J'accuse

In 1894 after the disastrous defeat of their army in the Franco Prussian War, the French looked for a scapegoat. They found one in the guise of a Jewish military officer named Alfred Dreyfus. After a trial of seemingly vague evidence and anti-Semitic references concluded, Dreyfus was found guilty of treason and sent to Devils Island.

That was not the end of the story, however, because the truth always wills out. French writer Emile Zola risked his own financial success, his reputation, and his very freedom to publish an essay, "J’accuse" in which he took the French military to task for lying to the citizens about Dreyfus. Demand grew in the public and Dreyfus, on retrial, was released.

Today, the same thing goes on in Virginia's corrections gulag and it's high time the public knows the truth. While the director of the department signs letters urging the Federal Dept. of Justice to fund college programs to teach technology to inmates in prison, his security chiefs have investigators tell students they can't participate in the very activities the programs being funded require.

Case in point: we have ten hand-picked students taking an IT certification class requiring 96 hours of prep time before the exam. If these men are successful, more opportunities will arise. Part of the program is to get inside a computer box and see how it works, where all the parts fit, what goes with what. What has been security's reaction here? They swoop in and tell the men "no." Ironic isn't it. At the notorious San Quentin prison, men are training as code writers and are even being hired by outside companies at real wage levels while still behind bars; here, the only job security that men are working toward is bathroom cleaning.

The chief of security here is a political hack. I hate to be blunt, but he is not qualified for the post. He doesn't believe in the "mission" of DOC (at least the published mission); he disrespects the men--dehumanizes them at every chance; he lacks both the intellectual background and "people skills" to successfully manage his staff and the offender population. His officers suffer from low morale; the inmates despise him; and, things get worse. How is he in this job? Good question. The answer, I believe is that no one is paying attention.  DOC wastes money.

"J'accuse." Zola understood that it is too easy for those in power to make up excuses to explain their failure. DOC spends over $1.2 billion each year of Virginia taxpayer money yet the Commonwealth isn't made any safe. Worse, what goes on inside actually leads to more crime--men and women released are likely to return--RECIDIVISM-- after a stay in a prison. Why? Because prison robs an individual of his or her dignity; it makes you institutionalized; it breaks down your empathy, your humanity.

There is no relationship between what they tell you goes on with "corrections" and what actually occurs. DOC talks big about "re-entry" but in reality the reentry program is a joke. They spend millions on programs that don't prepare anyone for return to society with layer upon layer of administration. The re-entry coordinator here is inept and not to be trusted. The really good counselors and staff are leaving, pursuing other opportunities because this place is a swamp of ignorance, despair, and failure.

What works? Education... a college education. You want to make a difference, Governor McAuliffe--start letting low custody offenders out and push education, spend money on college and post-secondary technical training, and for the love of God, make the people you put in charge responsible for ensuring that those programs are carried out. Don't let inept, politically appointed 'Majors" hide behind "security" to avoid getting men and women educated and trained.

"J'accuse." I'm sure a number of folks thought the blog was over. I hadn't posted anything new in almost 2 months. During that time, folks in charge here--folks like investigators who monitor what I write--spoke to me about my writings. I'm sure people thought I'd given up. No, the manager of the blog was moving. She's now settled and I'm back! My goal has always been to write the truth ad let things fall where they may.

I recently read Bernard Kerik's memoir of his fall from NYC police commissioner on 9/11 to federal inmate. The most eye opening part of Kerik's story was he saw the same things I see and write about daily. Our prison system is corrupt, it is morally and financially bankrupt and it is time for courageous politicians to step up. "J'accuse." If Emile Zola could do it, then so can I. The truth matters; the truth will be known.

Each week I will give you insight into this life and the issues that affect the lives of the men in here and their families. You may not always like what I write, but you'll know it's the truth.

Ten Years After

As I watched the Mets-Phillies game last night the news broke that Navy SEALS had killed Osama Bin Laden. There are dates we just remember in great detail. For most Americans, 911 was one of those collective dates seared into the nation’s conscience. My life is so much different today from that beautiful September day. Ten years, a lifetime of change.



On September 11th I went to work early as I did any other day. I was conducting a training program in a conference room on the third floor of our corporate offices. It was about 10:00 am; we’d been meeting since 8:00. The conference room door opened and a coworker, a friend, walked in. Ashen faced, she said “planes flew into the World Trade Center. One of the towers collapsed.”


I looked at her for a moment. Her words weren’t registering. Just four months earlier to the day (May 11th), I had been on the observation deck of the towers with my older son, serving as a chaperone to his “TAG” (talented and gifted) class trip to New York City. There was no conceivable way, I thought, that those towers could collapse.


I cancelled the remainder of our training program and headed back to my first floor office. The building was silent. Everyone was glued to their computer screens watching the tragedy unfold.


My voicemail light was flashing. It was my wife. She knew I was scheduled to go to DC later that week and, in her immediate reaction to the attack, couldn’t remember if I’d already left. Her message was simple and very emotional. “Honey, there’s been an attack on New York and Washington. I don’t know where you are. Please call me. I love you. “


I called her and assured her I was fine. I also kept that message. Up until my arrest and removal from my office that message stayed on my voicemail. So many times after that day as my life spiraled out of control, I would return to that message just to hear her say “I love you”.


That night, we had a quiet family dinner. Our older boy was thirteen. He loved hearing about and discussing politics and history. He also had his personal memories of being on top of the trade centers. The attack had a noticeable effect on him. Our younger son was four. He knew things weren’t right, knew something “bad” had happened. But, he was with this mommy and daddy and brother. His world was secure.


Later, my wife and I sat close to each other on our couch. She wept and told me the world our sons were living in would never be the same. “There’ll be war and a draft and “D” is so close to that age. We won’t be able to travel”, she sobbed.


I, on the other hand, was pissed. I hated militant Islam. I was sick of appeasement. I wanted payback. And, I was convinced justice would be done.


Later that night as the emotions of the day poured over us, we made love. In many ways, my wife and I were closer that day than at almost any time in our twenty years together. That day also marked the beginning of the collapse of our relationship. Things began to change between us after 911. Like the towers, our strength, our bond, could not survive the intense heat of what was coming.


Between 1998 and September 2001, I had embezzled less than $150,000; after 911 until my arrest in August 2008, I stole almost $2 million. There was a connection. For a long time I denied it, but there was. I became convinced that we had to destroy evil while I ignored my own misdeeds. She worried about loss of life and lifestyle. She lost respect for me. I became angry with her that she was so quick to dismiss my views.


Then, there was the travel, the gifts, the new everything. I was proving to her that no terrorist, no war could stop us from being happy, having our dreams met. She accepted everything. Our friends accepted my extravagant largesse. But, inside I knew.


I could tell how she felt about me. I never heard “I love you” the way I heard it on the voicemail message. It drove me crazy. What I wanted more than anything was to be told “I love you”. The world was falling apart with anthrax, war, terror attacks. My life was falling apart. Still, I made lamb and crab legs and filets. We ate, drank and were merry while the world, while my life, went to hell.


And, I did stupid things and ordinary things and occasionally courageous things, all in the name of getting my life, my self-respect back. I was so sure what the future held on 911 as I sat in my home comforting the woman I loved more than my own life. I was so sure, yet I was so wrong about almost everything.


I greeted the news this morning with a high degree of ambivalence. In many respects, justice was carried out by the raid in Pakistan. If anyone deserved to die it certainly was Bin Laden. But as I watched the coverage, I couldn’t help but think about my Bible reading this morning.


“Teacher, what is the most important commandment? There are two. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself.” I wondered what Jesus would say about the precision strike that toppled public enemy number one.


Like this wonderful country, 911 was a watershed event in my life. Like this country, in the name of right and good (and love), I did a lot of wrong things in the aftermath of that horrendous day. And those decisions had repercussions I couldn’t anticipate.


I lost the woman I loved after 911. It wasn’t her fault. Things could have been different between us, but they are what they are. If she’s happy, then I can be at peace.


And me? This morning I read Exodus 14. The Israelites were at the waters edge. The Egyptian army was bearing down on them. They were afraid and wanted to go back, back to where they came from. Moses called out to God. And God said, “Why do you cry out to me? Tell the people to move forward.”


Move forward. Can’t change what’s happened. Can’t go back. Just trust and move forward. And the sea was parted.