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Saturday, January 25, 2014

Big S

My closest friend in here leaves Monday morning for home. It is indeed the perfect start to Thanksgiving week. Very few people outside know he’ll be out Monday. He’s kept it a surprise. He’ll see his little girl at the bus stop on Monday afternoon.

“Big S” was the name I penned for Scott when I began this blog three and half years ago. Shortly after my arrival here in November 2009 Scott approached me and asked me if I would look at his court transcript. I’ve read close to 1000 inmates’ cases and can honestly say Scott was innocent of the crime for which he was convicted. I was adamant that justice had been denied and I began pursuing every avenue I could to get him out early.

Scott, however, was philosophical. “I did a lot of dirty stuff Larry that I never got caught up in. This is just God’s way of evening things out.” We lost a habeas action – too late – but were able to get the State Bar to investigate and discipline his attorney. We also recalculated his time which led to DOC changing his release date by a few weeks.

Scott has been more than just a friend. In many ways, he’s been like a son to me. He’s been there when I thought things were hopeless; he sat and talked to me the entire night when I received the letter from my ex telling me she’d met someone new and I realized all those dreams I had of reconciling and starting over were gone.
We laughed a lot. We shared stories of family and friends and dreams about our futures. There were Super Bowl pizzas and birthday nachos and cheering for the Cowboys. Scott made prison manageable and he reminded me that even in a place like this you can act decent, kind, and compassionate.

I hate prison. I hate everything it is and what it does. And yet, I thank God for the relationships I’ve developed with a few men like Scott who remind me there is good that can come out of a place like this. Those men aren’t defined by their wrongs nor are they limited by their time behind bars.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s where that small whisper of a voice that tells me to keep hoping, keep believing, comes from. It comes from men like Scott, real, decent men who know what friendship is all about.

 

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