Follow the Rules

Rules.  Regulations.  Policy and Procedure.  Laws.  Call it what you want but it all means the same thing:  a guideline of what is allowed or not allowed.  It can be something as simple as curfew for a teenager on a Friday night, a speed limit on a city street or something greater such as the laws set forth by Congress. One thing is certain; we all have restrictions placed upon us from birth unto death.  There is no escape; well, some have tried but all quickly find that it’s futile. 

Those close to me would say I sometimes have a problem with authority.  I disagree.  I’m all for authority as long as it makes sense.  It’s when all logic and reasonable intellect is omitted that I begin to have a problem.

A couple of weekends ago, I made my way to Riverbend Maximum Security here in Nashville, as I have many times before to visit inmate, Timothy McKinney who sits on Tennessee’s Death Row for a murder he did not commit.  This particular visit was exciting because another of Tim’s friends would be visiting with me.  Her name is Lee and she lives in New York City.  She was here visiting family in the Nashville area.  Lee has a very interesting day job.  She works for the organization, Campaign to End the Death Penalty and has featured Tim in the “Live from Death Row” tour this past year.  Over the past several years she has been a firm advocate for helping Tim and others like him who are on death row get their stories heard.  She has drawn criticism at times because of her dogged energy in trying to make sure the people that need to hear the truth, hear it.  She is resigned to the fact she may not always win friends in high places.  She’s a writer, an activist and now a friend.  If you’d like to read more about her organization, check out their website at www.nodeathpenalty.org.

Tim’s small window faces the long walkway that leads from the main building to Unit 2 where he is housed.  On visiting days he can watch to see me make my short journey.  We were hoping to surprise him with our tag team visit but he saw us.  The grin on his face when he came into the visiting area was proof enough that our joint visit was a success.

About six months ago Tim lost his “A Level” privileges.  I’m sure all prison systems have something similar but for RMSI there are levels A, B & C.  The higher the letter the more “freedoms” you enjoy.  Level A’s are allowed a job that pays a minimal wage to go on their prison account, longer visiting hours with snacks included, larger visiting areas with some creature comforts – microwave, books, games, and water cooler. Typical jobs are cleaning the floors, working in the kitchen, grounds work, etc.  Tim had previously been working in the kitchen.  Due to a verbal altercation with a guard, Tim’s level was brought down to B Level.  This meant no job, confined to his cell and visiting hours were cut in half.  An undetermined amount of time must pass before he is eligible to move his level back to A.  From what I understand, the timing changes depending on who you ask.  The “altercation” was that he disagreed with a guard on a point regarding his job in the kitchen – that point being he spent too much time quietly doing his assigned task and not enough time being a “team player” by chatting with the guards and other inmates. 

B & C Levels are confined to their cells for most of the 24 hour period other than assigned “yard time” in the morning (usually at 6:30 a.m.) and again in the late afternoon; shorter visiting times either in a separate room or behind glass, no snacks, no job.  For visitation the inmate is escorted from his cell in handcuffs to the visiting room and locked into the room before the cuffs can come off.  Also, no snacks are allowed from his visitor from the main building.  Since no outside food or drink are allowed, visitors must purchase a vending card that costs $5 for every dollar put on the card.  If I pay $10 for the card, only $5 actually goes on the card.  Who gets that other $5?  The prison, of course, since they ARE in the business of human warehousing, it costs money to keep the gates working, but I digress.  I’m sure there are other things they do not “enjoy” but if that’s the case, Tim has not shared those with me. 

I beg to question the logic in some of these “policies and regulations”.  Again, I’m all for rules…..we all need structure and boundaries in life – that’s just a fact.  However, in this situation, here’s my main compliant – all inmates are behind bars, otherwise it wouldn’t be called jail or prison.  Admittedly, some inmates have privileges that allow them to work outside their cells at a job but they are still locked in and surrounded by a staff of guards at all times.  That being the case, why must a Level B and C inmate wear handcuffs to walk 1000 yards from their cell into a visiting room and locked into THAT room before the cuffs come off?  Also, what’s up with no snacks?  It’s not like they can widdle their way out using the pop top off a coca cola can. 

Yet, the prison system in Tennessee has set all of these rules and regulations in place as a way to “rehabilitate” the inmates housed in their facilities BUT these rules make no logical sense to me.  Do they to you?  The only thing that can be said is that it’s prison and it’s their job is to dehumanize the prisoners as much as possible to be sure they are reminded every nano second of the day of their crimes and mistakes.  Granted, some of them need to be reminded and find it within themselves to live in the world differently should they have the privilege of being released back into society.  I’m not saying those folks need to be free to maim and kill in society, that’s not it.  The point is that I don’t think these particular sets of regulations are going to make one wit of difference in how an inmate is properly rehabilitated.  If anything it only breeds low moral and negativity.  Not only that, for the prisoners on death row, they are not there to be rehabilitated, right?  Their sentence is death.  So what’s the big deal about allowing them to have a candy bar and coke and visit with their family and friends for the whole time during visiting hours?  If the state has its way, they will eventually be killed and it won’t be an issue at all.

But wait, follow me a step further – can you find the logic in why the State of Tennessee, as a way of managing its TennCare healthcare system previously used the prison as a customer service center?  That’s right, if you or I had TennCare and needed to call on a claim about our personal health information, we’d actually have spoken with an inmate – not a customer service representative sitting behind a desk somewhere in an office park.  So let’s see, it’s NOT okay to allow snacks in a visiting room just because of some level system but it IS okay for the inmates to be used as state workers for TennCare?  (Please note that this is no longer practiced at the prison due to the public’s complaints.  Apparently some customer’s figured out they were talking to a convict and didn’t really like that very much.) 

Also, in case you’re wondering why vending machine snacks are so important, it’s because with the budget cuts from the poor economy, their food portions have been recently cut in half.  Since they’re hungry all the time, the snacks have risen to a new level of importance.  Hmm there’s a concept…what if all the prisoners just starved to death?  Yeah, maybe that’s the solution…just let them all starve to death, save the state and taxpayers money and call it a day.  But they’re criminals you say and deserve to be treated with the idea they are less than human, right?  Besides, who would be left to follow all these wonderful rules and regulations??

Do I have a problem with authority?  Uh….yeah.

Missing – Hope of Purpose

Just call me a bleeding-heart liberal and get it over with!  I’ll freely admit that until about three years ago I never fully got what it even really meant.  Admittedly, it’s still a phrase that I only whisper amongst my closest friends but as the days progress I find myself becoming more and more comfortable in my new “skin”.  Maybe by the time I hit my 50’s I’ll be wearing a hot pink t-shirt with the term blazoned across my expansive bosom for all to see – sparklies included – but I digress….

 

Each week I look forward to the cover story of our local rag, “The Nashville Scene”.  It’s quite liberal in its views and usually stirs up some type of controversy somewhere.  I don’t always agree with everything that’s reported and some weeks I’m disappointed in the topic of the cover story while others I find very interesting and informative.  Occasionally I find one that really tugs at my heart.  Such is the case of last week’s cover “Death of Innocence”.

 

The article is about the murders of two young Shelbyville girls in December 1966.  Phyllis Seibers and Debbie Ray, cousins, were both 9 years old and anxiously waiting for Christmas Day like all children do.  Sadly they never got to open their presents and their murders turned the small, rural Tennessee town upside down.  During those times, Shelbyville was not a place you had to worry about your children playing outside unattended.

 

Their convicted killer, Eddie McGee was tried and sentenced to 99 years in prison for the death of only one of the girls.  The prosecution, at the time, felt that convicting him of only one of the murders would be enough to keep him behind bars for the rest of his life.  But a change in Tennessee laws since then has made it possible for Eddie McGee to be paroled in August 2009; 41 years into his sentence.  He’s already been indicted for the murder of the other young girl as an attempt to make sure he never sees a single day of freedom.

 

Hargrove, the writer of the article spends the rest of the time speaking to the injustice of McGee ever spending another day of freedom even though he goes into great detail of what a broken home life McGee had come from.  It reads like a classic case study:  born to an unwed, teenage mother; no father; raised by an alcoholic grandfather and overly protective grandmother; socially handicapped; low IQ; picked on and bullied by children at school; prone to outburst of temper; considered a sociopath, etc. etc.  You get the picture.  Overall, nothing indicated that Eddie McGee had been given very many opportunities to have a stable home life with training and help to develop any skills.  Eddie was around 15 years old at the time he killed Phyllis and Debbie.  He had sexually molested them and because they told him that they would tell everyone, out of fear he grabbed a huge rock and killed both of them.

 

I can’t help but wonder what a different outcome could have been had Eddie had parents that understood his limitations and sought to get him the proper medical attention and education that would provide him an opportunity to become a viable citizen.  Instead I read the story of this man who probably has never really known any sense of belonging and love.  It’s heartbreaking.

 

Granted, he murdered these two defenseless girls and their little lives were snuffed out far too early.  I’m not saying that McGee needs to be free to roam the streets again but the more I learn of our system, the more I realize it’s ineffective and prejudiced in favor of the ones who hold the power and the money.  This is never the person incarcerated.

 

I guess I’m having a really hard time understanding how keeping a man locked in prison where very little true rehabilitation is received, provides a solid sense of justice.  Maybe for the victim’s families it’s a comfort to know their loved one’s murderer is behind bars but in the end no good purpose is served.

 

I’m going to shift gears here so follow me if you will:

 

My Mother’s only brother was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic in the 70’s.  About four years ago, unbeknownst to anyone, he stopped taking his medications that he had been on for 30 years.  At first, no one seemed to notice that anything was amiss.  He’d always been a little odd even with his meds so everyone put it down to his normal quirkiness.  But things took a turn for the worse when he became fixated on a woman in the town where my mother lives.  She had hired him to do yard work on a weekly basis.  He loves plants, being outside and is a wonderful gardener.  She began to notice that he would show up unannounced and mow her grass several times a week when it clearly did not need to be mowed.  She began to realize that he would appear at social functions or in town as she was at the grocery.  Becoming more and more concerned, she told her son who knew my Mom and called.  My Mother has her siblings over once a week for coffee and dessert and has for years.  At their next gathering, she asked my Uncle about his spending too much time at Miss Smiths’ house (not her real name) and cautioned him.  He assured her that he was just trying to be helpful and he enjoyed her company.  Mother realized he really just wanted to ask her out on a date.  My Aunt divorced him not long after he was committed to the mental hospital in the 70’s and to our knowledge, had not had a lady friend since.  Mother was relieved at the time but totally blames her and her sisters for not checking with his doctor to see if he was making his scheduled check-ups.  After 30 years, about 20 of those living independently and productively, it never occurred to anyone that he would decide to not take his meds.

 

As things progressed, his actions turned into blatant stalking.  It got so bad that the woman’s son had an order of protection placed on her and he was issued a restraining order.  Still he persisted.  Finally one night as the woman was parking in her garage, she realized that my Uncle was standing in the corner in the dark.  She never figured out how he got into her locked garage and was able to quickly run into her house and lock herself in while she called the police. 

 

My Uncle did not resist arrest initially but became very temperamental after he was placed in a holding cell.  Longer story short – my Uncle was remanded into state custody to a mental facility in Meridian, MS.  He was ordered to stay there until the court found him fit, if at all, to return to his own care.  We fully never expected him to recover to the point he could live on his own again.  It was after he was moved to the facility that they were able to determine that he had been off his meds for over a year.  He said the voices kept screaming at him to stop taking the “poison” so he would be “normal” again so he could have a relationship with ‘Mrs. Smith’. 

 

The happy “ending” for my Uncle was that he DID recover enough after spending three years there and now lives on his own once again with strict monitoring.  He says he doesn’t even remember doing the things the woman said he did and feels badly.  She has since sold her home and moved closer to her son in a neighboring town.  Yes, he’s still mentally ill and will never fully recover from the illness itself but he does live a modest life and continues to garden for people to make pocket money – and yes, someone makes sure he is taking his meds on schedule.

 

So how does his story relate to Eddie McGee?  My Uncle could easily have been Eddie McGee.  The difference was that my Uncle had a family support system that rallied and made sure that he received the medical help he needed.  The entire family agreed that he could not live on his own if he could not function in an acceptable manner, i.e. take your meds, don’t stalk people, eat, bath, engage in productive activities.  None of us wanted him released this last time if he was going to be a danger to himself and others. 

 

How different COULD Eddie McGee’s life have been had he had the same kind of support and treatment?  How could many of the men and women who occupy our prison cells?  For the most part, I will never believe that someone just wakes up one morning and decides to become a criminal or murderer.  Do I believe there are people in this world who place no value on human life?  Sadly, yes I do but I believe it’s some mental flaw that can not be repaired by medical treatment.  They have no conscience and no amount of “treatment” will ever fix that.  Should they be free?  Absolutely not.  But what of people, like Eddie McGee and my Uncle that are really not “evil” but just mentally sick who with the proper treatment could be productive citizens?  I realize there’s the matter of WHO would pay for these needs?  Who holds the moral responsibility – the families, if there are any?  The state?  The federal government?  It’s a hard question to ask and even a harder one to answer, but I do believe there has to be a way.  If not, we need to make one.   

 

Then I turn to spiritual thoughts – what is the purpose for someone like Eddie McGee?  I believe each one of us is born for a reason; even if it’s some purpose that we may only realize in our eternal lives.  Perhaps this is the answer to my own question – but yet I still struggle to find an answer for the here and now. 

 

According to the article, Eddie is still bullied and picked on by fellow inmates.  He’s had altercations that have resulted in another inmate provoking him or bullying him.  It seems like such a wasted existence but that’s just not acceptable to me!  No human life is wasted, is it?

 

The title of the article in “The Scene” is “Death of Innocence”…..I think it should be changed to “Death of Purpose”.  In Eddie’s case and others like him, it sure seems like there is none to be found.

Another Charlie Brown Christmas in Tennessee

Every holiday season I pull out my short stack of DVD’s that I think I must see during the Thanksgiving and New Year’s holidays.  A classic favorite of mine is the pessimistic, but lovable Charlie Brown and his pathetic little tree with ten pine needles still hanging on.  I still get tears at the end as Linus reads the Christmas story from the book of Luke in the Bible.

 

Today it was with great disappointment and sadness that I learned the first woman ever to be sentenced to death in Tennessee, Gaile Owens, is a step closer to execution. The Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals denied her habeas petition in a 2-1 decision.  Gil Merritt, a Nashville-based Judge and long-time Martha Ingram date, filed the dissenting opinion.

 

After reading the article, it left me feeling as bleak as Charlie Brown’s tiny tree.  It’s been a while since I posted anything to the blog and now is as good a time as any. 

 

As we rush around in our yearly hubbub of holiday activities, my dear friend Tim McKinney sits on Death Row praying that 2009 will bring good news in his own appeal.  Reading Gaile Owens’s story today reminded me once again how difficult it is for someone on Death Row to receive a new trial or be exonerated.  While it does and can happen, it’s not a frequent occurrence.

 

December is one of the hardest to endure behind bars.  It’s a constant reminder of how cut off from the world and your loved ones you really are, not that you can forget it the other eleven months of the year.  While family and friends are celebrating the season with parties, gift exchanges and holiday meals, you are in your tiny cell with only a telephone call to connect you to your family – that is if you have the money on your prison “account” to make the call.  You get a couple of hours of visiting time on the actual holiday and a meal that tries really hard to mimic what Mom or Grandma would cook but fails to have the same comfort and enjoyment. There’s no Christmas tree with twinkling lights, no Christmas music or egg nog.  If you receive a gift, your family has to order from a specific catalog on file at the prison and they certainly can’t bring it to you wrapped in pretty paper with bows.  Most come from very poor families that can‘t even do that much.  So it ends up being just another day behind bars.  I dare a free man or woman to try and make it through the day with a positive attitude under those same terms.

 

Many people ask me why I choose to visit someone on Death Row; after all, aren’t they horrible criminals that deserve to die?  Certainly many have committed “horrible” acts by human standards but I just can not resolve in my heart and mind that killing for a killing is the answer.  It certainly doesn’t bring the victim back or remove the hurt from the victim’s families or even that of the accused’s family.  It’s a no-win situation and heartbreaking on all accounts. 

 

When asked, I politely listen to their take on the Death Penalty and explain as best I can that for me, it’s a heart thing.  While society has stamped them as an undesirable and most even have families that have turned their backs or never been there to start with, every person is worthy of compassion.  I do it because not every one on Death Row committed the crime they are charged with.  They are innocent or mentally ill and need help or did not commit a crime that warrants a death sentence.  In Tim’s case, he is an innocent man with proof that he is innocent.  I can not speak to Gaile Owens’s innocence or guilt but I do know that if she is executed, our state takes another step back in becoming a beacon of change and hope for all mankind.

 

Ironically enough, on Monday of this week a recommendation was made from the Tennessee Committee to Study the Administration of the Death Penalty for the Tennessee General Assembly create an independent commission to oversee capital defense in Tennessee based on the “woefully inadequate defense many capital defendants receive at trial.”  According to Stacy Rector, executive director of the anti-death penalty Tennessee Coalition to Abolish State Killings (TCASK), the case of Gaile Owens is a prime example of these problems.  It’s definitely the case for Tim.

 

Each time I think about it, I just want to go to my friend and hug him and let him know that he is loved and that miracles DO happen, even in 2008.  My prayer is that 2009 will bring hope for him and others in his situation.  As I mentioned, I know nothing about Gaile Owens but I pray for her too.  It’s not my place to judge my brothers and sisters.  We all make mistakes and we are all a fine line between freedom and bondage, whether physically, emotionally or mentally. 

 

President-Elect Obama based his entire campaign on the “Need for Change”.  I’d say Tennessee continues to earn the right to be on the short list, yet I believe there is always hope where change is concerned. 

 

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown.    

 

 

Gone Visitin’

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything and that has been deliberate.  I wanted to wait until my first visit occurred with the inmate assigned to me, Timothy McKinney.  This finally happened last Friday afternoon, August 29, after waiting about three weeks for my application to be processed by River Bend. 

 

Due to the holiday weekend, my company closed our office early so I was actually able to make the Friday, 4:30-6:30 visitation for Unit 2, where all inmates serving time on death row are held.  As expected, I was extremely nervous beforehand.  The unknown of knowing the process and procedures along with meeting someone face-to-face who you have only shared letters with; not to mention you ARE visiting Death Row.

 

I shouldn’t have wasted energy being nervous.  I explained to the guards at the sign-in area that it was my first official visit.  All were very helpful and friendly in getting me to the proper areas.  There were several others waiting to visit as well so the small waiting area in Unit 2 was pretty busy. 

 

As I walked into the visiting area, I saw a young man sitting off to the left of the room and immediately from the smile on his face, I knew this was Timothy McKinney, or Tim as he likes to be called.  I had only seen one photo of Tim and that was several years old.  No matter.  He looked almost the same and was so personable and engaging.  We immediately started talking and it was like meeting an old friend after a long time away. 

 

It was a little difficult to carry on a full conversation because it was so noisy.  I learned that Friday night seems to be the busiest visiting time, which I thought was odd.  During those few minutes I began to learn more about Tim and his story.  At one point, I sat back and took a good long look at him.  Tim has claimed his innocence all along and in fact, has proof he wasn’t even in the location where the crime was committed.  All I could think was that this vibrant, gifted young man is innocent and yet he sits on death row like a sitting duck.  How does this happen to a person?  Tim’s certainly not the first innocent man to serve time in jail or to be sentenced to death for a crime he didn’t commit.  My question is this – how is it that a person’s life is thought so unimportant because of greed or some other type of corruption?  What happens to people to allow this to be okay as long as “justice” is served?  I need someone to explain it to me in terms that I can understand.  At this point, I highly doubt anyone can or for it to make sense to me.

 

Like many inmates, Tim does not receive visits from his family, who live in Memphis.  In talking about his family, it amazed me that he carries no grudges but instead tries to understand that at least for his Mom and Dad, their way to deal with his death sentencing is to not deal with it at all.  Unfortunately, in “dealing” with it this way means they have little contact with their son other than the occasional call or letter.  Tim seems to have found peace within himself about the lack of visits and also about his situation in general.  I learned that he is a believer and feels that he is experiencing this time in his life for a reason.  He has a peace that while it may take a while, he will one day receive another trial and prove his innocence.  I pray he is right.  I’m not sure I would be as forgiving if I were in his shoes.

 

The two hour visitation period flew swiftly and I left with a tug on my heart to realize the real meaning of loss of freedom.  I can only imagine how it must weigh on his heart for that outside connection to leave as well; that reminder that he can not walk on grass or go to a movie, do normal everyday things. 

 

After I got home, my weekend plans took a turn and I realized I could go back for the longer visitation time on Saturday which is 8 a.m. to Noon for his Pod.  Arriving the next morning, I felt more confident in being there, what my role for being there is to be, but I must confess, the look of surprise and happiness on his face was wonderful.  We spent the entire four hours talking and enjoyed some quiet time given there were few visitors there.  Again, I feel this is so odd because you’d think Saturday would be the busiest visitation time.  It also hit home at how few visits most of these guys actually receive.

 

I can not share this experience and not tell you how gifted of an artist Tim is.  He has always “doodled” and sketched but when a man is faced with isolation 23 hours out of 24, you begin to learn to find ways to be creative and keep your mind fresh and alert.  A fellow inmate saw Tim’s sketches and encouraged him to take up painting.  Tim quickly found that he has a natural ability and the paintings he has created are breathtaking.  I encourage you to visit his website, view a few of his paintings and read more about his story.  Go to:

 

www.timmckinney.org

 

Being an artist myself, we easily found common ground and spent the majority of our discussion time talking about what motivates us and the creative process as a whole. 

 

At the end of the four hour visit I knew I had made a friend for life and I am willing to be the kind of friend that stands by Tim regardless of the outcome.  I realize this may mean I have to witness the end of my friend’s life should the “wall of justice” refuse to do the right thing and allow another trial.

 

Thankfully, I’m told that his chances are actually good and that he may very well avoid his death sentence.  There are others just like Tim – too many.  I still grabble with the idea of Capital Punishment but that’s actually another blog for another time.  Any kind of sentence imposed on an innocent victim is horrendous and anyone involved in the judicial system should be ashamed they stood by and allowed it to happen.  I realize there are circumstances we can’t see but I just can not condone watching innocent people convicted of crimes they did not commit while the real criminal continues on their way; probably committing more crimes – especially if those with the power know there is reasonable doubt and still do nothing. 

 

The journey has begun and it’s for sure there are risks involved and potential heartaches to prepare for but it’s one I’m so glad I’ve decided to take.  I will return again this Saturday and every time I can thereafter to support my new friend.  I see clearly the “wall of justice” and the power it welds.  I leave you with this thought by John Adams:  “Power always thinks it has a great soul and vast views beyond the comprehension of the weak, and that it is doing God’s service when it is violating all His laws.”

 

 

 

 

Caged Canvas

A little over a week ago, my VODR Coordinator sent an email to introduce me to another potential inmate to befriend.  Still smarting somewhat from my rejection with Leonard, she assured me that this particular inmate would be a joy to visit and would have no issues with receiving visits from anyone.

 

His name is Timothy McKinney; a 34 year-old man from the Memphis area who was convicted of first degree murder of an off-duty police officer who was acting as security at a club on December 25, 1997.  From all documentation that I’ve been privy to, there is considerable doubt of Tim’s guilt and he has maintained his innocence.  Presently there is a petition for justice that can be signed online appealing to Governor Bredesen for Tim to receive a new trial. 

 

Tim and I have exchanged one letter thus far and I can easily see that he will definitely become someone I consider a friend.  He is articulate, funny, gentle and chooses to remain positive despite his situation.  I have to believe this takes tremendous courage and will power.

 

I was also delighted to learn that Tim is an artist.  Before he was incarcerated, he drew all the time but never attempted painting.  A fellow inmate who saw some of Tim’s beautiful drawings encouraged him to paint, declaring, “if you can draw, you can paint.”  How true this statement came to be.  Given he has never had any formal art training, Tim paints like a pro.  You only have to see a few of his pieces to realize how exceptionally talented he is.  In particular, his technique of using shade and light is tremendous. 

 

We are only in the beginning stages of getting to know one another but I fully believe before it’s all said and done Tim will be a friend to both me and Cas.  I can only hope that we bring something positive to his life during this painfully frustrating journey he finds himself traveling.

 

If you’d like to see some of Tim’s paintings and learn more about his personal story, you can visit the following website:

 

www.timothymckinney.org

 

If you’d like to add your name to the petition for a new trial, visit:

 

www.petitiononline.com/j4mckinn

 

Doomsday Blues

Rejection.  It’s such a negative word but it was a word I used this week in describing my latest venture on my journey to River Bend’s edge.  It’s official folks, I have been rejected by a death row inmate as their personal visitor.  You read correctly.  Someone I may never meet does not WANT to meet me. 

 

My VODR Coordinator emailed me the middle of last week asking how I would feel to be paired with someone who is socially challenged.  After a few email exchanges, I found out that the person in question is a man in his late 50’s to early 60’s who has been on death row for a number of years.  He comes from the atypical background of poverty, illiteracy, dysfunctional social skills, etc. etc.  Later in our exchanges, I found out his name is Jasper (*not his real name).  I was surprised to find out that he does not want a visitor from the outside.  My next question to my Coordinator was the obvious – why exactly were we even having this conversation?

 

Apparently Jasper’s psychiatrist and attorney feel that it would be beneficial for him to engage in a friendship with someone from the outside.  He is in deep depression and honestly feels he is doomed, so therefore, why bother to make a friend from the outside world?  In his mind, it would accomplish nothing. 

 

Loving a challenge as I do, I gave her the go-ahead to include me as a potential visitor.  This Monday his psychiatrist and attorney would be paying him a visit and would commence convincing him of why it would be a good to have a friend.  My Coordinator even told me they had considered trying to trick him but decided that wouldn’t be fair either.

 

So I waited with fingers crossed that perhaps I would be able to become a friend to this man.  I began to wonder about him.  What crime did he commit?  What were his interests?  What could I say that might cause him to engage in a conversation with me?  I began praying for Jasper. 

 

Monday rolled around and I was anxious to check my personal email to see if there was a message waiting.  There was.  The news was that he was totally, 100% against meeting me.  I was so disappointed.  What did I expect really?  Did I really expect him to jump at the chance to meet me?  Did I think he would sit around his cell in Unit 2 and wonder about me and my interests?  But the thing that struck me the most was Jasper’s complete acceptance of hopelessness in contrast to my hope of somehow changing his mind.

 

Webster’s gives the meaning for hope as being:  to desire with expectation of obtainment; trust.

 

Regardless of what Jasper may say, he must still have the DESIRE (why else would he be so depressed and angry?) but lacks any expectation of obtainment when it comes to his personal situation.  It occurred to me that our self-imposed prisons are far harsher in the face of reality.  He feels “doomed” – his own word to describe himself.  I can not imagine waking every morning to the feeling of doom.  Nothing to look forward to; no one to share a laugh with; no interest of anything that would help me take my mind off my troubles and look beyond the bars of my cell.  Just a dark, oppressive cloud that smothers me a little more each day. 

 

It’s heartbreaking.  In his acceptance of “doom” it tells me that Jasper has never known true love.  The love that can lift you from the pit of despair, and give you a peace that surpasses this world.  Unless Jasper comes to know love, he truly IS doomed.  I had hoped to be the advocate of love but for now, it’s not to be.  I’m going to keep praying for Jasper though.  I’ll keep praying that one day he can receive this love, grace and mercy and realize he is far from doomed.  Where there is love, hope abides.  Even the bars of a jail cell can not stop love.  That is my personal anthem for Unit 2.  I have hope for each and every person there.

 

I’m praying, Jasper. 

House Rules

Last week in our local liberal rag, “The Nashville Scene”, the cover story was about a man who has been on death row for 22 years for murder.  His name is Paul House.  Paul was found guilty of murder in 1986 for the death of a Union County woman, Carolyn Muncey.  All along Paul has maintained his innocence. 

In 2006, due to the advances in DNA testing, it was found that the blood found on Paul’s clothes did not match the victim’s yet Paul has remained in custody.  In addition, Paul was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and is now confined to a wheelchair.  The Supreme Court ordered the state to either set a new trial date or release him within 180 days, however Paul’s bail was set at the ridiculous sum of $500,000 by the judge in Union County.     

The District Attorney residing over the prosecution is Paul Phillips.  He was involved in the original trial in 1986 and continues to insist that Paul be tried a second time but not seeking the death penalty since he’s going to die soon anyway. 

After reading the article, I was so angered over the injustice of how Paul House’s case has been handled that I decided to write a “letter to the editor” for the Scene’s Love/Hate Mail section.  I emailed it and waited anxiously to get a call or email that my letter would appear in this week’s Scene.  Since they go to press on Tuesday or Wednesday, I know that my letter did not make the cut.  HOWEVER……what are blogs for, right?  Below is my letter, in its entirety.  I love technology!!

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Thanks for sharing Paul House’s story in the cover article, “Dead Wrong” of the June 26th edition.  While I do not know Paul House personally, I know of him and a bit about his history.  However, I must direct my response to District Attorney, Paul Phillips.

I was under the impression that persons who sought a career in the legal system were (supposedly) people of integrity, possessing a burning desire for the laws of our great country to be upheld responsibly, while at the same time upholding the rights of its citizens.  In Paul House’s case, it would appear neither of these things happened.

 If you are in a position to help determine guilt or innocence, why would you want an innocent person incarcerated? Why would you not review every fact and perform every test necessary to ensure that the right person would be held responsible for a crime, especially if new evidence was presented that indicated the wrong man has been sentenced? Would you not make every effort to find out the real truth? What is wrong with this picture? Please tell me it’s more than saving face for a potentially horrific error made 22 years ago or botched police work. It seems obvious there are still too many unanswered questions in this case.

Also, we can’t forget the victim’s husband, “Little Hube”. The National Domestic Violence Resource Center shows that in 2001 women accounted for 85% of the victims of intimate partners, compared to 15% for men. Given many people witnessed his abusive behavior towards his wife, Carolyn Muncey, it’s obvious now and in 1985, perhaps he should have been considered as a primary suspect. Instead, he has enjoyed 22 years of freedom while Paul House wastes away in prison, not only locked behind bars but locked in a wheelchair. Oh but wait, he’s a flight risk after all, so let’s make sure we keep him locked up. We can’t have him running the streets along with all the other wheelchair bound criminals that roam our fair city.

I wonder if Mr. Phillips has a prescription for Ambien?

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UPDATE!  This morning at 9:30 Paul House was released from the special needs facility where he has been held – for now, Paul House is a free man.  Well as free as you can be in a wheelchair with a monitoring bracelet on your ankle.  Since the article in the Scene last week, Paul’s bond was reduced from $500,000 to $100,000.  Paul’s Mother has been trying desperately to raise the money for her son.  An anonymous person called and has given her the $10,000 for Paul’s release!  After 22 years, Paul will get to spend 4th of July at home with his family.  This is good news! The trial issue is still up in the air.  Paul’s attorney is figting for the charges to be dropped and Paul exonerated given the DNA proof but the jury is still out, pardon the pun.

I can only hope that the truth will come out and the real killer will be held responsible.  There’s no way society can give Paul House the 22 years back he’s lost but my prayer is that he can get the medical attention he needs and enjoy some happy times before he leaves this Earth. 

 

The Journey Begins

Today is the first day of summer so it seemed fitting that I begin a new journey in my life.  I attended an orientation of Tennessee’s VODR or Visitor’s of Death Row.  Admittedly, it’s a journey I never saw myself on or even realized was possible.  Being a writer, I must put cursor to blank screen and chronicle what I’m feeling, seeing, experiencing.  This blog will be dedicated to my experiences as a VODR and is strictly my own opinions and experiences.  I invite your comments and will gladly discuss the program and opinions.  Please understand, I’m not blogging about these experiences to convince anyone of anything.  I’m merely channeling my thoughts as I walk this new path to “River Bend’s edge”.

I learned about VODR at my church through a dear friend that is heavily involved in VODR and has been leading a class on Sunday morning’s.  Her goal has been to help others see the need of reaching out and understanding how people come to be on death row.  She works with these prisoners on a daily basis through her job with the Post Conviction Office and considers her job to be a calling.  After today, I have to agree.

This week I was sent an email outlining the events of this morning along with a long list of “rules” that would need to be followed upon my arrival at River Bend Maximum Security Institution in West Nashville.  Most were common sense things, such as no guns or weapons allowed, wear appropriate clothing and shoes, etc.  As I read the list, I began to fully realize that I would be stepping into another world upon entry.  A world of broken people with horrific circumstances, restrictions, behavior based discipline, armed guards, wire fences, cameras that follow your every move.  I awoke this morning with anticipation of what I might experience but also a little fear of the unknown.

Upon arriving at RMIS (as insiders call it), I obediently made sure that I carried only a photo ID and a pen to write with.  I was told that I could also bring in a single key but this morning I realized I had left my driver’s license with my work badge in my desk at work.  (Cas had to drive me to the facility so I could attend.)  I took in the only photo ID I had, my bank debit card that has my picture by my name.  I wasn’t sure if this would work or not, but it was all I had.

Walking towards the main entry I encountered a gentleman who I could see also had one single key, a pen and driver’s license.  I inquired if he was attending the orientation and he said yes.  We tentatively entered together.  There were already a couple of other women there but they were seated in the waiting area.  As I approached the visitor’s desk, there were four armed guards manning the station.  I explained why I was there.  I was met with a “I was not informed of any kind of orientation.” After mulling over several log books the guard told us to have a seat in the waiting area.  Soon, the three VODR coordinator’s, my friend being one of them, arrived to take over. 

We were taken into a training room in the front of the building and handed our packets of information.  As I looked around the room, I saw people around my age and older and one young woman, who I learned was 21.  We all looked middle-to-upper class and educated.  We were given an opportunity to introduce ourselves and explain how we heard about VODR.  I discovered that all of us had heard about the program through our perspective churches.  There was a nun, a couple of teachers, a college student, one clergyman, several divinity students, a couple of ”green-friendly” converts and me. 

As the class began, we were introduce to the history of the death penalty in the State of Tennessee.  I was surprised to learn there are two main reasons a person ends up on death row: 1. race and 2. class – the crimes committed are not necessarily the deciding factor – however, the underlying reason is because they can not afford adequate representation.  I was also to learn that as of early 2008, 50% of the inmates sentenced to death row come from West TN, 40% come from East TN and only 10% are from Middle TN.  From all accounts, the judicial system in the West part of our state is pretty corrupt.    Presently there are 86 people on Death Row; only 2 are women who are held at the women’s prison, 2 being held at Brushy Mountain in East Tennessee and the remaining 82 are held here at RMSI.

Another interesting fact we learned is of a huge fight happening right now over the use of lethal injection as a form of execution in TN.  Judge Aleta Traugher has filed a motion to outlaw lethal injection stating it is cruel and inhumane.  This motion is presently in the appeals process with a hopeful goal of passing by Fall 2008.

There are three steps to a lethal injection:

1. the inmate is given an anesthesia

2. they are then given an injection of a paralytic drug called Pavalon.  This drug is normally used in medical procedures where a patient’s body must remain motionless, such as eye surgery. 

3. the final step is an injection with the agent that actually stops their heart.  Sadly I did not get the name of this drug while taking my notes.

This whole process is supposed to take 5 minutes or less.  At the time Philip Workman, who is the most recent inmate executed, his death took 17 minutes. 

Judge Traugher was able to have a woman testify on her behalf during the original presentation of the suit.  This woman was scheduled for surgery on her eyes.  She was given the anesthesia and then the Pavalon so that her eye would remain still during the surgery.  Since the drug completely paralizes all muscle response, even your vocal chords, she had no way of telling the doctor that she had not been given enough anesthesia and had to endure a two hour eye surgery all the while feeling every cut and procedure the doctor made.  Her testimony went a long way in helping this motion to pass with the state.

Next,  we discussed the prisoners themselves.  As I had learned in my Sunday School Class, all of these prisoners have many similiarities in their backgrounds.  They are poor, uneducated, sexually, physically and mentally abused from childhood.  These men and women have lived horrific lives. They have been so abused by their parents or guardians they are emotionally broken and mentally ill in some way.  Sadly because the lack of adequate representation is such a primary factor, anyone having proof of plenty of reasonable doubt are left to the system with no means of doing anything about it.  Many do not even have family and even if they do, their families can not afford the kind of representation needed. 

My friend further explained her role and why she invited us to join VODR.  She explained what we could expect and answered our questions.  A few of us were “rookies” in the prison visitation area but many of the group had been involved in other prison ministries.  A couple of women were concerned about being in visiting areas with other people who could potentially be having sexual intercourse.  It never even occurred to me to ask that kind of question and it would seem that you may encounter those types of situations.  All three coordinator’s have been a VODR for 15 years or more.  Each said they may have experienced something like that once or twice in the 15+ years they have been visiting.  It’s obvious that if you are a person to be easily offended, this particular kind of volunteer work may not be the right place.  Me, being the adventure-seeker I am, does not get easily offended.  I always reserve the right to get up and leave if something does not seem appropriate to me.

The last coordinator to speak shared about setting boundaries.  She explained what the VODR was NOT:

- A vehicle for converting anyone to my personal religious affiliation

- A dating service

- A place for amateur sleuths

She also told us what VODR IS:

- A place to offer compassion to the less fortunate

- A place to befriend someone who has no friends

- A place to bring light to darkness

She made it very clear that it is the VODR member’s responsibility to set firm boundaries up front.  It’s totally our decision how involved we want to become.  She said it was better to start out with very stringent boundaries and loosen them as time goes by instead of starting out blindly and then realize you need to reign things in.  This particular VODR Coordinator only shakes the hand of her prison friend, never hugs.  This is what is comfortable for her.  For others, it will be different.

As I stated, each coordinator has been a VODR member for many years.  They have been witnesses to the last three people executed on death row.  They have passionate opinions about the judicial system, the process and most of all, the people on death row.  They all work within the system so I feel their opinions carry a lot of weight.  They made sure to express they are not here to convince me of anything but instead to give me the facts and allow me the opportunity to decide for myself and also decide how much I want to be involved, if at all.  Fair enough.

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The next leg of our session was taking an actual tour of death row.  Before we could move beyond the administration’s visiting area, we each had to place our ID’s in a box and walk through a security entry.  It was at this time that I was told that because I was with the VODR group I would be allowed entry but that in the future my debit card would not be proof of ID and would not be allowed beyond the security box.  I was also told that my debit card would have to go into the lock box while I was making the tour.  Several who had electronic key pads with their keys had to leave those behind as well.  I immediately got the understanding that these guys mean business and there will be no bargaining.

Next, our hands were stamped with ultra violet ink that would be our “access” beyond the visiting area.  We were all physically searched; women by a female guard and men by a male guard.  Each time we visit, we will be asked to remove our shoes and socks and go through the body search before being allowed to move forward.  We were told in class that upon our departure from a visit, all inmates are strip searched before entering the main prison area. 

After all of this, we were finally ready to move beyond the administration area into the actual prison compound.  A very large, black guard who reminded me of Lou Gossett, Jr. in “Top Gun” escorted us to the main visitor’s area.  We were shown the vending machines and explained that in order to make purchases, we must buy a RMIS debit card at the front.  You insert the card into the machine which gives you the balance, you make your selection and then it gives you the new balance.  This would be the only way to purchase food and drinks while visiting a prisoner.  You are not allowed to bring them food from the outside, which I was pretty bummed to hear.  If you do not purchase food while there, the inmate does not have access to the vending machines – only their three daily meals provided from the prision kitchen.  Since I’m sure prison food is much like hospital food – institutionalized, they all look forward to their visitor’s sharing vending machine goodies.  I was told the hot wings were very popular.  (You can take the man out of society but you can’t take away his love of a good wing.)  As we left the main visiting area, I could see several prisioner’s with their visitor’s.  These prisoners are held in the main part of the prison and were not death row inmates.  I was to learn DR inmates live separately from all the other prisoners and have their own visiting area.

We left this area and entered an enclosed walkway.  Immediately you begin to realize where you are and this isn’t an episode of “Law and Order”.  You are surrounded by steel and barbed wire, locked in from behind and in the front.  As we all entered the first section, the gate closed and locked.  Until the lock sounded, the next entry would not open.  At this second section, Lou Gossett radioed that we were headed to Unit 2 and needed access beyond the main holding area.  Our group was apparently on the list because the next gate unlocked so we could enter.  Once we were through that section we were actually outside again on winding sidewalks leading around to Unit 2 where Death Row prisoners are kept.  Unknowingly we walked past the entrance to the electric chair building.

We entered Unit 2 into a small room where we had our hands scanned again before we could move forward.  Lou Gossett begin to explain that we would be turned over to the daytime Corporal in charge who looked like Wilfred Brimley.  Accompanying Wilfred was a bald Justin Timberlake who looked very nervous and far too young to be a prison guard, in my opinion.  Wilfred led us through a maze of small visiting rooms, past a larger room that had two prisoners with apparent visitors, into the main area of the unit.  Again, our hands were scanned. (Scanning is very big here.)

The main area of the unit looked much like what we see on TV.  The room appeared to be octagon shaped with cells in a circular format on the bottom, stairs leading up to the second level of cells with a common area in the middle.  I noticed a ping pong table that had seen better days, and scattered throughout all areas of the unit I saw Bibles and hymnals but no magazines, newspapers or other books.  Wildred and Justin led us over to cell number D116 which was unoccupied.  I’m lousy at room dimensions but imagine a medium-sized bathroom in most homes and you’ll have a pretty good idea of how small these cells are.  This particular cell had a stainless steel commode, sink and shower.  There was one small mirror that was bolted to the wall above the sink along with some wooden cubbies for storing personal items.  Against the back wall was the bed, if you could call it that and on the side wall next to the bed was more shelves.  The only window was the typical jail window, long and narrow.  Just enough window pane to see what the weather is and realize how much of it you can’t experience.  My overall sense was of quietness; not a lot of moving around and if the inmates were in the other cells, no one was peering out to see who we were.  It felt silent, lonely and hopeless.  During our “tour” of the cell, someone asked if the inmates were allowed to have TV’s or radio’s – the answer was yes, although they must purchase these items through a special company that makes CLEAR TV’s and electronics. 

This was my first true glimpse of Wilfred.  He explained that they can only pick up the local channels but if he had HIS way, they would get the Cartoon Network, the Disney Channel and QVC – he felt this would be great punishment.  He meant it to be funny but somehow it missed it’s mark.

As we left the cell, we were told that not all prisoners have a shower in their cell and that some cells hold TWO inmates – same size room.  There was a common shower area but we did not get to see that.  We also learned that things are run by heavy behavior modification with three levels; A, B, and C.  A is the top dog level that everyone covets and C is the bottom level.  ALL prisoners upon entry begin at Level C.  IF you have behaved well, after 18 months you can be promoted to Level B.  After several more months with more good behavior, you can make it to A.  This means you have slightly more freedom, can apply for a “job” to work in the prison and earn money (not much but some) and be outside more.  Each prisoner is aware how precious Level A is and one small infraction can send you right back to Level C with another 18 months to prove you can move forward again.  I got the impression that sometimes infractions were decided upon by the Corporal in charge and could change daily.

After this we were taken out into the “recreation area” which comprises four large steel cages with more locks and more gates.  In one of the cages were a few pay phones; another held a weight bench; another had a basketball goal.  They are allowed ONE hour a day in the rec area.  Someone asked about the pay phones – apparently the inmate has to have a phone card that someone buys for him and calls made without a phone card are collect. 

Wilfred asked us if we had any questions.  I raised my hand and asked how long he had been a guard – 11 years this year; Justin Timberlake only a little over a year.  One lady asked Wilfred what his own personal feelings were about working with these prisoners everyday and then suddenly to have one executed.  He asked her if she really wanted to know his opinion.  Based on his previous comments I already knew what his opinion was but she being curious, shook her head yes. 

He started by saying, and I quote, “These people have committed a crime and been found guilty by a jury of their peers and sentenced to death. Are there some here who have a reseasonable amount of doubt? Yes there is, and that’s why we have the appeals process.  Some should have been put to death 24 hours after they were sentenced.  This is my personal feeling and the Warden is aware of my feelings.  At his request, I mostly keep my opinion to myself.  There are a few that have been held here far too long and should have been put to death immediately.”  At this point he covers his walkie talkie and says, “Like Paul Reid”.  

Next he tells a story about a man who had been on death row for 17 years and had been ill.  In coming back to Unit 2 from the Infirmary, he requested to kick off his shoes and walk in the grass the remainder of the way back.  Wilfred told him to go ahead, he didn’t care.  He then said in a bragging tone of voice that it was HIM who had let the man walk on grass after 17 years of prison life.  I couldn’t help but think how smug and self-righteous he seemed; almost like he was doing this man a favor or something.  From the moment Wilfred opened his mouth, he sadly confirmed every prejuiced thing I ever thought men in his position believe.  I went into this hoping I would be proven wrong.   Justin Timberlake just seemed nervous and ready for us to move along.  I can hope that he doesn’t become harden to the job as he works there.  I’m sure it’s a difficult, thankless job and we all know they are underpaid and under-trained.  HOWEVER, last time I checked, human compassion costs nothing and is always appreciated.

____________________

Next I need to describe the esthetics of the surroundings a bit.  One word comes to mind – immaculate.  Apparently inmates on Level A keep the grounds up (as part of their work program) and each building had flowers and rose bushes growing at their front entries.  This struck me as totally ridiculous to see beautiful flowers growing that more than half the population never gets to enjoy.  The buildings themselves are in good condition, just very institutional.  Everywhere you look, you see tanned block buildings with the silver fences and barbed wire – all with beautiful flower beds in full bloom. 

Inside the buildings, most were painted a fairly nice shade of pale blue that I THINK/HOPE was an attempt to provide a calmer environment but still came off as aneseptic and impersonal.  It seemed to me like a reminder of the blue skies they really can’t see much of.  It was very much like a hospital without the art on the walls and nice carpeting.

As we left Unit 2 to head back to our classroom to finish up, we stopped by Unit 2′s visiting area.  The two men with visitors were still there.  All the coordinators knew them and laughed and joked with them.  They were told we were there for the VODR program and each was given a chance to speak to all of us.  Only one man did.  He was slight in statue and wore an african cap – he looked to be in his 50′s.  He said that he was happy to see new faces and that despite societies belief, Unit 2 had the most peaceful group in the prison and they would appreciate our visits.  The other man just smiled at us and lowered his head.

On our way back to the classroom we went through the same routine.  Stop and scan, wait for the gate to close, stop and scan, wait for the gate to close and finally back into the main administration area to return our visitors badges and retrieve our belongings from the locker. 

The coordinator’s wrapped up the session by stating that if were were truly interested in becoming a VODR member, they highly recommend starting out as a pen pal and then taking our time before actually visiting in person.  We were encouraged to make sure we understand the committment.  These men have not enjoyed a lot of trust and acceptance so for a visitor to suddenly stop coming or break their promises of a visit is more of the same to them.  Just someone else not to be trusted and more rejection from society.  We were asked to fill out an application and told we would receive a call for a phone interview so that the coordinator’s can learn of your interests and personality in order to pair you with a good “match”.

I made my way back out into the parking lot feeling already changed.  I have no idea who I will be assigned to visit and what may unfold in getting to know this person.  I will make posts as this journey unfolds.  Your comments are welcome, if you so choose.  I’ve asked the Lord to guide and direct me as I walk beside River Bend’s edge.