Sometimes it’s all I can talk about…”This one time in jail…”

I was 19 when I went to prison and not released for almost a quarter of a century, certainly most of my memories would be set there. Though I’ve been back in society for two years, prison is still at the edge of my thoughts and the tip of my tongue.

Something I knew nothing about finally arrived when I was 42, a chance on the other side. I knew how I had imagined freedom would be, good time, good fun, extended times with the family. All of what I had led myself to believe freedom entailed was fictional and some of my prayers were answered in ways I could never expect. (Note to anyone planning to pray-be specific!)

Well not everything… the reality of my mother, remains consistent. I thank God for the perfect mother- If not for her i would have left prison in a body bag.

To have earned a thirty year sentence at the age of 19, was an unimaginable consequence to me but more unfathomable was that I had helped take a life. That I was guilty. Not solely or directly but enough riddle me in guilt. These were hard realities to acknowledge- let alone come to terms with. I had, in one, less than ten minute increment, helped kill another human being.

Just seven years before my own aunt had been murdered. I was 12. I despised murderers-only to become one.

To someone else’s grieving family I was the same monster that killed my aunt .
I wanted my aunts killer to pay but it occurred to me that her family should want to see me pay and we did- he and I in our separate prisons.  got to see what society calls justice, my aunts murderer was convicted. And my family, I imagined would be the ones at every parole hearing making sure he stayed in prison. I was not parole eligible.

But I was him. Both were seated as the defendant,  in the same Superior court. Irony covers my existence- but irony unveils the rhythm of me. It is because it was, and it that was not is still yet to unravel. I want to share my story.

I was in the ditch of ditches, my story is one that the God in me wants me to share. There is a deep need for my story… you’ll see.