An Environment Not Conducive to Healing

Jail is a fairly dirty place to live.  Two weeks ago I started to show signs of catching a nasty cough that is circulating.  I've been taking 1000mg of vitamin C and a large multivitamin since the day after I thought this might be happening.  Regardless of my efforts, I got the bug - which my mother promptly dubbed "Kennel Cough".  

I thought the worst of it was over last Tuesday, but the crud simply relocated from my lungs to my sinuses.  Whenever something settles in my sinuses, it eventually starts to leak through my eyes - producing symptoms that appear very much like a bad case of "Pink Eye".  For a week now my eyes make me appear to be regularly smoking copious amounts of marijuana and people at work have been asking me suspiciously if I feel alright.

It seems to be slowly dissipating, but only with the help of Clear Eyes.  I am unfortunately not allowed to being my little bottle of eye drops into the jail.  Medications can be brought in, but must be sealed in their original packaging.  This rule, however, does not apply to liquids such as this.  If I want to use them, I have to get a guard's approval to take them at my outside locker.

In Work Release, you have two lockers.  One is located on the "outside" of the jail, in a glass and steel breezeway.  This is the locker where you can deposit items not allowed in the dorm.  Upon return each evening from work, I fill mine with my backpack, mobile phone, eye drops and cigarettes.  In the dorm, we each have a tall wooden locker next to our bunks.  This contains your clothing, laundry detergent and any other items you are allowed to bring in with you that you want to keep from being stolen.

While the dorm itself isn't the most disgusting place I have ever seen, it still makes one paranoid for their health.  There are frequent leaks in the roof.  The showers never seem to be properly cleaned, the floors sticky and dust collects on the top of anything above eye level.  Cleaning the dorm is a responsibility shared by all inmates on a rotational basis.  Every evening at about 8:30 the guard will post an assigned list of chores.  A few of the more financially desperate inmates always offer to do your chore for a few dollars, but my concern for their lack of attention-to-detail has kept me from obliging.  The fear a guard will take issue with a poorly done chore keeps me from paying another to do my work for me.  It would certainly not reflect well and forever stain my relationship with the guard if I simply left the responsibility to another and they failed.

Weekends

Weekends are the hardest.  My work release schedule allows me to commute to work and back Monday through Friday, 6:45am to 7:15pm.  I am not allowed to work more than 50 hours a week, no more than 6 days in a week and I am given 75 minutes to commute each way.  From Friday night to Sunday night it's pretty much like a normal jail sentence.  Although, last weekend I went to church for the first time - admittedly it was just an excuse to get out for a few hours on Sunday.  

From what I understand, it's a service offered by the church and that is the only reason it's possible.  A church-owned van driven by a church volunteer arrives at the jail at 10:20am and picks up the guys who signed up for the service, which is limited to 9.  You have to sign up before Friday at 8am and you are subject to the approval of the Work Release Coordinator and maybe even your Probation Officer.

Surprisingly, I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would.  The church is supposed to be a non-denominational service but I suspect it has heavy evangelical influences.  I hadn't been to church since I was at least 16.  Growing up, my father and I never attended church for any reason other than weddings, baptisms and funerals.  The same is true for my mother, though there was a stint with her second husband where they attended regularly.  By the time I was in my early teens my dad and his new wife began attending a Lutheran church and eventually became quite active.  By that time I had moved in with Mom and the only time I ever went to service was when my father insisted.

The Emmanuel Lutheran Church back home was what I imagine a majority of Lutheran establishments are like.  Services are your standard sit down, bow-your-head, stand up, sing, sit down, listen to the sermon, stand up, sing and various other traditions.  I can't say I ever hated church services, I just didn't understand why we ever went.  The name "Jesus" was certainly not an oft used one.  I think "Indiana Jones" may have been used at least 50 times more.  It wasn't until after last Sunday's service when I got around to asking Dad why he started believing.  His simple response was "It wasn't up to me.  When Jesus wants you to open your heart to him, it will happen."  This is not unlike my father.  His answers are almost always Zen-like in their length but hardly as revealing or emotionally insightful.  Like all his answers to my questions, I simply accept them and move on until I can think of a better way to phrase it or peel back another layer of his atmosphere.

So the church I stepped into last weekend was like nothing I had ever seen before.  There was a stage extending out into the tiny "fellowship hall", gigantic high-definition projection screens and suspended plasma displays.  A 3-piece modern rock band with 3 back-up singers started the service with 2 contemporary Christian songs while the lyrics faded neatly from verse-to-verse on screen.  Stage lighting was coordinated deftly by a guy at a soundboard at the back of the room.  I wondered for a moment if I was in the correct place.  Many arms were raised during the choruses, with palms stretched out in praise.  One woman danced in a somewhat Pagan fashion up and down the aisle near me, twisting, turning and painting the room with her outstretched parallel arms.

The service mainly consisted of an easy-going presentation updating the congregation on the progress of getting their new plans to construct a larger fellowship hall approved by the County Commission.  Then the pastor (or whatever you call them) gave an interesting and passionate talk about forgiveness.  The theme seemed appropriate for my predicament and I listened intently to his Gospel quotes and modern stories.  I didn't feel the same indifference I felt so many years ago at Emmanuel Lutheran.  It connected with me and I left feeling a little lighter than when I entered - even though I am pretty sure I won't be attending this church after my sentence is complete.  If I attend a church with the family at all.  I'm not closing any doors, but I'm just not ready to commit to religious activities as of yet.

After the service our driver took us to Wendy's for lunch, which was a total surprise to me.  I sat with the driver and talked a little.  It turned out we are both in the same field: web programming.  Everything he had to say was laced with "God" and "Jesus", which still makes me a squirm a little - but I respect his faith and passion nonetheless.  He asked me for a business card and I obliged.  When I returned to work on Monday I discovered an email from him.

A-

Nice meeting you today. Like I explained today, I'm believing God for abundant projects to finance projects for God's kingdom. There are so many more reasons though. Obviously everyone has a call on their life, and I believe that people can find that calling working on projects like what God puts before me such that they can realize God's call.

Let me know when you have some more free time, and we can talk some more.

-C

I responded;

C-

Well I have to say the circumstances we were introduced to one another were certainly... "unique". I have to admit that my presence at the church on Sunday was the first time I had been to any in over 15 years. I'm best described as a "sceptic who wants to believe". It will take some time before I have made a final decision and will undoubtedly be one I will make with my wife, once we are in the position to explore the options together. I spent several hours yesterday reading "More Than A Carpenter", and I found the information impressive and influential. I believe in God - it's the concept of Jesus as God is where I get confused and frustrated. Moreover, it's the social aspects of organized religion that make the whole experience a little difficult, but I am patient and interested nonetheless. My father is a devout Christian, Lutheran to be exact (though he was not when I was a child) and my mothers family is Jewish, though none of them are very active in their community as Jews.

Well, that's my spiritual resume. Now professionally, I'll start by sharing some of my recent work and my resume, which is attached.

A

He hasn't responded and I suppose I won't know if I offended him until I see him next.  Perhaps he is simply busy.

I signed up for this weekend's service, though I am told it is unlikely we will be allowed to go.  The dorm failed our Wednesday inspection and this church privilege is said to be one of the ones they like to revoke when you fail inspection.  I have a few good books ready for consumption in my locker, and if I can't go then it will only mean a few more hours of reading instead of a short field trip for amusement and reluctant inspiration.

Signing out until Monday.  Have a nice weekend.

Yet Another Obstacle

I haven't seen the kids since March 30, two days before my arrest.  I miss them terribly and have been very anxious for the opportunity to calm their fears and assure them that none of this is their fault and that I will someday return home to them and their mother.

No Contact Orders are mandatory in our state, and ours was put into place the day I was arrested, April 1. While I understand and even believe in the purpose of these legal shields, both myself and my wife feel ours has been the most difficult facet of our case. She didn't ask for it, never wanted it. I hate it, but like many things in my world right now I accept it and make my own attempts to whittle away at it when appropriate. It's like an infinitely long, impassable wall seven stories high and made of solid titanium.

Because of the NCO, Kimberly has been burdened with what I feel is a sentence of her own: one more difficult and challenging than mine.  She has been forced into single parenthood with little to no help from friends or family.  She has petitioned the Court on multiple occaisons for modifications of the No Contact Order, but the judge has only approved one small modification.  It is unlikely that there will be any further modifications until I have completed my time in jail and I fear the worst; that it will remain until my probation is complete in May of 2011. The modification of the NCO allows me supervised visits with the children only. Kimberly and I are allowed to email one another, a right we have fully embraced and made great use of.

Supervised visitation works like this;  Only facilities court approved can offer the service.  My wife and I have to independently apply for the program, which costs $25 each.  Once approved, you have to get in line - as the service is "popular" but has very limited staff and hours.  The appointments are on a narrow sliding scale and ends up costing us $50 an hour. The parent with custody drops off the children 15 minutes before the other's scheduled arrival. The children wait with a supervisor.  Once the visiting parent arrives, they spend the entire visit under close supervision.  No whispering, no exchanges of gifts and the supervisor makes detailed notes on interactions.  When it is over, the visitor leaves and the custodial parent picks up the kids 15 minutes later.

We waited a full month before we were able to schedule an appointment, only to end up cancelling because my sentence was given and I was immediately remanded into custody.  The stipulation that the Department of Social Services must approve the visitations was added at sentencing.  I contacted our caseworker, Luis, as soon as I was able to.  This gentleman had visited me in the jail shortly after my arrest to interview me.  He was by far the kindest and most considerate man in the "system" that I had met.  (I'll tell more about that story another time.)  Luis again was very kind and quickly emailed my prosecuting attorney expressing his approval of the condition.

This Monday I contacted the DA's office to follow up on Luis' email and Tuesday I received the wonderful news that I am cleared to have supervised visits with the kids.  Since I began my sentence, Kimberly has been making and canceling appointments with the facility that does the supervision - keeping a place in line for us to ensure I have the opportunity to see kids as soon as possible.  I was able to arrange a regular weekly visit and was excited to complete my schedule change request when I returned to the jail in the evening.

I completed the paperwork last night and left it in the door jamb of the Work Release pod, the door that regularly locks behind me when I return every evening.  This morning while signing out to go to work the request was waiting in my case jacket on top of my sign-out sheet.  "Denied" stamped in red ink with a handwritten note: "I need paperwork attached w/ Judge's signature before I can approve this."  Ugh.  There's that sinking feeling.  The judge.  This is never going to be approved.

My judge is by far the most interesting and challenging person in this case.  I think she hates me and by the way the police report reads: rightfully so.  Again, I'll talk more about my judge some other time - I'm just trying to keep a focus on my current events in this post.  So basically, while the court technically has given me the opportunity to heal with the children and play with them - the Work Release program will not recognize that right until the judge has ordered me to visit the children.  Again, this makes sense to me but it just feels bad.  I suppose if it were any other way, I could say the court also allows me to email - so let me out of jail whenever I want so I can email my wife.  Yeah, right.

So now my lawyer is involved again, racking up my bill at $200 an hour.  More future wages promised away.  Things were thin before all this started.  Now we're talking rice paper thin.  Onion skin thin.  He has to file a motion asking the judge to go out of her way to order me to see the babies.  To my mind, this sounds a lot like me asking her to climb Mt. Everest on her way to work.

I am praying again more since this news came.  I pray the judge will understand the predicament and think of the needs of the children more than my own.  I hope she doesn't think much of me at all.  I sometimes imagine my case jacket on her desk.  My mug shot and her own personal shorthand notes of her impressions.  If this is how it is, I hope she doesn't read those notes.  I hope she is having a good day.  Maybe her flowers are coming in nicely in her garden.  Maybe her overdue tax return check came that morning.  Maybe.

Introduction

I'm not sure I will be able to cover everything that has happened to date that I need to, but I will at least attempt to start.

I am a convicted felon serving a sentence for crimes of domestic violence.  I make no excuses for my actions, nor do I attempt to diminish the severity or seriousness of my crimes.  I have no prior convictions, not even a major traffic violation.  I do not have a history of violence.  The crimes I am convicted of were the first I ever perpetrated against my wife in our 13 years of marriage.  I am filled with remorse and sadness for the manner in which I reacted to the situation I was in.  Wrestling with the guilt and pain for the events of the past few months is a daily struggle.

With this journal, I hope to effectively share my experiences and memories.  I will record my thoughts on current challenges and openly dig and sift through the past to perhaps expose the events and circumstances that brought me here.

If anyone happens upon this blog, I am sure I will be read by visitors with both disdain and doubt, perhaps even a few with empathy.  Regardless of the comments or review, I will always be truthful, open and sincere in my writing.  This is my opportunity to learn from my mistakes,  capture the journey and hopefully end up with an expansive document I can always reflect on.  Maybe a reader will learn something about themselves along the way and correct their own course.