grace nodded. “I had heard it was a good place that was very T-friendly and here I am.”

“Well you picked a good place. I come here at least every two weeks just to relax and unwind, you know.” Maddy replied. “Why not waste a little of my hard-earned paycheck every payday?”

Grace smiled. “I’m doing the same thing myself. I like the motif, seems a very ‘country’ flavor.”

“Yeah, it looks like some kind of redneck joint at first glance. But you won’t see drag shows at any redneck places I’ve been to!”

They both laughed, and Grace considered right then that this woman could be a potential friend.
Grace and Maddy continued on that evening talking, smoking, drinking, and laughing. As the evening progressed and Grace felt more relaxed she opened up a bit to Maddy about her life, her relative newness to being out and about dressed in public, and even her hopes and dreams.

~o~O~o~

Their second encounter soon led to a third, a fourth, and before Grace knew it they were hanging out together every weekend, mostly at Maddy’s home. She had a rather large apartment that was always slightly messy but never nasty. Maddy would always say “So sorry for the mess but I just am so bad about neatening up the place. There are always too many other things I could be doing!”

One evening they were sitting on Maddy’s sofa in front of the TV watching some game show and smoking, drinking wine, and chatting — their usual thing now; when Maddy asked Grace a strange question out of the blue. “Grace, honey… you always seem to be so tense or nervous around me. Is that just naturally how you are, or is there something that bothers you? Please, tell me. I really like you, honey, and if there is something I can do to help I’d love for you to tell me!”

Grace fiddled with her cigarette before nervously replying “I feel a little intimidated by you — not that it’s your fault! I feel the same way about genetic girls, even. I can see you have a lot more life experience than I do.”

Maddy smiled and got up and gave Grace a big hug. “Honey, it really is experience that makes the woman. The more time you spend at it the better you are. Plus, role models are so important! With a good role model you can go far. And, I am almost ten years older than you, so I’ve been at this for a lot longer.”

“You certainly don’t look it! And I’ve actually looked around for a role model but I haven’t found any that I thought that I could learn anything from,” Grace said.

“My Mother taught me a lot — how to sit right, how to walk, how to smoke like a lady. I owe her so much for helping me become the woman I am. What I learned from her I’d be thrilled to share with you, Grace!”

Grace blushed slightly, still slightly hesitant with Maddy but growing closer each time they came together to hang out. But, truth be told, she felt that she needed a mentor to help bring her inner woman to life in the real world. Grace replied “So, your mother knew all about you and was supportive?”

Maddy nodded. “She knew from when I was like, two or maybe three years old, that I was not like other little boys. She could tell. Later, it was just me and her… my father didn’t come back from Desert Storm. He had a good insurance policy, though, and Momma had a good job so I never lacked for a thing.” She pulled one of her extra-long Virginia Slims 120s out and lit it with style, then offered the pack to Grace. Grace took one and accepted a light. She really enjoyed Maddy’s long cigarettes but resisted the urge to switch to the 120s herself. They just attracted way too much attention to the woman smoking them. She had decided, though, that the Virginia Slims Lights 100s were perfect for her and they were now her only brand.

“I really never had to be a boy, Grace. With Momma’s support I lived my life as a girl from early on. I’ve not gotten GRS yet - but I’ve never felt the need to do it, either. I feel that what I have is just nature’s little joke, and I always appreciate a good joke!” She laughed. One thing about Maddy, Grace was learning, was that she was always ready to laugh at herself or anything that could be found to have a funny side.

Maddy asked “So what kind of things do you consider your weak points, Grace? Anything I can help you with, I’d love to! Oh, and have another glass!” She picked up the bottle of Chardonnay from the table and refilled Grace’s glass. Grace snorted but didn’t comment. She’d learned that Maddy had two vices: cigarettes and chardonnay, and she indulged both quite heavily.

Grace pondered what her weak points were while she watched Maddy refill her glass then smoke. She realized that her own smoking style was quite crude in some ways compared to her friend. “Well, your smoking is so very feminine and elegant. We could work on that?”

Maddy gave her a big smile. “Ok honey, first smoking lesson! Always hold your cigarette high and near your head, like this. And keep it between your fingers close to your fingertips.” She demonstrated and exaggerated a slow drag, then returned her hand to where it was before. “Do that.”

Grace mimicked Maddy and a delighted grin from Maddy showed her that she did it well. “Yeah Grace you are a fast learner! Okay, just remember to always elevate the lit end, and don’t let it dangle often except when lighting it.”

Maddy eyed her new friend. “Hmm I don’t think we need to work much on deportment — you seem to have that down quite well. You sit properly, and you have a good posture and you walk well, too. Momma taught me all that stuff but you’ve already mastered that, I think.”

Grace found herself blushing once again and rather than responding she settled for a smile and another drag from her cigarette. Grace never reacted well to compliments or praise.

She exhaled as usual, by just opening her mouth and letting the smoke pour out when Maddy held up her hand. “I see one thing you could do here. I learned it by copying Momma. Watch how I do this, honey.”

Maddy brought her long cigarette to the center of her lips, and then took a long slow drag that went on for two or three seconds. She removed it and then inhaled deeply, making her breasts rise noticeably on her chest. After holding the smoke for about two seconds she pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly upward, letting the smoke escape in a thin stream over Grace’s head. “Now, how did that look to you?”

“It looked very elegant and feminine, Maddy, like some 1950s starlet. I liked the way you did that!”

Maddy grinned. “Good, now you do it.”

Grace repeated Maddy’s actions perfectly, and felt a rush when she was exhaling the smoke.

Maddy clapped her hands and smiled. “See? You are a natural, Grace. Just keep doing it like that and you will project a bit more feminine style with your smoking.”

Grace felt a little buzzed and giggled at Maddy. “I don’t know, Maddy. If I keep smoking the same way that you do I will be dizzy all the time!”

That brought laughter from Maddy. “No, no honey. You’ll get used to it, same as you did when you started smoking.”

“Now, let’s talk a little about makeup, Grace.”

Grace put out her cigarette and grimaced slightly at that.

Maddy laughed and replied “No, no honey I am not being all critical! But there’s a few tips I can share that will help you I am sure.”

“You did a good job, Grace. You have nothing to be ashamed of at all, honey!” Maddy gushed. “I’d suggest more earth tones though.” She tilted her head and studied Grace’s face. “Yes… definitely earth tones. They’ll work for you. Also, remember that ‘Less Is More’, especially when it comes to makeup. Now, look at my face and notice how I blend everything in? You don’t want any hard lines or borders. A makeup brush is your best friend. Do you moisturize every night?”

Grace replied, “No, but I’ve heard often that I should.”

“Oh honey you MUST!”

Grace nodded. “I will try to keep up with that better, teacher!”

Maddy giggled and before Grace realized it was refilling her glass again. “Oh, Maddy, no! You’re going to get me drunk, girl!”

“Oh, please, Grace, don’t be a killjoy. Here, drink up!”

Sitting side by side later, pleasantly buzzed from the wine, Grace had to admit that Maddy was just what she needed in her new life.

~o~O~o~

Six months after they met they went together to the club where they had first met and Grace was a slightly different woman. Her makeup skills had gone from ‘adequate’ to ‘advanced’ thanks to Maddy’s tips and help. Grace’s wardrobe was greatly expanded. She often got into little arguments with Maddy due to Maddy always buying her new clothes, shoes, and even complete outfits.

Her confidence level had skyrocketed thanks to the encouragement of her new friend. The only downside that Grace saw in all of this was that her smoking had went from roughly ten cigarettes a day to nearly thirty thanks to Maddy’s constant smoking around her. But Grace would admit that she enjoyed the smoking, too. So it didn’t stress her out too much.

Two years after their meeting, Maddy was there for Grace when she went in for breast augmentation surgery. In fact, Maddy had helped her choose how big she was going for and the doctor she went to. Maddy had pushed for a ‘D’ cup like her own, but Grace, ever the more conservative of the two, went for a ‘C’.

Maddy stayed with her while she recovered and pampered her to near death. She had even brought Grace a gift — a brand new 36C Victoria’s Secret lace bra to support her beautiful new breasts.

She owed so much to Maddy, and knew as her thoughts drifted back to the present that she would do anything she could to help her best friend.

They had been inseparable but all good things come to an end and their friendship looked to be doomed to a long-distance one when Maddy got the job she wanted in Denver. They’d had a tearful long weekend goodbye slumber party just a few months ago, and Maddy had promised to visit soon.

Grace sat down at her computer desk and booted her laptop. She typed in the town and state the anonymous woman had given her into Google Maps. The result was a very small town near the border between Colorado and Nebraska, surrounded by farms and wilderness.

After printing out driving directions and a map she then did a search on “The Carpenter’s Light” and was rewarded with quite a few hits. Grace lit a cigarette and began to read about this strange place where her best friend was supposedly living.

One cigarette then became two and then three as she read more information spread across multiple websites. “The Carpenter’s Light” was a Fundamentalist Church ran by a preacher named Jonathan Hayes. It was also a 400-acre work camp by the same name. Hayes’s and his flock ran it as a “pray the Gay away” type camp where gay, lesbian, and transgendered children could be sent to be “cured” of their evil ways and put on the right path to salvation.

What on earth could Maddy be doing at a place like this? She’s always been an atheist as far as I know? Grace pondered this and did some more reading. It seemed that the camp was also somehow intertwined with the county’s sheriff and was used as a work camp for simple misdemeanor crimes like shoplifting and petty theft, burglary and trespassing. Maddy is no criminal, so I don’t see her being sent there as an inmate. And I cannot imagine her voluntarily joining some kooky fundamentalist cult like this seems to be.

Grace was quite worried by this point and decided to make some phone calls. She couldn’t find a web site for the town, but did manage to find a white pages listing for the Sheriff’s office. She also found a listing for the Carpenter’s Light Church and another for the Work Camp. Now, which should I call first? If these people are as bad as I suspect they probably won’t give out much information easily. Damn, if only I knew more before I leap into this!

She finally decided to call the camp and dialed the number. A woman answered, and Grace immediately asked if they had someone there named Madeline Seaver. She was informed that they did not and then she heard a dial tone. Really polite people they have there.

Calling the church only produced an endlessly ringing phone.

Third time’s the charm, I guess. Let’s hope the Sheriff’s Office is more helpful. I can’t just go up there with nothing to go on but an anonymous phone call!

The woman that answered the phone seemed friendlier than the one that answered at the Work Camp, and seemed to actually want to help.

“I don’t see a Madeline Seaver listed in any of our reports, Ma’am. Let me just look under ‘Seaver’ if you like? ”

“Yes, please.”

Grace could hear the tap-tap of her fingers flying over a keyboard and a pause and then “I do have a Marcus Seaver, arrested for possession of marijuana, and resisting arrest… would that be who you are looking for?”

Grace started upon hearing that name. ‘Marcus’ was Maddy’s birth name and she would never reveal it or use it casually. She’d only told Grace the name once while they were both quite drunk.

She thought furiously for a moment, then answered “Yes, I think that is who I was looking for. Was sh-, was he charged or sentenced?” She knew the answer but wanted to confirm it.

“Yes, pled guilty to Possession of a Schedule Three Substance and sentenced to 11-29 at the Work Camp,” the officer replied.

“I see. Are prisoners allowed visitation, there?” she asked.

The woman immediately responded “Yes, on Sundays only, after church services — unless they are on restriction for rules violations.”

“Okay, thank you for your help!” Grace ended the call as the woman replied “You’re welcome!”

Grace consulted MapQuest and checked the route and found it would be roughly a 15 hour drive from her home in Minneapolis. She went into her bedroom and packed a small suitcase with several outfits and underclothes. Then she went to the bathroom for toiletries and makeup.

Within an hour Grace was on the road, a printout of the route in the passenger seat and a cigarette in hand; the stereo blasting with classic rock. At least it was looking to be good traveling weather.

As she drove, she worried a lot about Maddy and what could possibly have happened to her. Why she was in this fundamentalist work camp. Why a little pot had her sentenced to a year. Maddy, a criminal? I just don’t see it.

Grace sat in her motel room and flipped on the TV and lay back on her bed with the remote. She lit a cigarette and started channel surfing. However, she could find nothing but yet another Bush versus Kerry debate, and religious programming. She’d really hoped for a good movie or something fun but it was not to be. She sighed, shut off the television, and went to bed.

Since visitation was only allowed on Sundays and this was a Wednesday, Grace decided to visit the Sheriff’s Department and try to find out more details on Maddy and what had happened.

The town appeared to have just ‘Main Street’ with a few side roads and that was about it. The Sheriff’s office was next to the courthouse. She parked and went inside and found a deputy at the front counter waiting.

“What can I do for you, Ma’am?” he said with a smile.

“I’m checking on a friend that was arrested for a Schedule Three possession charge?”

“Okay. What’s the name of your friend?” he replied.

“You’d have her listed as Marcus Seaver.”

His expression went from friendly to stone-faced in a flash and Grace knew this was not going to go well.
“I don’t have to look that one up. Your friend was arrested for marijuana possession and pled guilty. He’s in the work camp. He was also dressed as a woman and called himself ‘Madeline Seaver’.” The deputy’s face twisted a bit as he finished speaking, obviously disgusted over the whole episode.

Grace responded and made her first big mistake of the day. “Look, whether you approve or not, my friend Madeline is Transgendered. She has had her gender changed on her Birth Certificate and Driver’s License just as I have. She is legally a woman and she shouldn’t be treated otherwise!”

The deputy looked at her as if she were something he’d scraped off his shoe and then replied “Seaver has a penis. He’s a man! We don’t hold to all this gender changin’ and homosexual kind of stuff around here. If you’re like him, I think you’d better be moving along, SIR.”

Grace considered several nasty replies but then staring at his badge made her quickly realize that antagonizing him would be pushing her luck. So she said “Thank you,” and walked back out the door.

Grace walked outside, aggravated and pissed off. She lit a cigarette and tried to calm down as she got back in her Jetta and started back to her motel. Oh I just despise bigoted idiots like that who think they know everything and judge everyone!

She walked down to the courthouse after she decided that talking to Maddy’s attorney might give her more information, assuming he was court-appointed. Since she didn’t call Grace when she was arrested, Grace assumed that this was the case.

The county clerk was very helpful and directed her down the street to the small law office of Lawrence Gibson. Her luck seemed to be changing as he was actually in the office and willing to talk to her.
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do much more than I did. Your friend was facing a felony charge and we did a plea-bargain down to a misdemeanor.”

Grace replied tightly, “Yes, I got that much from that jerk of a deputy at the Sheriff’s office earlier. He was friendly until he found out Maddy was my friend and that we’re both transgendered.”

Gibson went from calm to alarmed. “You told him that you were like Seaver? Transgendered?”

Grace sighed and nodded. “Probably a mistake but I was angry.”

“Miss Carson, I would advise you to head straight to your motel and check out, then head out of here right now. There’s nothing that you can do for Seaver and you are risking a lot, including arrest, if you stick around.” Gibson appeared quite concerned and worried for her safety.

“Mr. Gibson, what are you implying? I’m an upstanding citizen; I shouldn’t have anything to worry about from that deputy! I’ve broken no laws!”

Gibson grimaced. “I believe you. But… look, I don’t necessarily approve of how things are done around here, but I have to live here. My family and I like it here and we tend to overlook the worst things, I suppose. I don’t want you to get in trouble. You really should leave town, today.”

“I… I’ll think about doing that, Mr. Gibson,” she replied, slowly. The man seemed to really think she was in danger of some sort.

“Good. I really don’t want to see you get into any trouble.” He stood up and offered his hand. Grace shook it and thanked him and went back to her car. She was quite confused and a little worried after that visit and was pondering what to do.

I can’t just run back home and leave Maddy here without at least seeing her one time! I will just have to be very careful not to break any laws or do anything that might piss off some redneck deputy.

Grace drove back to the motel, chosen as a safe haven to think. She sat in her room and contemplated what to do next. She’d already inquired about internet access at the motel and was informed that they didn’t do that internet stuff here.

She felt hungry and decided to try out the diner she’d seen just down the road. Not really feeling safe in the town after the lawyer’s consternation that she had outed herself as TG, she decided to drive the half-mile rather than walk.

She entered the diner and sat down. There were about a dozen people in the diner, eating and talking. The food smelled delicious, and when the waitress came over she ordered the special and was delighted when it was brought to her within a minute.

As she was finishing her meal she saw the deputy from the Sheriff’s office come in to the diner and mentally groaned. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her, or if he did, he’d ignore her.

It appeared that her luck was good. He sat at the bar and ordered a cup of coffee and Grace was just finished when she heard him key his walkie-talkie and say “I’m at Irene’s, and it’s here, too, eating.”

Grace, indignant, wanted to say something after being called an ‘it’. But her mother raised no fool. She went to the cash register and paid her bill and headed for the door. Once outside she decided that maybe the lawyer was right, and she should give this adventure up. She got in her car and drove back to the motel. As she pulled in, she saw a police car pull in behind her. The officer got out, but it was not the one from the courthouse and diner.

The officer walked up as she exited her car and she noticed he had a German shepherd dog on a leash. He said “Grace Carson?”

“Yes, I am Grace Carson, Officer.”

“I’m Sheriff Robinson. I wanted to talk to you about your friend, Marcus Seaver.”

Grace replied “Sure, what would you like to know, Sheriff?”

Before he could respond, his dog barked at Grace’s car, several short staccato barks.

The Sheriff eyed the dog and turned back to her. “At this time, I’d like to search your car, Miss Carson. You can refuse permission but then I’ll just call and get a warrant and we’ll search it anyway. “

“What are you searching for, Sheriff?”

“Drugs, Miss Carson. We’ve had an influx of them lately and we are being very careful with strangers these days in our town. If Otto here is wrong, why, then you can be about your business. No harm done.”

Grace nodded and said “Of course, search if you want. I have nothing to hide.”

Not thirty seconds of searching later before the Sheriff backed out of her car with a plastic baggie with some white powder in it. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Grace. “What’s this?”

Grace truthfully denied knowing what was in the baggie or even how it got into her car.

The Sheriff opened it, dipped his little finger in, and then tasted his finger. “Well, well, look what we got here. Cocaine, how about that?”

“That’s not mine! I don’t have any idea where that came from!” Grace said, semi-hysterically.

The Sheriff nodded and pulled out his handcuffs. “Miss Carson, at this time I am placing you under arrest for possession of cocaine, possibly with intent to distribute. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…”

Grace sat fuming in the hard metal chair while the sheriff pawed through her purse, then finally dumped the contents on the chipped wooden table that was probably older than her.

He scooted the items around looking at each one carefully as if he expected to find a drug stash or explosives hidden in her Coach bag.

He nudged the deputy, “Make the list, Cal”. Cal nodded and began writing.

“Let’s see, one wallet, contents driver’s license, social security card, and let’s see… seventy-four dollars in cash and um, two dollars and eighty-six cents change. One VISA card, same name. One leather cigarette case - with a Bic lighter, color purple. One pack of Virginia Slims Lights cigarettes, unopened. Another Bic lighter, color pink. One lipstick. One compact. A packet of tissue...”

He went on through every single item in her purse while Grace tuned it out and thought furiously about whom she might call and what she could do.

“What have we here, Miss?”

Grace looked up and saw the sheriff holding her androgen blockers and her estrogen pill bottles side by side.
“Those are part of my gender therapy. I have prescriptions for both. You can call the pharmacy and check if you want to. The number is on the bottles.”

The sheriff frowned and handed the bottles to the deputy. “I don’t see why people want to just up and mess with what God made. I really don’t. But that’s neither here nor there, I guess. We still have you on possession of cocaine, Carson.”

“I keep telling you that wasn’t mine. Someone had to put it in my car. Maybe at a rest stop, I don’t know!”

“You can tell it to the judge, fag.”

Grace was photographed, fingerprinted, and stuck in a small cell overnight. At least she had the cell to herself. She considered that good fortune, indeed. She didn’t think that this bunch would put her with the women if there were other prisoners.

The next morning a deputy came and unlocked her cell door and said “Carson, you’ve got a visitor. Come with me.” Grace followed him to a small room with a table and two chairs. She was surprised to see Lawrence Gibson sitting in one of the chairs. The deputy nodded to Gibson and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Hello again. I’m here as your court-appointed attorney, Miss Carson.”

“I didn’t ask for a court-appointed attorney, Mr. Gibson. I asked for a phone call! I have a right to one phone call!” she replied testily.

“Miss Carson, your rights are to representation, not necessarily to using a telephone. Be that as it may, you may of course represent yourself in court but I must strongly advise against it.”

He pulled out the chair across the table from her and sat down. “Shall we proceed, then?” he asked Grace. She nodded, not having a clue what else to do but trust the man.

Gibson picked up his briefcase and laid it on the table then flicked the closures and popped it open, retrieving a manila folder which he laid in front of himself. He opened it and looked it over. Grace could see her mug shot and various bits of info from her shiny new police record.

“Now Miss Carson, the Sheriff’s report says that one gram of powder cocaine was found in a plastic baggie in your car.”

“That wasn’t mine! They planted it there!” she angrily replied.

“Whether they planted it or not is irrelevant right now Miss Carson.” He lowered his voice and said “I did tell you to leave town… now you know why.” Grace sighed and nodded.

“I have bad news and I have good news for you. First, I’ll give you the bad news. You are looking at a Schedule II Substance violation — First Offense. Here in Colorado that is a Class 3 Felony. That is four to twelve years in prison, and anywhere between a three thousand and a seven-hundred-fifty thousand dollar fine.”

Grace gasped and sat there stunned beyond comprehension.

“Now, for the good news. The DA here is pretty lenient on first-time offenders with such a small amount and we can probably get this plea-bargained down to a Misdemeanor. That would mean serving a year or less at worst.”

“Mr. Gibson, why would I plea-bargain? I don’t do drugs, and I certainly don’t sell drugs either! That Sheriff planted that cocaine in my car! Or someone did!” Grace responded heatedly.

Gibson sighed and took off his reading glasses and looked at her sadly. “Look, let me be very blunt and just lay this out for you, Carson. It is your word against the Sheriff’s word here. I know you are transgendered, and that doesn’t fly around here well at all. So, you tell me… if this goes to a jury who will they believe? A Godless tranny or a duly-elected Sheriff that they all know and voted for last election?”

“I suppose they wouldn’t believe a word that I said,” she answered. “But, my being transgendered shouldn’t enter into this at all!”

Gibson snorted. “You got that right, Grace. You’d be headed for prison before you knew what hit you! I’d advise you to sign the plea bargain agreement and serve your time for a misdemeanor. If this was just marijuana you could have maybe gotten off with a fine; but this was cocaine and you will serve time. As for being transgendered… look, the law doesn’t enter into that, here. They are sickened and disturbed by folks like you. They don’t understand and don’t want to understand.”

Grace nodded sadly.

“It won’t be easy on you in this. The judge will almost certainly send you to the work camp, since our jail here is only two cells, as you saw. All I can advise you to do is behave yourself, obey their orders, and keep your head down.”

Grace sighed and signed the paper. I don’t think that there’s any other choice.

“All right, Grace. Court is tomorrow morning at nine. I’ll see you there.” He swept up the paper work into his briefcase and knocked on the door. Grace was escorted back to her cell to sit, alone.

The Bailiff thundered out in the courtroom: “The defendant will rise.” Grace and her attorney stood up.

The judge read over the plea bargain agreement and looked at Grace. “Do you understand that you are pleading guilty to a Schedule Three Possession, which is a Misdemeanor?”

Grace replied “Yes, I do, your Honor.”

“Very well. You have pled guilty of the charge of ‘Possession of a Schedule Three Drug’, amount one ounce, and I therefore sentence you to eleven months and twenty-nine days. To be served at the Carpenter’s Light Work Farm. Early release is dependent upon your behavior and reports from the camp’s liaison with the court. Take the prisoner away.” The judge smacked his gavel.

She looked toward her court-appointed attorney as she was pulled away but he just waved goodbye and began packing up his paperwork into the briefcase he’d arrived with.

The gavel smacked again and before Grace could even think of a response the deputies whisked her away and out the courtroom door. They bundled her into the back of a patrol car and headed for the work camp.

Grace thought, “Well, I wanted to see Maddy. I guess this is one way of doing that!”