Prison Pathology 101

This blog was written in November, 2014.

            Webster’s defines “pathology” as “any abnormal variation from a sound condition.” Abnormal, off, something – or someone – not functioning as it should. You know the old riddle, “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” I have spent the past few years wondering if prison makes you pathological (in so many dysfunctional ways) or it just allows the pathology to be out in the mainstream. My answer, and I’m upset concluding this, is that there are a fair number of sick, demented, evil people for which prison becomes an Eden. It’s a symbiotic relationship really with both participants – the sick, evil bastards and the corrupt, failed prison – flourishing and continually feeding off each other. And, like a cancerous tumor, it continues to grow and spread and take over all the decency and hope that is around it.

            Pathologic men. So my life has completely been torn apart. It’s early fall 2008 and I don’t know left from right. I’ve been told by my wife of 28 years that she’s “praying I die.” Friends abandon me. I’m trying to mount a defense to an extensive sentence (I’ve already plead guilty); and, I’m in jail, which for a guy like me is hell. I start reading the Bible (why not? God is, after all, the only One who could bring me back) and analyzing verses and syntax trying to divine real meaning for my circumstances and my future. I reach a conclusion – in hindsight, a wrong conclusion – that goes something along the lines that I’m reaping what I sowed and the only way to change my “harvest” is to atone. How do you atone? By seeing everyone I meet as inherently good. It’s their circumstances, their choices that were wrong. If I atone enough, I think, God will restore me, that my “works” will redeem me.

            I help everyone. Child sex-abuse? A misunderstanding. Break into a home and beating the occupants? Bad family upbringing. I befriend and counsel men who, looking back, were cold-blooded, predatory fiends who would have robbed from me, and beaten me if not for 2 things: (1) they thought they needed me because I had knowledge (and in here, knowledge really is power); and (2) God was looking out for me.

            I soon realized Rousseau wasn’t right. There is no “noble savage” who is turned evil by the world around. No, evil exists. It’s a disease and it flourishes in a place like a jail. No amount of “atoning” on my part would or could change that. And, even Mother Teresa, if in jail, would be sentenced to prison. That is the “system.”

            Pathological liar. There’s this guy in here and he tells the truth about absolutely nothing. Funny your life is an open book in the Internet age. Yet, he spins tales. He “owns” car dealerships and homes with his “wife.” Problem is, there is no wife, just an unhappy woman still married to another man who clings to that man’s pension. And the car dealerships? He owns – he has – nothing. He recently had a run in with the Feds and they exposed his lies – his “carnal knowledge” conviction from years ago; his lack of assets (he had to use a federal public defender); yet, he still clings to the lies.

            “My mother was a prostitute and I was raised in crack houses.” No, you actually came from a pretty normal, middle-class upbringing. “My wife and I know the senator from Maine.” No, she might; problem is, her family knew nothing about you. Now they worry, “what has happened to our daughter/sister? She’s involved with a habitual criminal.” A habitual criminal, who says he loves her yet would get her to sneak thumb drives in and operate a telephone number scam. Funny, he thinks he’s smart and slick and sophisticated. He isn’t. Everyone – the Feds, the staff at the facility; they all know what he is: a guy who details cars and now scams his way through his bid. You would think he’d get a wakeup call and say, “this will be the rest of my life unless I give up the lies.” But, pathologic people can’t see that.

            There’s the other guy, the arrogant prick with misogynist tendencies. “I’m not a misogynist. I like sleeping with women.” Idiot! He doesn’t know what the word means. Here’s a clue: you call every female a “bitch” or worse, chances are you’re a misogynist. This guy is pure evil. He’s racist, and he’s homophobic (which is ironic because even the college teachers see the way he preens and unbuttons his shirt that he has clear “latent” homosexual issues).

            The guy claimed he was a victim of molestation at his trial (public records are great!) to explain the dozens of restraining order violations he’s gotten. He tries to run a game on everyone – active in the Catholic group here; he’s the antithesis of what Pope Francis calls his flock to be. He betrays friends. He was close to a guy in here. Needed to find an “ex” (never mind the restraining order, he wanted to write her). So the friend gets his girlfriend (a police dispatcher) to look the woman up. Letter goes out and the “ex” freaks out – “how’d he find me?” He tells all to save his own neck. Confrontation on the weight pile. “I thought you were my friend?” His answer: “You know what I’m like.”

            Last week the guy feigned a reaction to peanut butter to get to go to “early – diabetic – chow call.” It was all staged – faked – so he can get out and back to the building like the others, this pathological demon thinks he’s getting away with something. But, everyone see it; the faculty, the officers, everyone knows he’s dirty and dishonest. Everyone knows he’ll be back.

            Pathology. It is fed and nurtured in here by the system. The system needs sick evil men like this to flourish. And, it’s frustrating. Guys think running game, lying, stealing, cheating; disrespecting themselves and others makes them successful in here. They are wrong. All it is is low expectations, low motivation, low self-discipline. It’s a toxic stew and it feeds on failure and pathological men use it to feel emboldened.

            Men accept this life, these lies, this behavior. They don’t get angry at themselves – or their circumstances – and shake their fists and say, “I am better than this!” Or “I will overcome my wrongs. I will be the man God calls me to be.”

            Nature versus nurture. It’s the age-old question. Are you destined by your genes, your makeup, to be, no matter what the circumstances? Or, does your environment make you? For a long time in here I thought all I had to do was care and I could change the world and with it, my own circumstances. I know now I can affect and effect men with my compassion, my dedication, my willingness to listen. And, the sickness that is prison can be overcome. But, it must come from within. You can’t make someone be decent. There is a reason Christian faith is built on a premise of the fallen nature of man and the understanding that works can’t save you. It is obvious. All you have to do is come in here and see the pathology behind bars.

Back to Basics

Most of our building was tuned in the other day as the jury returned their verdict in the Casey Anthony murder trial.  Guys in prison watch trials.  We read about the crimes and form opinions.  As the Anthony verdict was handed down, to a man the consensus was she at least knew something about what happened to her daughter but the prosecution overreached on the capital murder charge.

I watched the verdict with mixed emotions.  I was disgusted by the allegations that a mom could actually kill her own child.  But, I was more disgusted with the circus atmosphere that took over cable news as various “talking head” lawyers belittled the process and told us what the evidence meant.  This created a feeding frenzy in the public.  Obviously, the girl was a slut who killed her daughter in cold blood.  Or so, the public was led to believe as more and more “details” emerged about her behavior and her family dynamics.  And charlatans like Nancy Grace drew paychecks from CNN by calling the accused “Top Mom”. Where, I wondered, was the rush to remind people in America you are “innocent until proven guilty”?  Yeah, we say that and a whole lot of other cute clichés like “justice for all” and “one nation, under God”, then we go out and ignore the very definition of those terms.

As the verdict was preparing to be read here’s what I saw:  a scared young woman who was totally and completely alone, who had absolutely no control over her life.  I know that feeling; I’ve been there; and, I don’t wish that on anyone.  Ironically, the morning the verdict was to be rendered I read a portion of Chapter 23 in the Gospel of Matthew.  In the passage, Jesus is skewering the hypocrisy of the “law abiding” citizens of the day (the Pharisees and Sadducees) for being frauds.  In the Modern Language Bible it says:

“You keep meticulous account books, tithing on every nickel and dime you get, but on the meat of God’s law, things like fairness and compassion and commitment – the absolute basics! – you carelessly take it or leave it…the basics are required.”

We have so distorted the meaning of justice in this country that we somehow feel justified protesting in front of a courthouse because a jury decided to find a young mother not guilty of capital murder rather than executing her.  And the people who are protesting don’t know unequivocally that she did it.  None of us do.  Ultimately, only the perpetrator and God know.

How, I ask, is “justice served” by killing this woman?  Perhaps the most profound thing I heard throughout this entire sordid episode was when her attorney, after the verdict said:

“We have to stop thinking killing is a legitimate punishment for killing.”
 
Justice, dear readers, requires wholeness and restoration and forgiveness.  Our prisons are full, our court dockets clogged with millions of people who are being subjected to a justice system that is quick to emphasize guilt and punishment and dismally poor when it comes to dispensing Godly justice.

The sad fact is, as much as we hate to admit it; we are all similar to Casey Anthony.  I don’t mean we all ignore a missing child for 31 days or we become pathologic with our lies.  But all of us do wrong things from time to time.  Even Mother Teresa took contributions from notorious drug lords rationalizing that while the money may be dirty; God’s use for it was clean.

Here’s my hope.  That we lose interest in other people’s misfortunes.  We allow the judicial system to work the way it’s supposed to work.  And, we demand the police and prosecutors act within the law and ethically.  We ignore these loudmouths on the tube who profess to know so much.  Finally, we remember God has the final say.  And how we judge others is how we will be judged.

I stood in a courtroom two and a half years ago and heard a Commonwealth Attorney make false statements about me and a judge ignore my remorse.  I take no joy in anyone’s misfortune.  I learned that day that all of us could find ourselves in a situation that goes horribly awry.  And the last thing we want - or need - are people passing judgment on our behavior when they haven’t walked a day in our shoes.

It’s time, Jesus said, to get back to the basics.  That’s true justice.

Liar, Cheater, Sinner, Saint

I think a fair bit about why I did what I did.  Was I a good man who made a series of bad decisions?  A sociopath who betrayed those who loved and depended on me?  A sufferer of a mental disorder (way to go Catherine Zeta Jones!)? Over the last three years I’ve accepted I did very stupid, self-destructive things that hurt people I love.  And, I accept there was no reason to do them.  I knew they were wrong.  So why’d I do it?

Two Northeastern University psychologists have offered a surprising study on character.  Character, they argue is a dynamic process. Character isn’t set in stone.  There is a constant tension between our desires of short term and long term goals and our moral compass.  We’re not talking good and evil.  We’re talking “acting out of character” when faced with certain circumstances.  And, the two professors argue, anyone can act much more “out of character” than we think. 

I recently saw an interview with philosopher/political theoretician Christopher Hitchins.  Hitchins, at one point in his career attacked Mother Teresa’s character.  “She accepted donations from some of the world’s most repressive regimes and known narcoterrorists…that’s immoral.”

The authors would argue Mother Teresa placed her short term goal – feeding the poor of Calcutta – ahead of her moral judgment – taking “blood money”.  And she’s not the only example:  Former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, U.S. Olympic athlete Marion Jones, Tiger Woods.  All had “everything going for them” and all made short-sighted, corrupt, bad decisions.

I understand human failure and weakness more now than I ever did.  I am especially on guard when I hear people refer to themselves as good.  Many times during the past few years I’ve been attacked by people near and dear to me that I am loathsome and despicable.  But they, on the other hand “are good”.

I find support for these two doctors’ research in my study of the Bible.  The Bible, after all, is a story of very human people, doing very human things and a God who has every reason in the world to condemn us, yet loves and forgives us.

This morning I read two powerful sections in the Gospel of Matthew.  In the first, Jesus is explaining to Peter that he is required to forgive “seven time seventy”.  Failure to forgive, as often as is necessary, is condemnable.  “Just as God has forgiven you, so must you forgive.”

In the very next chapter Jesus explains what God expects in marriage.  It’s simple and blunt “you don’t divorce unless there’s adultery”.  The “good people”, the Pharisees are shocked by this pronouncement.  They shouldn’t have been.  God’s moral code is pretty straight forward.  “Walk humbly before your God and treat each other the way you want to be treated.”

We all make bad decisions.  We all put self interest ahead of what we know in our hearts is the right thing to do, the moral thing to do, the Godly thing to do.

These researchers helped me come to terms with why I did what I did.  I wasn’t heinous.  In fact, as most people who have met me will attest, I’m a decent, caring, loving man.  But when faced with a particular dilemma, I chose expedience over right.  The researchers also gave me a reason to believe my new found compassion for those who’ve made a mess of their lives is well-founded.  The lesson, I think is simply this:  we can all be a little more loving; a little more understanding; a little more forgiving.

On “Good Friday” about two thousand years ago the good people had had enough of a troublesome itinerant preacher.  He kept telling them their view of morality was not God’s view.  They condemned Him to death.  But thankfully, that wasn’t the end of the story.  It was just the beginning.  No one’s character is set in stone.  We all fall short.  And by God’s grace we can all be redeemed.

Perhaps there’s someone in your life who screwed up and hurt you.  Now may be the time to put that behind you.  I know it is for me.

Leaven Causes Blindness

One blessing of being in this place is I’ve had to confront many of the prejudices I carried through my life as I interact with all types of men I frankly thought were beneath me. As I face these issues, I’ve come across numerous Bible stories that bring home the hypocrisy of my life. Ironically, the more I read, the more I realize we live lives that ignore what God sees. We see color, we see differences; we feel intellectually superior. God sees His children.



If anyone would have told me I’d learn life lessons from “convicts” I’d have thought they were crazy. Yet, as I watch these men deal day in and day out deal with disappointment, I learn patience. Character, I always believed, comes through in times of trial and crisis. If that’s true, I have seen more character exhibited in these past three years than in my entire life. The same goes for compassion. I have watched men with little share all they have.


In one of the Gospel stories Jesus, as he was accustomed to doing, warned his disciples against the leaven of the Pharisees. Leaven, yeast, the blowing up of our lives in hypocrisy and self-delusion. He was warning His followers that hypocrites put on a good show, but eventually all their sins will be revealed.


I ponder that lesson a good deal in here. I was one of the Pharisees in a manner of speaking. I was a “good” church elder, active in community service, a “good” employee – really a big fish in a little pond. I had, from outside appearances a perfect home life: attractive wife, two wonderful sons, big house, travel, money. And, it was easy to cast judgment on others. After all, I made it, why can’t they.


But, I had a dark side. I was stealing from my employer and boosting my own ego by throwing money at family and friends to get what I craved. And, like Jesus said, all my sins were revealed and the life I’d built was really a house of cards.


The “perfect” marriage; that disintegrated the day I was arrested. All my “soulmate” really wanted, really kept me around for, was the money and stuff. My side of the bed wasn’t even cold and she was filling out questionnaires on date sites (apparently there were some “out” clauses in our vows I overlooked). And my kids? In their eyes, I was replaceable. Everything I held up as evidence of my moral superiority and self-worth lay in ruin. The “loaf” that was my life had risen with bad yeast.


Then I came in to “the system” and I started meeting the “dregs” of society, the “bad guys”, the “failures”, all those people I looked down on. And a funny thing happened along the way. My eyes were suddenly opened to the decency of these “scumbags”, and the darkness in my “perfect” world.


I received a copy of a recent sermon delivered by a minister as part of his Lenten series (it wasn’t from my church family. They dropped me soon after my arrest. All those “good” church people delivered meals to my wife but only three ever bothered to visit or write. Not one ever spoke to my wife about God’s view of marriage). His sermon was about Jesus giving sight to a blind man.


His disciples asked if the man – blind since birth – was that way because of his parents’ sins. Funny how we equate bad circumstances as “Karma” – “he must have done something to deserve that.” Instead, Jesus turns things on their head and, in effect said, the reason he’s blind isn’t important. But, watch how God heals him. In a matter of minutes the man sees. God has made him whole.


But, his community rejected him. They rejected him because their perception of him was different than the reality of what God saw, and what God can do.


Many days I sit here in awe of the lessons I learn from these men. During these very difficult past few months as I struggled over the correspondence exchange with my ex, it was guys in here who came by with a kind word. My “friends” from home? They had to remain “neutral” and not appear to be giving any aid or comfort to me. After all, my ex has a new boyfriend who’s now part of the circle!


I received a card the other night from a friend. In it he told the story of a minister who asked members of his congregation to list on a piece of paper their top three hopes for their life. As the congregation finished writing, he told them to draw a line through their items because “none of them will happen”. As the crowd grew uneasy and sad he told them “Hope is what is left when all of the things we hoped for do not come true. Hope with a capital “H” is in you, and gives you life and the will to go on trusting God.”


I have a list and my list is in tatters. Everything I hoped for has been lined out. Yet, I see clearly now. I see people for what they are. The young inmate, back in prison for his second bid, covered in tattoos, yet he stops by to check on me or he shares a meal with someone worse off, he is closer to a Christ like man than I ever was. He sees what mercy, compassion and kindness are all about.


My family or my friends? They are so much like the community that pushed the man – with sight restored – away, their sins are still hidden.


I see now how my life really wasn’t that great. I see now that even those who look differently, act differently, have a capacity for love, forgiveness and mercy beyond what I ever experienced.


I see the danger of the leavening. None of us are really “good”. Oh, some may try harder than others, but as Mother Teresa admitted, we all sin. We all treat others in a way we wouldn’t want to be treated.


What I learned in here is, God can do anything. He can make the blind see – and a self-absorbed arrogant man learn humility, mercy and hope.

Christmas in Prison

I’ve been thinking a great deal about Christmas. John Prine, a truly gifted songwriter and storyteller, has a deeply moving song called “Christmas in Prison”. It never meant a great deal to me until I actually found myself behind the fence.



For so many in here, Christmas is the saddest of all days, a painful reminder of what has been lost. 2008, I suffered terribly as I spent Christmas alone at the Henrico jail. The meal was terrible; I was depressed, disoriented, and feeling without hope. It was the worst Christmas I ever experienced and I found it hard to believe that there were any “tidings of great joy” in store for me.


Perspectives have a way of changing. Last Christmas wasn’t quite as bad. A minister friend sent me a fold out nativity scene. I unfolded it and displayed it through the holiday season. Each day, I saw that cut out with the gold banner above the manger that said “for God so loved the world”. It didn’t matter to me that my wife had divorced me, that my sons had broken off communication with me, that most of my friends had abandoned me, or that I had been treated harshly by the courts. I felt a sense of hope just by looking at that small, cardboard manger.


I put my nativity scene up the other week. Since then, guys – a few dozen – have stopped and looked at it. “That’s beautiful man.” “He lives brother.” “Thanks for reminding me we gonna be alright.” I smile.


I’ve really thought a great deal about the meaning of Christmas. I used to love Christmas. I’d buy dozens of gifts for my wife and kids; I’d buy gifts for all my employees. We’d entertain, have dinners out, enjoy the season with family and friends. Every holiday season I’d watch my favorite Christmas movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life”. I’d choke up and get teary-eyed, as I’d watch Jimmy Stewart contemplate taking his own life rather than face criminal prosecution and bankruptcy. The movie always had a happy ending. Jimmy Stewart’s wife, knowing the kind of man he was, rallied to support him. Friends and neighbors poured into his home and helped him. At the end, his “guardian angel” left him a simple written message: “No man is unsuccessful who has friends.”


Movies are wonderful, that movie especially. Unfortunately, movies don’t mirror life. My wife certainly didn’t play Donna Reed (of course, she’d tell you I’m no Jimmy Stewart). The number of my friends who stood by me dwindled from my arrest to my conviction. Today, even some of those few stalwart friends from early in my incarceration have also fallen away. Unlike Mr. Stewart’s guardian angel, mine left me a message that said “suck rocks loser!”


Still, I’m looking forward to Christmas this year because I’ve had an epiphany. That may not be the correct word. I didn’t suddenly discover some exciting truth. Rather, for the past few weeks I’ve come to a few profound (in my mind anyway) conclusions.


The first thing I realized is that sometimes we get so hung up and worried about what’s going on that we forget the good circumstances right before us. I read an interesting piece the other day that used the story of Moses being told by God to return to Egypt and lead His people to the promise land, initially reacted with fear and trepidation.


“Look at what is in your hand.” God told Moses and at that his shepherd’s staff turned into a snake. The point was we fear moving forward, doing what is right (notice I didn’t say doing what we want or what’s expedient) because of our worry and fear of the future and our regret about the past. Yet God tells us “Trust me. You have everything you need to get through today.” And don’t forget Moses had fled Egypt years earlier after killing a man.


It is difficult to let go of regret over past failures, past hurts, and heartbreak. But, each day I now remind myself no matter how bad things seem, I’m not alone. I’ve figured out, by fits and tears and so much heartache, I have a purpose in being here. No matter what happened “BA” (before arrest); no matter the pain over the divorce and my sons, and my continuing court struggle, I know what is in my hand.


The second thing I’ve learned these past few months is “shalom”, peace. The whole world seems to be going crazy with war, rumors of war, economic upheaval, turmoil in the lives of individuals, and communities and nations. Somehow, I meditate each morning and sleep soundly each night.


Guys ask me almost daily how I can seem so content, so easy going and relaxed in this environment. “Man, you’ve lost more than any guy I ever met yet you’re always smiling.” There’s a wonderful story about the Apostle Peter, on the verge of being executed, he was in a prison cell fast asleep. “An angel of the Lord” sent to break him out had to first wake him.


I’ve found a sense of inner peace amidst the storms and chaos of my incarceration and divorce. It’s bizarre really, but like Lt. Dan confronting God during the hurricane scene in “Forrest Gump”, I had my argument with God. I told him exactly how I felt about all the crap and obstacles I’d faced growing up, all the desires I had to be loved that were ignored, all my dreams I had put aside for others (I’ve written a short story about a guy having this argument with God though I’m not quite ready to share it with my “editors”) and at the end of all the yelling, all the “why did this have to happen”, I experienced a sense of peace I had never known.


Things might not be as I want, but I have faith, in the end, all will turn out right.


And finally, I realized Christmas really is “for God so loved” us. I always equated God as a super-Santa: “He knows when you’re sleeping; He knows when you’re awake . . . so be good for goodness sake.” I heard a young minister recently say “we think God thinks about us the way we think about us.” In other words, when we’re having a good day, God’s happy with us. And when we lie, steal, decide to end our marriage, He’s upset with us. I realized nothing was further from the truth. God loves us, period, no matter what.


More than that, I now understand that on my worst days, when I stole and then came home and lay beside my sleeping wife in tears knowing my entire life was falling apart, at that precise moment God had compassion for me. He loved me, He loves me, unconditionally.


That realization has allowed me to look at the men in here, and folks outside, in an entirely new way. God doesn’t prioritize sins. He doesn’t say “stealing is level 15, murder level 55”, and anger at our spouse, “level 3”. We all sin, we all screw up, we all hurt each other and ourselves. Even Mother Teresa admitted in an interview “I’m far from perfect”.


Yet, God loves us. He loves us no matter what. I think that is what Christmas is really all about. From the beginning of our existence here on this orb we’ve been screwing up. And for years, our Creator watched it all and got upset because His children were wayward. Then He did something inconceivable, and illogical, and irrational. He loved us, in spite of ourselves, He just loved us.


My favorite Bible story is the parable of the prodigal son. There’s one particular verse that stands out. The son has lost everything. His life is over. He decides to return home and beg for forgiveness. “And while he was still a long way away the father saw him and ran to him and kissed him.” The father didn’t need an apology. He didn’t need to pile on and refuse to forgive his son. He just kissed him and loved him.


That story sees me through every day. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done, God still loves me. He loves all of us. There is always hope, always tomorrow. Christmas really is an amazing day, even in prison.