Hi Brian,

It’s been a few weeks since my last letter and time has been crawling waiting for a response. That is unless no response is the response for my telling partial truths.

I know I’ve never mentioned her before, but my friend, Sydney Finch, was recently diagnosed with Lymphoma and transferred to a prison in Goochland to be closer to a hospital capable of providing treatment. She said she might be back, but it’s unlikely. I’m also close enough to my release date that if she does, I probably won’t be here anyway. I don’t know, I guess, her not being here thanks to the threat of cancer and thinking about my coming release is causing time to wear on, but awaiting a response from you isn’t helping curb my stir craziness either.

 So, what am I even trying to tell you, you might be asking… Well, the truth is, the reason I even mention my friend is because not only had I been letting her read the letters you’ve sent, but after getting her to read the letter I was going to send as a response to your Vanity Fair magazine letter –a letter I threw away after reading the snarky Sydney version you and the magazine were sent- except for discussing what letters should address, she took over letter responses altogether.

Yes, you read that right.

For the past few months Sydney’s largely been

coming up with the responses to your letters and I’ve been writing them out and sending them. To say I feel terrible about what’s probably seen as yet another act betraying trust is an understatement, but I felt it necessary to tell you, regardless my fear of it further harming how you think of me; especially considering how I changed the details of my actual crime, the description of which is true, even though Sydney also composed it for me (from my telling of the story to her) in way much more captivating to read than I could write. So, I guess you could say everything you’ve gotten from me for the past few months has been like an authorized, ghostwritten, telling, in my own hand.

Alright, there it is, the dirty truth. And If I haven’t lost you so far, you’re probably asking why I’d do such a thing. Maybe the answer isn’t quite believable, but besides an exciting crime story, I’m a pretty boring person, in a boring place and without anything of any real interest to say. I also never really know how to respond to your letters. You write in a way that’s hard to contribute back to in a way I’m used to with “conventional” letters. You know, about personal things like dreams and aspirations after prison. Not to say it’s exclusively your fault, but your letters are hard to respond to. So, after you continued to write after the Vanity Fair letters, Sydney and I talked and she convinced me she’d be able to respond in ways that’d keep you interested. I hate

to say it, but I’d have to agree she was a lot better suited for it than I was.

For a while she was of the desire to write you separately, but I asked her not to do that. It sounds dumb, but I feared you’d take more interest in her and stop writing me if that happened. It also became apparent if I tried to take over writing without her help, you’d be able to tell the difference or worst case, she’d somehow tell you directly what we’d done (women are very possessive in prison, in case you didn’t know) and make the whole thing appear worse than it is - well, it’s pretty bad, I’ll admit, letting other people read letters that are supposed to be private and… all that.

I realize that’s not an excusable reason, but for a while it just seemed like the right thing, if that makes any sense? I’d get the letters, read them first, then we’d read them together, we’d talk, then Sydney’d figure out responses she assured me you’d enjoy and see as playful. And even though the exchanges seemed to grow in tension the way I read them, especially when she’d respond in ways that seemed to mimic how you might write them, you kept writing back, even after a point in time where I thought for sure you’d stopped. So, since it all seemed to be working out, we just kept up with it. Maybe it was our jail judgement getting the better of us, but the whole thing got us through some difficult months. So we both have you to thank for that.

Honestly, I don’t even know if I’d have ever been able

to tell you before she left, especially with Sydney always in my ear about replying, but then the cancer happened and well… here we are.

Anyway, as a sort of apology and peace offering I’ve included a bookmark Chester made me. You wrote of Montana under snow, so it made me think of you. It’s a character from a movie (as you probably know) that I haven’t seen yet that Chester thinks I’d like. I don’t have much, so I thought maybe giving you something that has meaning might show my sincere regret in having deceived you, even though I didn’t do with malice in my heart.

I hope you’re well and still of a desire to continuing writing. Although I’ll understand if you don’t.

-Bianca

(the bookmark; antique white Aida cloth with various colors of floss on blue felt.)

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CHANNILLO

Bianca's 10th Letter to Brian (the Betrayal)
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Hi Brian,

It’s been a few weeks since my last letter and time has been crawling waiting for a response. That is unless no response is the response for my telling partial truths.

I know I’ve never mentioned her before, but my friend, Sydney Finch, was recently diagnosed with Lymphoma and transferred to a prison in Goochland to be closer to a hospital capable of providing treatment. She said she might be back, but it’s unlikely. I’m also close enough to my release date that if she does, I probably won’t be here anyway. I don’t know, I guess, her not being here thanks to the threat of cancer and thinking about my coming release is causing time to wear on, but awaiting a re...

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