John 19:16b “So the soldiers took charge of Jesus.”

July 27, 2017 Rev Cari Rush Willis Leave a comment

On the 18^th of January this year, I watched as my beloved friend of two years handed himself over to the squad of correctional officers in order that he might be executed. Before the officers came to get my friend, we celebrated Holy Communion together. He was grateful to celebrate communion one more time and hear the words that he was God’s beloved.

We knew our time was drawing to an end, so I asked my friend, “If people ask me about you, what should I say?” With a quick laugh and broad smile he said, “Tell them I know Jesus.” Ahhh yes, my friend knew Jesus and Jesus knew him. I called him my “theological partner” as he uniquely was able to show me facets of God and Scripture that I just could not see. His life had been redeemed and transformed by our all-loving and all-merciful God. His smile beamed God’s unconditional and immeasurable love every single time I was with him.

Then I asked him one last question, “When you look back over your life, what are you most grateful for?” Without hesitation he said, “For the unconditional love of God, of friends, and especially of family. I feel everyone’s love right now, and it is overwhelming to me. I can’t be grateful enough.” I then told him, “I am grateful for your friendship, your unbounded love for me, and your laughter. I love you so much.” To which he replied, “I love you more.” And I ended, as I always did, with a forthright, “Impossible!”

I was then got escorted out of the cell area and around to the observation room by one of the correctional officers. The observation room was already packed with people. On the back row there was a seat left just for me. Everyone stared as I sat down. The room was closed and hot; it was like sitting in an oven. There were windows along the right hand side and in front of us. Everyone just sat and stared at an empty gurney; sweat rolled down my back.

After a few minutes, my friend walked into the execution chamber with his head bowed and with his shoulders slumped. There was nothing about him that made him look like a threat to the six or so officers in charge of him. Nonetheless, the officers moved as if he was challenging them. They quickly and forcefully pinned him to the table and strapped him down, each officer assigned a strap, as strap after strap after strap was fastened on top of his body. Maybe they were afraid of some last minute recoil to the macabre proceedings, but he did not do anything to warrant their fear-filled and anxiety ridden actions. They also were all wearing safety glasses, as if waiting for my beloved friend to spit on them – something he would never do.

Once my friend was lying on the table, arms outstretched and completely restrained, a curtain was closed between the witness room window and the execution chamber. We then sat in that sweltering room for the longest 35 minutes of my life. For those 35 minutes all we did was stare at the curtain before us without any idea what was happening on the other side. Whispered requests were made to find out what was going on behind that awful curtain, but it was clear that no one was going to be allowed out of the room.

I slipped my shoes off as I knew that it was holy ground that I was standing on and wanted to treat it as such. I opened my Bible, but I was having a hard time reading it. I flipped to Psalm 46 and read, “Be still and know that I am God.” I repeated it over and over again as a prayer for my friend and as a prayer for me as I stared at the evil curtain in front of me.

Finally the curtain was pulled back and my friend was asked if he had any final words. He said a simple, “Nope.” He had told me earlier that he felt like his words of regret, respect, and apology in a much publicized video before this dreadful hour best conveyed his feelings. I let him know that those words of sorrow were indeed enough. My friend tried to lift his head from the table.

Unfortunately, because the table was parallel to the ground and his body was so tied down, he could only lift his head up an inch or maybe two. Despite the sign that stated “Stay silent. Stay seated” which was prominently displayed above all of us in the observation room, I stood because I had promised to beam love on him until the very end. I had assumed that he was trying to find my face amongst the crowd gathered in the tiny observation room. However, he was only able to hold his head up for a second or two and therefore, I assumed that, sadly, he was unable to see me. Tears were forming in my eyes that I doggedly refused to let fall. And yet there was also a determination in my heart that I would do all I could to let him know that I loved him.

Everyone who was in the execution room with my friend was staring down at their shoes, only glancing over to see him every once in a while. There were two people manning two different phones that were speaking to whoever was on the other end. They were speaking in short phrases, with their silence making up the majority of their conversation. I was so angry that everyone was just standing there – expressionless – and yet witnessing the killing of my beloved friend. I could sense their humanity being drained.

As we all looked on, we had no idea when they started administering the lethal chemicals, as that was controlled from behind yet another curtain. The person pushing the drugs through my friend’s IV could do so behind that curtain of secrecy and shame. My friend started to sob, and I once again forced my tears to stay within my body. I heard a snore, and I saw my friend’s chest move up and down. After a few minutes, an officer pinched my friend’s toes and then took his slippers off of his feet. I am still clueless as to why this officer thought that these two things were so important to do.

I was repeating, in my mind, “Go in God’s love. Go in God’s love. Go in God’s love.” And yet in my heart, I felt like all of us were being tortured and wounded as we looked on at this killing of another human being.

The prison staff members around my beloved friend continued to look on with blank and unaffected stares. The officer who took off his slippers just stared straight ahead. The whole scene was absurd and devoid of any semblance of humanity.

We continued to hear snores and then watched as his chest no longer moved. It seemed like a very long time before the “doctor” came around the back curtain with his stethoscope in order to pronounce my friend dead. At 9:42 p.m. they finally told us that he was deceased. They pulled the curtain closed once again so I could no longer see my beloved friend. The proceedings were over. We all could stand up and make our way out of the prison.

It was then that several of the staff members left the witness room and walked behind the curtain into the execution chamber. Earlier that night, just after I arrived at the prison, I had asked for permission to say a few words over my friend’s body to commend his spirit to God’s all loving hands. My request was denied. So when these staff members walked into the execution chamber, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “THEY CAN GO IN THERE AND SEE HIS BODY, BUT I CAN’T COMMEND HIS SPIRIT TO GOD?! Are you freakin’ kidding me?!?!?” I was seething. I wanted to find a space to break down and sob the tears that were welling up inside of me, but I knew that I would have to hold them in and wait until I was finally alone.

Jesus, too, had to hand himself over to the soldiers and let them take charge of him. The truth of executions are that your body is no longer your own. Your body becomes the property of the state. Those in charge can do with your body what they will. The one being executed is told to comply with all of the orders of those in charge. And as onlookers you are told to stay in your place and just look on as the horrific happens in front of you. Only the state is in control, and they will maintain that control at all costs. Sadly, I can only imagine that this prison looked just like other prisons, and I assume that those who took part behaved just like other correctional officers and prison staff in this country who are given the task of killing another human being.

Those who watched this appalling drama play out in front of us did a lot of “cross watching.” And, by the way, I don’t think it is an accident that we execute men and women on a gurney that is in the shape of a cross. Just as Jesus experienced, some of us are sitting under the cross begging for a gracious God to end the suffering of one we love so much. And then, somehow, we try to deal with the fact that we are willing our beloved friend to die. How does one do that? Shouldn’t you be praying for them to somehow live?

And there were others who were “cross watching” in the room who were surely praying that my dear friend go straight to hell. About a month prior to my friend’s execution, he asked for me to do the following: “Please pray for those who hate me and want me to die.” “Yes, I will, but what makes you think of that?” I asked. He simply said, “Well, Jesus tells us to love our enemies. I am afraid they are going to sin if they want me dead. I don’t want my execution to cause anyone to sin.” With tears welling in my eyes, I put my hand on my beloved friend’s arm and said, “Yes, I will do that. Of course I will.”

When we are a society that kills, we make even the most loving person who is opposed to the death penalty complicit with murder. We only inflict more harm on those gathered around the cross – those gathered around the prison – no matter which side of the death penalty debate they are on. We continue the victimization instead of putting an end to the victimization that has already occurred. Killing another human being solves absolutely nothing. Nothing. It only inflicts more harm on those of us who have looked on or who have stood vigil outside of the prison.

It also says that we do not believe in transformation. It says that your life stopped when you committed your crime. No hope for redemption. No chance for renewal. None. You are your crime and that is that. As a Christ follower, however, I staunchly believe that, in Christ, ALL can be made new – the old has passed away and behold the new creation is sitting right in front of me. I can easily believe this because I continue to have a front row seat at what transformation looks like – I see their faces – I know their names.

Forever, the tape will be playing in my mind of that horrendous scene of my friends’ execution. Forever, I will see and hear my friend on that dreadful gurney. Forever, I am inwardly marked by enormous grief. And yet, if you asked me to do it all over again, I would be there in a heartbeat. I was determined that, although the courts condemned my friend, he would know that he was loved unconditionally, not only by me, but more importantly, by an all-gracious and all-merciful God who claimed him and called him “my beloved son.”

Sentenced to Death

Since When Is Vengeance Ours? – Thoughts On The Death Penalty

July 27, 2017 kimberleyann Leave a comment

I don’t want to think about it – that was my stance, and it worked. Till now. The last fork in the road has me looking at terrain I never wanted to think about before.

I believe there have been people who were sent to live for decades on death row, and they were later cleared. I believe there have also been people ‘railroaded’ on to death row when prosecutors needed to find a ‘killer’. So – that makes me ask, what about those who were innocent, and never cleared? Or those who were ‘railroaded’ and unable to afford a good defense? Are they just collateral damage?

Okay, if I think further, I see a twisted irony in a planned, orchestrated, guests invited, mark the calendar ‘life taking’.

A group of people decide someone should die. A court signs off on it. Paperwork is filed. People escort someone to their death. Someone initiates the death. Does that killing stain the soul of every hand involved? I believe the act makes us less human. I think it damages the people involved more than it heals the victims. I still remember a baby bird I accidentally killed thirty years ago.

I have an opinion now. I am going on record. If anyone should ever harm me, I don’t want anyone to have a hand in taking their life. To do that would make my life the cause of suffering. To do that would damage the souls of everyone involved. Don’t do that in my honor.

Those are my thoughts on the death penalty.

Prison Conditions

Army Vet Dies While Jail Staff Ignore Pleas For Help And Cellmates Comfort Dying Man

July 24, 2017 kimberleyann Leave a comment

Doug Edmisten was a ‘burly’ man, fifty years old, and a veteran of the United States Army. He drove a motorcycle and made a living building sheds. A simple man, it seems, not a man of a lot of means. He did have a couple open warrants, though, for DWI and leaving the scene of an accident in which no one was injured.

His open warrants got him arrested in New Mexico. After his arrest he was placed in the Cibola County Detention Center to await a trial.

The pictures of the pod he was housed in show bunks lining the walls, one against the other, cement floors, and picnic table looking furniture. That’s where he lived for about three weeks before he died.

Doug, the man who served our country in the Army, became ill. As they should have, the men living with him reported that he wasn’t feeling well.

That was at 10:14 p.m. At that time, an employee recorded that Doug was ‘notably pale’ and his ‘skin also appeared yellow’. He reported to the staff that he had vomited blood. I am not a medical professional, but common sense tells me vomiting blood is a medical emergency. If I were to witness someone vomiting blood, I would be concerned their life was in danger. I did an internet search to see if I was unique. ‘Is vomiting blood a medical emergency’ was what I searched. Without exception – the results all reported that vomiting blood is a medical emergency.

Doug was taken to medical at 10:54. While he was there his pulse was recorded at 144 beats per minute. If the pulse did not concern the medical staff, Mr. Edmisten also vomited blood while he was in medical.

It was determined he should be sent back to his cell. He was unable to walk there by himself, so he was held up by two guards.

The men he lived with were much more compassionate than the staff at the Cibola County Detention Center. They not only pleaded for help for their cellmate, they also can be seen in video footage holding hands and conducting a prayer circle for him. They can be seen trying to soften his fall when he rolled from his bed. They are seen cradling his head and holding a bible. The inmates tended to Doug Edmisten with compassion and care with all they had at their disposal, which was prayer and an offer of comfort.

It was 3:32 when prisoners reported that his condition had actually worsened. If vomiting blood was a medical emergency, Doug was beyond that. His ‘eyes were rolling back’. When a medical professional, someone whose job it is to care for the inmates housed at the jail, arrived, she saw Doug on a toilet, defecating blood. A decision was made to wheel him back to medical. At this point, he was unresponsive.

What I would have seen as a man dying, was dismissed, and Doug was taken back to his cell after fifteen minutes.

At 4:21 a.m. a guard found Doug on the floor. His head was on the lap of a fellow inmate. Another man was reading from a Bible. The guard left.

It is reported that the inmates told staff at 4:58 that Doug was no longer breathing. He was determined to be dead by a staff member.

State police were called at 5:07 a.m.

At 5:26 a staff member checked Edmisten and detected a slight pulse.

Emergency services were finally called, about seven hours after Doug’s cellmates first reported that he was ill. Doug Edmisten was dead when help finally arrived.

Doug, an Army vet, a United States citizen, a burly man who built sheds and rode a motorcycle, was in jail awaiting a court date for a DWI, and the staff at the jail allowed him to die under their care, as his fellow cellmates cradled his body, pleaded for help, and formed a prayer circle.

RESOURCES

Swenson, Kyle. “Lawsuit Alleges New Mexico Jailers Let Inmate Awaiting DWI Court Date Bleed to Death.” The Washington Post. WP Company, 12 July 2017. Web. 23 July 2017.

Prison Conditions, Views From The Inside

Sharing My Thoughts From Inside The Cesspool of IDOC Part II

July 16, 2017 Gerard G. Schultz Leave a comment

We break the rules, not to be assholes that just want to get in trouble, but out of a need to be as comfortable as possible in such a lonely, cold, dark and very oppressive and restricted environment.

There is a rule for ‘trading and trafficking’ which is selling, trading, sharing, giving, letting each other borrow, use, see, hear and have anything we have, make, get. etc. In the hole we are limited to only certain personal property items. In most holes you cannot have a TV or radio, so reading is a big pastime that helps. Some prisons do not have libraries and the ones that do have a system that is a catch 22, more trouble and risk to use than not, so many guys find other ways to acquire reading materials. There are some non-profit organizations that will send free books if your particular prison allows it. Some prisoners are blessed and fortunate to have family or friends in the free world whom care and send them reading materials or money to purchase such items, but a lot of prisoners don’t have that. We will share reading materials with each other, but this is against the rules. We do it anyway.

Food is nasty in prison, and in IDOC we don’t eat any red meat or pork. We are fed a lot of turkey by-products and soy stuff that is not appetizing! So, again, in the hole – where, for some reason, the portions of horrible food is smaller – grown men get hungry, so they trade food items. I might not eat something that someone else does, and visa versa, so we trade, which is against the rules. Those of us who are blessed and fortunate to have money sent to us, are able to buy food items off the commissary to make meals with. We are not all heartless bastards, as many think, and we share and give some commissary food items to buddies or guys whom do not have money to buy these things. We have all been there, and a little generosity goes a long way. Sometimes, a lot of us will pitch in commissary food items and make a big meal together. We love making foot long burritos and cakes. But, again, these things are against the rules, and it can land us in the hole from 30 days to six months, but we do it anyway, because it’s a petty rule and not done with malicious intent, but rather part of trying to be as comfortable as possible.

Local churches, restaurants, organizations, etc., will sometimes donate food intended ‘for the prisoners’. They may have excess, day old, or expired items which are real food items, generally the kind of things not seen or served in prison – things like pork, steaks, pastries, vegetables (not normally served), ice cream, drinks, etc. But 99% of this food is not served to us. It is fed to the officers for their enjoyment, and even given away to them. Leftovers that are not deemed enough to serve to the entire prison population will be, literally, thrown away – even though some good people were generous enough to donate it for the purpose of feeding the prisoners.

IDOC is not only corrupt, lazy and deceitful, but it is also wasteful. Millions of tax dollars are wasted and thrown away by the system on a daily basis. A lot of prisoners in the general population will steal food from the kitchen and sell it to other prisoners. Some of the officers and staff actually allow certain prisoners to take the excess food or make their own meals since they work in the kitchen, and they will even use the prisoners to make them a good meal. So prisoners will prepare great meals like steak with fries, real beef hamburgers with cheese and actual fresh tomato, lettuce, onions, jalapenos, and bell peppers (items we never get), fried chicken with seasonings, chicken quesadillas with onions, jalapenos, tomatoes, bell peppers, hot sauce, several types of cheeses, fried broccoli and cauliflower with ranch dressing, and even a real salad with lettuce, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, celery, cucumbers, cheese, mushrooms, yummy! (Something we never get). So guys will break the rules to wheel and deal, paying $3.00 to $5.00 for a special meal made that is against the rules – but, oh so, so worth it!!!

When I was in general population, guys liked my style of art and would commission art projects and they loved my cards which were in high demand, so much so that I was a bit overwhelmed and had to maintain lists and even then would only do business with certain guys. I bartered my artwork for real food with a bunch of kitchen workers, too. My last cellmate didn’t have any outside support, nor did he go to commissary, so I made sure he got to eat with me. This is against the rules, but it’s what we do to be as comfortable as possible, in a place where the officers get to enjoy the food donated to the prisoners. It’s not right, so we do what is necessary for us to do to feel human in this oppressive, restrictive and dehumanizing prison system.

I mentioned how I’m good at making some creative cards that prisoners like. Guys think about their kids and family, wives and loved ones all the time, and they want to send something nice to them. They are willing to pay, trade, barter and hustle for it. There are many, many talented artists of all kinds in prison and many others who are creative in other ways. Guys make all kinds of beautiful artwork, paintings, drawings, cards, roses, models, paper jewelry boxes, bracelets, rings, necklaces, pillows and other cool items, sometimes, literally, out of nothing. But other guys do not have such talents, and they will obtain art from other prisoners to send to their loved ones. Again, this is against the rules and it can land us in the hole anywhere from 30 days to a year, all for something petty, nonviolent, not malicious and done with only good intentions.

THIS STORY CONTINUES…. STAY TUNED FOR PART THREE……

Harsh Sentences, Juvenile Justice

Bullying Ends In Tragedy And Sends Seventeen Year Old Boy To Prison For Life

July 8, 2017 kimberleyann 40 Comments

If you talked to some folks in Mobile, Alabama, back in 90’s, they may have told you that Louis Singleton was one of the best athletes to come through their town. Louis had a bright future in front of him, and lots of promise. He was born in 1976, the son of a brick mason and a high school teacher. His parents were separated, but Louis, the youngest of two children, grew up in a middle class, stable home. He had average grades in school, held a summer job, and participated in varsity football and basketball programs.

Louis was heavy into sports from the beginning. He wasn’t an angel, but he wasn’t trouble either. He was typical. He got a speeding ticket once because he was running late to summer school. He also got in trouble for disorderly conduct when he was sixteen, due to a fight. But, for the most part, things were looking very good for him midway into his junior year of high school. His eye was on being the starting quarterback for his high school football team the following year. Yes, Louis had dreams – big ones.

He never made it to that quarterback position though. The years of dreaming came to an end the night before his eighteenth birthday. It didn’t start that night though – the trouble started almost a year before then. Louis had no idea it was going to end up changing his life in an instant. He never saw it coming.

The train started going off the track for Louis in the spring of 1993. There was a girl. She was known as Meme. Meme had just broken up with her boyfriend, Kendrick Martin. Derrick Conner, Louis’ close friend, began dating Meme. Kendrick Martin didn’t like that. Louis was involved by association.

The first time things turned physical was during an altercation at a gas station. Louis and Derrick were there, and Louis went inside to pay for gas and pick up a couple snacks, leaving Derrick outside. When he came back out, Derrick and Kendrick were going at it. It was over Meme, and Louis remembers telling Kendrick, “Man, you tripping about one female, when it’s plenty of fishes in the sea.” Kendrick didn’t take that well.

It wasn’t long before all their paths crossed again. Derrick Conner and Louis were leaving a local convenience store when Kendrick Martin was pulling into the parking lot. According to Louis, Kendrick got out of his car and began shooting at Derrick and Louis with a gun as the boys were pulling away.

Louis Singleton was shot at more than once by Kendrick Martin. Nelson Tucker, the state’s own witness, testified that he was with Kendrick Martin and had shot at Louis Singleton with a gun that he obtained from Kendrick Martin. Tucker also stated that he was present on two separate occasions when a pistol was fired at Louis.

By Louis’ account of that time, Kendrick Martin pointed a gun in his direction and shot at him on three different occasions, two of these incidents being confirmed by the prosecution’s own witness. He also reported an incident where Kendrick Martin pulled a gun from a book bag and pointed it at his head. There was another day in a fast food parking lot, when Louis was in a vehicle, and Kendrick was striking the car windows with a crow bar.

There is nothing that can be said about the tragic events that took place on January 11, 1994, that will excuse what happened that day. A life was taken, and another altered forever in the parking lot of a McDonald’s restaurant in Mobile, Alabama. Reading the transcripts, I take away that there was confusion in that parking lot. There were a lot of people gathered after a high school game, and Louis perceived he was in danger after seeing Kendrick and his friends and hearing some things that were said. No one can know exactly what was going on in anyone’s minds, and different witnesses said different things, but I think it is fair to say that if there had not been months of bullying leading up to that day, it simply never would have happened. Louis, the seventeen year old boy with so much promise, had a gun. He felt threatened that night, as he had on many occasions over the previous months, and shot at Kendrick, Tucker and another man they were with, Johnathan Martin. A pattern had been set leading up to that day, leaving Louis feeling the need to defend himself around Kendrick and his friends. So when words were said and movements were made, he felt cornered and threatened, whether he was or not. In his mind – he was.

Kendrick Jermaine Martin died from a gunshot wound to the neck. Johnathan Allen Martin was shot once in the neck area and was paralyzed from the waist down as a result. Nelson L. Tucker was shot three times and was hospitalized for four days and released.

It’s twenty three years later. The court transcripts described Louis as a boy who, ‘enjoyed a favorable reputation within his community’. He was evaluated before his trial by the Strickland Youth Center, and they determined that he ‘did not appear to be a behavioral problem’.

Louis Singleton spent his eighteenth birthday in a Mobile Detention Center and has been incarcerated ever since. In the twenty three years since then, he has obtained his GED, studied brick masonry, anger management and self awareness. He has also worked with nurses in the prison healthcare system. And he’s been incarcerated for well over half of his life. Louis was sentenced to two life sentences and twenty years, to be served consecutively.

Louis didn’t want things to end this way. Louis Singleton sought help long before that night, from parents, the police, and the school principal. A seventeen year old boy sought help from the people who were responsible for protecting him. He did the things he was supposed to do, but those in a position to protect him did not do what they were supposed to.

What stands out from my conversations with Louis is what happened after he drove home that night. This is what he told me, “My mind was racing with thoughts that I couldn’t even grasp mentally. I just went home and sat in the house with all the lights out, scared to move, don’t know what to do nor to say. My mom was gone to a choir convention in Mississippi during the time of the incident. While I sat in our house quietly and somberly in the front room, my mother pulled up with no clue of what just happened. When she came in the door, turned to lock the door, I was sitting there in the dark room. I scared her out of her wits. As a mother who knew her child, she instantly asked me, ‘Boy, what’s wrong with you sitting in here with all the lights out?’ I was so discombobulated I honestly couldn’t speak, it seemed like somebody had my soul…”

Louis’ mother never had a chance to have her son home again, and has since passed. They were close, and Louis Singleton will live with the memory of sitting in that dark room and having to tell his mom what happened etched in his memory forever. He has spent twenty three years in an Alabama prison reliving that day and the months that led up to it, hoping to wake up every morning and have it all be a dream. He will spend the rest of his life knowing the impact he has had on people, their families and his own. Nothing will bring back the man who died that night or heal the man who was paralyzed, but the burden of what took place that night should not have been placed solely on the shoulders of a seventeen year old kid who had never been in any trouble. A seventeen year old kid went into prison after shooting at the man who terrorized him for nearly a year, sentenced to spend every breath for the rest of his life in an Alabama prison, until the day he dies, never knowing what it means to live free again. How is that tragedy going to make what happened on that night in 1994 any less tragic?

Prison Conditions, Views From The Inside

Views From Inside

July 4, 2017 kimberleyann 1 Comment

When I read this journal, I knew it had a place here, and I am grateful to the author for sharing it. There are so many ‘words’ that we use – prison, incarceration, jail, etc. None of them paint the picture though. The picture can’t be painted in a word, and probably not even on a blog. I mean no offense to those that serve our country and defend our freedom when I say that this is not the land of the free for so many – not when we are the most incarcerated nation in the world. I honestly believe that the government is doing our servicemen and women a great disservice by turning our nation into one that is caging a large segment of our population and destroying hope and families. Our country is worth fighting for, and we are so much more than this. We have compassion and there is more strength in compassion than strong arming, any day of the week. We ARE the land of the free, and as citizens we need to demand that our government remember that.

So, here’s to a new catagory on this site –Views From The Inside. This is Part One from a journal by Gerard G. Schultz, Jr., titled, Sharing My Thoughts from Inside the Cesspool of IDOC.

Survival: The Necessity Of Breaking The Rules

People on the outside barely get a glimpse of the surface of what life is like in prison and all the things we must do to survive. Survive mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually, educationally, socially, financially, and comfortably, as much as possible, under these circumstances.

Life in prison is a constant paradox, not always in black and white or truly understandable to people on the outside, and sometimes not even to ourselves. We are called many things, from inmates to offenders, detainees, wards, convicted felons, prisoners and convicts. Prison is full of convicted felons and criminals, which are not the same. There are innocent people in here, there are guilty people in here. There are good people in here and bad people in here. Many have made mistakes and others bad decisions. There are good prisoners and bad corrections officers, and there are bad prisoners and good corrections officers.

Prison is a menagerie that is overcrowded, yet still a very lonely place. The daily life can be very monotonous, robotic and boring. It can be loud, chaotic, stuffy and scary. Gloominess, depression and the flu are contagious in here. We were punished by the courts to serve time in prison, but upon entering prison, we learn immediately that prison is full of additional punishments and restrictions that we are oppressed by. The conditions of our confinement are inhumane, the food is horrible, and every moment of every day is unpredictable. I’ve learned to live in the moment, yes, I have hopes, wishes, and dreams like anyone else, but in here, we learn that tomorrow and many other things are not guaranteed.

Survival is just not the physical dangers we face, but we must survive mentally, emotionally, spiritually and financially. Prison is a cash cow that milks us for every penny we are lucky enough to get. Many of those in society believe we have it good in prison, life is easier, that the government provides us this or that – which is just not true at all. The state put us in prison, so they are legally responsible for providing us some of the bare necessities that they have physically deprived us of the ability to obtain for ourselves.

By IDOC (Illinois Dept of Corrections) policy (though they bend, break and do not follow their own rules, policies, laws and procedures) we are supposed to receive three pairs of pants (not always new), three blue shirts with buttons (not always new), three white t-shirts (one time only, you must buy your own after that), three pairs of socks, three pairs of boxers, a coat during the winter time (if you come in outside of winter, but it is raining or cold, you are out of luck) and one pair of thin deck slip on shoes, which we call Gilligan shoes or Jan Brady’s. We also are to receive two sheets, one pillow case, one towel, one washcloth, and one wool blanket. We can submit a clothing exchange once every six months for new boxers, socks and shoes, everything else will be used.

There are seven days in the week, and only once a week do they do laundry, a communal service – you turn it in one day and get it back the next day or so. Three pairs of clothes is not enough for the week, so we must buy our socks, underwear, and t-shirts. If you want warm clothing or maybe shorts to wear in your cell or to go out and exercise with, you must puchase them yourself. You must purchase your own baseball cap, beanies, ear warmers, gloves, thermals, sweatshirt and pants, real shoes that last longer than a month, or boots to work in or to walk in the snow. The communal laundry service is once a week, on a designated day, depending on where you are at. We have a personal laundry bag, a mesh bag, that they also give us one time only. We put all of our dirty laundry in there, colors and whites together, tie it up, and they are all washed just like that. We must purchase laundry soap to wash our clothes by hand, and if our prison doesn’t allow or sell laundry soap, we must improvise by using body soap to clean our clothes. It’s better to wash by hand so your clothes don’t smell, make you itch, and don’t turn brownish grey as they do in the communal laundry.

It’s ironic they sell us laundry soap, because if we wash our own laundry by hand, we have no way to dry it. So we break the rules. Part of survival is to try to have some sense of comfort and normalcy, so we break the rules. Why is it against the rules? Well, in a lot of prisons, especially IDOC, we are not allowed to hang things in our cells, not even wet clothing. Most cells in IDOC are not set up with any storage shelving, tables to write on, shelves for appliances, hooks to hang clothing, etc., as some prisons do. So, even to hang and dry out wet towels and wash clothes, we have to hang them on a makeshift clothesline. We use a variety of things, from shoe strings, torn strips of sheets, or strings out of the waist bands of our boxers or socks to make clotheslines. It’s a risk we can get a disciplinary ticket for, anything from unauthorized property, destruction of state property, possession of dangerous contraband or even security obstruction. We can get anywhere from 30 days to a year in the hole, locked down in solitary confinement and losing all privileges, such as phone, commissary, contact visits. It’s a risk we take just to have clean laundry. Prison is a very dirty place, yet we are forced to take risks and break rules just to do something as simple as our laundry by hand.

On that same note, locked in a small cell with another person, there is little room for privacy. Our toilet is literally right next to our bunks, six inches to maybe a foot away. We hang up sheets to block our view of the toilet whenever we use it, as a courtesy to the other person. This is against the rules for the same reasons as stated above, and carries the same punishment. But it is a necessary risk, because we are being respectful to one another. We don’t want to watch one another use the toilet or wash up in the cell. This kind of respect for each other also stops any unecessary violence from erupting in that kind of situation. We even do a courtesy flush every time you drop in order to lessen the linger of stink in the cell, and we never use the toilet when one or the other is eating.

Part of survival is breaking the rules, it is necessary to be respectful, comfortable and avoid violence.

Why We Advocate

Kindness, Freely Given

June 25, 2017 kimberleyann Leave a comment

My daughter says that when she walks close to our pastor – one of the most insightful men I’ve ever heard speak – she feels his spirit in the air around him. What she feels in the air around him, I feel in his words. Sunday he spoke of the fruit of the Spirit in our lives – love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. There is no side of the fence that can sensibly argue with trying to grow that kind of fruit.

When you see it – that fruit that is grown in people – it’s awe inspiring really, like the view from a mountainside with the clouds barely lifted. I recently read something that a woman in Pennsylvania wrote. Her name is Susan. I see the fruit the Spirit grows in her words. This is what she had to say about a simple act of kindness.

I live on a hot, busy, city street. My cement porch sits right on the sidewalk, and many people without transportation walk by on their way to grocery stores, the drug store on the next corner, pizza shops, mini marts and yes – to work. There is a Triangle Car Wash two blocks away that hires people who are eligible for work release from the local county prison.

Last summer and this summer I put ice chests on my porch filled with free bottled water and snacks, like crackers, breakfast bars etc. – no strings attached. I got numerous, heartfelt, Thank You notes, so I know this is needed and appreciated. This morning as I headed to my part time job, I passed a young man in worn clothes and sneakers, no electronics in his ears or hands! – so most likely from the local prison located 1.5 miles away, and on his way to that job I mentioned. I think they serve prison breakfast fairly early, but I honestly don’t know what folks on work release are able to do for lunch…

I always say good morning and wish people good day, which they can’t hear if they have electronics in their ears, and then I said to him, “Hey, there’s free cold water and snacks on that porch down a little ways if you’d like.”

He gave me a big grin and thanked me, and as I pulled my car out of my parking spot and looked down the street, I could see he had stopped at my porch. Yay!

Why am I telling you this? Not for any accolades, but because years ago, when my little girl was caught up in Heroin addiction and lost in another, even bigger, city 35 miles away, I would pray, “Please, Lord, may she meet good people, kind people who will help her,” and she did. Some were barely able to help themselves, but they were good people who knew the right thing to do, and eventually she was able to get into recovery and have a baby boy and marry and find a job as a Recovery Specialist and celebrate 19 years in Recovery. That is why I do this, so that others I may come in contact with will meet good people, kind people who don’t turn away or look down upon them, and maybe that day, the day they found respite from the heat on a cement porch, will be a good day for them, and the good days will add up into a lifetime. We need to be there for each other in whatever way we can. Blessings, everyone. and as I have written on the note on the porch, “Freely given, please pass it on if you are able.”

That is what life’s all about really. The first time I visited a prison, there were several things that struck me. The coldness of the bars and the paint chipped walls was one. The condescending treatment of inmates and their visitors by staff was another and something I didn’t anticipate. The gratefulness and joy on the faces of men in that room, regardless of their situation – that was so apparent. Their gratitude for a bit of companionship from the outside, air conditioning in an otherwise non-air-conditioned facility, a smile, a microwavable frozen hamburger from a vending machine. I sat next to the person I went to visit, treating that visit as if it were taking place in a fine restaurant, ignoring the scowls of officers and the ants and the harsh lighting. I reached over after a time and grabbed his hand. I just knew he needed human contact. That moment was priceless. I will spend of the rest of my life reaching out my hand.

This country needs more Susans. Argue politics all you want, but there is nothing that compares with the value and importance of simple kindness and compassion. It needs to be worked back into our corrections system. Words to live by, “Freely given, please pass it on if you are able.”

Prison Conditions

Henry’s Pleas For Help Were Ignored Before His Death

June 17, 2017 kimberleyann Leave a comment

Henry Stewart was in jail awaiting trial for violating the terms of his early release on a shoplifting conviction when he scrawled the following words on an Emergency Grievance Form.

“I have black out two times in less then 24 hr. I keep asking to go to the emergency room. I don’t know what cause the blankouts. I do know that my tororance are low plus I haven’t had a meal that I come eat. I can’t hold water down or food. I don’t know many emergency grievance I have written with same reply. Wait on your (me) appointment. I know about what my blackouts leading to seizure.”

The paper is then signed, dated and followed by the words:

“I need emergency assistant right away.”

Those words are written more boldly than all the rest, as if Henry wanted them to stand out.

The form was returned to Henry Stewart the next day, August, 4, 2016, after being signed by Sgt. Whitehead. It read the following:

“Mr. Stewart, not only have you been refusing your […] medication, but while conducting meal pass this morning, you were witnessed walking to the top tier and sitting on walk-way. You’ve also been further evaluated off-site by specialists. In addition, you will receive a follow-up by the provider.”

Henry Stewart died in jail on August 6, 2016.

The Hampton Roads Regional Jail made a statement after the death. In it, the Jail Superintendent David Simmons said, “Typically, the inmates Hampton Roads Regional Jail receives have acute and/or chronic medical issues or significant behavioral issues. Inmates are transferred here because they have pre-existing medical and mental health issues with little or no treatment prior to incarceration.”

The statement goes on to report on the professionalism and training of its staff, and how the “public should know that Hampton Roads Regional Jail has a huge medical mission and works daily to serve the complex medical needs of its inmate population.”

It was at this same jail that Jamycheal Mitchell died of starvation about a year prior to this death. In that case, the jail investigated itself and cleared itself of all wrong doing.

The medical examiner in Norfolk reported that Henry died from a perforated gastric ulcer due to chronic lymphocytic gastritis, H. pylori positive – a complicated ulcer that created a hole in his stomach in the Hampton Roads Regional Jail. The manner of death is listed as ‘natural’.

According to witnesses, the day that Henry died he collapsed and starting foaming at the mouth. Inmates who saw that happen tried to get help from jail staff, but were told by an officer, “I am busy right now.” The lawsuit that has been filed claims that Henry asked for help from as early as mid July, and his weight when he was received by the jail was 167 pounds, and it was 132 upon his death.

Henry’s mom was close to him. She visited him regularly before he was transferred to Hampton Roads, and they wrote each other a couple times a week until a couple weeks before his death when his letters stopped coming. After his death, she said “Don’t nobody know what a mom go through, honey, when she loses one of her children, and I done lost two.”

REFERENCES

Associated Press and Staff. “Jail Issues Statement about Inmate Who Died Days after Seeking Medical Help.” WVEC. N.p., 01 Sept. 2016. Web. 17 June 2017.

Daugherty, Scott. “60-year-old Died in Hampton Roads Regional Jail Because Staff Ignored Him, Family Suit Says.” Virginian-Pilot. N.p., 05 June 2017. Web. 17 June 2017.

Kleiner, Sarah. “Hampton Roads Regional Jail Inmate Denied Request for Medical Help Two Days before He Died.” Richmond Times-Dispatch. N.p., 31 Aug. 2016. Web. 17 June 2017.

Mechanic, Allison. “Family Files $40 Million Suit after Man Dies at Hampton Roads Regional Jail.” Azfamily.com 3TV CBS 5. N.p., 06 June 2017. Web. 17 June 2017.

Harsh Sentences

A Mother’s ‘Life’ Sentence

June 11, 2017 kimberleyann 10 Comments

There is a mom in Florida going to visit her son this week. His name is Bubba, and he lives in a Florida prison. He’s spent the last twenty years behind bars. Bubba had a drug habit as a young man, and he resorted to robbery to get his next fix. He had a gun, but he never pulled it on anybody. He was given a life sentence for his crimes.

Life.

I don’t know Bubba’s history. I have no idea how he found himself with an addiction so powerful, he needed to steal to feed it. I DO know that so many of us or someone we know is, or has been, just a few circumstances away from that same place. Let’s face it – most of us have come closer than we would like to admit to some form of trouble, and we just didn’t get caught. People make mistakes. People have weak moments and clouded judgment. Sometimes jail can actually be a place where a person can temporarily be protected from making more bad choices. But ‘life’? Really?

Don’t we owe it to each other to show a little more compassion than simply throwing people away? Life – you stay behind bars until you die. That’s what it is. That’s what we have become comfortable with, what we accept. I don’t want to be a party to this. Silence is not an option.

These are the words of a mother who’s boy went into prison in his early twenties, has been there for twenty years, and is sentenced to die there.

Talked to Bub late yesterday. It is amazing how positive he is, living with his life sentence. He is such an inspiration! I learn from him all of the time. He told me about the A.M. worship service – OVER 200 inmates! He said the music was great, and the sermon was ‘brimstone and fire’. Bubba likes that kind of preaching, no whitewashing.

I asked him about the food, and he was so happy to have DECENT food! ‘Mom,’ he said, ‘the biscuits are bigger than your fist. I had more butter and jelly on my plate than I have had in the ENTIRE last 5 years, SEASONED potatoes and grits that were actually cooked the way they should be cooked.’ He also had eggs AND a banana. He traded his eggs for a second banana.

This may seem like small stuff, but believe me, it isn’t. He has gone months without fresh fruit, and had years of eating only for survival, not because the food had any quality, taste, or nutritional value.

We talked again – about him getting transferred to the Faith based program. I told him about all of the prayers and positive words from everyone. He said, ‘Mom, it really is a miracle. You’re not supposed to be considered until you have been DR (disciplinary report) free for a year. I had four months to go.’

Bubba has already witnessed major changes (for the better) in the short time he has been here, not only from the inmates’ respect for one another and each other’s property, but from guards as well. He was also excited about the walking track. He said if he walked it three times, he could walk a mile. That’s major! He had already walked it once with an elderly inmate, about seventy, who has dementia. Bub said, ‘Mom, he can remember some things from fifty years ago and then not remember where his cell is.’ I know Bubba’s heart went out to him, and I know Bub will do what he can for him. That’s just the way he is – always was…

He was also telling me this place has football, basketball, and softball (most places don’t allow any group sports). He was super excited about that, especially for the softball. I reminded him that his dad was very good at baseball and was expected to get a baseball scholarship. Bubba only knew Gordon as his dad, and he cherishes that, but I know in my heart – or at least I feel – that had Bubba not lost his father, he would not have suffered the traumatic things he did as a child. Billy would have been there to help me protect him, before Gordon came into our lives…

We talked about his current roommate, someone like Bubba who has a heart for God, and we laughed about one of his most recent roommates, someone who had been convicted of cannibalism… Bubba rode that one out pretty good. When we talked about that character, he would laugh and say, ‘Yeah, I sleep with one eye open’. That same inmate was bragging on all of his ‘accomplishments’ when bubba first came into contact with him in their shared cell, showing Bubba newspaper articles about his crimes, etc. I’ll never forget what Bub said when I asked him how he handled that. ‘Mom, I just told him MY GOD watches over me. You have your articles, I’ve got MY BIBLE.’

Bubba has been through more than anyone should ever have to endure for the crimes he committed. He has paid his debt to society. Anyone who knows and loves him can agree to that, and I believe with all my heart that my son will one day come home. But for now, we at least have ‘biscuits bigger than your fist, more jelly and butter than I’ve had in five years and fresh fruit’, fellow inmates who want to do their time serving God and not Satan, a great ministry throughout the entire prison and not just during service, a track to walk, softball teams, and clothing – yes, clothing. There have actually been times when clothing has not been provided. And, most of all, a new sense of Hope that comes from the Faith that keeps your spirit alive, trusting God’s grace and mercy to answer prayers.

And, how I hope those prayers are answered. For Bubba. For his mom. For a country that needs a better sense of what’s important. Throwing people away ISN’T okay.

This mom told me one more thing. She told me about the ‘sick’ feeling she gets after a visit with her son, when she walks out the prison doors and leaves him behind. She said that feeling sticks with her, “It never fully goes away… When you eat, when you sleep, when you’re with someone, when you’re alone. It’s always there, in the back of your mind, in your heart, in every breath you take.”

Mental Illness and Prison, Prison Conditions

Man’s Death After Ninety Minutes In A Hot Prison Shower Ruled ‘Accident’

May 22, 2017 kimberleyann 1 Comment

The U.S. has the highest incarceration rate on the planet. That’s substantial. It is ignorant to disregard and not oversee the system that houses that much of our population. How we treat these people is a reflection of our humanity, and to discount a tenth of our population is going to breed a lot of resentment.

Darren Rainey was one of the incarcerated. He was schizophrenic and in prison on a drug charge. His death while in the care of corrections was ruled an ‘accident’. There were no employees disciplined with regard to the incident. The investigation found that the evidence, “failed to show that any correctional officer acted in reckless disregard of Rainey’s life.” Emma Lew, the medical examiner, found that Rainey died due to a combination of his schizophrenia, heart disease and confinement in the small shower space.

Interesting.

The day this man died, he had defecated in his cell and smeared it on himself and his walls. Mr. Rainey was then placed in a shower that could only be controlled from the outside, in order to prevent him from turning off the water. The shower doesn’t allow for the water temperature to be adjusted from within the shower.

A Corrections Officer told Rainey that he wasn’t going back to his cell until he cleaned himself. It is reported that Rainey began to clean himself, but then said, “No, I don’t want to do this,” and leaned against a wall within the shower.

Almost two hours after Rainey was put into the shower, officers found him lying face up on the floor in about three inches of water. He no longer had a pulse and was not breathing.

After his death, an inmate at the prison, Harold Hempstead, reported that he heard Mr. Rainey screaming for help and banging on the door while he was in the shower. He quoted Rainey as saying, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore,” and, “I can’t take it no more.” He also said that the banging seemed to slow down until he heard what sounded like Rainey hitting the wall and falling at 9:30. His account of the events was discounted. The Assistant State Attorneys stated that Hempstead, “did not seem to have an opportunity to see and know the things about which he testified; he did not seem to have an accurate memory; he has been convicted of a felony, and lastly, his testimony was not consistent with the other testimony and other reliable and undisputed evidence in the case.”

Of his appearance when he was removed from the shower, one inmate said that Rainey looked like a “boiled lobster”. Several witnesses said that Rainey’s skin appeared to be peeled back in some areas, and one compared his curling flesh to a fruit rollup.

There was a paramedic called to the scene that night. He wrote that Rainey, “was found with second- and third-degree burns on 30 percent of his body.” Not only that, he also reported that the prison staff themselves told him that the, “inmate was found on shower floor with hot water running.”

A day after Rainey’s death, an investigator with the medical examiner’s office wrote that, “visible trauma was noticed throughout the decedent’s body.”

A health and safety inspector recorded the shower’s water temperature at 160 degrees two days after the incident.

The autopsy took three years to complete and another year to be released. In that autopsy – only one skin sample was taken. After receiving the autopsy results, the State Attorney decided that there would be no charges filed in this case. Corrections staff were cleared of all wrong-doing.

REFERENCES

Brownjbrown@miamiherald.com, Julie K. “Graphic Photos Stir Doubts about Darren Rainey’s ‘accidental’ Prison Death.” Miamiherald. N.p., 06 May 2017. Web. 22 May 2017.

CBS/AP. “Prosecutors: No Crime in Death of Inmate Left in Hot Shower for Nearly 2 Hours.”CBS News. CBS Interactive, 20 Mar. 2017. Web. 22 May 2017.

Hawkins, Derek. “An Inmate Died after Being Locked in a Scalding Shower for Two Hours. His Guards Won’t Be Charged.” The Washington Post. WP Company, 20 Mar. 2017. Web. 22 May 2017.

Walk In Those Shoes