Happy Friday! In human psychology, one constant is that we are part of our environment. If a prime example is needed to prove this theory, it’s today’s guest. I’m excited to share this woman’s history/story, and doubly excited she’s my guest on Help From My Friends Friday. Please welcome Stacey Pearson. ~ Donnell
How Jail Helped Me Become a Crime Writer
By: Stacey Pearson
Author Stacey Pearson
Most would argue that jail is no place for a little girl, but I disagree. The Johnson County Jail in Franklin, Indiana, was my playground.
Not even five years old, with parents too young to afford a babysitter, it made good fiscal sense that I spend a lot of time with my grandparents. Most kids’ grandparents took them to the park or maybe a museum, baked cookies, and played with finger paints over cups of shared hot chocolate. Mine made me coffee milk in a tin cup and sat me in a rickety industrial office chair on a stack of phone books, plopped a jigsaw puzzle in front of me, and bet me I couldn’t finish it. I did.
My grandfather, “Red,” was a retired Indiana State Police sergeant and Johnson County’s 38th Sheriff, and my grandmother ran the tiny, near-obsolete jail built on the public square in 1867. Anyone behind bars in the late 1960s might’ve been given their medication or served fried meat, potatoes, and black coffee on a gray plastic tray slipped through the rectangular opening by a curly-haired steel-blue-eyed child savvy enough not to get too close. But, safe distancing wasn’t the only thing I mastered. I learned my 10 codes in jail, how to work a siren, interrogation methods.
At one Thanksgiving dinner, I showed off my handcuffing technique by shackling my father to a chair. Unfortunately, the antique handcuffs that I had found in my grandparents’ garage didn’t have a key. Nevertheless, the jail is where I learned tolerance, empathy, conflict resolution – the kind of institutional knowledge that helped me pass kindergarten and navigate a rewarding 20-year law enforcement career with the Louisiana State Police.
A square of bricks and concrete dropped perfunctorily in the center of the county seat; the jail’s boxy form and pallid interior screamed, “Institution.” Yet, it was the people inside who provided the color and social architecture of my earliest childhood. The dispatchers’ big hair and cherry lipstick. The motorcycle officers’ Kiwi-blacked and knee-high jodhpurs. Between the two sexes, mysterious, unspoken chemistry that my grandmother was always keen on obliterating.
The jail was a symphony of senses; typists percussing the keys on pale green Remingtons, fingertips smudged black by carbon copies. Cigarette smoke and leather. The police radio’s unrelenting squawk. The swish-swish of starched pressed uniforms. Heavy, metallic locks and heated debates about weighty concepts like human nature, justice, and retribution. Creaking Sam Browne duty belts hung with keys and handcuff wind chimes. The finality of a slammed door.
My grandfather, unlit cigar wedged deep in the corner of
his mouth, could be in mid-sentence of a mostly fabricated story when, like a finger to the wind, he’d discern something intelligible and pressing on the radio. He’d blurt, “Gotta go.” Moments later, I’d will myself perfectly still and listen for the concurrent wail and welp of sirens, sensing an atmospheric shift that I didn’t yet understand.
These days, as my policing career is behind me, and I begin to write my passion – crime fiction – I look back fondly at my time served in jail. And, with that foundation, I hope to bring authenticity to my stories, nuanced and complex tales about real people who are not all good nor all bad, but who, at the end of their lives, when the tally is complete, will land on the good side.
About the Author: Stacey Pearson is a former law enforcement professional with extensive experience in complex missing, abducted, and exploited children investigations. In 2019, after a distinguished 20-year career, she retired as a sergeant from the Louisiana State Police, where she managed the Louisiana Clearinghouse for Missing and Exploited Children and the Louisiana AMBER Alert Program. She also served as a Special Victims Unit supervisor responsible for investigating multi-jurisdictional crimes against children, including Catholic clergy abuse cases.
Stacey retired to continue her education. She is currently pursuing her doctorate in law and policy at Northeastern University in Boston and lends her expertise and technical advice to authors, novelists, and television and film producers. A lifetime avid reader, Stacey tired of academic and technical writing, so she decided to try her hand at crime fiction. Under her pen name, Pearson O’Meara, her first flash fiction, Savage Beads, was published in Shotgun Honey. Her short story, Little Green Flowers, made it to the final round of the 2021 New England Crime Bake Al Blanchard Award competition. Her short story, The LadySmith, comes out in late 2021/early 2022 in “To Serve, Protect, and Write,” an anthology of police writers’ crime fiction stories. The LadySmith is set in south Louisiana and is only the second short story she has ever written. Stacey is working on her first novel. She lives a quiet life, dividing her time between Boston and Baton Rouge. You can follow her on Twitter @capableguardian and @pearsonomeara.
Interesting. Glad to make your acquaintance. I’ll be looking for your books.
Good wishes.
Mar Preston (Ottawa, Ontario)
Good morning, Stacey. I think this blog is terrific. I love that you see that jail through a child’s eyes. What an impression it made on you, and look where it led. Best wishes!
Thank you so much for this, Donnell! I have a little lump in my throat this morning thinking of my grandparents ❤️
Stacey, I can imagine so. They must have been amazing!!!
Fascinating perspective. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, this is a delicious blog post, filled with sensory details. Thanks much, Stacey and Donnell, and so pleased to meet you here, Stacey! Happy Holidays to you both!
Stacey, your flair for flashing those sensory details brought me right there beside you in the jail. how are those Little Green Flowers doing? 😉 Nice hearing from you. Stay strong.
What a story! Stacey, you bring some fascinating background to your writing.
Looking forward to that first novel. Working on mine as well. 43 years in law enforcement, most of it in Lincoln & Claiborne Parishes. Trained a lot of future LSP guys when I was a trainer at Ruston PD in the 80s.
Wes, I’d love for you to blog anytime!
Thank you, everyone, for your kind comments. I had a blast working with Donnell and writing this guest blog post. It brought back memories of where I first learned to drink black coffee! Happy Holidays!
What a wonderful post, Stacey and Donnell! I love getting to know authors better. I’m honored that I’ll join you on the crime-writer anthology, To Serve, Protect, and Write!