Stupid as can be, something I swore I would never do, but I went and did it anyway. A few robberies back to back because, well, I felt like I had no other options. A man is supposed to take care of his kid, and I had no other way I could see to do so and too much pride to admit I couldn’t figure out another solution.
It was 2009, and I was twenty. A new father with a determination to stand up and be a man. Having grown up in a great home with a strict, military father who instilled–no, demanded–a stoic and traditional notion of manhood. He refused to allow me to enlist in the army when I first reached adulthood. No way he was going to have me killed on the ground in the Middle East, he said. So I got a construction job on the base instead. Going to work my way up the ladder there with stable work, eventually become an electrician.
But it was 2009, like I said. The economy was crashing around us, and construction jobs especially were evaporating like dew in the desert. Last one hired, I was the first one laid off with nothing to replace it and grown up bills to pay. I had a son. I could not provide for him part time at a McJob, not the way I’d been raised to do.
The stress added up. Found myself less and less hopeful quickly. Everyone was on my case, or so it felt at the time. So I went on a little spree to just try to get caught up again, be able to be the man I envisioned myself growing up.
So I grabbed that gun. Just briefly, I told myself. Never gonna hurt anyone, period. In and out of a few places, get some cash from a few rip off spots anyway, and I’ll be done.
Times were tough. I made terrible decisions that put people in danger and ultimately broke up my family and made my son and my parents suffer. Totally irresponsible and stupid, but what those sentencing orders say is so far from who I am. Because those robberies happened to cross county lines, right at the edge, and because of that they decided my spree was distinct events so I ended up with multiple robbery convictions running concurrently. About 45 years total sentence all together. Longer than a homicide gets in most cases here, and by a good bit often. Even though I have never hurt anyone and was never even considering doing so in those dark moments when I lost my way.
I have been down twelve years already. All but the last year has been spent at high security facilities known for violence and gangs because, contrary to my actual crime, those robberies are classified as if I’m serially violent. In all that time, I have never had a single institutional infraction. I’ve worked between 50 and 80 hours a week most of the time, spending the rest refining my faith and staying in touch with my family, especially my son. I’ve lately taken to leading the guys in prayer and study, trying to focus on the best the faith offers. Since COVID hit, I’ve been working seven days a week, at least ten hours per day (often more), helping out in the mental health ward. Not getting paid all the extra hours, but having seen how disdainfully some nurses and officers treat guys struggling so much, especially in these viral crisis days, I can’t let it go. I am compelled to go in because, well, those are people, and someone has to show them some decency, help them with basic needs.
This is my life now. I sure do hope something comes up before another 33 years pass, allowing me to rejoin my family and play a daily part in my son’s life. But, even if it doesn’t, I stay sane and positive here by living in a way that I know honors my faith and reflects my true character. Positive. Kind. Even if I made some stupid youthful decisions in a crisis, I am so much better than my convictions say.