There was no more waiting for the worst. It had arrived. I woke up on November 19, 2007, to a cloudy, gloomy day, which matched the way I felt inside. It was the day I had been dreading for weeks. It was time to leave my family to go to jail and begin serving a prison term that was still three weeks from being finalized in my sentencing hearing. Turning myself in early was one way of putting myself at the mercy of the court. I hadn’t helped my case two months earlier when I’d failed a drug test while on supervised release. The day I had to leave my family behind was one of the saddest days of my life. My family and I rode from our home in Hampton, Virginia, to the courthouse in Richmond, and from there I was taken to jail in Warsaw, Virginia. The time leading up to that point meant a lot to me. Every day counted—every hour, every minute, every second—even at night, going to sleep. I woke up that morning and I told myself, This is the day. Jada could tell something was different about that day.
