Liar Liar

This week two of the administration top dogs were caught in lies.  I have to tread lightly here because lying became a way of life for me when it came to the money I was stealing.  It was very easy for me to be a faithful, loving husband – on the one hand – and keep my thefts secret from the woman I loved.  Compartmentalizing became easy…for a time.  By 2008, I was so full of self-loathing for what I was doing I was hoping I’d literally die.  The lies, it seemed, were killing me.

I discovered once all the lies were out, that I could deal with honesty a whole lot easier than running through my lies.  But, honesty it seems has a price.  We talk about honesty, but most of us don’t like the truth being shined on us.

Most guys in prison run lies.  They become “whoever” they wanted to always be.  It’s like George Costanza would say on “Seinfeld”, “It’s not a lie if you believe it’s true”.  How else do you explain a guy with a second grade education and missing teeth who will tell you with a straight face he “drove a Bentley” and “poured Moet on a room full of dancers.”  I was living the big life with the money I stole and I still drove a Saturn. But, I’m sympathetic to our proclivity to lie.  Everyone lies.  From the moment Adam told God that first fib in the Garden of Eden (“what apple core?”) we all lie; that is the truth.  The other truth is:  all lies get exposed eventually.

Which leads me to this week at the “burg”.  Two incidents involving administration lies and then an officer comment after my visit this week proved my point.  In the first, “Stewie” had arranged a special visit for his grandfather.  Special visits are arranged through the warden.  If you have family more than 100 miles away, who visit only once a year, you can request “special” status.  They can visit any day (both days on weekends). 

Stewie’s grandfather is from Philly.  He comes down once a year on the way to a family reunion.  Gramps called the warden’s office who then sent Stewie a paper “VI approved for Tue. 6/28”.  No problem right?  Except Stewie thought the warden was the slimy tall guy in the Florida State golfshirt.  So Stewie has the following conversation with Assistant Warden Sunshine:

“Thank you sir for approving my grandfather’s visit.”

“I didn’t approve any visit.”
“Aren’t you the warden?”
“No.  And my staff won’t be tied up in a special visit.”

The next night Stewie received a memo from the Asst. Warden.  “Special VI request denied”.  Stewie called his grandfather who then called DOC HQ in Richmond.  The visit was magically reset.

So, on the 28^th Stewie spent three hours with his grandfather.  He hugs him and his grandfather leaves.  As Stewie’s leaving the visitation room the Asst. Warden is by the Major’s office. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if your grandfather had actually called us to arrange the visit.”

“But he did call.”
“No he didn’t.  The warden never spoke to your grandfather.”

And that’s when the Major’s secretary stepped around the corner with a copy of the “approval form”.  She said, “Yes – Asst. Warden – the warden did approve it and you even received a copy of it.  It’s here in the folder.”

The Asst. Warden turned beet red.  He was embarrassed and humiliated.  It’s bad enough he’s an arrogant, self-righteous SOB.  But, he’s also a liar.  DOC wants guys to follow the rules then they lie through their teeth.  Guys in prison already think they’re getting screwed.  Good job Asst. Warden!

Then, there’s our “treatment head”.  This sniveling jerk is embarrassed by his receding hairline so he wears a Virginia Tech hat all day, inside or outside.  “Treatment” is that Orwellian term DOC uses to describe their counselors:  the people who conduct annual reviews.

As I wrote a week ago, our new “leadership” decided DOP 830.0 was irrelevant.  The Asst. Warden advised his treatment head “any charge and we drop good time earning level”.  Here’s the thing – the counselors know it’s wrong and they’ve told the guys “you need to fight this”.

What does “treatment head” do?  He stands in front of a group of guys and tells them two bold faced lies:  “DOC has been doing this for three years”, and “the DOP allows the warden to change good time for any reason”.

He forgot one thing – I have a copy of the “old” DOP and the “new” DOP (effective 8/1/2010).  I hi-light the document, including effective dates and the seven specific grounds for good time overrides and in the middle of these irate inmates I hand it to him.  I ask him “you ever heard of the Nuremberg trials?  Just following orders is no defense.”

His balding head turned beet red and he stormed out of the building.

The counselors are the people inmates turn to for advice and counsel on education, treatment programs, home plans, personal/family issues.  If the inmates think they can’t be trusted, hope for successful rehabilitation is jeopardized.  Treatment head’s behavior has significant ramifications.

Which takes me to leaving the visiting room today.  After a visit, when our guests head out the front, out to freedom and real life, we head to a changing area to be strip searched (little hint – there’s no such thing as modesty in prison).  The two officers in charge in the back were H & S, both good guys.  They do their jobs, don’t hassle anyone, and have the respect of the inmate population.  After Smith made me “squat and cough” he handed me back my boxers and I began to get dressed.  He speaks up “Heh, whatta ya think of your lawyer friend gettin busted?”  I know these two guys real well and I don’t play cute usually with my words so I told them I thought it was morally wrong to charge guys based on false dreams.  I then said this “may surprise you to hear me say something nice about you guys, but I feel badly for Officer D.  I went through public embarrassment, the inaccurate articles.  I don’t wish that on anyone.”

That was when H said this –

“Yeah, you did go through it.  I read every article about you on the Internet.  They said you took $4 mil to deny you bond.”  I looked at H in stunned silence.  He smiled.  “Officers always check out the population.  So many bullshitters here.  You’re one of the few guys whose words here match up.  You don’t lie about any of this.  That’s alright in my book.”

Lying.  I’m not sure how to put this, but honest isn’t always the easiest thing to be, but in the long run, there are fewer repercussions from being honest. We somehow always revert to lies – big and small – because they seem easier.

I’ve been told almost daily in here by men who genuinely care about me that I’m too honest.  “You tell people your real feelings; your real emotions; they’ll see it as a sign of weakness.”  I see just the opposite.  None of us is perfect.  And none of us can stand up to glaring scrutiny.

There’s a wonderful line in the Gospel of John about honesty.  Jesus speaks to a group of people who are challenging him saying “we are descendants of Abraham.  We have never been enslaved.”  He simply says “everyone who continues in sin is a slave to sin…and the truth shall make you free.”  The thing about those words is they came shortly after Jesus saved the adulterous woman.  “Whoever among you that is free of sin cast the first stone.”

I heard a preacher tell a funny story.  Two construction workers stopped to eat their bag lunches.  The one guy opened his bag and moaned “bologna again.  Every day the same thing:  bologna sandwich.”  His friend enjoying a turkey sandwich said, “Why don’t you just nicely ask your wife to fix you something else?”  The man hung his head.  “I’m not married.  I make my own lunch.”  The moral of the story:  most of the bologna in our lives, we put there ourselves.

Lies are like bologna.  For a few days they go down easy.  Then, they just sit in your stomach and eat away at you.  Lies cost me my wife and kids.  Lies led me to embezzle.  Is it any wonder I’m so honest now?  I wonder if the Asst. Warden and treatment head are listening.

Parole Letters

Last week, with much fanfare, Governor McDonnell introduced the new chair for the Virginia Parole Board. The Governor promised a new review on all parole eligible inmates. Less than 72 hours later, letters began arriving to parole eligible inmates who’d had their “hearings” in January (more on the hearing process later). As I saw these men react yet again to the disappointment of parole rejections, I couldn’t help but think of Roger Daltrey and The Who singing “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”



A few months ago, as the new DOC director was sitting for interviews and describing to the public his “philosophy” of corrections, “my mission is to . . . rehabilitate,” I posed to him the rhetorical question “what kind of corrections director would Jesus be?” As I watched many of my friends receive their letters against the backdrop of the Governor’s smug pronouncement, I couldn’t help but ask “What would Jesus do?”


“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites? For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier provisions of the law; justice and mercy and faithfulness; but these are the things you should have done without neglecting others.”


Justice, mercy, faithfulness. Pretty simple pronouncement. Yet, placed against the backdrop of our current “Keep the criminals locked up” mantra, Jesus’ words seem so far out of reach. We hear daily about forgiveness, redemption and rehabilitation. Still, we as a society fail to practice what we preach.


Governor McDonnell is the duly elected Chief Executive Officer of the Commonwealth of Virginia. He could put his self-professed faith in action and begin a radical transformation of the current failed corrections model. Instead, he does the same thing his predecessors did. Its business as usual. “Keep ‘em locked up.” He continues with the lie that communities are safer under the bloated corrections bureaucracy that has seen the inmate population quadruple in just fifteen years. He oversees an unjust, merciless and unfaithful system.


If Jesus were here today, I believe he would say “Woe to you, Governor McDonnell, these are the things you should have done without neglecting the others.”


I do not make light of the serious nature of the crimes the men I write about committed. Many of the men I have developed deep bonds with are serving lengthy sentences for murder. I have asked myself repeatedly, what is an adequate punishment for taking a life? I don’t have an answer. There are, however, two conclusions I have reached.


First, in God’s eyes there is no difference between murder and an unforgiving heart; and second, everyone can be restored and redeemed.


This week, my friend Black was again turned down for parole. Black killed a man in a drug deal gone bad when he was nineteen. That was nineteen years ago. For the last nine years he has appeared and been rejected for parole. The same reason has been used in each rejection letter: “serious nature of the crime”. I ask this: if you can use the underlying crime as a basis for parole denial, why even bother with parole eligibility? Black has an exemplary inmate record. Under anyone’s definition of rehabilitate, Black meets the criteria. Crazier still, in less than three years, Black get out on mandatory parole. He will have served the maximum sentence time allowed. What is going to change about Black in the next three years?


At the time then Governor Allen hoodwinked Virginia’s voters into demanding abolishment of parole, there were 9,600 incarcerated people in Virginia’s prisons. Today, counting DOC inmates in regional jails with the prison population, there are approximately 40,000. 7,000 or so are still parole eligible, yet less than two percent are annually awarded parole. Historically, a parole eligible inmate received an annual, live hearing before the entire board. The board would hear from the inmate, question him, and review his prison record. Not so today. In its place, a parole examiner in Richmond holds a brief (fifteen minute) teleconference with the inmate. A computer generated report is circulated to the five board members and votes in favor or opposed to parole exchanged via email.


As the Gospel of John records, Jesus was confronted by the law-abiding Pharisees who presented a woman before him caught in the act of adultery. Facing her and those condemning her, He saw in her heart the brokenness and remorse for her sins.


He spoke so simply yet powerfully; “Carry out the law. Only, you that is free of sin, throw the first stone.”


When the crowd dispersed only He was left with the woman. In an act of justice, of mercy and of faithfulness, He told her “neither will I condemn you, go and sin no more.”


What kind of corrections director would Jesus be? What kind of parole board would He direct? What kind of Governor would Jesus approve of?


I am no theologian. I’m just a convicted felon serving a lengthy sentence for embezzlement, a sentence more severe than most sentences given child pornographers and second degree murderers. I’ve lost the woman I love, my sons and all my wealth. I sleep peacefully at night because I know God sees my heart, knows my brokenness and remorse.


I know in my heart Jesus would grant parole to Black, and DC, and Ty, and Saleem. I know in my heart Jesus would commute my sentence. That’s justice; that’s mercy; that’s faithfulness. And that is what God is demanding from the Governor, Director Clarke, all of us.

Blind but Now I See

It never ceases to astound me what insight I gain in this place. There are two men I’ve written about before who I have the highest regard for. DC, who has been incarcerated since 1972 and Ty, who has been locked up since 1980. Both men are simply decent, compassionate, gentlemen. While they both committed acts of violence that led to their imprisonment, neither deserves to still be here. Justice demands otherwise. Mercy demands otherwise.



I began reading John Grisham’s latest bestseller the other evening. The Confession is the story of an innocent man on death row. It is also the story of a young Lutheran minister who feels called by God to do something, anything, to stop the execution. It is the story of hypocrisy as church members, “good, Christian” men and women miss the fundamental message of their professed faith.


What would Jesus do? I asked in a recent blog the rhetorical question what kind of director of corrections would Jesus be? Throughout much of these past two and a half years I’ve read and prayed and tried to understand what God requires of me. What was I to do with my life after I so badly mangled it up to this point?


I thought about my own church involvement. I was an active member of my church, but I was a lousy Christian. Then again my church wasn’t much better.


After my arrest my own minister refused to visit me at the jail. He didn’t want to get caught up in my marital and legal troubles. With the exception of a close friend who’s a member of the congregation and an elderly farmer who testified on my behalf at my sentencing, not one member of my church “family” has even stayed in touch with me.


Even though I’m still a member, my birthday is left off the calendar. The new minister has never written me or visited. Not one member of our church family ever suggested to my then wife what Jesus taught about marital love and commitment.


As the young man on death row confessed to his loss of faith, the Lutheran minister stated “God’s people are often wrong Donte! But God is never wrong. You can’t blame Him.”


What would Jesus do? I’ve watched with much bemusement as talking heads on both sides of the aisle offer sound bites about the tragic shooting in Arizona. I’ve heard much about the victims and still more about the twisted mind of the shooter. Here’s what I didn’t hear: God loves the young man who did this horrible thing – what’s more, He expects His people to love him as well and show him mercy and forgiveness.


What would Jesus do? Would Jesus approve of the death penalty? I doubt it. Would Jesus approve of Virginia’s “corrections” department? I don’t think so.


Fact is, I’ve come to understand that most of what we consider as characteristics of successful church membership and citizenship has absolutely nothing to do with being a Christian. In fact, our mileposts of “good living” are contrary to what the Lord requires of us.


I believe Jesus judges us by the kindness in our hearts, the love, compassion, mercy and forgiveness we show. Under that standard my friends DC, Ty, Saleem, Big S and thousands of other incarcerated persons would be free. “Then neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”


Yesterday morning with tears rolling down my cheeks, I said my prayers in the silence and darkness of the building. For the first time since my divorce was final, I thanked God for all that has happened to me since my arrest. God wasn’t responsible for my arrest, I was. God didn’t divorce me. My wife did. God has loved me every step of the way. Friends bailed out; my wife really didn’t love me, she didn’t believe in the vows we took, But God stayed with me.


I thought about the men I’ve met in here, thought about how my entire world view has been turned upside down.


I sat in the law library the other night at a loss to come up with the words to help a young man on his case. I don’t know where it came from, but I suddenly found myself typing out a section from the Gospel of John, trying to argue that we must look in a person’s heart, their soul to understand remorse.


Ty was working that night. In his deep, bass monotone he told me I was inspiring men here who long ago had given up hope. How ironic, I thought. The woman I loved – and still love – never once told me I was inspiring. My kids never felt inspired by me. I was just “there”. They’ve shown these past two and a half years I wasn’t that important in their lives. I’m sad about that, but so grateful for what I feel about them.


I read Paul’s conversion experience this morning, how he was struck blind then three days later could “see”. I love that imagery.


“I once was lost and now am found; was blind and now I see.” My eyes have been opened. God loves the incarcerated. He loves terrorists and terror victims. He loves the self righteous as they sit in their church pews on Sundays. He loves my ex-wife even though she divorced me and He loves me even after stealing $2 million.


He loves and forgives us all. What would Jesus do? Look around and tell me. We all could do better. God always does His best.


I may be wrong, but I think He’d tell you to work for justice, end suffering, forgive, reconcile and love. Pretty simple, straight forward message. Like most things with God, it all comes down to seeing things His way.