Shelter from the Storm

I’ve had another lousy week. That’s not completely accurate. I had another terrible week through Friday. The constant bombardment of bad news received almost every day has been wearing me down.



In the last few weeks I discovered my attorney screwed up my 401(k) surrender (I used my 401(k) to make partial restitution). I had to hire an accountant to handle my 2009 income tax returns. He arranged a filing extension through October 15th. I learned about ten days ago I owe an additional $7,000 in Federal and State taxes. Let’s see, at 45 cents an hour . . . .


I had to file my appeal to the Virginia Supreme Court after the trial judge dismissed my initial Habeas petition. I had my initial “annual review” with my counselor. Just seeing my release date so many years in the future brought me down.


I read daily about embezzlement cases where the sentence is a mere fraction of mine. The most recent, a Federal Judge in Harrisonburg, Virginia sentenced a corporate manager who stole just under $1 million to 30 months in prison. I took $2.1 million but paid more than $500,000 in restitution the day I was sentenced, yet still received over five times that other man’s sentence.


Then there’s my ex and kids. I sent her a card telling her how sorry I was and how much I missed her and our sons. Did I expect a response? No. But then, I guess I secretly did hope she’d write back. As I have for the last year, I again heard nothing.


I couldn’t shake the thought that everything I had was lost and there was no way out. I’d been busting my butt trying to help guys in here to the point that I felt like a trauma room surgeon at the scene of a natural disaster. Hundreds of people are lined up and I’m alone, with no medication, no bandages, nothing but a rusty, dull saw. I go to chow and guys stop me. “Heh lawyer Larry (my prison tag) can you look at my papers?” or “Heh double L, can they really take my good time?” “Kites (notes)” are sent to me daily. Guys stop me on the boulevard asking for “just two minutes of time.” I was in a place for substantially longer than I deserved. I had been abandoned and betrayed by people I thought loved me. I had years left to do. Guys were pulling me in a hundred directions.


I had done everything I could to make this right. I protected my family. I stood up, faced the court and admitted everything, no excuses, no buts. And everything I did right was used against me.


The teachers I work for, the old heads I’m close to, Big S, all said the same thing: “you matter to people here and you did the right thing. You’re gonna get through this.” I had a hard time believing that.


As I’ve said before, I love Bob Dylan music. One of my favorites from Blood on the Tracks (an album Dylan wrote to deal with a painful divorce) has always been “shelter from the storm”. I always equated that song with my wife.


“I came in from the wilderness
A creature void of form
Come in she said
I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”


Over and over I would think of that song and others and feel down. I was close to giving up, ready to drop my case and just be like so many other locked up guys and just move from day to day not giving a damn about anyone or anything.


And just when you think no one’s listening, something happens to convince you otherwise. A guy in my building came by Friday afternoon with a card from his mom. This young black kid – late twenties – is in here on a serious crime. He’s been locked up nine years already and has seven more to go. I agreed to help him after sitting with him and talking about what happened. He let me read his transcript and see all the evidence. It wasn’t pretty, but he was honest and remorseful. The card his mom sent had one paragraph in it he wanted me to see. It said the following:


“Our prayer circle is praying for your lawyer fried. He’s the first man we’ve felt understood what this means. May God help and bless him.”


He told me his mom “knew in her heart” something positive would happen. “She believes God put you here for a reason” he told me.


I was stunned. My wife and kids gave up on me. Friends turned away. Yet here was this woman I didn’t know who felt moved to believe in me. I went out and ran and thought over and over what does it mean? I came in and read my afternoon Bible verse. Jeremiah 29, verses 4 through 14. God, through Jeremiah spoke to his captive people in Babylon. “For I know the plans I have for you . . ..” The whole passage is about God reminding his people that even though they’re in captivity He has not forgotten them. He will restore them. Let your life go on with faith. He will deliver you.


That night I made pizzas with Jerry Lee, Black and Big S. They know what I’d been going through. I asked them what they thought about my situation, the letter, and Jeremiah. Jerry Lee thought a moment then told me that sometimes we forget just how courageous, just how faithful we really are in the midst of difficulties. “Give yourself a break. You’re a tough, righteous man. You have positive energy. Guys see it.”


I still don’t know why all this is happening to me. But, I do believe that I matter, maybe not to the woman and sons I love, or the supposed friends I lost. I matter to a large group of people that society seems to have given up on. And, I matter to my God. One way or the other I’m going to get through this.


I’m still finding shelter from the storm. It’s just coming from a more reliable source.