Getting Life

The Other Side that Never Receives Publicity: Something to Say

My name is W., I am 51 years old, I was born in York, PA. in 1959. I come from a family of 7, (5 sisters and 1 brother). I am presently incarcerated at a State Correctional Institution in Centre County, serving a life sentence for a murder I committed in 1975 at the age of 15.



The Other Side

Is that most men and women who have taken a life, do truly regret what they have done. Many are remorseful, and find it hard to face themselves, and come to terms with the shame and disgrace of it all.

Through my own actions many hearts were broken, and peoples lives were changed forever. The victims for sure, by the loss of their loved one, especially the way in which it happened. Then there is the pain and shame that I brought to my own family. Having to face the community with the fact that their son and brother killed somebody. It’s a pain that I’ll live with for the rest of my life.

Coming to terms with what I did was very painstaking, but essential to the redemption of my character. It’s one thing to know that what you did was wrong, but to realize the gravity and impact of your wrong act is such a dawning and awakening. At 15 years old, there was no purpose or reasoning in my life. I had no convictions morally or spiritually. I wasn’t important to myself. I was a coward. My fears and ignorance controlled my life.

By Gods grace over the years, I got the courage to face myself. At some point I was given the opportunity to meet with two family members of my victim. At the request of the family member the first meeting was published in the Local Newspaper (York Daily Record) Y.D.R. Com 1999 “Facing Down The Demons.” The purpose for publishing this encounter was in the interest of anybody in society who has been hurt by someone and is wondering how they can be healed.

Meeting the family member was important to me. One of the toughest things I ever faced in my life, was the reconciliation meeting. Wanting to tell somebody for years that, you are so sorry and to finally get the opportunity was overwhelming. I was so excited, while at the same time unsure about how and what to say beyond the words, I’m sorry.

My faith in God gave me the courage to be still and listen to the person I hurt. Then I knew how to express my regret and remorse, so that there could be peace and healing in our lives. I was amazed and humbled that one of the family members had found a place in his heart and soul to genuinely forgive me. Well I believe this is the heart of everything. How do the wounded get healed? This never receives much publicity.

The second family member i met started their pre-thought, before the actual meeting in which they said, “I’m going to meet with the person who killed someone that I could have loved and who would have loved me. He took away from me and my family, a mother’s love.”

I needed to hear them tell me how I hurt them. To express their anger and devastation, and sense of loss. This was the opportunity that I had longed and prayed for. To be fully accountable for my past actions.

My purpose for writing this is to show a side that is never seen in the public eye. I have matured and grown from a 15 year old boy into a 51 year old man. Through time I have been able to reconcile with myself and the people I’ve caused pain and grief to.

This is a real story about a real person that needs to be heard, not just for the benefit of myself, but for the benefit of others who are victims and offenders. I believe this can be helpful to people of all walks of life.

W. 36 years in, 51 years old.

Is that most men and women who have taken a life, do truly regret what they have done. Many are remorseful, and find it hard to face themselves, and come to terms with the shame and disgrace of it all.

Through my own actions many hearts were broken, and peoples lives were changed forever. The victims for sure, by the loss of their loved one, especially the way in which it happened. Then there is the pain and shame that I brought to my own family. Having to face the community with the fact that their son and brother killed somebody. It’s a pain that I’ll live with for the rest of my life.


Coming to terms with what I did was very painstaking, but essential to the redemption of my character. It’s one thing to know that what you did was wrong, but to realize the gravity and impact of your wrong act is such a dawning and awakening. At 15 years old, there was no purpose or reasoning in my life. I had no convictions morally or spiritually. I wasn’t important to myself. I was a coward. My fears and ignorance controlled my life.

By Gods grace over the years, I got the courage to face myself. At some point I was given the opportunity to meet with two family members of my victim. At the request of the family member the first meeting was published in the Local Newspaper (York Daily Record) Y.D.R. Com 1999 “Facing Down The Demons.” The purpose for publishing this encounter was in the interest of anybody in society who has been hurt by someone and is wondering how they can be healed.

Meeting the family member was important to me. One of the toughest things I ever faced in my life, was the reconciliation meeting. Wanting to tell somebody for years that, you are so sorry and to finally get the opportunity was overwhelming. I was so excited, while at the same time unsure about how and what to say beyond the words, I’m sorry.

My faith in God gave me the courage to be still and listen to the person I hurt. Then I knew how to express my regret and remorse, so that there could be peace and healing in our lives. I was amazed and humbled that one of the family members had found a place in his heart and soul to genuinely forgive me. Well I believe this is the heart of everything. How do the wounded get healed? This never receives much publicity.

The second family member i met started their pre-thought, before the actual meeting in which they said, “I’m going to meet with the person who killed someone that I could have loved and who would have loved me. He took away from me and my family, a mother’s love.”

I needed to hear them tell me how I hurt them. To express their anger and devastation, and sense of loss. This was the opportunity that I had longed and prayed for. To be fully accountable for my past actions.

My purpose for writing this is to show a side that is never seen in the public eye. I have matured and grown from a 15 year old boy into a 51 year old man. Through time I have been able to reconcile with myself and the people I’ve caused pain and grief to.

This is a real story about a real person that needs to be heard, not just for the benefit of myself, but for the benefit of others who are victims and offenders. I believe this can be helpful to people of all walks of life.

Age 51, 36 years in

As you read this letter, consider how we are all influenced by factors and forces beyond our control. The man who wrote this letter talks about how he can’t be sure of his own “moral compass” because he has been in prison for most of his life. But how certain can any of us be of our own?

I am a lifer. This means I have been sentenced to serve the remainder of my life in prison without the possibility of parole. For those of you who don’t know this is the only type of life sentence that exists in Pennsylvania. If a judge, jury, prosecutor, or the appeals court wanted to impose a lesser sentence for someone found guilty of 1st or 2nd degree murder they would not be allowed. Even if the particulars of a case showed that a lesser sentence would be more appropriate. There are no alternative life sentences, such as 25 to life.

Before you think my viewpoint is too biased, let me explain. I believe in prisons and punishment. I do not think that the police and courts are out to get us. If you break the law, you should and must pay the penalty. But, I also believe that the punishment should fit the crime and the criminal, and not all cases or defendants are alike. Each has its own aggravating and mitigating circumstances. These should be taken into account.

…

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize who I see. There is this man staring back that is not me. It is some aged version, an alternate possible me. Then reality snaps into place and all the years I’ve spent in prison roll through my mind.

How did I become the man I see? Where did that curious bright 14 year old go? 22 years ago I was arrested and sent right to the country prison. I was 14, I was scared to death.

Now I am 36 and wondering, “Am I a good man?” Have I done my best? I do try to live honorably, with morals and integrity. But, have my ideas of what morality is been warped by growing to manhood behind bars?

There is no real way for me to answer that. I cannot judge my actions compared to the fiction I see on television. I don’t spend enough time with those who live in the “free world” for a side-by-side examination.

I have plenty of time to reflect on what I believe a good person is and does, and the code by which I want to live.

Don’t lie.
Don’t cheat.Treat others well.
Try to do no harm in thought, word, or deed.
Smile.
Give respect automatically. It is arrogant to think my respect is such a sought after item that it must be earned.
Help. Do what I am able for those in need. I cannot help everyone with everything, but maybe i can help someone with one thing.
Never walk by while bad things happen.
Do the thing that is right and not just the right thing.

After 22 years that’s what I’ve come up with. It is not easy of fun, and in this environment most of that is seen as weakness. I see it as being human.

I didn’t arrive at this all at once. I went through my rebellious teenage years, my stupid twenties, and mellowed in my 30’s, all be it in prison. Each stage taught me more about myself and who I want to be. I got into my share of trouble along the way. But, here I am on the other side, still not finished with the journey.

There is this misplaced belief that people are sent to prison to teach them a lesson. There is no lesson. Prison teaches you one thing, how to be a prisoner. How to take orders, live in an 8 foot cube, deal with the pain of being separated from everyone you love, to be the suspicious first, trust second (if ever). Nowhere is there a class on what is the right moral path.

For me it has been worse. I have never lived on my own, never paid rent or driven a car, never held a woman in my arms or had a child jump into my lap while yelling, “Daddy, guess what I did today!” I do not know how much the absence of these things has affected the direction of my moral compass.

Please do not think I am whining. I broke the law and deserve to be punished. The reality is that prison is not a place where you learn morality. It is not a place that promotes virtue.

So, what have I become? Am I some hybrid of my perceived morals and prison attitudes such as “don’t snitch”? Can a person who has grown up in prison learn how to be a good man? Can I have the moral value system of a free man?

It scares me to think maybe prison has skewed my perspective so much that I tell myself I am a good person, but it is the lie that lets me sleep at night. I have no yardstick for moral judgment other than the one I have created for myself.

If I were any other inmate I could hope that being granted parole would be an indication of good character. But, I am a lifer. There is no parole for me.

I have held many jobs over the years. Everything from janitor to para-teacher. I have met and worked for a variety of bosses. Though I have enjoyed or been more successful at some, I learned that doing a job well is a reward all on its own. Yet, none of these jobs showed me whether I had picked the right moral path.

I have even been accused of having an extreme moral view, a strict line of right and wrong. As if my personal answer, to the moral numbness of my environment, was to take the far opposite stance and defend that spot with full vigor.

I guess at the end of the day it must be I who decide, in these unique circumstances, whether I have done right or wrong. Whether I have helped better the world or not. Then again maybe that is how it is for all of us, free or in prison.

Still, if I had never come to prison I likely would not have examined my moral self so fully. I may have still ended up a good person, but not because of thoughtful exploration only because I am human. I believe I am on the right path. I know I want to do the best I can. I hope to better tomorrow than I was today. Maybe that is enough.

M.
22 years in, 36 years old.

Note: Several paragraphs describing commutation in the Pennsylvania prison system were excised from this letter to keep it at a manageable length. The topic is an important one, though, and I’d recommend reading more about… especially if you’ve found yourself feeling surprised or moved by any of these letters.

A number of people have asked about our experiences with “lifers” at the prison–what it’s like? can you visit? who are these people? With that in mind Laurie asked one of them to write something that we could put on the blog and have you step inside the mind of someone in prison, take a peek inside the walls.

That said, as you read this you need to recognize that this particular man is quite evolved in his understanding of himself, his past, and his crime. He feels deep regret for the murder he committed and has sought victim-offender reconciliation. There are plenty of men inside of those walls “who should never get out,” is what this man would say. And he would also say that there are others who are not the same people that they were when they first entered through the prison gates.

Read his words. He wrote them for you…for this class. And remember that the world is infinitely more complex than any of us can imagine. This guy never graduated from high school, by the way.

A few years ago, when I was much younger, I saw something that changed my understanding of the world in which I now live. It wasn’t something that I didn’t already know; I just didn’t realize that I knew it. Nor was it something that I didn’t already do; I just didn’t realize how natural it was for me to do it. But seeing it, naked and out in the open in the way it happened, made me realize how amazing this act really was in this environment.

I was sitting on some bleachers with a friend of mine shooting the breeze when I glanced around and noticed two men huddled together. I knew both of these men and it was strange to see that one of them had his arm around the shoulders of the other, who in turn had his head hanging low and appeared to be crying. What made this so unusual was that from what I knew of these men, they hated each other.

I turned to my friend and motioned with my head and asked, “What’s up with those two?” He looked over and replied, “Oh, his son died in a car crash and he can’t get in touch with anyone on the phone.” Without words we both understood why the one man would put aside his hate and provide comfort. It seemed perfectly natural to us.

As we stood up to leave, both of us deliberately chose to walk over to these two men. In passing them, each of us in turn put a hand on the crying man’s shoulder and with a slight squeeze we told him how sorry we were. This, too, was natural for us and didn’t take any thinking in order to make that gesture.

My friend and I are “lifers,” convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to spend the rest of our lives behind bars with no possibility of parole. In fact, you may be surprised to learn that this entire event took place in a prison yard. But to us, it is simply the world in which we live. To us, those two men weren’t strange; the situation wasn’t even that rare. Perhaps unusual to see it so openly, but that just made it more meaningful to us.

Later that night as I lay in my bunk, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing those two men and that simple act of compassion made me review my world. How many times have I seen or done similar acts and never really thought about it? You would think that in a place filled with convicted criminals, compassion would be so rare that the sight of it would cause suspicion. But here in this place that most people think is full of “beasts” and “uncaring violent predators,” it is actually rather common.

Here there were two convicts who didn’t like one another sharing this very human moment. One was in pain and the other wasn’t’ going to get anything in return for helping to alleviate his suffering. He was doing something that any thinking, feeling, caring man does for another.

Everyday behind these razor wire topped fences there are little acts of compassion. Sometimes it is stopping to listen to another man complain about his day, even though your day has been just as rotten. Another time it may be letting a man use your phone time so he can speak with his daughter on her birthday. But no matter what the act, it is often done without hesitation and with no expectation of anything in return.

You might not believe men in here are capable of compassion—beneath the surface knowledge of another’s plight…not simple sympathy…but a deep soulful understanding. I’m talking about truly feeling another’s pain and wanting to help. This compassion isn’t reserved for fellow prisoners; it is felt for all who suffer any kind of misfortune anywhere in the world.

I have stood beside men as we discussed with a hitch in our voices, blinking back tears, some horrible disaster in the world. I know how upset and frustrated we all feel that we cannot chip in and help. I’ve stood in line with others to give blood, or helped fill out forms to donate money, even written letters to try and help those in need. It seems that whenever a tragedy occurs there is a rallying of men here to provide whatever we can do.

Even in this dark place of hate and misery, you find compassion. You see human beings helping one another simply because seeing another suffer touches their soul. Such compassion is not a commodity held only for the innocent; it is the heart’s recognition of pain in another and the soul’s demand to provide succor—and to any human being no matter their circumstance.

You may believe prison is filled with the worst of men, and there is some truth to that. But look beyond preconceived ideas and you will find some of the tenets of humanity performed in the most incredibly simply ways and by the most unlikely of individuals for the greatest of reasons – to relieve suffering. And why? Because we all suffer and any relief, no matter how small, is of great relief to us all.