Dear Mr. Clarke

I want to thank you for your recent visit to Lunenburg.  You won’t remember me, but I was one of the dozens of nameless men that had the opportunity to meet you during your tour of the compound.  I’m one of the college tutors you saw as you passed through the programs/education building.  There were a fair number of things I wanted to say to you, but I instead just said hello and shook your hand.  Perhaps it was concern that the warden and operations officer wouldn’t appreciate my comments or maybe I just wanted to get a feel for the type of man you are, but I didn’t say some things that should have been said.  Here goes.

You have a tough job.  You are point man on a rusting old barge headed in rough seas toward the rocks.  I believe you are a decent man who sees the possibilities that exist for good in most of the men doing time in here.  But, you must know the current system Virginia has in place, denying imprisoned offenders even a rudimentary opportunity for early release, breeds a sense of hopelessness and distrust in the corrections system that is reflected in this state’s stagnant recidivism rate. 

Contrary to what the politicians tell the voters, abolishing parole has been a colossal failure.  You know it, I know it.  Anyone with an ounce of sense knows it.  Virginia is spending $1 billion a year to house almost 40,000 inmates.  The recidivism rate has actually crept up since 2000.  The vast majority of men and women behind bars are nonviolent offenders.

Prison doesn’t make a person better.  Prison – even at this low custody level – is dangerous, and dirty and not an environment conducive to change.  That some do, in fact, grow from this experience is a testament to their character.  Prison breaks a person; prison destroys.

I am a unique inmate.  I came from a life of privilege.  I was well-paid, well-educated with both college and law degrees.  I broke the law and deserved punishment.  But, sending me to prison will not make me a “good citizen”.  People will tell you I was that before.  Prison for me is a huge waste of taxpayer resources. 

But, I have grown in these three years.  I have met men who did not have the chances in life that I did and have watched them struggle through adult basic education class and earn their GED.  These men, largely forgotten and disparaged by “law abiding” society, well up with tears when they are handed their diplomas.

My friends ask me during visits why I wear my emotions on my sleeve for these men, why I work so hard tutoring in basic ed and the college classes.  It’s simple.  I believe everyone is redeemable, everyone deserves a second chance.

I know your faith is important to you. Mine is as well.  I urge you to meditate on Hebrews 13:3 -“remember the prisoners, as though in prison with them”.  My faith teaches me that no one is beyond redemption, no one who doesn’t deserve forgiveness and mercy.

You can make a difference.  You have the power and the faith to transform Virginia’s correction system.  Be courageous.  Be honest.  Let the Governor know there are better ways to manage corrections.  Push for increased earned good time. Money needs to be directed to education, alcohol and drug treatment and mental health care.  And, let offenders capable of working and contributing to society do so by looking at alternatives to incarceration; and remove the stigma of the “Scarlet F” (felony) from non-violent offender’s records.

You have a unique opportunity.  The men – here at Lunenburg at least – are willing to have faith that you can make a difference, that you’re not like all the other DOC directors and administrators who’ve come down the road selling the false “lockem up” mantra that has led to the dismal results we now see:  40,000 incarcerated, $1 billion spent per year.

You are in my prayers.  Trust your faith.  Make a difference. 

You Never Know

I watched an interesting piece on “60 Minutes” the other evening. Actor Mark Wahlberg was profiled (http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7076433n). Wahlberg is one of the most powerful forces in Hollywood today. He is senior producer of two of HBO’s most successful series: “Entourage” and “Boardwalk Empire”. He received critical acclaim for his performance in “Boogie Nights”. His newest move, “The Fighter”, is scheduled for release in December and is already enjoying “buzz”.



By all appearances, Wahlberg has a perfect life. He has money, fame, power. He is happily married and has four beautiful children to accompany his equally beautiful wife. He lives in a huge, Beverly Hills mansion. He’s living “the dream”.


But, it wasn’t always like that. Wahlberg came from very difficult circumstances. Quitting school at thirteen, he was in constant trouble with the Boston police. This trouble culminated in his arrest at seventeen for assaulting a man to steal two cases of beer, the man was struck with a pool cue and lost his sight in one eye.


Wahlberg was sent to a notorious Massachusetts prison; old, decrepit, full of violence and despair. He was not yet eighteen. He was surrounded in prison by many of his street-wise friends, the ones that weren’t already dead. He decided, sitting in that cell, that he wanted a different life.


He spent only 45 days in prison, but it was enough to change his life. He found breaks. He landed a recording deal and became a teen girl heart throb as white rapper “Marky Mark”. He moved from music to movies. He became successful.


No one can be sure how the decisions they make will turn out. No one can fully comprehend all the consequences of their actions. You can’t go back and undo what’s been done. But, you can go on, and overcome, and achieve.


Wahlberg’s story should smack us in the face and cause us to rethink our preconceived notions about the incarcerated. While it is true there are evil, sociopathic men and women locked up, there are literally tons of thousands of others who merely need a break, a chance, just someone to care enough about them and believe in them and give them a chance.


Mark Wahlberg had that. He had a parish priest who knew he was “a good kid”. Perhaps that is why today, just like yesterday, and the day before that, Wahlberg attended church. He attends every day, no matter where in the world he finds himself.


In this prison I have encountered a number of amazing men. There are artists who draw, and paint, and create beautiful landscapes and portraits. The man in the bunk two beds over spends hours rolling paper into tight three inch to six inch tubes. I watched him cut cardboard into various geometric shapes and sizes. Last night he showed me what all his efforts were for. He had crafted a replica of a Ford Mustang body frame and engine block from memory.


Two of the teacher’s aides I work with have taken up knitting. In less than a month, they’ve turned out dozens of scarves with various football team logos. Each week, two dozen men ask me to read poems, essays and short stories they wrote. Their words, the images they create capture my imagination.


Prison is a wasteland. It is a dumping ground, a landfill, a refuse pit. Yet life, art, hope can flourish even in the midst of despair and decay. You never know who is locked up or why. You never know, unless you’re willing to take a chance on someone.


My cousin reminded me of a powerful Bible verse the other day. With the holiday season upon us, consider these words from Hebrews 13:3 –


“Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.”


No one’s life is beyond redemption. With hope – and help, mercy – and love, any inmate willing to try can turn their life around. Mark Wahlberg proved that.