Years passed on by, and Sondra was absolutely astonished that she had lived through them. Since moving to Boise nearly two decades ago, several murder attempts had been made on her life because of her conspicuously licentious affiliation with members of the Negro community. Those attempts to have her blotted out followed her behind prison walls, as she had numerous hits put on her head while serving out a number of stints behind bars for petty crimes ranging from theft to possession of drugs to vagrancy. Additionally, her hard drug usage had landed her in the hospital in critical condition several times over the course of those difficult and trying years. For her to still have breath in her body could be summed up as nothing less than a miracle. Now bordering age 40, she felt compelled to completely change the way that she had been living, especially now that she was pregnant with child.
She had been doing her best in recent years to bring about a positive change in her parlous life. After settling down in her first committed relationship since breaking up with Jonathan, she had retired from selling her body for money and had gotten herself a modest job as a saleswoman at a local shoe store. Once she became knowledgeable of how much money she would be bringing in on a weekly basis, Sondra was able to begin budgeting her finances. In turn, after nearly 20 years of meandering, Sondra was able to finally get herself off of the tough streets of Boise and into her very first apartment. But there was a catch. Sondra’s job didn’t pay all that well, and she was forced to remain in the same godforsaken environment that she so longed to one day make an escape from. As long as she was around drugs, she was going to use - pregnant or not. Making matters worse, her boyfriend, the baby’s father, was a junkie. Jack MacGillam, a slick-talking street hustler who had swooned Sondra one evening after observing her purchase a gram of coke from the back door of a dealer she lived several blocks down the street from, broke off their year-and-a-half-long relationship after accidentally depositing his semen inside of her. He did, however, continue to maintain a casual and sometimes misleading relationship with her in order to have her continue pay for his perpetual drug habit. But unbeknownst to mother or father, it was his incessant need for drugs that saved the life of their child. The more money that he duped Sondra out of to get himself high, the less money she was left with to satiate her crack cravings. She was forced to resort to a much cheaper drug: alcohol. Ergo, on the evening of May 18, 1972, she welcomed a healthy baby boy into the world.
Jack wasn’t around for the birth. His excessive drug usage had claimed his life just a week before Sondra went into labor. The only individuals offering their support to her at the time of the birth were the nurturing doctors and nurses of St. Luke’s Boise Medical Center. They had treated Sondra so many times over the years that they had become like a second family to her, and they did all that was in their power to ensure that the experience of childbirth was as comfortable an experience as possible for the first-time mother. Their efforts paid off; the delivery went off without a hitch. But there were complications following the delivery that were of great concern to the hospital’s staff. Everything was fine with the baby - thankfully - but Sondra was plagued with severe depression, irritability, and bouts of mental incoherence in the wake of the birth, actions that could be directly attributed to her scant usage of her drug of choice over the course of her pregnancy. Doctors decided that it wouldn’t be safe for her to be left alone with her son without supervision of some sort. Because the staff at the hospital shared such a special bond with Sondra, they decided not to involve Child Protective Services in the matter. Instead, the hospital took matters into its own hand and separated mother and child at birth. Sondra was detained in the psychiatric ward of the hospital while her son was kept in the pediatric ward of the establishment. With time, her overall status improved; and after undergoing several months of intensive therapy, she was finally deemed healthy enough to take her son home. As it would turn out, the hospital’s diagnosis of the patient’s well-being was wrong - way wrong.