The Letters

 THIS BLOG WAS WRITTEN IN JANUARY, 2015.

 

            The news reported extensively on the letters, so many letters addressing the goodness, the decency, of the man. There were over four hundred letters submitted and they all addressed the same issue: what a terrible waste of a life it would be to send this man to prison. “Déjà vu,” I thought. I’d been there when friends and community and church leaders stood by me and urged my sentencing judge to show mercy. Those people, those letters came back to me as the continuing saga of former Governor McDonnell’s pending sentencing approaches.

            Does community support matter? I’m not sure. In my case, the judge made short work of my “support.” He acknowledged I had done much good. But, he said those good works couldn’t overcome my breach of trust. In the same way, those hundreds of letters urging mercy and leniency for Mr. McDonnell focus on all the good he has done throughout his career. The letters ask the court to “weigh” the good versus the wrong. And, just like my supporters, they seek to explain the wrong as “out of character.”

            I remember spending many nights alone in my cell at the jail defending myself and life record with God. I had reasons for doing what I did, I would whisper over and over. I always tried to help people; I worked for the church, for the community. I gave all I had to my family; I was a good friend. Over and over though I’d come back to the same conclusion I’d paraphrased from a Dylan song: “All the good that you do can never buy back your soul.”

            I am, I must confess, conflicted about Robert McDonnell. He was a party to the shame that is Virginia’s corrections apparatus. As a prosecutor, he ensured that many of the men I’ve met who lacked the intellect or financial wherewithal to challenge a prosecution ended up behind bars. And, as I’ve written before, most sent to prison deserve neither the length of sentence nor treatment they receive. Prison is a false solution to too many societal failures.

            McDonnell was a party to the lie that “lock em up and throw away the key” was the cure-all to the epidemic of crime (mostly drug crime) that swept poor, inner city neighborhoods in the ‘80s and ‘90s. He supported abolishing parole. And, all his positions made him a darling in the surging Republican party of that same era. That wave led McDonnell to first being elected Virginia’s Attorney General and later to the Governorship.

            Can the “good” outweigh the “bad?” The letters, the support, tells you it should. And you know, I’m not that different from the Governor. There was a time – years ago – before kids, and marital issues, and stupid, reckless decisions about money, that I harbored dreams of political office. I was bright, energetic, and “good.” And, I “knew” crime needed to be punished. Somehow, my views changed when I ended up on this side of the fence. “A liberal is a conservative who’s been arrested.” I get that.

            Justice doesn’t reside in creating a tally sheet with “5” good things neutralizing “1” bad. No, our actions stand on their own. All those letters can’t change the fact that Governor McDonnell broke the law.

            What then are their value? For me they were, they are a reminder that at my core I am more than what the sentencing order shows. They remind me to hold my head up and believe that there is something beyond this. They also remind me that even in my worst moments I mattered to those around me.

            In a prior blog, I wrote that I believed Mr. McDonnell deserved mercy and that no societal benefit can be derived from his incarceration. Like me, his punishment is felt daily in the heartache over his family turmoil and the hurt he caused those who care about him. Mr. McDonnell can still do much good. Don’t waste his talents in the cesspool that is prison.

            Perhaps the letters will remind him of who he truly is and what he really cares about. And perhaps those currently in power Richmond will use his situation as a wakeup call to release so very many of us who languish in here while trying the best we can to make a difference.

            If you ever want to be humbled, have a lawyer ask your friends to write a letter supporting leniency in sentencing. It will change your heart forever. I hope the former Governor has figured that out.

 

Thoughts on the Governors

Governor Bob has had his whole life exposed during these past 5 weeks. We’ve learned his marriage was in disarray and his wife was a loud, abrasive, near psychotic who could have given Lady Macbeth a run for her money. We’ve also learned Bob was corrupt.

Now, the Gov.’s future, his freedom, rests with a jury. Hey Gov. – I’ve been there. The difference between you and me is I knew what I was doing was wrong; and, I “manned up,” admitted my wrongdoing and took the heat. I didn’t defend my actions on the back of my wife and our problems.

I had a bemused reaction the other day when I heard Mr. McDonnell say he wished he acted in a different manner, but all of us do things we regret. No kidding. As Governor, he could have applied that philosophy to thousands of men and women behind bars who deserve a “second chance” and who shouldn’t be doing time just for time’s sake.

But he didn’t. He supported the present criminal justice system that sends way too many to prison for way too long; it’s a system forged in retribution and vengeance that costs the commonwealth dearly in destroyed lives and communities.

A quote about liberals goes like this: “A liberal is a conservative who’s been arrested.” Governor Bob will soon learn his fate. Perhaps this will be Mr. McDonnell’s Damascus moment when he will find his real calling and his soul. That would be a better result than sending him to prison. I know from personal experience. 

And out new Gov. – Governor Terry? He’s presiding over a budget meltdown. He has the chance to do something extraordinary and change the money-sucking criminal justice/corrections operation in the state.

Like Moses to the Pharaoh, hey Gov., “let these people go.” Institute meaningful early release. Restructure sentencing. Fire your DOC head and his sycophant managers and bring in real reform-minded leadership. Re-establish a parole system that rewards good behavior.

What is happening is DOC has to find $43 million in immediate cuts. “Buy less office supplies” is the message to staff. Are you kidding me? Virginia’s prisons are too full, too expensive to run, and have too many non-violent offenders just “doing time.”

Come on Governor Terry. Be courageous; be bold; make real savings happen. 

Isn't It Ironic

“Irony” is defined as an event or result that isn’t expected. As I watched former Governor Robert McDonnell, his ashen faced wife and daughter at his side, speak publicly for the first time about the federal government’s fourteen count indictment against him (and the former first lady-an historic occasion in American political history) I thought about irony. After all, it had been less than five days since McDonnell’s term had ended, since he had the opportunity to give dozens of incarcerated men and women the chance for new beginnings by issuing executive pardons, a power he chose not to use because the time wasn’t “quite right.” How ironic, I thought, that that Governor now faced his own – and his wife’s – legal Waterloo which could deliver the couple years of prison time and millions in fines.

            I take no schadenfreude-type glee in the former Governor’s legal problems. I know only too well the pain and trepidation that comes when the power of the government – whether state or federal – is focused on you. And yet, I am troubled by much of what the Governor is accused of because his is a crime of access and opportunity. So many of the men I’ve met throughout this prison exodus are in for crimes devoid of such wealth and privilege and yet, because of politicians like Governor McDonnell, they continue to languish behind bars with little hope of changing their circumstances upon their release. And yes, I was in the same position as the good Governor.

            Here’s what we know the U.S. Government believes the McDonnell’s did. Like many families, they were having financial trouble. The housing bubble put the squeeze on the first family. Debt service on their fashionable home in Richmond’s west end, the million dollar ski chalet at Winter Green and the $2 million ocean condo at Virginia Beach were squeezing the new Governor and his wife. So, Maureen reached out to a family “friend” who just happened to be a big campaign contributor. Did I mention the friend Mr. Williams, was a former tobacco exec who now headed “Star Industries,” a diet and health supplement company.

            And Williams did what any good friend would – he helped out with cash. The government calls the payments gifts; McDonnell says they were loans (subsequently paid back after news of the federal investigation broke). Funny, but there were no notes indicating any of these monies were loans. But hey, who needs paperwork between friends? I smiled over all this. See, at the height of my embezzlement scheme I left a blank promissory note in a folder with a copy of a $750,000 term life policy payable to my estate. During my initial meeting with my lawyer I told him, “I planned on paying it back … dead or alive.” He just smiled. You see, you can’t make something a loan after the fact.

            The McDonnell’s were in serious financial straits. Their credit cards were maxed; they had children in college and a daughter planning her wedding. And good ol’ Johnny was there. The mortgages – no problem. The credit cards – covered. The wedding reception – let Johnny pay for it. And the financial pressure eased, and the Governor became the darling of the National GOP.

            I have no doubt, as the public now sees the emails from Maureen McDonnell lamenting their money worries that Governor and Mrs. McDonnell never intended to break the law. I get that. I didn’t write that first check to rob my employer blind. I just did it to keep “us” going. I couldn’t risk losing everything I loved, everything I worked so hard to build; so I “borrowed” a few thousand. Funny how a few thousand turned into so much more, and the fear of losing it all, well my actions accelerated the process.

            The McDonnell’s found financial stability and Johnny was still there to “help out.” Why shouldn’t Maureen fly first-class to New York and Miami on shopping trips? Why shouldn’t Bob get a Rolex engraved with “71^st Governor of Virginia?” After all, they had done so much for the Commonwealth. Man, I’ve been there. I was traveling every six to eight weeks to New York, Vegas, and Atlantic City. I always flew first-class and I never went alone. There was my entourage, anywhere from three to eight other people who’d go with me, fly first class (paying me for “coach” fare – I took care of the upgrades), eat expensive meals, and stay in luxury hotel suites.

            And I justified it all – every check I wrote, every lie I told – because I was a “good guy,” I didn’t cheat on my wife, I was a good provider and role model for our sons, I did volunteer work , devoted countless hours to my church, and was a top employee at work. So what if I was “borrowing” (sounds so much nicer, “borrowing” rather than stealing. After all, I kept detailed records so I could pay it all back) thousands from work?

            And when I hear Governor McDonnell defend himself and claim everything was legit and his friend Johnny received no special access I shake my head. That’s the words of a man living in denial. He can’t believe that when he’s alone and looks at himself in the mirror. See, that’s when you’re alone and you realize all those rationalizations you’ve been uttering are bullshit. You realize you’re dirty and corrupt and all the good you do won’t clean that stain.

            I watched the former Governor and I wanted him to man up. Take responsibility, show remorse and contrition and regain his self-respect. He’s not there yet. Even worse, he’s leaving his wife in this as well.

            Wives and your failures … Bob, Bob, Bob, listen to what I’m about to write. You can’t let Mrs. McDonnell be involved in this. Even if you have to take a plea, do it. Yeah, the Feds offered to drop the Mrs. from the case in exchange for one felony plea. Don’t let your wife go to trial; don’t risk her conviction. You – and you alone – have to wear this. I speak from personal experience …

            So, it’s two weeks after my arrest and I’m in the Henrico Jail having been denied bond – “a flight risk” the Commonwealth says. “Defendant has assets and can flee the jurisdiction.” I honestly hadn’t thought about leaving. Ending it all was more on my mind. I’m in the jail and I’m falling apart. I’d received three or four letters from my better half at this point telling me, in no particular order 1. We’re through 2. I will never see her again 3. She’s praying I die. And, the police listened in on a conversation the two of us had in which she repeatedly asked me, “where’s the money?” I said “Honey, there isn’t any money. It’s been spent and we can’t talk about it on the phone.” Her response, “Don’t you ever call me honey!”

            My lawyer came to see me and told me the company had no idea how I got away with this. They couldn’t tell if it was one million or four million. “They need your cooperation, but no plea deal. They want a long sentence.” And that was when I did it. I told my lawyer the deal: they leave my wife and sons alone and let my sign over certain assets to her (house, personal effects, boys’ college funds, cash and a few accounts) and I’ll assist with the accounting and plead guilty to any charges presented.

            It was straight-forward and easily understood. And then, I was transported to a meeting at the Goochland Courthouse. The investigating detective, the company CEO, and a half-dozen lawyers representing my employer sat around a table with me, handcuffed and shackled and in a faded jail jumper. The “senior” lawyer tried to throw his weight around: “Tell us everything, Mr. B or we will go after Mrs. B. All the money that went her way, how didn’t she know?

            There are rare moments in one’s life when you say “fuck it,” when you’re tired and discouraged, and you want to quit, but self-respect won’t let you. In that instant, when that pompous lawyer tried to flex I realized I – and I alone – was responsible for everything that was happening. I slammed my cuffed hands down on the table with a thud that startled everyone in the room. My face grew crimson and I barked out as I rose to my feet, “You say anything about my wife or my sons, you make any attempt to go after them or any friend or relative and I will use every breath I have to tear your fucking case and company apart!” (Yes, I have a gift for profanity when needed).

            There wasn’t a sound in the room until the company CEO gently said, “Let’s take a break,” and everyone left the room but my attorney and me. And my lawyer looked at me and smiled and said, “You just wrapped up the case. I’ve never seen anything like that.” He was right. When they returned, we had a deal. I signed over the listed assets to her and they presented me with a six count indictment; and, four weeks later, I plead guilty just like I said I would. For the first time in years I felt like I’d done the right thing …

            The right thing Governor McDonnell; now is the time to do the right thing. Fuck your reputation, and your political future, and the money you could have made joining some well-connected law firm or lobbyist. Get your self-respect and your dignity back. And if you lose your law license, and your property, and your wife you man up and decide you’ll fight your way back. In chapter 17 of the Gospel of Matthew there is a wonderful question attributed to Jesus. “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” What indeed.

            Governor, you know what you’ve done. Put this behind you. It isn’t easy, but it’s the only way to regain your dignity and self-respect. There are worse things than a felony conviction; there are worse things than prison. I speak from personal experience when I tell you it’s time to do the right thing. It wasn’t easy, but it made all the difference.

 

The Governor and The Gospel

The other night, Governor Bob McDonnell gave his final “State of the Commonwealth” address. At noon Saturday, with the swearing in of Terry McAuliffe, McDonnell’s term will end. McDonnell faces a challenging post-office future. The prospect of Federal indictment hangs over his head. His future in politics – what was once thought of as a lock for vice-presidential nomination and a senate seat – seems almost certainly destroyed. He leaves office quietly, wearing the strain and stain of scandal.

            And his remarks took on a sedate tone. He thanked members of the General Assembly – Republicans and Democrats – for working together. He spoke about his administration’s accomplishments without sounding pompous. And then he cited the Gospel of Matthew. The Governor talked about Matthew 25, and the poor, the sick, the homeless, the prisoners. And he said. “Virginians have done for the least of these among us.” I shook my head and smiled. Only in America, I thought, can we create a civil religion and ignore the real political action while citing the most radical, profound call Jesus made. We try and co-opt the Messiah and His message without giving a moment’s thought to the radical, life-altering words it contains.

            Years ago when I first started this blog I wrote an open letter the then newly-appointed Director of the Department of Corrections, Harold Clarke. It was in response to Clarke giving an interview suggesting his Christian faith dictated how he conducted himself as director. In that blog, I bluntly asked Clarke, “What kind of director of corrections would Jesus be?” I may be wrong, but somehow I don’t think Jesus would be involved in corrections, not in the way Virginia operates it. Jesus, you see, is about rebirth, and forgiveness, and sacrifice, and hope. None of those things are evident in Virginia’s prisons except in the hearts of those who believe, believe that there can be a resurrection to a failed life.

            But the Governor said “Virginians have done for the least …” Really? Governor McDonnell, have you seen the conditions in your state’s prisons and jails? How many Virginia children live below the poverty line? What is the status of mental health care in the state? What, Governor, would Jesus say about your administration?

            Here’s the thing – the Gospels of Jesus Christ are not for the faint of heart, nor should they be co-opted into some inane political sound bite. None of us can say we are living His message. His message – of radical love and service and forgiveness – is so consuming, we all fall short. Instead of telling each other how Christian we are, we should be like the tax collector in prayer, with head bowed saying “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Heaven, the Lord said, awaits that man.

            We believers are called to take the words of the Beatitudes to heart, to forgive “seven times seventy,” no matter what, to not worry or fret and know that the Lord is near, to give everything for God. That message is beyond anything the Governor or any of us could ever do. It is a message of hope and perfection, and woe to any politician who tries to claim it as his or her own.

 

Road to Triumph

I read a devotion the other morning that began with a story about French General Ferdinand Foch at the First Battle of the Marne during World War I. the Germans had attacked in overwhelming numbers and the French lines were disintegrating. Foch sent the following communiqué to headquarters.

            “My center is giving away, my right is retreating. Situation excellent. I am attacking.”

            The author of the devotion wrote that “sometimes in life’s battles we can feel as if we are losing on every front.” He then noted that trials can be God’s road to triumph. I thought about those words this week as I tried to steel myself for another year in here. I spend every morning before sunrise in prayer and Bible reading. And, I think this experience has made me a better man, a better Christian, a wiser, more merciful believer. But faith and hope are tested repeatedly and I’ve come to accept that having faith, believing when everything tells you otherwise, is the key.

            For the past six months a group of supporters have been lobbying to get my sentence reduced – modified in a way that would allow me to leave prison and get to work paying off my restitution and doing what I’ve been called to do. That sounds funny from in here, saying you have a calling, but one of the many things I’ve learned during my time in here is that I can teach and motivate men in very difficult circumstances.

            Many people wrote letters to the Governor on my behalf. My cousin, who – along with her husband – has cared for me and supported me in more ways than I can count since those very dark days at the jail, sent me copies of those letters. “Read them when you’re feeling down so you see what people think of you,” she told me when she mailed them. I haven’t read any yet. I haven’t been in a position where I “needed” to read them and, quite candidly, the fact that someone would take the time and effort to write on my behalf is very humbling and touching. So, I start each day reminding myself I can’t do anything that would discourage and disappoint the people who have backed me, and prayed for me, and hung in there with me when logic and common sense should have told them otherwise.

            Hope is a mysterious thing. It’s a feeling that what is wanted will happen. It’s expectation. Combined with faith – an unquestioning trust and confidence – hope is what keeps us going when everything tells us all is lost. As I’ve written before, I love how Stephen King’s protagonist Andy Dufresne in “The Shawshank Redemption” explains hope:

            “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best thing. And hope never dies.”

            Michael Morton spent twenty-five years in a Texas prison for the murder of his wife. The evidence, the prosecutor said, was overwhelming. Morton described his nights in the prison, the screams, the smells, the despair. At one point in his time behind bars, his son (who was required to visit once each quarter) wrote and said “I don’t want to visit anymore.” What could Morton do? Within two years, the son wrote again. This time to ask that he be allowed to be adopted by his aunt and uncle and change his last name. Morton just said, “Those days were the worst.”

            Twenty years after he entered Texas DOC the parole board (yes Virginia, Texas still has parole) offered to release Morton. “Admit you killed your wife and you will make parole.” Morton couldn’t do it. No matter how much he hated prison, how much he missed freedom and fresh air and privacy and the thousand other things we take for granted each day, he couldn’t say he killed his wife.

            Morton had a lawyer who for nine years had tried without success to get his case reopened. “I told him to take the parole board’s offer,” the lawyer said. “And when he told me he couldn’t, when he told me he knew all he had left was his honor, I promised then and there I’d never give up trying to get him free.” Honor matters. Even when you face the worst you do so with dignity and honor. And you hope. You never give up hope.

            I wish I could say that the whole time I’ve been in here I was honorable, but I can’t. When I first got locked up, I was a mess. I’d spent so much time living with what I was doing, so much time anxious, depressed, and hating myself that my arrest should have been a relief. It wasn’t. I lost everything I loved and held dear and it didn’t depart quietly. I was full of fear and self-pity. I said things. I wrote things. I thought things that I deeply regret. I was weak, and cowardly, and dishonest. It’s hard to imagine being worse than you are at your lowest, yet I was. Jail was not character building. Jail was destroying what little was left.

            So Michael Morton stayed in prison and he hoped, and he prayed, and he believed. One evening, years earlier, when the prison was awash in the cacophony of piercing screams and shouts, Morton put his headphones on and turned his small radio dial to nothing but static. He wanted the white noise to block out every sound around him.

            He lay there with his eyes closed and the sounds of the prison drowned out amid the constant crack and whir of static until he heard it, the clear beautiful sound of a classical music piece on a station that never came in on his radio. And the music soothed him; he felt peace and security; the bitterness and the loss left him. Even though he was behind bars, Michael Morton was free.  And I knew what he meant.  I understood.  I’d been there and had the same epiphany, that moment I knew it would all be alright.

            Freedom. On the eve of his twenty-fifth year behind bars a Texas court ordered DNA testing on evidence – a blood soaked bandana – found at the scene. The test showed Michael Morton’s wife’s blood and the blood of an itinerant construction worker already doing a life sentence for the rape and murder of a woman that occurred less than a year after the death of Morton’s wife. A review of the evidence used to convict Morton showed that the prosecutors withheld evidence that would have exonerated Morton. The prosecutors needed a conviction, so why not the husband?

            And just like that, the doors of the prison swung open. Morton was exonerated with apology – and money – from the state. But the twenty-five years? The bitterness over the loss? How do you go on? “I never gave up hope,” he said. Hope is a good thing. Andy Dufresne sure knew what he was talking about.

            On a sweltering July day in 1863, Joshua Chamberlain looked over all that remained of his bloodied Maine regiment. Only one of six men remained standing. They were out of ammunition. All day they had fought, barely holding their line against a succession of enemy attacks. They could not stop another onslaught. Nothing stood between his line and his army’s rear. His battered regiment was the right flank of the union line. There was no reason to go on. No hope of success. But hope is a funny thing. Sometimes it just takes a step forward. Chamberlain ordered his men to fix bayonets; and they followed; on the order they charged down the hill into the advancing army; and the tide turned and the men from Maine prevailed; and the union was saved.

            I don’t know what the Governor will do. In less than a week his term ends. The new Governor will take his oath of office on Saturday ending the McDonnell administration. And Governor McDonnell? He faces his own legal problems. The Washington Post recently reported that the Governor’s private attorneys met with Justice Department prosecutors to delay his indictment on influence peddling and improper receipt of gifts until after his term expires. And I’ve wandered the past few weeks if in his time alone the Governor ever said to himself “I wish I’d handled things differently.” Or “I’m a good man who made a mess of things. I just need a fresh start.” I wonder if he has had his epiphany yet, his revelation that there are consequences to our actions and we have to face those consequences – “man up” – and then move forward with integrity and honor.

            I don’t know if I’m getting out early. I do know I have hope and hope is a good thing, maybe the best thing. Hope a lot of times is all we have left when we lose everything else. But, hope never dies. As long as you hope, you are on the road to triumph. It doesn’t matter if you’re in prison, or poverty, or just in pain. Hope keeps you going.

General Assembly Blues

It seems ironic to me that inmates at most Virginia DOC facilities dress all in blue.  The General Assembly is back in session and for the 40,000 incarcerated and their families, the 300,000 plus felons denied the right to vote, this is a blue time.

Virginia’s current General Assembly is proving once again that the “best and the brightest” are not drawn to politics.  Some of the recent rhetoric regarding prison reform would be downright laughable but for the effect those words and accompanying votes have on those of us who are behind bars.

Three bills, three battles, hi-lite this fight.  The first, restoring voting rights to non-violent felons at the conclusion of their sentence seemed like a no-brainer.  Conservative Republican Governor Robert McDonnell threw his support behind the measure during his “state of the state” address.  Noting that Virginia is one of only two states that do not restore voting rights to non-violent felons upon completion of their sentence, McDonnell said the following:

            “As a nation that embraces second chances and believes in redemption, we want more productive citizens and fewer people returning to prison.  Automatic restoration of constitutional rights will help reintegrate individuals back into society and prevent future crimes, which means fewer victims and a safer Virginia.”

How did McDonnell’s Republican brethren in the House of Delegates react?  They killed the bill on its first day.

Republican Delegate Dave Albo stated in his opposition to the bill, “When you vote, you get a share in how the country is run.  I don’t want embezzlers to have this right?”  Ouch, Delegate Albo!  I’d argue the idiocy of his premise except I highly doubt the good delegate would understand.

But, here are the facts.  One out of every eighty-nine Virginians is denied the right to vote because of a felony conviction.  This voting exclusion hits minority citizens more as the likelihood of a non-white Virginian being convicted of a crime is significantly higher than a white Virginian (Blacks & Whites use drugs and commit crimes in the same proportions yet Blacks go to prison for drug and other crimes far more often than Whites).

Virginia a believer in the law?  Let’s not forget, Virginia is the same state that gave us “massive resistance” to the U.S. Supreme Court decision desegregating the public schools.  Public schools were closed and white academies sprung up rather than allowing integration.

The Virginia General Assembly is the same legislative body that allowed poll taxes and citizenship tests for Black voters up into the 1960’s.  It is the same body that made it a criminal offense to have interracial marriage (overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1967).

Democrats have carried the past two Presidential elections in Virginia and both senate seats.  The days of felons being systematically denied basic civil rights will come to an end, even without Delegate Albo’s support.

And as for the good Delegate, I’d prefer to be a convicted embezzler who turned his life around than an ignorant bigot.  The Delegate has a lot of growing up to do.

The second issue that has failed to gain traction in the Assembly is Delegate Patrick Hope’s attempt to lower the exorbitant phone rates paid by inmates.  Inmates, and their families, pay outrageous phone rates through exclusive prison phone contractors (Global Tel Link being a major player) who then kickback a 35% commission on all calls to Virginia’s General Fund.  These rates, in some cases $2.00 for the first minute and ninety cents each minute thereafter, hurt poor families more.  They also run counter to the Governor and DOC’s pledge to seek to keep families connected.  Inmates who maintain family support are more likely to not recommit.

Delegate Hope, a champion of prison reform, tried a new approach this year.  Keep the rates high; he suggested only if the commissions were then diverted from the general fund to prisoner re-entry.

On a party-line vote the Republican majority killed the bill.  GTL’s lobbyist breathed a sigh of relief.  

Finally, news came that Delegate Jennifer McClellan’s attempt to increase good time earning levels for non-violent felons from 15% to 50% was tabled by another Republican controlled committee.  Had the committee given serious consideration to her bill, by 2018, the state’s inmate population would have dropped by 8,600 inmates at a savings of $200 million.

Delegate McClellan, in presenting her bill said, “This is about giving non-violent offenders who made a mistake a little bit of hope.”  Unfortunately, politics isn’t about hope.  The Virginia Association of Commonwealth Attorneys opposed the measure.  Little wonder.  Their funding is tied to their conviction rate.

Many Republican politicians argued that increasing good time would circumvent “truth in sentencing” and return Virginia to its former “parole” system.  I would suggest that spending $25,129 per inmate annually to keep them incarcerated is a poor use of state resources. 

As I have repeatedly pointed out in the pages of this blog site, “truth in sentencing”, is a misnomer.  Governor Allen’s abolition of parole did nothing to lower the recidivism rate.  All it did was dramatically increase the number of men and women behind bars – from 9,500 to nearly 40,000 and increase the size and cost of Virginia’s prison system (over 13,000 employees, 43 prisons, and in excess of one billion dollars annually).

I’m blue, not just in my jeans and shirt, but in my core.  I realize I have a vested interest in each of these bills and I put myself in this situation by breaking the law.  But, you only need spend a few days in this environment to realize Virginia’s corrections’ paradigm is an abject failure.  Too many people are behind woefully mismanaged, filthy, unsafe prison walls for too long a time.  Virginia’s prison system and harsh, inconsistent sentencing guidelines are not making Virginia safer.

What it is doing is creating a class of disenfranchised citizens who are denied basic voting rights.  They get out of prison and find it difficult to reintegrate into society (you wear a scarlet “F” as a felon in Virginia).  And it’s not just those released from prison.  Felons who have completed their sentences have children and families.  And, there is a general impression among those behind bars – and their families and friends – that the system isn’t fair.  Having lived through almost five years of this experience, I can honestly say there is much lacking in the system.  It is neither fair, nor just.

If there is any good news to report, the times appear to be changing in Virginia.  There’s a Governor’s race this year and the Democrats seem well positioned.  Perhaps, just perhaps, prison reform is on the horizon.  Still, I got them General Assembly blues.

            “I got them General Assembly blues

            From my head down to my shoes

            Whatever bill they bring up

            Us inmates are sure to lose

            Even if it makes sense money wise

            That ain’t what delegates will choose

‘Cause they hate the folks behind bars

            And nothing can change those views

            That’s why I got them General Assembly blues.”

 

State of Human Nature

It is a very dreary Tuesday in January and the Virginia General Assembly is in session.  I was off work today – Adult Basic Education placement testing was being conducted – and it poured.  They finally called rec and in a cold January rain I went outside to run and blow off steam.  News from the General Assembly was not good for felons.  I needed to get my thoughts together.  And, like so many other times when things just didn’t seem to make sense, I went out to run.

A little background.  “BP”, “before prison” that is, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of human nature.  I confidently told myself and others that I understood people.  It was easy to see the world in black and white, right versus wrong, good versus evil.  And, I had an opinion and knew what was correct about almost anything.

Then came jail, and divorce, and prison.  I found myself at one of Virginia DOC’s receiving facilities in the hot, humid days of August.  For almost five months I stayed there and I survived – barely.  I saw things in that stew of violence, filth, and despair that forever altered my self-aggrandizing sense of my knowledge of human nature.

One day, I sat locked in my cell; the temperature reached over 100°; even the roaches and ants who invaded my eight by eight rat hole moved slower.  I watched in horror as above me, on the third tier some sixty feet above the concrete floor below, a man dangled.  His legs and arms were wrapped tightly around the metal railing as he was repeatedly punched and kicked by two other men who were intent on seeing him fall to this death.

No officer was in sight.  It was not the first beating I’d seen at that place and as I processed the scene I couldn’t help but think I was in hell.  And, I wondered, does anyone really care.

Each night at the receiving center, as I lay down trying to fall asleep I would, in my prayers, tell God I couldn’t take anymore.  Yet somehow, I managed to get through the next day.  During those difficult nights there was a young inmate on the first floor.  He was mentally challenged.  Each night his medication would wear off and he would scream in the dark “Jesus help me.  I’m scared.”  His screams would be met with derision and laughter.

I carry those and literally hundreds of other stories like that with me.  What they taught me surprised me.  I came out of that experience convinced that the only saving we as human beings have from our most basic instincts is the capacity to show mercy and overcome evil with kindness.

The Virginia General Assembly.  Governor Robert McDonnell proposed that Virginia join forty-eight other states in automatically restoring voting rights to nonviolent felons upon completion of their sentences.  Currently, only Kentucky and Virginia deny felons automatic restoration of rights.  Less than a week after the conservative Republican Governor surprised political watchers on both sides of the aisle with his proposal, the Republican controlled House of Delegates rejected the Governor’s plea.

I accept that reasonable people can have different opinions on the application of punishment for crimes.  But, comments made by various Republican Delegates showed a complete lack of understanding of the nature of imprisonment and the failure of Virginia’s corrections paradigm.

Prisons do not correct.  They are horrible places.  And, for the vast majority of inmates, a stay in prison does more harm than good.  No legislator should pass judgment on the merits of any released felon until they’ve witnessed firsthand what passes for incarceration.

Each year, inmates are murdered, raped, beaten and extorted, all under the eyes of the officers charged with creating a safe, rehabilitative and humane environment.  Each year, the Department of Corrections receives over one billion dollars to mostly house the incarcerated in horrendous conditions.  No matter what you think of their crimes, they are still human beings who deserve basic human decency.

Place a man or woman in prison, deprive them of basic freedoms, subject them to violence, filth and then expect that they will magically transform – not hardly.  Then, on release tell them they are not welcomed back to society except as second-class citizens denied the right to vote and subject to warrantless searches.  It is a toxic mix destined for failure.

The General Assembly, the citizens of Virginia, can do better.  Dostoevsky understood it.   A society is judged by its treatment of its prisoners.  More importantly, people of faith are called to show compassion, mercy, and forgiveness even to those who harm us.  That is real corrections.  That’s what’s lacking in the current debate in Richmond.

Election Day, Part 2

This may surprise you, but our college dorm is abuzz about the upcoming election.  Debates are watched, ads analyzed, and the candidates’ positions on various issues studied.  Even without the right to vote, men in this building are following the election.

I’ve paid particular attention to the Virginia race for U.S. Senate putting two former Virginia Governors – George Allen and Tim Kaine – in a bruising battle with repercussions for party control of the senate.  The campaign has been expensive, bare knuckles brawling with little regard by either man for the truth.  Both men are mere caricatures of their parties.  And, as with most political campaigns these days, truth and decency are casualties of polling success.

Both men have stretched the truth in their efforts to seek election.  But one whopper stands out.  In a series of ads George Allen continually reminds Virginians as Governor “he ended parole”.  We all expect politicians to play mental gymnastics with the truth.  Allen, however, is an Olympic gold medal winner.  The truth is, by Allen going along with and pushing the legislature toward truth in sentencing with the abolishment of parole, he did significant financial damage to Virginia that is and will continue to affect this state without massive prison and sentencing reform.

In the early 1990s the Federal government approached the states with a too good to be true deal.  Enact “truth in sentencing” laws which require convicted felons to serve 85% of the sentence imposed and Federal grants will cover the cost of prison expansion.  “Free Federal money” most states thought and across the nation legislatures fell in lock step.  In Virginia, George Allen seized on the opportunity.  “Tough on crime, No parole” became rallying cries for his campaign.  His slogans carried the day and soon Virginia’s General Assembly voted to abolish parole.

And soon after his term was underway, Governor Allen engaged his Department of Corrections chief to begin ramping up prison construction.  Like drunken revelers on a pub crawl, the legislators lined up, all eager to prove they too were tough on crime.  In less than ten years new prisons opened in a dozen communities around the Commonwealth, many of them in rural pockets where employment opportunities lagged.

Virginia went from a state with around 9,000 inmates to over four times that many, reaching almost 40,000 in 2009.  DOC became the state’s largest department employing over 13,000.  And the cost?  Soon Virginia was spending over $1 billion dollars annually to operate its prison system.  One out of every 8 general fund dollars was going to prisons.

The Federal grant money stopped, but Virginia’s costs didn’t.  Politicians were afraid to admit they’d made a mistake.  George Allen?  He kept smiling and distorting his record.  Fact is, locking more people up for longer sentences has nothing to do with the crime rate.  Fact also is, Virginia’s released inmates reoffended at the same rate at before.

But change did come.  For one thing, the economy began to tank.  Virginia couldn’t afford everything the politicians promised.  While millions were being directed to DOC, real spending on Virginia’s colleges actually decreased.  Transportation projects were put on hold.  “Creative accounting” on the state retirement system let people believe the Commonwealth had a balanced budget.

First Tim Kaine, then Bob McDonnell, realized Virginia couldn’t sustain its gulag prison system. They began to shut them down devastating rural Virginia counties who had come to rely on the prison gravy train for economic sustenance.

And the inmates?  There were crowded into fewer prisons with fewer officers making the facilities less safe and less rehabilitative.  Inmates began suing and Virginia’s costs continued to climb (over $1.2 billion this year alone).  And George Allen continued to tout his record as Governor. 

Prison reform – sentencing reform – will occur.  The states realize it. You can’t keep locking people up.  There are cheaper, more effective alternatives.

I can’t vote – I’m an incarcerated felon.  But if I could, I’d vote for the candidate who is honest with me about the real cost of Virginia’s love affair with prisons.  They cost too much financially and in the lives they destroy.  George Allen isn’t that politician.

Election Day, Part 1

In July, 1776, delegates from the thirteen break away colonies gathered in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to sign their names to a declaration.  From that moment forward the uprising that had begun a year earlier could lead to only one conclusion:  it would be independence or death.

The author of the Manifesto, Thomas Jefferson, borrowed heavily from Scottish political philosopher John Locke when he penned that people “are endowed with certain unalienable rights…”  Jefferson listed three:  life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  The men gathered in Philadelphia, this nation’s founding fathers, understood the importance of the words they were placing their signatures to.  God, not government, gives human beings certain rights.  Freedom, liberty, are God’s dictate, not some privilege that can be handed down by a ruler.

It was a daring statement of faith in the absolute rights of humankind derived from the sovereign Lord.  And, it formed the basis of the most successful experiment in republican democracy the world has ever known.  “We the people…in order to form a more perfect union…”

I write this fifteen days from the presidential election.  Supporters of both candidates will tell you this is the most important election in the nation’s history.  I’m not so sure.   Somehow the crises affecting this country in 1860 when Lincoln was elected, and again in 1864 at his re-election, make this era pale by comparison.

This piece isn’t about Romney or Obama.  This is about voting.  Virginia is one of only four states that do not automatically reinstate voting rights to felons upon their release from prison.  This election day some 350,000 Virginians will be unable to vote solely because they carry a scarlet “F” on their record.  Voting is not a privilege.  It is an unalienable right of a people to have a say in their governance. 

The current Governor of Virginia, Bob McDonnell, has touted his administration’s efforts to restore voting rights to felons.  He should be applauded.  In less than three years in office, McDonnell has streamlined the process (it is now just filing a simple downloadable form with his office versus the former cumbersome process of petitioning), and restored voting rights to nearly 2,000.  That’s more than any previous modern age Virginia Governor.

The problem is McDonnell, like his predecessors and for too many politicians, believes voting is a privilege and that government can decide the terms and conditions of exercising that privilege.  Disenfranchisement, even after over 225 years, still shows itself each election cycle.

It is an irony not lost on me that this nation, “the shining city on the hill” as former President Ronald Reagan described her, is the only western nation that restricts felons from voting.  Even in this country, all but seventeen states automatically restore voting rights to felons as they exit prison.

Ohio State University law professor Michelle Alexander, author of The New Jim Crow, a critical assessment of the nation’s mass incarceration push, argues that voting is a fundamental right of citizenship which cannot be usurped by a felony conviction.

And the arguments used to deny felons the right to vote are the same arguments used earlier in this nation’s history to deny women, the poor, and ethnic and racial minorities a say in the future direction of this land.

A few years ago, during George W. Bush’s presidency, this nation became transfixed as we watched millions of Iraqis brave bombings and threats of murder to cast ballots in their first democratic election after the overthrow of the dictator Saddam Hussein.

And we watched as these citizens dipped their fingers in purple ink and displayed them to the world saying “our vote matters”.  I remember one man in particular, carried his child in his arms.  He’d been imprisoned during the Hussein years.  And he proudly walked forward and voted.  “I want my child to know it’s not your past that matters.  It’s your future.”

“We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal and that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights…”

Amazing words.  It’s a shame this nation, this state doesn’t believe them at election time.

 

Ken and Bobby

Ken and Bobby.  Who are they?  They’re the two best know Republicans from Virginia on the National scene.  And, every week they make headlines.  What they do daily effects every Virginian, especially the nearly 40,000 of us locked up in Virginia’s prison system.

Ken is Virginia Attorney General Ken Cuccinelli.  A darling of the right, Cuccinelli none the less has overseen a series of court decisions and headlines that have called into question his leadership as chief legal officer of the Commonwealth.

And Bobby?  That would be Governor Bob McDonnell who ran for office on a platform of openness and bipartisanship.  Instead, Virginia government has been declared one of the three most susceptible to corruption by a recent independent study and witness to budget deadlock because of the numerous heavy-handed decisions Republican Party leadership made to block Democrat participation in key General Assembly governance.

How, you may ask, do these two gentlemen affect what goes on in prison and why should you care?  Because these men are both lawyers and elected to uphold the Constitution and Laws of the Commonwealth.  They, therefore, need to act with the utmost integrity and enforce the law justly.  Inmates already believe the system is corrupt.  These guys provide them the proof. 

Here are a few examples.  This week the Virginia Department of Corrections was lampooned with the dubious “Muzzle Award” given by the Thomas Jefferson Center for Protection of Free Expression.  The Jefferson Center recognized VDOC for a “lifetime achievement award”.  Josh Wheeler, the center’s director said VDOC “has earned this recognition for a pattern of disregard for First Amendment rights of Virginia inmates.”  For three straight years the center has lambasted VDOC for its denial of inmate first amendment rights even as Governor Bob announces “the incarcerated have civil rights”. 

How ironic.  AG Cuccinelli continues to unsuccessfully defend repressive First Amendment denials by DOC.  And, he continues to lose.  Who pays when a judge orders DOC to lift their book and magazine subscription restrictions and awards the prevailing inmate $100,000 plus in attorney fees?  Virginia’s taxpayers.  Over the last two years VDOC has either lost or settled (in the face of pending adverse judicial action) six inmate-led lawsuits challenging limitations imposed by DOC on religious materials, foreign language CDs, and access to both classic and modern literature.  All of this has been done under the leadership of Ken with Bob’s acquiescence. 

Then there is the pending class-action lawsuit brought by eleven inmates denied parole.   Arguments and briefs are underway and the court has tipped its hand finding Virginia’s parole system questionable.  For approximately 9,000 Virginia inmates, still under the old parole system that initial finding was a first where a court actually “got it”.

Governor McDonnell presides over a Byzantine corrections system that does little to rehabilitate, little to break the cycle of hopelessness and discrimination that leads many released felons to recommit. 

This past week when his budget finally cleared the Virginia senate by one vote (a lone Democratic senator from Northern Virginia crossed party lines to vote “yes”), Governor McDonnell spoke to the press and said “that’s $600 million for our K through twelve education.”

But what of the $1.1 billion that is spent sustaining a broken prison system where rape, hepatitis C and mental illness flourishes?  Where inmates have poor medical, mental health, and drug and alcohol treatment?  Where a significant number are kept in overcrowded dirty facilities?  Where money is spent on barbed wire, not education?

Virginia’s prison system is a rat hole.  Ken and Bob are the two chief law enforcement officers in the Commonwealth.  It’s high time they take their responsibilities seriously.

Two Reentry Tales

This is the story of two different reentry experiences.  These are real men who did their sentence, “completed their bids”, and returned to society.  The conclusion, “how should we handle reentry?” will be apparent.  It’s a shame the politicians don’t see it.

Ten months ago “Wolf” left Lunenburg.  Barely thirty, Wolf was completing his third prison sentence, all centered around his drug use and his quest to find money to support his habit.  And it wasn’t one drug with Wolfe.  Though he used crack regularly, he also had a taste for ecstasy, crystal meth and just about anything else he could get his hands on.

Wolf lived with his mom.  He couldn’t hold down work.  How could you when you spend your daylight hours passed out and your nights chasing a high?  He was barely literate having never completed his GED.  He’d be forced into a class for a month or two, quit, lose “good time” for a year and then repeat the cycle.  But what does good time matter when you’re only doing 36 months and you’re going home to the same life?

I met Wolf through Big S.  Big S had gotten him enrolled in a vocational program.  “You need job skills Wolf, a trade”, Big S would tell him.  Wolf, just a big, goofy looking white man-child would just shrug his shoulders.

He had artistic talent and was considered one of the best tattoo men on the compound.  But, could you trust him to do your tattoo?  He let a guy tat him up and didn’t even notice that his name was on backward (“Flow” instead of “Wolf”).

No education, no job skills, Wolf resided in 3B, the “transition” dorm.  When he was in there they hadn’t completely instituted Governor Bob’s reentry regimen, the touchy feely “therapeutic community” program where guys are paid to be “cheer managers” and “word of the day managers”.  What, you may ask does that have to do with returning to society as a productive, rehabilitated citizen?  Only Governor Bob knows.  But, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he built the program knowing it would fail, just so he could say “I tried, but nothing will change these guys.”

Some people did care about Wolf.  The vocational instructor gave him the name of a man who owned a lumber yard in a rural county not far from Richmond.  “He’ll hire felons.  Just go see him and promise me you’ll work hard.”  And of course, Big S tried to keep him on the right path in here.  “You only get so many chances Wolf,” he’d tell him.

Wolf completed “transition”, was released and went home to live with mom.  He even got a job at the lumberyard.  So far, so good.  But drug addiction is an insidious devil.  And a ten week, feel good “drugs are bad” program put on by DOC and administered by one of their “treatment counselors” is doomed to fail.  Want a new oxymoron to toss around besides “jumbo shrimp”?  Try “prison counselor”. 

For nine months, Wolf kept his job and functioned.  He wasn’t drug free, just on the days he was urine tested by his probation officer.  Urine tests, drug treatment, costs money.  But prison costs more.  So why does Governor Bob – and all his predecessors – spend over $25,000 per year to keep a man locked up, but only $2,000 per year to ensure he succeeds?

Around Christmas the lumberyard told Wolf they were letting him go.  The economy was tough.  Wolf’s source of funds for his habit dried up.  Within a month the Richmond morning news had Wolf’s mug shot on air.  He broke into an elderly woman’s home, beat her, forced her to drive to an ATM and give him money.  He then pulled off to the side of the road and put her out, returned to her house and set it on fire.  A short while later, he was arrested, still driving her car.

Wolf is facing six felony counts.  Every guy in here knows Wolf will probably never see the streets again.  He’ll pull thirty, forty years maybe even life.  And, every reasonable thinking guy in here knows every time a released inmate reoffends it makes it that much tougher on the rest of us still doing time.  Recidivism, you see, plays to society’s base fears and prejudices.  “Inmates are vicious beasts, incapable of rehabilitation.  They aren’t like law abiding folks.”

As I have noted numerous times in this blog, the Governor’s reentry program, the very mission the Department of Corrections espouses, is doomed to failure because it addresses the wrong core issues.  Drug and alcohol abuse issues are not treated in prison.  Mental illness is even worse off.  And Mitt Romney and all the other political pundits are wrong when they tell you there’s “a safety net”.  Folks, the safety net has a huge hole in it.  You take people from broken homes, with parents having limited schooling, limited resources, you have them live in poor neighborhoods with inadequate housing, schools and access to medical care; and they pour through the huge holes in the safety net.  We have a society where there is a caste system with millions and millions of folks who don’t have a shot at “the American Dream”.  Instead, they cycle in and out of prison, feeding a corrupt system that lines the pockets of a select few while sapping $60 billion annually from the nation’s coffers.  And the politicians return to the same tired programs (Governor Bob’s reentry program is the same “therapeutic plan” used and discarded by DOC in the ‘80’s and the ‘90’s because it proved ineffective).

A nation that accepts 2 ½ million people behind bars, a nation that accepts 15% of its citizens living below the poverty line, is a nation on the cusp of collapse.  There has to be a better way, a saner way.  There has to be a way to break the cycle. 

Is it hopeless?  No.  Because as badly conceived as Governor McDonnell’s reentry program is, some good, some success is happening here.

Five men who’ve been educated under the IT grant program have been released over the last five months.  All five, with the daily help and encouragement of staff at Goodwill Industries, have found stable employment.  All five have residences that they are paying rent on.

Sure it’s so soon after they left.  But the key is they worked for a goal in here.  They believed education and community support would give them a second chance.  And isn’t that what “corrections” is supposed to be about?  Over 90% of the incarcerated are going to go home.  Society could shorten sentences and prison by prison set up programs like the “campus behind walls” community we’ve built here.  Let us earn our way out.  Inmates don’t need fancy brochures touting “reentry”.  Sorry Governor Bob.  What inmates need is education and a chance to succeed.  Do that and they’ll be less stories like Wolf’s. 

Graduation Day

Yesterday forty-one men, convicted felons, failures, losers, refuse; graduated Southside Virginia Community College.  In a ceremony conducted by the college with four members of the House of Delegates present, a dozen senior administrators from DOC, the Assistant Director of the State Council of Higher Education, the head of the Department of Correctional Education and 150 to 200 family members and friends, these forty-one men were conferred degrees and program certificates.  I have been incarcerated over three and one-half years.  Yesterday was the first day I felt joy, true joy, as I contemplated my experience in prison.  It was a day I felt truly blessed and loved by God who has opened my eyes to so much.  It was an extraordinary day.

The day before graduation I was in an IT class with a wonderful professor.  Class had concluded and I was busy packing and recharging the students’ laptops and preparing the room for that evening’s American History class.  The instructor – a woman I have worked with for over a year – was packing up her satchel.  We were talking about her son – a senior at Virginia Tech – and the students, gauging how they were doing.

Ms. T looked at me and spoke.  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I remember when you were arrested, how do you remain so upbeat?” She asked, not in an accusatory or morbidly fascinating way, but in a caring way.  And I told her briefly about the struggles in jail, receiving, the pain and regret of my divorce.  But, for some reason - and I’m not even sure why – I said “I think God’s been trying to tell me something.”

Ms. T’s smile broadened.  “Oh Larry.  Do you know why I love teaching here?  My faith tells me I’ve sinned.  I’m no better than any of these men in here.  I have to be merciful.  We’re all God’s children.  He’s blessed me with this teaching opportunity.”

Graduation Day.  Usually mornings in the building are quiet and slow.  There’s a small morning “crew” - Craig, Saleem, DC, Mike and me – who are up around 4:00 and maneuver through the showers, iron shirts, and the like all before 6:00.  But, this day was different.  By 5:30 the building was alive, every shower, every sink in use.  Guys were six deep for the iron.  Everyone wanted to look their best.

And there was some disconcert in the building.  The graduation, originally scheduled for December, had been moved to January to accommodate the Governor’s schedule.  The Governor, who regularly talks of offender re-entry as a cornerstone of his administration, suddenly “remembered” the General Assembly was in session.  He was too busy with the legislation to drive out.  And, if the Governor was too busy, so were his Director of Public Safety and his Director of Corrections.  Governor McDonnell, it seemed, could take time out of his schedule to endorse Mitt Romney for Republican candidate for President.  He couldn’t spare a few moments for the incarcerated.

At 8:30, the call came across the intercom, “college graduation participants head to program building”.  The 4A and 4B doors popped and off we went; forty or so men heading down the boulevard and around to the visitation room and gym.  The soon to be graduates headed to the library to dress in their caps and gowns and hoods.  Craig, DC and I headed to the VI room to help Ms. C, our principal, and the woman who along with her husband, Dr. C – President of Southside Community College – had dreamt of this program and this day and by their determination secured the grant and the blessings of the powers that be to make the college dream a reality. 

The three of us got to VI expecting the hassle, the pat down, the sneers of the shift officers assigned to clear us.  That wasn’t what we got.  The dayshift captain was there.  Normally a stern, abrupt officer, he was relaxed.  “Let’s get these fellows in”, he said and his officers gave a light pat down.

We helped assemble our grads in the VI room as dozens of family members and friends of the grads walked passed heading to the gym for seats.  I saw Big S’s brother step through the door with his daughter who gave a big wave to her daddy in his cap and gown.  Faculty from the college joined us and began putting their academic regalia on.  Photos of the class were taken.  And, promptly at 10:00, the processional began.

The sound system began the pre-recorded strains of the theme from “Chariots of Fire”.  I love the movie and the music.  For those not familiar with it, “Chariots of Fire” was an Academy Award winning movie based on the life and friendship of two of England’s greatest runners before the First World War.  One, Eric Liddell, was the son of Protestant Missionaries.  He was a beautiful gifted runner who moved with grace and fluidity.  Asked by a reporter to explain his running ability Liddell simply said “God smiles when I run.”  I think of those five simple words often, how when we do the seemingly effortless things, when we are both relaxed and focused, God smiles, knowing we sense the gift He’s given.

And so it was with our graduation.  On a morning which began with wind and rain, the sky cleared, the sun shone, the graduates proceeded forward and I felt God indeed smiled.  The ceremony was brief:  one hour.  DOC’s Regional Director, an early forties soft spoken black man, told the students Harold Clarke – the Department Director – believes in education for prisoners and, more importantly, believes in second chances.  And then came the conferring of degrees and certificates.  Each man stepped forward and received his diploma.  The academic aides were then called forward individually to receive recognition.  A photographer snapping photos, family members applauding, it was a real graduation; for those moments there was no “campus behind walls”. 

At the conclusion of the ceremony Dr. C rose for a final few words.  In a heartfelt gesture, he thanked the men for making his dream come true.  He reminded them they were unique, “the only program of its kind in America”.  And then he added, “And on Monday we travel to accept the prestigious Bell Award for outstanding innovative program in a community college.”

Recessional and then a meal.  The food?  It was the best meal I’ve had since August 18, 2008.  Provided by the college – and prepared and served by the men working in the prison kitchen – it was simply delicious.  Thick slabs of roast beef, real chicken breast, mashed potatoes, green beans, buttered rolls and salad – yes, fresh greens, cherry tomatoes – with homemade peppercorn ranch; heaping bowls of fresh fruit:  three kinds of grapes, cherries, pineapple, apples, honeydew, cantaloupe.  Plates were piled full and everywhere faculty members ate with the men and their families.

And something altogether unprison-like occurred.  There was no “count”.  The officers merely counted ID cards and then grabbed plates and ate with us.  For those few hours there were no “us” and “them”. There was only “we”.  “We” celebrated the achievements.  “We” felt part of something special.  “We” felt blessed.

A number of the grads asked me to get in pictures with them.  I was introduced to parents and wives and kids and it was always the same.  “This is the man I told you about.  He helped me get through the classes.  I couldn’t have done it without him.”  I felt overjoyed.  I felt blessed to be a part of this experience.  And, I felt God smile.

Later, surveying the room the Regional Director and one of the members of the House of Delegates waved me over.  “Thank you for all your efforts”, the Director told me.  In a polite fashion, I told him the efforts we – the offenders – needed to see from Richmond.  “If you really believe in re-entry, you’ll create incentives – more good time earning – for guys like these who are busting it every day to turn their lives around.  We need early release.”

Surprisingly, the Director agreed with me.  “We do need it Larry.  But this man is who you have to convince.”  The Delegate looked at me then with a smirk said, “And even in this tough economy, the crime rate has dropped.”  “In my humble opinion, and you know the studies as well as I do, sir, your policies have nothing to do with the crime rate.  It’s time Sir that you and the other delegates speak honestly about the prison system”, I responded.

We continued to speak for another fifteen minutes.  “You gave me some things to think about”, the delegate said as we shook hands and parted company.

Later in the afternoon I returned to the building.  I lay on my bunk, and drifted off to sleep.  I dreamt of a time years ago when my family was at Hilton Head.  It was a glorious summer day and we were boating on the Westside of the island.  My wife and sons smiling, sitting back enjoying the warm breezes.  We approached the end of the island and I could see where the Inland Waterway merged with the Atlantic.  And the sun gleamed on the Atlantic and the water appeared to go on forever.  And I looked at the water and felt free, at peace and blessed.

I woke from my dream with my heart full.  I was free.  I was at peace.  I was blessed.

Teaching Assistants

January 17, 2012