Retarded
Girl Raised in Dog Pen by Lauren Leigh is a spellbinding murder mystery
that offers a sympathetic look at the struggles faced by individuals with
disabilities.
It was published March 2014 and is available for sale on
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Retarded-Girl-Raised-Dog-Pen/dp/0991374541/
Synopsis
Baby is every adoptive parent’s
nightmare—blind, paralyzed from the waist down, unable to speak, and diagnosed
with developmental and intellectual disabilities. For the first 10 years of her
life she is raised outside in a dog pen by a cruel adoptive father, a
Mississippi deputy sheriff who values his bird dogs more than his daughter.
Retarded
Girl Raised in Dog Pen is the story of Baby’s placement in a Mississippi mental
institution for individuals with profound retardation after the brutal murder
of her father and the arrest of her mother, and her desperate attempt to escape
the institution.
Once the mother is convicted of murder
and sentenced to death, the story takes a bizarre twist as mental health
professions discover that Baby is capable of communication, despite being
trapped inside a grotesque body that holds her prisoner.
How much does Baby know? Can she prove
her mother’s innocence?
As the mother sits on death row, the
clock ticking, a brilliant psychologist has the shock of her life when she
discovers that Baby is not who she seems. The question is will the psychologist
be able to solve the mystery in time to save the mother’s life?
Similar to One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
Nest in the manner in which it reveals the inner workings of a mental
institution, it is, in the end, about the triumph of intellect and passion over
indifference and cruelty. It is written in the tradition of The Sound and the
Fury and To Kill a Mockingbird, two novels that address the complex issue of
intellectual disabilities.
About
the Author
Lauren
Leigh is a mental health professional who has devoted her life to working with
individuals with intellectual disabilities. This is her first novel.
Excerpt
When Thad Vanderbilt arrived at the county
jail, he was eating a hamburger that he’d picked up at the drive-through window
of a fast-food restaurant. He took bites of the burger and sips from a cup
filled with iced tea as he walked into the building and asked to meet with
Rivers in a private conference room.
As she walked in the door, he was in the process of wadding
up the paper wrapping around the burger. He tossed it into a nearby trash can
and then took a sip from the cup, gurgling the last few drops from the bottom
of the cup before discarding it. Left behind was a touch of mayo that stuck
about an inch from the corner of his mouth. Rivers noticed it, but said
nothing, not really caring whether her lawyer looked foolish or not.
Thad stood and extended his hand as she approached the
table and sat in a folding chair. His fingers felt damp from the soft drink
cup, and she wiped her hand against her jumpsuit.
“I’m Thad Vanderbilt,” he said. “I’ve seen you around town,
but I don’t think we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
“I’ve seen you in your convertible.”
Thad laughed. “Yes, and it will be paid for in another
three years, just in time to trade it in for a new one.”
Rivers didn’t think that was funny and she did not respond
with a laugh of her own.
Thad looked at a legal pad, reading over his scribbled
notes.
“I see your husband was a deputy.”
Rivers nodded.
“And you have a little girl named Baby. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Have you seen her?”
“No, I haven’t. I understand she was taken away and placed
at Silverstone Retardation Center.”
“That’s what the sheriff told me.”
“She’ll be well taken care of there.”
“I hope so. She’s not used to strangers.”
“They are used to people like her.”
“What do you mean, people like her?”
“You know, retarded.”
“Oh.”
“How do you want to plead on this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Guilty or not guilty.”
“Oh.”
Rivers didn’t answer, sort of drifted away, lost in
thought.
“Did you hear me?”
“What?”
“Guilty or not guilty?”
“What’s the difference?”
“If you plead guilty, there is no trial and the judge
decides your sentence. If you plead not guilty, you go to trial and listen to
people say a lot of bad things about you, and then the jury decides if you are
guilty or not guilty, and then, if you are guilty, they pass sentence.”
“And if the jury decides I am not guilty?”
“Then they send you home.”
“In that case, who goes to prison?”
“The prosecutor will decide if there is someone else he
wants to prosecute. If there is, then he will go after them and try to get a
conviction.
“Oh.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“Did the sheriff give you any information about Angus?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did the sheriff give you any details about what happened
to him?”
“Sure.”
“Would you mind telling me what you know?”
“No problem.” He looked over his notes. “OK. They found his
body yesterday, buried along the tree line of your property, about fifty yards
from the dog pen.”
“Did he look upset?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did it look like he was upset over being dead?”
Thad paused again, this time to collect his thoughts.
“Ma’am, when you’re dead I don’t think you necessarily look upset or not
upset.”
“I see.” She lowered her eyes, looking down at her lap,
where her fingers were intertwined in a knot. “Does it say anything about how
he died?”
“Yes, ma’am, it says he was struck in the chest with an
ax.”
“That all?”
“No, it says he was hacked on a little bit.”
“Do they have the ax?”
“Apparently, it was buried with him.”
Rivers sat quietly for a while. Then she put her hand on
her chest, feeling her thumping heart. “Would you mind seeing after the
burial?”
“That’s not really what I do.”
“Baby and I are the only family he’s got. If not you, then
who?”
“Ma’am, you’ve put me on the spot.”
“I know that.”
Thad doodled on his legal pad as he struggled with her
request. He had moved to Murphy County from Memphis, where lawyers played by a
different set of rules. In Memphis, her request would have been laughed at, but
not in a rural community where everyone knows everyone else, or if they don’t,
they know of them or have heard stories about them.
“That’s not something I usually do,” he said. “But I’ll
make an exception in your case.”
“Thank you.”
“But you still haven’t answered me.”
“About what?”
“About your plea.”
“Can I decide what goes on the tombstone?”
“I don’t know for sure, but assume that would not be a
problem. You are his wife.”
“Will there be flowers?”
“Yes—if I have to send them myself.”
“That’s nice.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, ma’am, but I need to know
your plea.”
Rivers looked up, as if searching for the answer on the
ceiling. Inexplicably, a serene look appeared on her face. “What will happen to
me if I plead guilty?”
“It is a capital offense to kill a police officer, so the
penalty would be death by injection.”
“I see.”
“Is that what you would like to do?”
“Yes, I believe it is.”
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