Three Men I Know

There are three men I know and each, I learned this week, are facing a significant crisis.  How they deal with their particular crisis, how they proceed forward, will say much about them.  As I watch and pray over the incidents that unfold around me I see faith lessons.

Woo was one of our first IT students.  I say was because this week he was sent to the hole, locked up after fighting another inmate in the staff kitchen.  Fight is the wrong word.  It was no fight.  Woo, a man I’ve described in the blog before as having a head the size of a Rottweiler’s is a huge man. He has tremendous forearms, almost as thick as thighs, “Popeye” arms.  He is a large, strong, powerful man.

Woo is a staff cook.  Tuesday, during his shift, another staff worker began running his mouth.  Words were exchanged. Woo has been dealing for months with his mother’s passing.  Because her home was in Georgia he was unable to attend (inmates are prohibited from funerals out of state).  So Woo, dealing with the loss of his mother, the despair of incarceration, and the stress of waiting to see if his federal crack sentence is reduced (he has five years to do on a federal conviction which he starts when he leaves VA DOC in June 2012.  In July, President Obama signed into law, applying retroactive sentencing guidelines, that corrects the harsh disparity between crack versus powder cocaine sentences) snapped out. 

He picked the obnoxious inmate up and threw him on the heated stove causing second degree burns.  Woo pled guilty to a simple charge of fighting (could have been much worse), and is doing fifteen days in the hole.  His security level is being raised.  His good time (what little we receive) taken (adding 90 plus additional days to his sentence).  He has been removed from his job and college.

I have become aggressively pacifistic (an oxymoron if ever I heard one) since my arrest.  Violence is never the solution.  Behavior – fighting especially – to settle disputes in prison is commonplace.  I regularly recite the mantra to the guys “you can’t put your hands on someone in the real world”.  Unfortunately, in the “real world” too often “might makes right”.  Violence begets violence.  As Gandhi said “an eye for an eye and we’ll all be blind.”

How will Woo respond?  How will the loss of his job, college and good time affect him for the remainder of his bid?  What has he learned from this that will ensure he won’t repeat the insanity?  This is Woo’s third time in prison.  I pray it’s his last but this past week gave me reasons to think it isn’t.

Monday night the 5:00 pm news put up the photo of a “convicted sex offender” caught in a high school parking lot in Richmond.  “An investigation revealed the offender had failed to register.”  The offender?  Alexander, the “lawyer” I’d written about previously who made thousands of dollars each month off the hopes of inmates seeking a way out, the same guy who became involved with an officer this past summer which led to him being investigated and her being fired.  The same Alexander who was only released 56 days ago.

As I’ve written before, I met Alexander at the Henrico Jail.  To see someone I knew in jail came as a complete shock to me.  I’d seen him around bar events, legal ed seminars, and the like from time to time.  My gut reaction always was “this guy’s full of it”.  My opinion didn’t change when I saw him at the jail or later when I saw him here.  He was too cocky, too crazy with the officers, and to quick to tell guys their cases were beatable.  I avoided him.

Some of the officers had tipped me off that things weren’t as Alexander said.  He’d tell guys he ran a $4 million plus scheme on the street to gain inmate awe (point of information:  million dollar thefts carry reverence in prison.  I am treated as a genius because I was dumb enough to get caught after steeling $2 million).  He, in fact, took $30,000 from a trust account.  He also neglected to tell guys he had a 1999 conviction for indecency with a minor.

Even worse, there were indications Alexander hadn’t learned anything from his stay in the hole his last three months here – or his three plus year bid.  A number of guys had stopped me the past few weeks asking for help putting letters and materials together to mail to Alexander.  “He’s agreed to have his law firm handle my appeal,” they’d tell me.  Problem is, there is no law firm.  Alexander isn’t a lawyer.  He’s still running the same hustle he ran in here.

Now, he’s back in jail.  He’s facing new charges and these are serious:  failure to register is a major problem for a sex offender.  Being in a school zone as an unregistered convicted sex offender makes things even worse.  Alexander will, in all likelihood, be back in prison within the next few months.  He’ll get new time for his new charges and additional time for his violation of the terms of his probation.

For the guys in here still doing time, it’s just another dumb ass who gets out and screws up and makes it that much tougher on the rest of us to get out early.  Will Alexander ever get it together?  The answer appears to be doubtful.

And then there is Gary.  Gary is an Episcopal minister, a rector at a well-established church in Richmond.  Shortly after my arrest a dear friend who came almost daily to see me telephoned my minister.  The minister’s response when my friend asked him to visit me at the jail?  “I’m not getting in the middle of his legal problems and his marital problems.”  He wasn’t the only one from my church who rejected me after my arrest.  But the sting of being rejected by my clergy was deep.

My friend turned to his own pastor – Gary – to visit me.  Gary didn’t know me.  He’d never met me.  I wasn’t a member of his flock.  Yet, this man, this stranger, called on me at the jail.  He continued to do so monthly.

When I transferred to the hell that was receiving, Gary showed up.  He listened to me.  When I cried out asking “why” he didn’t offer simple, easy explanations for the mystery that is God.  Shortly after my arrival at receiving he sent me a card with the archangel Michael portrayed.  “Michael is the angel who guards and protects the Lord’s people” he wrote.  I put that card on the bunk so that every night as I lay there hearing the screams throughout the building I saw Michael.  That card, that angel, greets me every time I open my locker.

Throughout my stay here at Lunenburg Gary has written me – and visited.  He sent two amazing books about Christian meditation that helped me “silence the noise” in my head during prayers and bask in the quiet presence of God. There are two men that have led me to a deeper understanding of the mystery and magnificence of the Lord.  Gary and my friend Harley, who asked Gary to visit, are those men.

When I seek to model my Christian life after someone, it’s Gary I think of.  He had no reason to reach out to me.  Yet, his faith led him to me.  I am surviving this because of people like Gary.

Last night I received a copy of a letter Gary mailed to his parishioners.  My friend sent it with a short note that said “keep Gary in your prayers”.   Gary advised his congregation that he’d been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.  “The doctors are optimistic” he wrote about his prognosis.

I have taken to heart conversations and letters I’ve shared with this wonderful pastor.  Life does indeed not appear to make sense sometimes.  And trials and suffering make their way into our lives and they test us to the point of breaking.  But, God is good.  He is in the midst of all storms and He does see us through.

Every night since that first visit he made to the jail, Gary has been included in my prayers.  I don’t understand why or how cancer strikes.  I don’t understand why good people suffer.  But I do know Gary will be fine.  He is a good man and has the love, respect, and prayers of many.

Three men I know this week confronted trials.  Like all of us, some of the trials faced were the result of anger and impulse, or pride and arrogance, and others just visited upon us for no reason.  I pray for all three men that their trials awaken in them the true purpose God calls them to.

And these three remind me of a story:  “A Rottweiler, an attorney and a priest walk into a bar…”

Ten Years After (2)

It is one week until the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attack of 9/11, “the day that changed America”.  As I sit here in this prison dormitory I recognize how much my own life changed.  On 9/11 I was an in-house attorney for a large, Virginia headquartered property and casualty insurer.  I was “happily” married to my college sweetheart.  We were the stereotypical upper income, white American couple with two “perfect” sons, a “perfect home”, a “perfect” life.  After the attack, all that would be tested.  I was sure what our country needed to do.  I was equally sure what I needed to do.  Ten years after, I confess I was wrong on almost every count.

Just as I sold my soul to prove some vague, abstract point about love, commitment and family, so too did America after 9/11.  We are not a better nation for our reaction to 9/11.  America has lost its moral framework.  We were wrong in our reaction to the evil foisted upon us; we are wrong for our behavior – at home and abroad.  I fear the lives lost that day and in the years since in Afghanistan and Iraq will be for nothing.  As Judy Collins mournfully sang, “When will they ever learn, when will they ever learn?”

Luke, in his Gospel, recounts Jesus speaking to the multitudes.   Over and over the Savior says “love your enemies, do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you; give to everyone who asks you… “He calls on his followers to forgive, show mercy.  And then He brings forward these words:

“You call me ‘Lord, Lord’, and do not do what I say.” 

In other words, we talk a good game, but we don’t put our money where our mouth is.

 A few years ago a deranged gunman broke into an Amish schoolhouse and shortly thereafter brutally murdered a number of young Amish girls.  What was the reaction in the Amish community?  They prayed for the dead gunman and wrapped his family in compassion and mercy.

I was all in favor of obliterating Afghanistan.  I bought into the doctrine that you are either “with us or against us”.  Arrest foreign nationals and hold them without trial?  No problem.  Torture to get information?  I’m OK with that.  Kill thousands of men, women and children in Afghanistan and Iraq – “collateral damage” – in the name of winning the war on terror?  Small price to pay for “safety”.  That was all “PI Larry” (pre-incarceration Larry).  Now I see my country:  the one $17 trillion in debt where 46 million people need food stamps, where over 2.3 million people are behind bars, the vast majority of which are locked up for nonviolent crimes – and I ask what of our founding declarations that all “men” are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights, among them life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?  Wonderful words, but just words if we are willing to sell our collective soul for safety and fail to show mercy.

Politicians get standing ovations for demanding that the Ten Commandments be posted in schools and offices to remind us of our “Judeo-Christian” heritage.  But, I wonder what would Jesus say about our reaction to 9/11?  What do we make of His Sermon on the Mount, His call to forgive “seven times seventy”?  We talk a good game but we fall way, way short.

On 9/11, as I detailed in other blogs, I consoled my then wife as she sobbed, worried our sons would be drawn into some worldwide conflagration.  We made love that night, two people trying to cling to innocence in a world seemingly gone mad. Shortly after, in an attempt to “prove” our life would be better after the attack, I began stealing increasingly larger sums of money.  I had stolen before – then always to gain some psychological response of love and appreciation from my “soulmate” who deep down – I knew didn’t feel for me what I felt for her.  After 9/11 I was determined to have it all!

Ironically, as I sit in here I see the same convulsive behavior in my country.  Why did they hate us so?  We asked after 9/11.  And then immediately we retaliated, launching attacks aimed at eliminating the danger. 

But danger can’t be totally eliminated.  We will always face the risk of someone – anyone – trying to do the unthinkable.  Much like I had to learn that I couldn’t make someone feel what I needed, we need to learn there is not absolute safety.  There is pestilence, natural disasters and the occasional sociopath lurking.  But if we truly believe in God, then we know we are called to be strong and courageous.  We are not to fear, though “the mountains fall in the sea”.  God is our help; not B1 bombers, not drones, nor laser technology.  We can’t violate our own core principles in the name of security.

I read a piece in the September issue of “Esquire” concerning a Sudanese man captured and held at Guantanamo Bay for ten years.  He was held chained and naked in a freezing cell for days on end; hands chained above his head, hands and feet chained to the floor; denied access to counsel.  Is this justice?  Is this an appropriate response?  Should this be tolerable in America?  This alleged “mastermind” (who coincidentally is uneducated and speaks no English) was eventually given a 34 month sentence (that’s right – 34 months).  

I have witnessed firsthand the barbarism and unjust circumstances of prison.  A just, compassionate society can do better.  As I sit here, I wish we as a nation had done things differently.  I wish I had acted differently.

There is a Bible parable I return to often as I struggle to make sense of my life.  At the end of Luke’s version of the Sermon on the Mount he records the savior telling His followers to hear the words and act on them.  They will be “like the man who dug his foundation on the rocks. And when the flood came and the torrents burst against the house” it could not be shaken.

The part that so intrigues me in the story says “when the flood” comes, not “if”.  Faith is like that house on the rock.  Troubles are inevitable in our individual and collective lives. But by faith, we are sustained.  My marriage, I realized, was not built on a strong foundation.  Love and commitment were mere shifting sand.   The rule of love, opposition to torture?  Those deeply held “virtues” of America’s psyche were also cast in sand.

Ten years later and what have we learned?  Is war ever justified?  Is torture ever acceptable?  Does safety trump freedom?

A poet/songwriter once wrote a piece comparing America, his America, to a wayward love.  She was breaking his heart because she couldn’t see how beautiful she was; she didn’t understand how her behavior was killing him.  Ten years after 9/11, divorced, alone in prison, I look at my country and I understand what he meant.  The past ten years have not been kind to her.