Sentences: Beginning and Ending

 THIS BLOG WAS WRITTEN IN DECEMBER, 2014.

 

            This week the last two men still here from our original Campus within Walls cohorts (group #2 who began in December of 2011) leave for home. “Mopey Joe” and “Chase” are leaving this place, this life (if you call living like this “life”) after 14 and 19 years respectively. I will miss both these men.

            “Mopey Joe.” I gave Will that name shortly after I met him in 2011. He was a “grumbler,” who reminded me of the “Winnie the Pooh” character, “Eeyore.” But, he was a decent, quiet guy who committed an armed robbery shortly before his 19^th birthday (coincidentally, the “victim” was not a choir boy himself – he too was on the police “radar.” To avoid his own legal problems, he fingered “Mopey Joe.”). “Mopey Joe” did hard time at some not so nice high level facilities.

            Chase is approaching his fiftieth birthday. As a young man in Baltimore, he was not the man he is today. He found himself on the wrong side of the law more often than he may even care to admit, but it was always “2 years here, 2 years there.” Then, in Northern Virginia, he crossed a line – a violent robbery and lock up for the next 19 years. When I first met him he walked up to me and told me, “I’m not sure I can do this college program. I never even turned on a computer.” I watched Chase learn to type; I watched him learn to write well; I watched Chase succeed… and complete our program.

            Both men leave before Christmas. And I watch as they prepare for life after this place, after this experience, and I hope and pray they do well. Prison – contrary to what politicians and judges say when they seek to justify billions in spending and millions of lives wasted – is not transformative. No one ever leaves prison better because of prison. No, you leave here transformed in spite of the filth, and insanity, and violence. Character – real character – comes out in the worst circumstances. Both of these men are decent, caring, and compassionate. That doesn’t ignore the fact that they committed wrongs which led to their incarceration. It should make you ask, did they deserve so much time?

            Both men will see their sentences end next week. Both men will begin lives anew and try to forget the worst and maybe remember those few moments of joy and friendship that somehow even arise in places like this.

            Sentences begin. For Virginia’s ex-Governor, Robert McDonnell, he sits on the cusp of his sentencing. Shortly after the new year begins he will enter the main courtroom in the Federal Court building in downtown Richmond. There, the presiding U.S. District Court Judge will hand down his sentence and McDonnell will, undoubtedly be going to prison. The U.S. Probation Office filed its “pre-sentencing” report the other day and recommended “at least ten years.” McDonnell is in purgatory right now. His old life is over. He may be going through the motions, acting as if all is as it was, but it isn’t. He knows nothing about what is coming. Until you hear that door slam shut, until you are processed in, you don’t know anything about it.

            The ex-Governor will stand there and hear the sentence handed down and he will feel more alone, more lost than ever before. And, he will wonder if he can survive it all. Can he survive prison, and loss of reputation, and loss of wealth and privilege? That is the beginning; it feels so much like the end – the end of dreams, and lifestyle, and relationships – but it is the beginning.

            Then there is “fighting Joe” Morrissey, member of the Virginia House of Delegates, lawyer – once disgraced, then restored – who accepted an “Alford” plea (Alford plea says “I’m not admitting guilt, but I know you have enough to convict me.) On 1 count of misdemeanor “contributing to the delinquency of a minor.” Morrissey was given a 6 month sentence; he’ll serve 90 days at the Henrico Jail, my “home” for a year.

            The Morrissey case points out the problems inherent in the criminal justice system. A family dispute – estranged parents – and the father notifies authorities that Morrissey is engaged in an “improper sexual relationship with his underage daughter (question: can there ever be a “proper” sexual relationship with someone underage?) Allegations of nude pictures on his cellphone (“child pornography”), underage drinking, and more come out in the press. Morrissey denies it all and vows to put up a fight.

            Both the girl (the alleged “victim”) and her mother claim nothing inappropriate occurred. The press eats it all up. After all, love him or hate him, Jim Morrissey brings ratings. Then, at the courthouse, just moments from beginning trial, the parties announced the plea. And Morrissey? He showed up at the Henrico Jail and smiling – genuinely smiling – he began his 90 day sentence.

            I like Joe Morrissey, always have. He thumbs his nose at the “civil,” the elite who rely on their status to maintain their comfortable lives. Morrissey regularly spoke out for the disenfranchised, the poor, the poorly educated, those behind bars. But, I can’t help and think that by accepting this plea he is admitting he crossed a line, a line no reasonable adult can justify.

            Morrissey will do his 90 days. His sentence is short but the repercussions to his career, his reputation, may last the remainder of his life. That is the thing with most sentences: they have beginning dates and end dates but the results may go with you.

            Two sentences end, two sentences begin and for each man their lives go forward.