Allegedly

“Most of the crimes the other girls in the house committed are like that. Crimes of passion, ‘snapped’ moments, and good ole-fashioned wrong place—wrong time situations. My crime was more psychotic. I was the nine-year-old who killed a baby.”

Mary is different from her violent and uneducated housemates. No one in the group home, except for New Girl, is as intelligent—or calculating—as Mary. Regardless, Mary has allegedly killed a baby, and it’s unclear in Chapter 1 if she is being honest when she admits to it. Additionally, infanticide is a crime even criminals cannot accept, evidenced by Mary having to spend time in solitary confinement for her own safety. 

“The group home is always muggy, like we live in an old shoe, smelling like corn chips mixed with roach spray. I never call the group home ‘home.’ It’s not a home. No house where you fear for your life can be considered a home.”

Mary fears for her safety. At least two of the five girls who live with her are violent, and they frequently pick fights for no reason. The designation of “home” is a misnomer, as the group home serves as a low-security prison where inmates are instead roommates, and they have more access to things they could use to do harm.

“New Girl is crying. Real sobbing, snot-nosed tears. I’m jealous; I haven’t cried in six years. The tears are frozen inside with the rest of my emotions. She probably doesn’t think she did anything wrong. I was that girl too once.”

Mary no longer cries. She has felt too much in her short life and has closed herself off to emotion. One of the writers covering her trial is excerpted as saying that Mary is a psychopath, and that psychopaths are completely detached from their emotions and feel no remorse or guilt. 

“That joke of a bookshelf downstairs has that same crap they had in baby jail I’ve inhaled three times over and I’d kill for something—anything—new to read. But I’d never say that out loud. I’m a killer after all; they’d probably think I’d really do it. Figures of speech are luxuries convicted murderers are not allowed to have.”

The presence of a bookshelf lacking engaging reading material, particularly for a captive population, is a lost opportunity. The girls have few other means of entertainment or of getting new information. It makes sense that a home, inside of a system meant to rehabilitate, would have books about personal growth, healthy living, and ways to create a meaningful life. Mary, who is intelligent, sees the dearth of good books as unnecessarily cruel. 

“I’ve lost count. The other social workers I’ve had stopped by baby jail once a month, if they could remember, dropping off animal coloring books, reading and math worksheets, and crossword puzzles. I’d eat through them like air. They’d also leave board games and cards, but for what? There was no one else like me.”

Mary is a child in jail; she has no companionship, which further isolates her. The duration of Mary’s incarceration, the years from nine to 15, represent the core of K–12 education that was not given to Mary. 

“After an hour of discussing what is left to do with my life at the ripe old age of fifteen, it was then determined that the safest career path for a psychopathic baby killer is cosmetology. That is what she chose for me. Another brilliant decision made by a government official. So I sit in GED class for two hours pretending to know nothing, then learn about perms and curling irons for another four hours.”

Ms. Carmen has just informed Mary that it would be impossible for Mary to become a teacher due to Mary’s conviction. Mary also learns that she cannot study to become a nurse because she cannot have access to pills. Ms. Carmen chooses cosmetology as Mary’s career path; Mary will spend her life pursuing something she has no interest in doing.

“I know that. What the hell you need a SAT book for, Mary? All this fighting and carrying on, waking folks up in the middle of the night over some book for a test you too stupid to take […] you’re never gonna go to college. They don’t take killers in college!”

Ms. Stein does not have an accurate read on the women she oversees in the group home, nor does she appear to care for them. Ms. Stein kills any motivation or hopes Mary may have for herself. 

 “She loved them babies, […] she was always a little too […] attached […] took her time bringing infants to mothers. She was caught once feeding and rocking a baby to sleep in an empty room.”

Momma had exhibited strange behavior even before Mary. Once Momma’s husband dies (presumably Mary’s father), Momma struggles to do her job and is fired. Her supervisor notes her behavior with new babies and moms as inappropriately attached, and later points to Momma looking too good after Mary’s birth, implying that perhaps Momma is not Mary’s birth mother.

“Listen to me, ‘ere, chile, don’t ever let anyone stop yuh from bettering yourself. Yuh scared of people knowing, yuh scared of change? Good. Change is scary. Get used to it! But nothing comes from nothing.”

Ms. Claire encourages Mary and gives her good advice that she takes to   heart. When Mary reflects on it, it gives her the courage to seek and do what is best for her and to not shy away. However, Ms. Claire doesn’t completely understand what Mary is up against. 

“When the beatings started to get worse, when it was harder to explain the welts, cuts, and bruises, I thought about running away. But then who would take care of Momma?”

Mary flashes back to the times when Momma beat her, which often were at Ray’s directive. Ray would watch and tell Momma not to hit Mary’s face because people would ask questions, which Mary believes is why Momma never took her to the doctor. Even as a victim of child abuse, Mary would not leave Momma for fear that no one would care for Momma.

“That was the defense my lawyer tried to use. The ‘she’s just a kid, she didn’t know what she was doing’ plea. But when you’re caught red-handed trying to hide the evidence, it means you had some idea of what you were doing.”

Mary reveals she had taken care not to touch Momma’s cross—but held it with her pajamas, never letting her fingerprints get on it. Mary knew what to do to preserve the evidence she would need to get back at her mother.

“For someone so different, I can’t believe we have something so painful in common.”

On the surface, New Girl seems different from Mary: She is pale and mousey and comes from an upper-middle class, two-parent home. Just below the surface, however, Mary and New Girl have a lot in common. New Girl believes she is in the home because her parents are trying to punish her; she is also innocent and no one believes her either. The fact Mary feels for her shows what a good actor New Girl is, but also, what a bad judge Mary is. Neither of them are how they seem. 

“I guess. Ain’t I supposed to? Moms bring you into this world with one job, to love them, right?”

Ted tells Mary that his mother lives nearby but doesn’t visit. He hasn’t seen her in years, not even on his birthday or holidays, but he still loves her, highlighting Mary’s lack of appreciation for Momma’s involvement. Mary wonders which is worse: Momma visiting to make herself feel better or Ted’s mother not visiting at all. Mary comments that her mother might love her more if she looked more like her, another hint at Momma possibly not being Mary’s biological mother. 

“You can’t just […] run off and do whatever you want. You can’t just go making your own decisions! You just a child!”

Momma is losing control over Mary. Mary has enlisted the help of Ms. Cora without informing her mother, and Momma is mad. It is ironic, given the reversal of their parent-child roles, that Momma is now taking the reins of parenthood, asserting Mary’s inability to make good decisions.

“Because you don’t know Mary. Mary isn’t a very good liar.”

In an interview with detectives, Mrs. Richardson describes Mary as extremely intelligent and competent, so much so that at age five Mary could organize and calculate her mother’s bills in her head. When the detective asks Mrs. Richardson if she’d noticed anything unusual the night of the murder, Mrs. Richardson cited Mary’s behavior: She found it impossible to believe that Mary didn’t know anything and sensed that Mary was lying. When Mary “comes clean” with Mrs. Richardson in Chapter 11, Mary again lies to Mrs. Richardson, only this time Mary fools her. The irony is that Mary is an exceptional liar and fools Mrs. Richardson, the party most harmed by Mary’s crime. It is Mrs. Richardson’s own sympathies and affections for Mary that keep her from sensing that Mary is not telling the truth. 

“Yo, it’s mad easy to get little niggas to do your dirty work. We do it all the time […] if that little nigga gets caught, he ain’t gonna do no real time. Maybe a year or two in juvie, but that ain’t nothing. Better than a real nigga doing a quarter to life. Everyone knows kids get off stupid easy. Kids can get away with murder for real.”

An interview with Anonymous #3, Inmate at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility reveals the prevailing wisdom about children to committing crimes for adults. Momma, who seemingly has nothing else in common with the inmates of Bedford Hills, understands this to be true. Momma uses her authority as a parent to get Mary to take the blame. This also speaks to Momma’s belief that two years in a juvenile detention center is nothing for a child, compared to the time an adult would serve for the same crime.

“Someone told me when you go to college, your life gets better. And you can escape what you were before and find who you’re supposed to be.”

When Ms. Cora sees Mary’s SAT book, she is surprised and encouraged that Mary wants to attend college. Ms. Cora asks Mary what made her decide to attend college, and Mary refers to what Mrs. Richardson had told her when Mary was a little girl. 

“I’m interested in knowing why a direct court ruling was blatantly ignored. Per her records, she has been seeing teachers and psychologists every other week for the last six years, but I only see seven status reports. If you ask me, it appears that these visitation logs are either completely inaccurate or forged. I would hate to think the latter.”

Judge Conklin admonishes the prosecution for not having followed direct orders that would have facilitated therapy and education, the only path to rehabilitation. When a judge’s ruling is ignored for such a long period of time, it points to more than incompetence. There are many individuals working for several agencies who are all responsible for caring for prisoners and parolees. There are plenty who are hardened and apathetic, like Ms. Stein, but to have ignored court orders for treatment, to say nothing of counsel, for six years points to someone in a position of authority ordering such, or a conspiracy between individuals at every level to inflict maximum punishment for Mary.  

“How did I wind up here? Why didn’t I just tell the truth from the start? But if I told the truth, Momma would be in jail. She’d forget to take her pills, hang herself or something. She tried it before. How could I live with myself if she did that? But how can I live here?”

Mary states her innocence and her nine-year-old self’s reason for accepting responsibility for what was allegedly her mother’s crime. Momma’s untreated mental illness has impacted Mary’s life, and Mary feels responsible for her mother’s safety. 

“‘I promise,’ I lie and hug him one last time.”

This is in response to Ted asking her to promise she’ll fight, and that if she gets to keep their son, she’ll tell him. It is clear, regardless of Ted’s shortcomings as a boyfriend, that he loves Mary and wants to be a father to his child. He is the only person in Mary’s life who makes her feel loved, yet she is pushing him away, knowing that even before their son is born, she will not allow Ted to be a part of his life. It’s becoming clear Mary has other plans and that the inertia of her life will tend toward repeating Momma’s mistakes.

“‘Well, I didn’t kill Ray but I know your pills sure did.’ […] when I was the one standing next to her as she put the pills in his soup? I was the one sitting next to him while he ate it. I was the one who watched Momma serve him seconds and thirds.”

In retaliation for Mary wrongly blaming Momma for Alyssa’s death, Momma threatens to try and blame Mary for Junior’s death. Both women know Junior died of SIDS, but it’s all the power Momma has over Mary. Mary raises the stakes when she reminds Momma that she’d witnessed Momma murdering Ray. It doesn’t matter to Mary that she had hated Ray. It was power. In watching Momma poison Ray, Mary learned that it was okay to use any means necessary to take care of a problem. 

“Momma blamed herself, but it […] it just happened […] that’s what they said, the doctors. But she was different after that. She was no longer my momma, just this shell of a woman I had to take care of. I had to feed her, wash her, make her eat on some days. And when she was having ‘a day,’ I’d be the one to make her take her pills. I’d put her to bed. ‘Cause she didn’t have anyone to take care of her. Just me. It’s not her fault […] Even now, it’s not her fault. She just didn’t know any better. Not that it makes it right.”

In Mary’s confession-like explanation to Ms. Veronica’s group, Mary opens up about her baby brother and explains how she had come to be the person she is. For the first time, the girls in her home show empathy and real feelings. This is also where Marisol challenges Mary’s innocence and her intentions where Momma is concerned. Mary believes what Ms. Veronica has told them about forgiveness making them free, and Mary has taken it to heart. This is the moment Mary forgives Momma. 

“Marisol never takes her eyes off me. I can’t seem to look away either. She knows. I don’t know how, but I can feel it. The fire in her eyes is scorching my bones black.”

Marisol somehow sees through Mary’s charade in a way no one else has. Many have not believed her, but only because they’d predetermined that she was guilty. Marisol sees Mary as she is—a self-interested liar whose life is already damaged.