Let Freedom Reign

The other day I watched as millions of ordinary Egyptians stood in the streets of Cairo and Alexandria and demanded an end to the tyrannical, repressive regime headed for thirty years by Hosni Mubarak.



I was transfixed when word came out that Mubarak had left the country. Ordinary Egyptians tired of terror and disappointment screamed with joy “we are free”. I saw fathers with tears in their eyes lift their children toward heaven. Men fell to their knees and prayed, reciting over and over “Allah Akbar” “God is great!”


A news clip then came on showing President Obama laud the transfer of power. He spoke about a peoples’ inherent desire, their absolute right to live free. In an amazing display of historical perspective, a news announcer reported that it was “exactly twenty-one years ago today” that Nelson Mandela stepped through the gates of a South African prison and walked forward a free man. After twenty-six long, lonely, brutal years, Mandela walked into freedom. He stepped to the microphones set up before him and in a firm voice said “let freedom reign”. President Obama chose those same three words in his remarks on Egypt.


“Let freedom reign.” I’ve re-read the story of Moses this week. Moses, a man who murdered an Egyptian and then fled rather than face the wrath of Pharaoh. God, however, had other plans for Moses. In spite of his failures, his crime, God saw in Moses righteousness. He called out to Moses, told him to “have courage” and then instructed him to “lead my people to freedom”.


“Let freedom reign.” I re-read the prophet Jeremiah’s words to the captive people of Israel. “God is with you. He shall restore you.” Jeremiah suffered grievously in his life. Imprisoned, beaten, starved, abandoned by his own people. There were many days Jeremiah wondered, “Has God forsaken me”. Still, he found the faith to tell his countrymen living away from home under the oppression of a Babylonian despot, living in captivity, “do not lose hope. God hears you. You will be restored”.


I have had a difficult past ten days. I have felt abandoned, lost and lived with a deep sense of hopelessness I haven’t felt in years. Many times during these difficult days I’ve fought back thoughts that my future looks bleak. I fought against thinking I would serve my entire sentence and be released to live my remaining days alone, lonely and destitute.


I’ve wondered why, why has all this happened? I’ve accepted responsibility for the decisions I made. Still, the punishment I have been handed is substantially more severe than the crime. I’ve lain in bed and asked God over and over this week how much more I must lose. Yeah, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. And, maybe I deserve all that has happened.


As I was watching the news, watching the Egyptians celebrate, my workout coach stood in my cut.


“I know you’ve been strugglin’ this week,” Randy said. “You’re not like most men I’ve met. You’re a good man. Good men make bad decisions, but they overcome.”


“Let freedom reign.” That’s a tough sell this week. I want my freedom. I want a future. That seems so far away right now. Still, hope dies hard. This dark period shall pass. I’ll find my bearings. I’ll believe and hope again.


Freedom is precious. I’ll make it through somehow. I watched the joy in the Egyptian man’s face as he cried out “God gave me my freedom’. I know my day is coming.

Christmas Day 2010

Christmas in prison is always an interesting experience. This is my third Christmas behind bars. I deal better with it than I imagined that very first year.



Up early – 4:00 am. I did yoga and read the Bible. I’ve started a “tradition” of sorts on Christmas. I read Jeremiah 29 (“For I know the plans I have for you.”) and 1 John 5 (“God is love”). I worked on a short story and waited for breakfast.


After breakfast Big S and I went outside to workout. I ran my sprints on the frozen track humming Christmas carols to myself. It began to flurry. We were walking and I told Big S about my first married Christmas. She and I were both in school. We didn’t have much and were living in a one bedroom apartment. We had a little tree and just a few ornaments. We strung the tree with popcorn. I loved that tree. I loved that woman.


Besides the occasional guy shouting out “Merry F---in Christmas”, most guys just chilled out. E’s aunt and uncle came for a visit so he missed our huge Christmas lunch which was delicious. Huge slabs of roast turkey and pork ham, mashed potatoes, greens, dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce, rolls, cake and pie.


The COs were all in a pleasant mood. Many wished guys “Merry Christmas”. Big S called home and spoke to his little girl. She’s eight and excitedly told him all about her gifts. Only two more Christmases and he’ll be heading home.


I thought about my ex - it’s so tough to call her that – and my sons. I wondered how they were doing. Was their Christmas good? I wondered if they thought about me, about how our family was before my arrest. They were going to a friend’s home for Christmas dinner. We always did that. The three couples doing Thanksgiving, Christmas, July 4th together. Our kids all together. Now, the husbands – my two closest friends – visit me and urge me not to give up. Their wives, my ex’s best friends – listen to her talk of her difficulties and loneliness, and sadness. I wonder: Will anyone mention me? Will my friends dare to say “he still loves you”?


I received a copy of a minister’s recent sermon about the joy of Christmas. Ironically, it was a message I discovered on my own two years ago.


Christmas, he concluded, was about the deep seeded joy you feel knowing God loves you. It’s real love, not based on some conditions such as “I’ll love you if . . . .” It’s just God saying “I love you because you are mine.” It is a joy that broke through the dark and fear as shepherds sat on a cold hillside 2000 years ago.


And it is a joy that pierced the walls of a jail cell as a 49 year-old former lawyer contemplated sentencing, prison and divorce.


Happiness – that concept we all seem to strive for – is fleeting. It’s that feeling you get when you think you have everything. Happiness never lasts.


Joy does. Joy survives arrests and imprisonment. Joy survives divorce. Joy endures.


Big S and I were drinking coffee a little while ago. We both agreed today was OK. We’d both rather be somewhere else, but we both have so much to be thankful for.


It’s the joy I feel that keeps me going, keeps me believing things will change. Someone once said you should “be joyful, even though you considered all the facts.”


Christmas is about God’s gift of joy. It doesn’t deny the sorrow and loneliness I feel, but it sustains me through it. There will be a day when I’m free; there may be a day when I’m reconciled to those I love. There will always be the Joy of Christmas.

Shelter from the Storm

I’ve had another lousy week. That’s not completely accurate. I had another terrible week through Friday. The constant bombardment of bad news received almost every day has been wearing me down.



In the last few weeks I discovered my attorney screwed up my 401(k) surrender (I used my 401(k) to make partial restitution). I had to hire an accountant to handle my 2009 income tax returns. He arranged a filing extension through October 15th. I learned about ten days ago I owe an additional $7,000 in Federal and State taxes. Let’s see, at 45 cents an hour . . . .


I had to file my appeal to the Virginia Supreme Court after the trial judge dismissed my initial Habeas petition. I had my initial “annual review” with my counselor. Just seeing my release date so many years in the future brought me down.


I read daily about embezzlement cases where the sentence is a mere fraction of mine. The most recent, a Federal Judge in Harrisonburg, Virginia sentenced a corporate manager who stole just under $1 million to 30 months in prison. I took $2.1 million but paid more than $500,000 in restitution the day I was sentenced, yet still received over five times that other man’s sentence.


Then there’s my ex and kids. I sent her a card telling her how sorry I was and how much I missed her and our sons. Did I expect a response? No. But then, I guess I secretly did hope she’d write back. As I have for the last year, I again heard nothing.


I couldn’t shake the thought that everything I had was lost and there was no way out. I’d been busting my butt trying to help guys in here to the point that I felt like a trauma room surgeon at the scene of a natural disaster. Hundreds of people are lined up and I’m alone, with no medication, no bandages, nothing but a rusty, dull saw. I go to chow and guys stop me. “Heh lawyer Larry (my prison tag) can you look at my papers?” or “Heh double L, can they really take my good time?” “Kites (notes)” are sent to me daily. Guys stop me on the boulevard asking for “just two minutes of time.” I was in a place for substantially longer than I deserved. I had been abandoned and betrayed by people I thought loved me. I had years left to do. Guys were pulling me in a hundred directions.


I had done everything I could to make this right. I protected my family. I stood up, faced the court and admitted everything, no excuses, no buts. And everything I did right was used against me.


The teachers I work for, the old heads I’m close to, Big S, all said the same thing: “you matter to people here and you did the right thing. You’re gonna get through this.” I had a hard time believing that.


As I’ve said before, I love Bob Dylan music. One of my favorites from Blood on the Tracks (an album Dylan wrote to deal with a painful divorce) has always been “shelter from the storm”. I always equated that song with my wife.


“I came in from the wilderness
A creature void of form
Come in she said
I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”


Over and over I would think of that song and others and feel down. I was close to giving up, ready to drop my case and just be like so many other locked up guys and just move from day to day not giving a damn about anyone or anything.


And just when you think no one’s listening, something happens to convince you otherwise. A guy in my building came by Friday afternoon with a card from his mom. This young black kid – late twenties – is in here on a serious crime. He’s been locked up nine years already and has seven more to go. I agreed to help him after sitting with him and talking about what happened. He let me read his transcript and see all the evidence. It wasn’t pretty, but he was honest and remorseful. The card his mom sent had one paragraph in it he wanted me to see. It said the following:


“Our prayer circle is praying for your lawyer fried. He’s the first man we’ve felt understood what this means. May God help and bless him.”


He told me his mom “knew in her heart” something positive would happen. “She believes God put you here for a reason” he told me.


I was stunned. My wife and kids gave up on me. Friends turned away. Yet here was this woman I didn’t know who felt moved to believe in me. I went out and ran and thought over and over what does it mean? I came in and read my afternoon Bible verse. Jeremiah 29, verses 4 through 14. God, through Jeremiah spoke to his captive people in Babylon. “For I know the plans I have for you . . ..” The whole passage is about God reminding his people that even though they’re in captivity He has not forgotten them. He will restore them. Let your life go on with faith. He will deliver you.


That night I made pizzas with Jerry Lee, Black and Big S. They know what I’d been going through. I asked them what they thought about my situation, the letter, and Jeremiah. Jerry Lee thought a moment then told me that sometimes we forget just how courageous, just how faithful we really are in the midst of difficulties. “Give yourself a break. You’re a tough, righteous man. You have positive energy. Guys see it.”


I still don’t know why all this is happening to me. But, I do believe that I matter, maybe not to the woman and sons I love, or the supposed friends I lost. I matter to a large group of people that society seems to have given up on. And, I matter to my God. One way or the other I’m going to get through this.


I’m still finding shelter from the storm. It’s just coming from a more reliable source.