The Hoosegow Abyss-Part 12
Eddie G. Grows old and has a last chance for parole. He enlists the help of one of his former wardens.
Lakeland Correctional Facility
For convicts the force behind withdrawal is hopelessness, and the antidotes to hopelessness are defining a purpose for your life, and pursuing that purpose through selfless service. This I learned at MCF.
I did not want to do thirty more years in addition to the ten already behind me, so I had no choice but to double-down on efforts to help others and stay misconduct free. The alternative was to join the many convicts overrun by hopelessness and embrace anger and more violence (if not suicide) after a disappointing parole interview.
Michigan has about thirty-one state prison facilities and I kicked around most, eventually arriving at the Lakeland Correctional Facility (LCF) in Coldwater, Michigan. LCF is for old prisoners, and has the highest concentration of lifers (45%) in the Michigan prison system. By the time I reached LCF I was tired of prisoner politics, the committees, the wardens’ forums, the whole shebang, so I told Warden Howes I was getting old and tired and just wanted to do my time. She said she had plenty of old prisoners, but not many in as good a physical shape as me so I had to have an assignment. I got classified as my housing unit’s porter; my job was walking the unit at 6:00 a.m. asking guys if they had trash, which took about fifteen minutes leaving me free the rest of the day. For this I was paid $1.62 a day, which was more than the normal wage because I had completed a janitorial training program.
Over the years I had a number of parole interviews, and though some of those parole board members said they would support a full hearing, nothing developed. Once I was notified that I was being granted a hearing only to have it rescinded. I discovered that one of my victims was from a wealthy family with pricey lawyers and had deep political connections born of substantial contributions. Each time the family received notice of my impending hearing, they flexed their political muscle and stopped the process. I even had a parole board member say my case was now one-hundred percent political.
An Opportunity
Despite my resolve not to do thirty more years, here I was at LCF with almost forty-five years under my belt with no prospect for parole.
When a convict is imprisoned, he is not alone: his entire family is imprisoned. They don’t change the family name, they don’t quite their jobs or hide from the neighbors, they don’t stop encountering the news, but they do live with constant embarrassment, humiliation and the guilt by association imposed by both the prisoners actions society. A prison family encounters a criminal justice system they don’t understand and over which they have little influence. During my life sentence Mom and Dad both died, thus ending the life sentences I imposed on them. I wasn’t permitted to attend their funerals, and I wondered if I would ever get to visit their graves.
Like so many prison systems in the U.S., over the decades the Michigan system had greatly expanded. When the expansion started, Perry Johnson, then the MDOC Director (who opposed the expansion), told the Governor two things: “We can’t build ourselves out of a crime wave” and “If you think it expensive to build all these prisons, wait until you see what it costs to run them.” But build they did and the MDOC budget went from several hundred million to almost two billion dollars. The system was plainly too damn expensive to maintain, forcing politicians to consider actions such as instituting prison diversion programs, and even paroling more prisoners.
I decided my next parole interview would be my best (if not last) chance to get out. As a lifer I had to run a gauntlet: First, the parole interview where one board member decides if he/she will recommend a full board review; Second, the full board votes on whether or not to grant me a review; Third, a public hearing is held to gather testimony from my supporters and opponents on my proposed release; Fourth, based on the public hearing and my prison record, the board votes on my release.
Reaching Out
Since first meeting with him over thirty-five years ago, I maintained contact with Joe A., who now was the retired warden of two prisons in Muskegon, Michigan. If you recall, at the time I met Joe he was the school principal at MCF, and then its deputy warden. Our occasional communications were primarily by letter and a heavily monitored email type system set up for prisoners.
I asked Joe if he would visit me at LCF and he agreed. “Why not,” he said. “It’s a pleasant drive and I haven’t been in a prison in a long time. Besides, my coming to visit you will certainly raise plenty of eyebrows.” Joe always treated me fairly and brutally honest. He also doesn’t suffer fools, not even me.
Joe had aged, but then so had I. Despite recent spinal surgery, he looked fit and alert as ever and still had that cutting humor; he looked at a startled visiting room officer and said: “Don’t worry, I’m not a spy.” Once in the visiting room, Joe saw another lifer he knew named George reading a Bible with his lady visitor. Joe looked at me and said, “George reading a Bible is like Jeffrey Dahmer reading a dining etiquette book.” Joe never trusted prison religious conversions, but thought I’d done enough time, completed enough programs, and deserved a break.
We caught up on old times and Joe bought sandwiches and drinks from the vending machines. There were few others in the visiting room. A prison full of lifers doesn’t get that many visitors since the lifers outlive many friends and relatives. The social isolation of seniors in the free world is reflected in a population of old lifers. Fortunately, LCF had gardens and other age-related activities, but the isolation still manifests itself in mental health issues and suicides. Naturally, health care is much more of a concern at LCF than most other prison populations.
I finally got around to explaining I had a parole interview coming up. I asked if he would sit with me during the interview, and speak on my behalf. I explained the hearing would be a remote TV hook-up with us in a room here at LCF, and the parole board member at MDOC offices in Lansing. I also asked if he would coordinate the presentations on my behalf should I be granted a public hearing.
“Why me?” he asked.
“You know the process and the MDOC. You’re organized and know how to organize people, which is important because I have a half-dozen supporters I’ll ask to make presentations. And, you don’t take shit from anybody.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll let you know.”
A few days later Joe sent me an email saying he would help me.
“What made you make up your mind?” I asked him, looking a gift horse in the mouth.
“I talked to my wife and she told me to help you.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. But, before you thank me, I have a list of demands that I’ll email you in about a week. Look at the list and let me know if you still want my help.”
“Well then, thank your wife for me.”
“Hold your thanks until after you’ve read the fucking list.”
