A year later.

Pale and sallow, she was Sherry, still wearing the white shirt and jeans she wore in prison. Sherry's eyes were sad as she looked at the crowded city.

It's been a long year for her. If Sherry didn't have a sick mother at home, she wouldn't have made it out alive. She took out the cell phone she had taken from the guards and called her aunt.

When she got through, she quickly asked, "Dear aunt, this is Sherry, how is my mother?"

"Oh my dear Sherry, your ...