Prison Journal: Day 8,239
March 1, 2010
One year ago today I remember writing in my journal that I had a strange feeling in my stomach, as if forces were working in my favor and some type of relief would bring me home before I served another month of March. Well, the year passed, I’m still in prison, and today is the first day of my 23rd consecutive March in prison. Release doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight, but I am another year closer to freedom, and this fact brings reason for gratitude.
Early this morning I began work on a new project. I’m expecting a productive month of March. After writing in the early morning I went outside for my run. After finishing 10 miles I had to come in to shower because I had an appointment with the Toastmasters group. Today I listened to a speaker who described his career as a mortician. He spoke about his fascination with dead bodies that developed when—as a child—he attended a funeral. As an adult, he learned the trade of undertaking in a vocational program. Then he sat for a few exams and received national licenses that allow him to practice his craft anywhere in the country. The young man said that his felony would not impede his ability to work as a mortician, and expressed optimism that he would find ample opportunities for employment upon his release.
Prison is a true melting pot. I can’t think of anywhere else in society where an individual would have opportunities to meet people from so many diverse backgrounds. Where else could I meet and interview a CFO one week, and listen to a mortician the next week? Every person in this prison camp has a story, and I don’t mind listening and learning from them. If I don’t find work I can pursue upon my release, maybe I can become a mortician.
Sadness sometimes sets in because I realize how long I’ve been away from society, and because I know that my confinement makes life difficult on my family—especially my wife. Sometimes I need to withdraw and meditate on the challenges and pressures this predicament places on the people I love. This is one of the times, and solitude is my only solace.
I followed my 10-mile run this morning with 600 pushups.
[consecutive running log: 3,935 miles in the past 444 days]
[pushups in 2010: 21,600]
Monday, 1 March 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,234
February 24, 2010
This morning I began writing a story about an interesting man I interviewed. He’s well-educated (MBA and CPA), and for the past several years has worked as a chief financial officer for a billion dollar company. But some bad decisions he made with regard to personal expense accounts resulted in his two year prison sentence.
The more stories I hear about white-collar offenders, the more convinced I become about the need for ethics training in society. A few days ago I wrote a blog about changes in the sentencing laws that would provide consideration for corporations that offer programs designed to reduce white-collar crime. I suggested that my friend Justin Paperny expand his prison consulting business to include such training. I look forward to offering what I’ve learned about the motivations and pressures that bring so many professionals to prison.
After my exercise this morning I joined the other TOAD members and our sponsor for a field trip. We drove to a local high school and spoke to a group of 200 students between the ages of 12 and 17 about the bad decisions each of us made during our teenage years that resulted in problems with the criminal justice system. I’m hopeful that our messages inspire the students to make better decisions.
One of our TOAD members, Marcos, is only 22 and serves a 10-year sentence. He was not much older than many of the students in the audience. If he thinks about the skills he can develop over the five or six years he has remaining to serve and works to educate himself, Marcos can reenter society as an accomplished man with opportunities to make significant contributions to society. It saddens me that prison authorities do not offer incentives to motivate young prisoners, but I’ll do everything within my power to show them steps they may take to leave prison with skills, resources, and opportunities to succeed. Marcos spoke very well, with powerful honestly. I’m certain he made a connection with the students, and I hope he continues to develop his communication skills.
This morning I ran eight miles, but didn’t do any strength training because of the field trip.
[consecutive running log: 3,888 miles over the past 439 days]
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,233
February 23, 2010
One of the high-level administrators of Taft camp was touring the housing unit today. Since the decision makers of this prison spend most of their time at the adjacent institution (where administrative offices are) I don’t see or interact with them too frequently. Today I approached the man and asked him whether Taft Camp would install an email system for prisoners to use.
Many Bureau of Prisons facilities offer email. Prisoners here who’ve transferred in from Victorville, Sheridan, Herlong, Coleman, Maxwell, Terminal Island among others tell me they had access to email in those facilities. Those who used the BOP email system described how much easier it was to maintain contact with their families and support groups. In the past I’ve read BOP communications indicating that all federal prisons would have email access in place for prisoners by March of 2011. That’s only one year from now, and I was hoping that Taft Camp might bring the service in.
About two years ago, when the current warden began his tenure at Taft, I asked whether he would install the email system for prisoners. “Absolutely not,” he told me. “We won’t be making computers available for inmate use as long as I’m warden.” It wasn’t long thereafter that the warden posted a directive prohibiting prisoners from using typewriters for anything besides “legal work.”
Because of that encounter with the warden, I wasn’t overly optimistic that email services would be coming to Taft Camp. But the man in the suit surprised me. He told me that the executive staff of Taft prison was considering various proposals to bring in email.
I don’t know how long it will take before email services arrive, and I don’t know what type of access prisoners will have to send and receive email messages. Perhaps we can begin before the end of this year—or maybe sooner. I’ll use email to keep closer ties with my family, and to continue preparing for my career upon release. Communicating by email will ease some of my tension as I move through the final years of my sentence, and I know it will help other prisoners at Taft Camp as well.
This morning I ran 10 miles and followed with 600 pushups.
[consecutive running log: 3,880 miles over the past 438 days]
[pushups in 2010: 19,200]
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,232
February 22, 2010
While researching cases in the law library this morning, a newspaper article from last month caught my eye. On 29 January 2010, Gary Fields published an article in The Wall Street Journal reporting that “Corporations facing criminal prosecution could face reduced penalties if they meet standards for tackling white-collar crime at their companies, under changes proposed by the U.S. Sentencing Commission.”
The article goes on to report that under the proposal, corporations could receive credit during sentencing if they have corporate compliance programs designed to combat white-collar crimes. When I read this article, I thought of the wonderful opportunity for my friend Justin Paperny, whom I’ve written about before.
Justin graduated from USC and went on to build a thriving career as a stockbroker at some of Wall Street’s most prestigious firms. A bad decision led to his being charged and convicted of securities fraud, and I met Justin when he served one year here at Taft Camp. During the time he was here, Justin worked diligently to master prison, and he emerged from his term much stronger than when he self-surrendered. He wrote a book (Lessons From Prison) about his experience.
Since Justin returned to society last May, he build a new career that has him speaking on the subject of ethics, and consulting with people who face criminal charges for white-collar crime. After reading the article by Mr. Fields, I thought that Justin could expand his business by offering programs designed to combat white-collar crime for American corporations. He certainly has the expertise and communication skills to design and present effective programs. The frequent reporting of white-collar prosecutions in America suggests that businesses and employees (and shareholders) could really benefit from the valuable information Justin has to offer.
I continue to broaden my understanding of white-collar crime by interviewing and writing the stories of many prisoners who left behind professional or business careers. I’m saddened when I listen to the ways their lives have been disrupted by the crimes they committed. The men with whom I talk frequently say that they would not have made the bad decisions that brought them to prison if they had understood the consequences of their actions. I hope Justin pursues opportunities to educate others by expanding his consulting service for Corporate America—he can teach the lessons he learned and hopefully prevent those people from making their own bad decisions that lead to problems.
This morning I ran 10 miles, and then did 600 pushups and 200 crunches. It was my first full workout since recovering from illness.
[consecutive running log: 3,870 miles over the past 437 days]
[pushups in 2010: 18,600]
Monday, 22 February 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,231
February 21, 2010
On February 16, 2010, the New York Times published an editorial in response to a speech Justice Anthony Kennedy gave on prisons. Justice Kennedy addressed the Pepperdine University School of Law, telling those in his audience that defendants in the United States serve sentences that are eight times longer than sentences imposed on defendants in Europe. When I read the editorial, I wondered what difference a “European” type sentence would have made in my life.
Judge Jack Tanner sentenced me to serve 45 years, but I expect that I’ll spend only 26 years in prison because of good time credits on my sentence. Had I received a sentence in Europe, Justice Kennedy suggested, I would have only served between three and four years.
I began serving my sentence in 1987, when I was 23. By the time I finished my fourth year on prison, I had nearly completed my undergraduate degree. Had I been released then, I could have begun a career, contributed to society in productive ways, and started a family. Instead, according to the cost of incarceration figures cited in the editorial, taxpayers have spent more than $700,000 (thus far) to keep me locked inside prison boundaries. The good news for taxpayers is that they will only have to spend another $113,750 to imprison me for the remaining three and a half years I’m scheduled to serve.
I’ve been working hard to prepare for release since the day my imprisonment began. A funny thing happened along the way. Instead of holding my breath, waiting for relief, I became comfortably numb. Imprisonment no longer has a hold on me. I’ve learned to live inside these boundaries and to find peace within the countless limitations and restrictions. Release could come as scheduled, in August of 2013, or it could come before. Frankly, I don’t care. Prison has become an indelible part of my life and I’m prepared to serve as long as it takes.
What I don’t comprehend is why taxpayers tolerate such excessive and costly terms of imprisonment. Justice Kennedy said that correctional officers’ unions sponsor legislation that leads to long prison terms, but why do taxpayers stand for the costs? During these tough economic times, when budgets for health care, education, and social programs face drastic cuts, why do taxpayers tolerate billions of dollars (and the wasted human lives) that prison systems across extract?
Sponsors of the Criminal Justice page at Change.org invite readers to take action in supporting prison reform and sentencing policies in the federal system. My prison term is nearly complete, but on behalf of more than two million prisoners serving sentences that are far too long, I urge readers to sign on to this effort.
Whatever happens, I’ll keep exercising and preparing for wherever this journey takes me. This morning I ran seven miles and followed the run with 500 pushups. It was an abbreviated workout because today was a visiting day with my wife—we’re both committed to making the most of what we have.
[consecutive running log: 3,860 miles over the past 436 days]
[pushups in 2010: 18,000]
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,230
February 20, 2010
Last night, around 11:00 p.m., I woke up sweating. My hair was wet and my t-shirt felt damp. I stepped down from my rack to change my shirt and noticed that my throat didn’t hurt as much as it had for the past few days. My sinuses were nearly clear, and my headache was nearly gone. I was feeling better.
I went back to bed and slept until 3:04 this morning. My energy level was high and I thanked God for healing me and returning my strength. I climbed down from my rack, gathered my writing gear, and walked to the room where I begin each morning.
I had to catch up on my work. Over the previous two days I wasn’t nearly as productive as I need to be. Today I had to respond to a lengthy letter from my collaborative partner on a project we’re developing. Writing my response took several hours and 10 pages, but the effort was necessary to clarify creative direction and focus. We’re writing a book to help university students and business groups understand the relevance of ethical training.
At six this morning I went outside to exercise. As soon as I took my first steps on the track I knew that I had passed through the worst of my illness. When that cold came on, I worried about it interfering with my continuous streak of running. I didn’t want to break the streak that I’ve been building since December 12, 2008. I’m convinced that regular exercise contributes to my good health. I was thankful to finish 10 miles this morning and follow that run with 300 pushups.
While eating dinner this evening I sat with Tom, a new prisoner who recently self-surrendered. He lived near Seattle but had worked as a CFO for a large, privately held company based in Alaska. Before self-surrendering Tom read about Taft through my journal entries, and during dinner this evening he told me how helpful the descriptions of prison life were to his mental preparation for the time he would spend in prison. We’re both assigned to D-Unit, so I look forward to talking with Tom and learning about the experiences that brought him to Taft Camp. It’s always a treat for me to meet new people, especially those who held leadership positions in society. I learn from listening to them.
Since I’m feeling better, I told Carole over the phone that it was a cold, not allergies, that had made my voice sound so raspy. I feel fortunate to have her love and concern, but until I’m home I have to deal with any illnesses on my own.
Saturday, 20 February 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,229
February 19, 2010
Yesterday I wrote about feeling sick in prison, and I’m disappointed to write that my body still feels weak, my sinuses are still clogged, my head, chest, and throat hurt, and I’m coughing without rest. I didn’t step down from my rack until after five this morning. At six I went outside to exercise slowly, but I only ran two miles. I’ve used all of my cough medicine so I don’t have anything to ease the symptoms of this cold as it works its way through my system.
In the real world, I would be able to purchase a variety of over-the-counter medications to help me feel better. Even though I’ve been tired and lying on my rack for hours longer than normal, my aching head and body make restful sleep impossible. With this illness hanging over me I don’t write much. Other than the Bible, I don’t read either. I flipped through my news magazines but only read the headlines and looked at photographs while marking stories I’ll read when my head clears.
I’ve used most of my phone minutes for the month so my calls home are limited to one minute. Carole could hear my raspy voice and she asked if I was sick. Life would be easier if I could live with Carole, and when I restrict myself to my steel rack, as I did yesterday, I think about being with her. It’s very strange that I’m 46, that Carole and I have been a couple for eight years and we’ve pledged our lives to each other, but we’ve never been closer than a prison visiting room would allow. Regardless of how I feel, I’d rather be sitting beside her in a prison visiting room than anywhere else without her.
[consecutive running log: 3,843 over the past 434 days]
Friday, 19 February 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,228
February 18, 2010
Prison isn’t a good place to feel sick. I suppose that a “good place” to feel sick doesn’t exist, but prison rules aggravate illness because access to potential remedies is severely limited.
I’ve been blessed with good health throughout my term. Yet, like all prisoners, I’m surrounded by hundreds of others in close quarters, and we all share bathrooms, eating spaces, and common areas. Viruses and germs spread. On occasion, I become sick.
I’m alone most of the time. Even though other people are always around, I’m as solitary in here as a prisoner can be. When I’m sick I’m even more alone. I don’t enjoy or want to participate in small talk, such as responding to questions about whether I’m feeling okay. I’m sick. I know it will pass. I simply must wait it through.
I felt a cold coming on yesterday morning, around 3:15 a.m., while I was writing. It began with a sore throat and a cough. I stuck with my work because I have responsibilities, and writing makes me feel as if I’m contributing to my family. At 6:00 I went outside to run and I could tell my body was moving slower, but I finished 10 miles.
At 10:00 I had to travel with the TOAD group to speak at a local high school. When I returned in the late afternoon, I was ill. I went to bed at 5:00 p.m. with shivers, a throbbing headache, and a sore throat. I coughed all night. In my locker I had two bottles of cough syrup, some vapor rub, and nasal spray. I didn’t have any pills—the commissary doesn’t allow us to make medication purchases, even over-the-counter medication. Health Services doesn’t provide prescription medication, and I couldn’t see a nurse without going through sick call procedures. By the time I’d get an appointment, I expected my illness would pass. I just toughed it out and waited for the virus to work its way through my system.
I still felt some symptoms of illness this morning. But I wasn’t going to break my long record of exercise. I went outside to run, but after a single mile I returned to the dorm. I slept. I read. I wondered what it would feel like to be sick at home, with my loving wife caring for me. I didn’t tell her I was sick, just that allergies were bothering me when she asked why my voice was raspy. I didn’t want her to worry, and I didn’t want her to tell me not to exercise.
[consecutive running log: 3,841 miles over the past 433 days]
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Prison Journal: Day 8,227
February 17, 2010
Read Michael’s daily journal entry here:
http://prisonnewsblog.com/2010/02/why-prisons-will-always-be-full/
Prison Journal: Day 8,226
February 16, 2010
The room where I spend most of my time is bare. It has a concrete floor, concrete block walls, two windows that look out onto the center lawn of Taft prison camp. Every morning, just before 3:00, I sit at a round, Formica-topped table. I’m alone until I go outside to exercise at 6:00. I love the quiet solitude.
When I go outside to exercise, the sky is still dark and the morning air is cool. I wear gray sweats and a knit cap. Instead of radio headphones, I use Styrofoam earplugs. I used to enjoy the sound of gravel crunching beneath my steps, but now I prefer to block out the conversations, singing, and sounds of other runners (one prisoner even grunts). The time I spend on the track is sacred, a time for me to reflect on the progress I’m making toward my preparations for release.
I run 63 miles every week and I follow my daily run with hundreds of pushups and abdominal crunches. Exercise keeps me outside, alone with my thoughts, for 2 ½ hours. Then (most days) I return to the dormitory and more solitude.
Some people might find my schedule of solitude monotonous. I embrace it because the time being alone allows me to envision my life after prison. When I am writing or reading, I feel connected to society and distanced from the prison boundaries. This is a world that perpetuates failure, and to break the cycle I choose to separate from the common adjustment patterns that lead so many prisoners into peril.
A prisoner must develop an instinctual skill to read the environment. To emerge from prison successfully, a man must have the right attitude, awareness, and discipline. Every man must choose his own course, set his own goals that harmonize with his values. I need the solitude, especially now as I traverse the final phase of my journey.
This morning I ran 10 miles. I followed the run with 600 pushups.
[consecutive running log: 3,830 miles over the past 431 days]
[pushups in 2010: 17,200]
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
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