All Around Like Heron

A guy came up to me at the law library asking if I’d take a look at his “paperwork” and see if there were any options he had to get his sentence reduced. As I do with anyone who asks, I said “sure”. He then said, “Your name is all around the yard like heron”.



I didn’t know quite what he meant so I asked my friend Ty – the law library aide – exactly what he was talking about. “Heron, you know ‘heroin’. In the projects everyone knows where to score heroin. In here, everyone knows who to turn to for help.”


He then said this: “You’re a righteous man. The guys here respect you because you care and you try. It’s not about a hustle to you.”


I thought a great deal about Ty’s comments. The strange thing is, in here I am who I am. I’m still the same outgoing guy I was before my arrest. I talk to anybody; white, black, Hispanic, gangbangers, gay, it doesn’t matter. Most guys in prison keep to themselves. They say little, if anything. I’ve always engaged people. Just me being me. As my friend Paul (a/k/a “hippohead” – guy must have the biggest head on record!) said, “Only you could act this way in prison”.


The “helping” issue is a little different. Years ago, when I was in private practice, I was a damn good lawyer. I outworked my opponent, out hustled them. I viewed law practice as hand to hand combat. I wanted to win, whether it was the right result or not.


When I met my wife in college, I was young and idealistic. I told her I wanted to defend the oppressed and argue great questions of constitutional law. Then came law school, marriage, law practice. I wanted to win; I didn’t care who got hurt. The win was all that mattered.


I changed. I took the job at Farm Bureau and was damn good at that too. I evaluated cases for the company. I made recommendations when to fight and when to settle. I can honestly say my opinions were always correct, if correct means calling a case within a few dollars of what a jury would do.


I told my wife how much a life was worth. So much of my job was about that. How much was a 7 year-old girl worth who died in a car accident? How much is a 45 year-old homemaker’s life worth?


I got involved in community service, working with my church and the local Meals on Wheels group. I like to think I did it to “give back”. Thinking about it recently, I’m afraid I did it to compensate, to balance out the fact that I put winning ahead of what’s right.


Self-reflection is a scary thing. You look in the mirror one day and see “the real you”, at least the you you’ve become and you realize you could have, should have done better. I realized after my arrest I’d been after all the wrong things. I wanted so badly to be loved and appreciated, I was willing to lie and steal. I realized I was so hell-bent on success; I’d sold out my values.


So I lost everything. The woman I loved never loved me. My kids turned from me. My own church abandoned me. Friends left me. Almost every dollar I earned, every possession I owned, was given up. Then, I found my idealism again.


I help guys in here. But, I tell them the truth. I won’t file suite for a guy just to file. If he’s guilty, I work toward a fair sentence. Remorseful? I use a pardon. I’m researching and briefing significant points of Constitutional Law. It’s funny sometimes how God works. Our lives come full circle.


I recently found out a friend from church was in the last few days of her life. She has fought cancer courageously for a number of years. This beautiful woman is now confined to her bed, with only days remaining. Friends have been sitting with her so her husband could continue holding his college classes. My ex-wife has been with her a number of days.


I wrote my youngest son earlier this week and told him to see, understand and love the compassion he is witnessing from his mom. “Be gentle and kind”, I urged him. It means more than all the power, prestige, and wealth in the world.


My morning devotional the other day included a verse from 1 John – “The world is passing away . . . but the one that does the will of God lives forever”.


I may be wrong, but I think God’s will is ultimately that we love, we forgive, we be kind and compassionate. Hard to believe it took prison for me to realize that.


Ty told me something else the other day. He told me a group of guys had prayed for me. Two months ago, I helped a guy win a new appeal when I argued his lawyer provided ineffective assistance of counsel. We filed a Bar complaint and learned last week the attorney had been disbarred (11 complaints; 3 from inmates. The attorney admitted he suffered from depression which led him to not prepare his cases).


The other two inmates are also housed here. I’ve filed papers for them to get appeals granted. Given the Bar’s action, their appeals will be granted. At least they will get a fair shot at proving their innocence.


Perhaps these cases would have worked out that way without me. I’m not smart enough to know the answer to that. I only know that the idealism I felt as a young man is back.


It really is weird to count you blessings when you’re in a tough spot. For all my stupid stories about prison, this experience really does suck. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I was still with my wife and kids, sleeping in my bed, watching the sunset from my deck. But, I’m doing better than I ever expected in here. And, I got guys praying for me and comparing my presence here to heroin in the ‘hood. All in all, not as bad as I thought.