Grieving Behind Bars

*Please note, names have been changed for the protection and consideration of all involved.*

Grieving Behind Bars

~ by Taj Mahon-Haft ~

I first met Roy as a recommendation of a positive leader in my new pod.

I only knew a few people and it was time to recruit the best guys to help as instructors in a correspondence program teaching criminal justice students about the reality of the system. As soon as I met Roy, I knew he had the right mindset and skills to teach and enlighten. I still ended up overwhelmed with how well he did. 

By the end of the semester, his students were raving about how much they’d learned and how impressed they were with his character. He had shared every bit of his case and time behind bars, and these young people seeking to work in the system were adamant he deserved to be out. 

I really got to know Roy, though, as so many people have done in so many places. We sat down next to each other, sipping coffee and chatting while watching the game. Turns out we root for the same teams, Orioles and the Ravens, uncommon here deep in Virginia. It’s because we share many overlapping locations in our pasts, in Montgomery County, MD and in Baltimore.

The only problem is that that none of those places look like what he describes anymore. See, Roy has been down almost my entire lifetime, and my beard is mostly grey now. 

Over 35 years ago, Roy had a family he loved and a civil service career and then a gradual descent into heroin addiction. He was doing right in all the main ways, but dope is expensive. He was looking through addict lenses and saw some money laying out when left alone in the home of the landlord he loved. When he got caught taking it, a guilty scuffle got out of hand and someone he cared about ended up dead. A true tragedy and he has been honest and remorseful ever since.

Roy has dedicated himself since that day to being the kindest man he can be and doing all he can to atone. In that time, he has mentored dozens of young men in the system, guiding them away from addiction. He is a solemn but gentle leader in the Protestant community. He has learned numerous trades, including his work silk screening for state contracts he’s been doing for many years now.

Most of all, Roy has dedicated himself to helping raise his kids and, now, grandkids from afar and supporting his parents as they age. Being there for those he loves, even when he can’t be in person is his mission. I’ve never heard of him having anything but positive words for anyone. 

He has been behind bars since the 1980s. Virginia got rid of parole for new sentences after 1994. He has been eligible since shortly after that, yet he remains here–even with the recommendation of multiple wardens and even the director of D.O.C.–even without any infractions in the decades of time behind bars.

And Roy has maintained his positive demeanor despite tragedy. A few years back, he lost his beloved father. It was small solace, but he was at least permitted to pay the wages of a couple of guards who took him to the funeral home to say goodbye. 

Last week, I ran into him after not seeing him a few days. He seemed a bit down, a first in my experience. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. 

His mother had just passed now, too. She was in her late 80s and had recently been put in hospice, so he was as emotionally prepared as possible. He was logistically prepared, too, having warned the counselor here weeks ago and gotten his family ready on their end. 

None of that mattered and the new warden, who has not worked with this universally respected man, showed off a level of disregard beyond belief. 

As soon as the counselor got the call, she put in the paperwork to get final approval for his visit to the funeral home again. Same one, in fact, so they were ready. No answer the first two days, even though all it needed was a signature and there is a clearly articulated policy making this possible. 

In order to stay prepared, Roy’s family went ahead and got a money order for the amount necessary to cover all costs, as designated in the policy. They called the counselor daily, who sent daily emails. The funeral home even juggled the services for three other families set for that weekend to ensure he could find a window without anyone there, as required by policy. 

Finally, only a day before this was expected to take place, the warden denied the request.

He does not know Roy, nor did he take the time to ask anyone who did, clearly. He did not look in the computer on his desk even, as Roy’s file shows clearly the recommendations he has from people higher than the warden and the pristine institutional behavior. Roy goes out to the hospital at least monthly without any incidents. He went to the previous service. Yet simply based on “the length of the sentence”–life, with parole–the warden summarily denied the man a chance to say goodbye to his mother.

This decision was entirely discretionary and all evidence said it is perfectly safe. More importantly, basic human decency insists that this request be approved. Everyone has a mother, so everyone should understand. Yet this consistently wonderful man who made a single terrible mistake nearly four decades ago was treated as though that moment defines his entire life. He was treated by those promoted to high authority as if he is subhuman. 

If that is the new warden in an era of supposed reform, what do we expect of subordinates and daily life?!

And Roy still handled it with dignity. He spoke with his family on the phone that day and cheered them up! He would have been justified cursing and screaming, certainly filing every grievance possible, but he simply wrote a polite request for further dialogue to the warden. “I can’t get there now even if I grieve it, but if I’m nice, hopefully, they’ll change it to require more support for the next guy.” A truly kind, generous human being.

*NOTE FROM GIN – This was originally written May 20th, 2019, and I am happy to report that by the time of publishing this online Roy has finally received his notice of parole.*