“Little Todd” has been locked up on and off for twelve
years. This is his longest “bid”, seven
years straight. He did three in
Tennessee and was then transferred back to Virginia to do his sentence
here. Todd comes from a “good family”. His dad was an Air Force pilot who then
taught at officer’s school in Northern Virginia. His mother was an elementary school
principal. But, Todd sold drugs, got in
fights, and in general came in and out of the juvenile system and later, jail.
Todd is, for lack of a better term, socially inept. He finds it difficult to get along with
people. As a child he was diagnosed as
ADHD and was medicated. I met him when
he started in the college program and I found him to be both bright and
frustrating. He couldn’t, it seemed,
keep himself out of trouble. Almost weekly
he would have words with another inmate and threats of a fight would hang in
the air. I’d pull him aside; tell him to
avoid certain situations and lay low, “thanks Larry”, he’d tell me. Then, two days later, it would start again.
Todd was impulsive. He’d
do and say whatever hit him. And, that
almost always landed him in hot water.
He lost months of what little bit of good time we can earn after getting
caught stealing from the kitchen.
I realized dealing with Todd he was a lot like my brother. He just couldn’t get along with folks outside
or in here. And I try to help him –
maybe because I know I didn’t do enough to help my brother – but I realize Todd
won’t change until he “gets it”.
What’s it? He needs
therapy when he gets out. Todd is a high
risk recidivism candidate. He’s ill-equipped
to deal with the day to day requirements of getting and keeping a job. Nor is he ready for a healthy relationship
and life with another person.
And the sad part is, Todd is just as he’s always been. He is emotionally immature. Nothing prison has provided has prepared him
for life outside. He’ll be back because
what he needs isn’t provided in here. He
hasn’t grown, he hasn’t matured, and he is destined for more prison, more
failure, if society can’t figure out how to break the cycle.
Then, there’s “Big Todd”.
He’s a forty year old black man from Hickory, North Carolina. He’s bright, witty and … he’s gay. He makes no bones about it. He’s gay; not “flaming” girl gay like a
certain group of inmates in here.
Todd taught school, sold drugs and fled the Commonwealth
when the police came after him. And that
led to his friendship with me. Todd went
on the run to San Francisco. Well-read
and well-traveled, he & I discussed the City by the Bay. We’d talk restaurants, and wineries and the
Golden Gate Bridge.
Todd isn’t your typical inmate. He has an education and is bright and
well-spoken. He also doesn’t carry the
baggage most of the men in here carry from bad families, bad environments, bad
opportunities.
Big Todd is finishing up his seven year sentence in
2013. He’s at low risk to re-offend and
has plans and ambitions for the future.
A lot of guys in here stay away from Todd. “You know, Larry, he’s a homo”, I’ve heard on
more than one occasion. And the funny
thing is “pre-prison Larry” may have cared, but I don’t. He’s an alright guy. His sexual orientation has nothing to do with
the kind of man he is.
I’ve learned that we spend too much time labeling people and
making them fit into categories. As both
Todds have taught me, your success, your future, isn’t defined by a label. Big Todd is gay; that’s his sexual
orientation. But he’s also capable of successfully
transitioning into “the real world”. He’ll
never see the inside of a prison again.
The same can’t be said for Little Todd. His labels weigh him down. He’ll drown in a continuous cycle of prison
bids and failure unless someone gets to him and his core problems.
Two men with the same name, in the same prison building, yet
their futures will be quite different.
What’s in a name? What’s in a
label? You decide.
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