Tag: oakdale chronicles

The Faces Of The Felons – “Mothers”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 2Leave a comment

“Next to God, we are indebted to women – first for life itself, and then for making it worth living.”    Mary McLeod Bethune

 “Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.”    Robert Browning

 “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.”  1 Corinthians 13:7 NLT

   It will soon be 3 years since my mother passed away.

   I miss her smile: that glorious, beautiful smile which seemed to radiate from the very center of her being.

    There are many adjectives I can think of to describe how she would have responded upon hearing of my arrest – and the reason for it. The one that comes to mind that would have been the most devastating to me would be – disappointed. My mother would have been disappointed in me and that would have made her cry.

    Being the reason for my mother’s tears always got to me; it always fractured me a little; it always cracked the veneer of hardness I had allowed, over time, to grow over places inside that used to be warm and soft – friendly places.

    Yes, my mother would have been disappointed, but in spite of that disappointment she would have ultimately set aside the pain it caused, wrapped her arms around me and told me the one thing a mother knows how to say better than anyone – “I Love You.”

    Other than our incarceration and our gender there is only one thing all of those around me share in common; we all have a mother – whether in the flesh, or in our memories – to remember, reflect upon, and honor on the upcoming Mother’s Day.

    Throughout prison compounds all across America, incarcerated artists have busily worked to create a supply of Mother’s Day cards to be “purchased” – with stamps, of course – and mailed to mothers everywhere to convey thoughts and emotions that don’t come easily to a great number of men.

    Men who – perhaps lacking in education or the gift of prose – still wish to convey to their mothers that they do have the capacity for love and gentleness even if it is only allowed to be seen by the one who gave them life.

    We must also honor those women who are the mothers of our children, especially those who are raising small children alone, enduring the hardships and the pain while waiting for the day daddy will come home and rejoin his family and reclaim his responsibilities.

    Yes, our hats need to be lifted for the mothers and wives who fight our battles on the outside while we wait out our sentences on the inside.

    These determined women make formidable warriors and are not to be trifled with. They form support groups to confront – and do battle with – legislators and legislative bodies on our behalf.

    They are often overlooked and usually underestimated, but it is not a wise thing to do either.

    Mothers are a powerful force because they represent love and no more powerful force exists than that.

    My own mother is looking upon me from her place in the Lord’s Kingdom and while I know she is not happy with what I did, I know she is happy with who I am, and I can feel her smile shining on me.

   Funny thing, though: she still has tears in her eyes, but these don’t upset me as I know they are now tears of joy.

   I’ve never understood why she does that, but then, she’s a mother and that’s what mothers do.

   On this Mother’s Day I say, “Thank You Mom,” and I also say thank you to the mothers of my son and daughter. I also thank God for each one of them.

    And to all mothers everywhere – every day should be yours! Thank you, each one, and God Bless You!

“Year One

On By Tony CassonIn Uncategorized, Volume 2Leave a comment

“It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”  Alexandre Dumas

“…instead give yourselves completely to God, for you were dead, but now you have new life.”    Romans 6:13 NLT

   This past year has been spent falling into step with the Lord and learning to trust His wisdom and accept His love and grace. All daunting tasks, one would think, especially anyone who might know me and know how I have lived my life and conducted myself for the last 40 years.

   I am a man now.

   Not a better man, mind you, for I was far too immature, self-indulgent, irresponsible, impulsive, and immoral to dare call myself one to begin with.

   It has been difficult, at times, to stand before you – most of you unknown to me – and peel away layers of myself to reveal what lay beneath.

   It wasn’t always pleasant to see, and it was often painful to do, but I have felt comforted, and guided by the strong hand of God and I truly believe that my words have reached out to at least one person and affected a change.

   All I have wanted is to feel that someone has stopped to think about who they are and what they are doing and caught themselves before their world collapsed and their life – and the lives of everyone around them – was forever altered in a truly horrific way.

    It has been a year of giving thanks to God for every new day I have, for without His intervention I surely would have died on that lonely shower floor, washed in my own blood, to be buried in my sin and shame.

   I found the best of years in the worst of all possible places and the joy of discovery of my manhood, my life, my love of God and my hope for the future at least partly made up for missing the feeling of my arms around those I love and living a “free” life.

   For I know now that when my arms do – finally – embrace them, they will love who I am and will welcome this new person into their lives and their hearts.

    And at that time I will really be free – finally free from the darkness I wrapped around my soul; and free of the inability to forgive myself for mistakes I have made; and free to love who I am.

   And who I am is a child of God who once was lost but now has been found.

“The Faces of Felons: The Face of Richard – In His Own Words”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 22 Comments

 ‘We pardon in proportion as we love”  Frances de la Rochefoucauld

 “For Love is as strong as death, its passion as enough as a grave”  Song of Songs 8:6 NLT

    What you are about to read is more about a triumph of love than the confessions of  a man – much like myself – who got caught up in a moral breakdown of mammoth proportions.

    His wife, his family, his friends; they all seem like remarkable people, but then, Richard himself seems like a remarkable guy.

   Richard is blessed to be loved as he is, not all in here are.

   But this is Richard’s face, and these are Richard’s words:

   “Leaving you today is so hard”

    These are the words of the first letter I received from my wife after I self-surrendered to prison.  She described walking back to the care as wading through molassas. As I was cuffed, she said I smiled at her and she knew everything would be okay.  Now I have to live up to all that.

    When I was arrested I literally prayed I would die.  But God doesn’t always answer our prayers the way we’d like.  Shame, embarrassment, and self-loathing topped the list of what I felt sitting in the Sherriff’s Office hold cell.   How could I have done something so stupid to put my family’s well-being in jeopardy? No good answer came to mind.

   Throughout my arrest, I waited.  I didn’t know what came next.  The phone as broken, the holding cell would hold maybe 20 men: I stopped counting at 60.  Body odor, vomit and only one temperamental toilet turned the wait into the type of punishment I felt I deserved.  Fourteen hours in these conditions was a long time to contemplate one’s future when seemingly no good options exist.

   Unexpectedly, they unlocked the cell and called my name.  It was late at night but my wife met me at the gate to take me in her arms. Her words were “I love you, I forgive you, we’ll get you some help”.  Me?  I just sobbed. 

   I had no right to occupy one more minute of her life.

   When we got home I asked Michelle to kill me.  She told me she took all our guns to her Dad’s house before picking me up.  I asked her to slap my face, kick me in the crotch and throw my sorry behind in the street.  She told me to come to bed so we could spoon.  No way was she letting me off that easy.

   So where does this depth of love come from?  Psalm 8:4 asks this same question of God: “What is man that you are mindful of him. . .?”  Why should this woman shackle her future to the stigma of her husband the felon?

   As I cool my heels in FCI Oakdale, I am coming to the realization my wife may be the most diabolical woman alive: she is holding me to my responsibilities as a husband, father, grandfather.

    Three beautiful daughters, three grandchildren (plus one on the way), her parents, my parents, a whole host of loyal friends and one incredibly special woman are awaiting my release.  The easy route is to cut the offending party loose.  Not these guys.  They expect me to come back home to make this right.  God help me.

    My name is Richard Roy and I thank Tony for this opportunity to contribute to his body of work.

“The Visit – A Visitors Perspective”

On By Tony CassonIn Side Story, Volume 2Leave a comment

     Tony’s article “Faces in the Visiting Room” touches on a subject that happens in prison and detention facilities throughout this great land and around the world on a daily and weekly basis.  In many cases, lives of families are put on hold as they find the means and ways to drive hundreds of miles to visit family and friends on the inside.  The immediate impressions the 1st time a person arrives at the facility – miles of shiny razor wire and chain link fence glistening in the early morning dew, with the sun peering over the tree tops – will either scare the heck out of you, or once the dry heaves stop, provide a sense of calm that everything is not as bad as once envisioned.

     Much like the inmates, each and every visitor had their own story to tell:  while queuing in the 1st line in the parking lot some are willing to talk about how far they traveled, comments on the weather; some relying on their ‘visiting day savvy’ to remind the newbie you can’t wear khaki shorts inside (guilty. . .);  someone else offering to loan you a pair of jeans to avoid the long trip back to the hotel to change;  some opening up a little more about themselves, telling their story before moving to the next  line;  more people joining the conversation while more people arrive and filling the small space beneath the tree, telling you how this facility was better than others; all waiting for the hand from behind the slightly opened door across the lot to wave 10 people into the visitor processing center.  All everyday people, all with a different story that once told begins to sound just like the story a fellow visitor told only moments ago.

    In Tony’s most recent post he mentioned Aaron’s mom and stepdad.  We had the pleasure of meeting them, first through TOC, then email, phone calls and finally in person, when by God’s immense grace He arranged for them to visit the same weekend we did in early April.  Their timely presence was a true blessing as it helped provide a peaceful calm during a very difficult time – truly genuine people with huge hearts who took their time to help us, providing guidance and friendship that made the drive and arrival so much easier.  And they happened to have an extra pair of jeans that were just my size.  Go figure.

    Not knowing what to expect once inside visitor control, it was much like having to process thru an airport before queuing (again) to make the short walk to the actual visitor center (note: the people at the processing center are nicer than those at the airport). A clean, sparse, well kept facility with rows of chairs facing each other – nothing like the vision one carries from the boob tube that depicts a bunch of picnic tables, and no glass wall with telephone handsets to talk (although there was one glass wall/handset thingy off to the side, next to one video station used for, what I assume, more violent inmates, and a separate ‘interview’ rooms, the closest image commonly seen on TV).  A friendly visitor telling us the inmates had to sit on certain sides of the row so the COs could monitor their behavior via the cameras in the ceiling.

    A row of vending machines lined the far wall, awaiting the newly arrived people who again queue up to load their quarters into the machine (only quarters, no bills, all in a Ziploc bag, the more seasoned visitor using a fancy zippered bag – have to remember next visit), purchasing frozen double cheeseburgers, bbq wings, steak sandwiches, mini-pizza – reportedly something really good – and then queuing again around lunch time, warming them in a single tiny microwave, perched on a low shelf near the bathroom doors.  You might recognize the pattern – kind of gives you a sense of life as an inmate – queuing up, waiting for everything.

    I must say I did not recognize Tony when he walked thru the door.  It might have been the fact he was actually wearing something other than a t-shirt and shorts (his usual attire ‘at home’), instead wearing the same khaki shirt and pants and black boots as everyone else who walked thru the door; it might have been the graying goatee, or the baggy uniform.  Looking different than he did since he self-surrendered a year ago April – an expectation one would believe true given a year ‘away’.   Then he smiled when he saw us – “there he is!” – can’t forget that smile.  Many hugs, so good to hold him again. . . . As always he was full of energy, with stories that were many and full of cheerful and somber anecdotes of his life in the unit. It was so good to see him, hearing first hand he has adapted to life on the inside and was doing well – all things considered.       

    Tony’s astute observation about the young families visiting, the tears, the lap-crawling, is telling of the lives led by many people impacted by the debts paid for the crimes people are convicted.  He said it well – the smiles and laughter of some, the grief of so many others;  as noted in many cases, the blank stares and muted small talk only a few minutes after the visit begins – especially for those whose visits are frequent (something one learns while queuing to enter the visitor center).  This scenario existed both days we visited and one would have to assume this occurs every day across the country.  As much as I love Tony and enjoyed the visit, and as everyone who knows me, I am not much of conversationalist. Sure I can talk about most anything, but – not that I didn’t enjoy 5-1/2 hours of sitting in a hard plastic chair, no book to read, no BB to check, listening to the many stories – I am someone who multi-tasks, never idle, sitting restlessly, watching people interact with others and with themselves.  I did notice the goings-on Tony described during both days we visited.  Real people, real emotions, lives affected.

         As the day progressed and the visits of some concluded, the khaki dressed inmates lined up for ‘inspection’ prior to their return to general population, with a white jumpsuit attired inmate waited for his return to the SHU.  Families queued up one last time for the walk back to the visitor center.  The end of trying day for some; sore backs, long drives home,   extra quarters jingling in the Ziploc bag, ready for the next visit. And I almost forgot the picture – the ‘residents’ at Oakdale can pay for a picture of family taken during visitation.

    Admittedly it was a visit I did not look forward to other than to accompany Kathy, and help her cope with the arrival and deal with many and varied impressions she has carried this past year.  In the end, though, I realize it was something I needed and am so grateful to have made the trip, to have hugged my brother and able to tell him I loved him – in person instead of the limited phone calls now and again. In hindsight, the hugging part is something I know I didn’t do enough of under different and better circumstances. I know and can vouch that Tony’s ok, and certainly in a better place than he was a year ago, even under these extreme conditions.

     The visit – to place the Faces of Felons on real people, in real situations, their families, in a world that does exist.

The Faces of Felons – “Faces in the Visiting Room”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 21 Comment

”Perhaps we cannot prevent this world from being a world in which children are tortured, be we can reduce the number of tortured children”   Albert Camus

“ I long to see you again for I remember your tears as we parted,   And I will filled with joy when we are together again”   2 Timothy 1:4 NLT

He was a clean-cut, well-groomed boy of 10 or 12 and he was sobbing quietly, his face in his hands.  His father sat next to him, holding on to his son and holding back his own tears. With moist eyes, the boy’s mother looked on silently from the chair on the other side of the father.   His older sister rubbed his back affectionately from her seat next to his, as she looked across him at her father with a solemn expression.

I glanced at the father’s face and saw him staring down at the floor with red-rimmed eyes, his expression speaking volumes about the pain he was feeling.

Last  July 15th my son Anthony posted something I had written entitled “Father’s Day Felons”.  In that article I said  “. . . .and while I am convinced – as I have said – that there is some degree of darkness in everyone’s soul, I am equally convinced that there is also some degree of light.  The light of goodness and love, compassion and concern, happiness and joy.”

It was this light that I saw in the father’s eyes as he undoubtedly felt at a complete loss to be able to anything to ease his son’s tortured soul – tortured over his incarceration and absence from his life.

Albert Camus probably had a different kind of torture in mind when he wrote the words I quoted, but if that man’s son were to be asked if not having a daddy home was a form of torture I am certain the answer would be an emphatic “YES!”.

This moving scene took place on a spectacularly beautiful Spring day here in Oakdale in the visiting room where I was able to spend a glorious several hours spread over 2 days with my sister, Kathy and her husband, Larry.

It was the 1st visit I have received since arriving here just over one year ago and I still thank God daily for it as it has renewed me in many ways.

The scene with the boy took place on the second day of their visit which also happened to be my sisters birthday.  I’m grateful she chose to spend her day with me, surrounded by approximately 140 other people, and odd mixture of inmates, their friends and family, and the correction officers.

The previous day we visited about 5-1/2 hours and, as luck would have it, my friend Aaron was also blessed with a visit by his mom and stepdad.  As I have said previously, Aaron is a good person, so it came as no surprise that his mother was extremely nice too, as was his stepdad.  Super people and If I took too much time away from you and your son, I apologize.

For whatever reason – perhaps it was just because there was so much to talk about that 1st day – I didn’t really observe the dynamics of the families around us as much as I did on the second day (Ed Note:  I did notice the dynamics and they very much the same on both days).

I suppose the scene with the young boy crying caught my attention because they were sitting very close to us.  This seemed to have heightened my awareness and really caused me to start looking around and contemplate all that was happening around us.

There was, of course, much smiling and laughing and lap-crawling going on in addition to any tears that were being shed.  More than one inmate had multiple children visiting and they seemed intent on climbing – and holding-on to Daddy as long as time permitted.

For myself, it was rejuvenating, refreshing, revitalizing.  I had a good time and I love them both for doing it.  Had it been one – or both – of my children here, I don’t know.  Instincts tell me It would have been both wonderful and painful at the same time.  Besides – they are both well beyond lap-crawling age, buy if they were here and that’s what they wanted I would have had to say “bring it on!”.  Till we got yelled at, of course.

This is not a good place to be even on the best of days, but to have to see your young children in  here has got to tear at the very core of your being.

I pray for all of the families I saw – mine included – that God protect them and blesses them while their father-husband-brother-son-uncle-friend remain behind bars.

For the little boy I saw whose tears reached into my heart, I will say a special prayer. I pray, son, that the Lord helps you to smile each day, knowing your daddy loves you and that you will soon feel his arms around you on a daily basis,  I pray that you will forgive him for not being there for you and I pray that you will one day understand his pain.

I also pray that you will not repeat your father’s mistakes and that you will grow up knowing the Lord and trusting in his wisdom, love and grace.

And for Larry, Kathy, Joy and Dave,  and for all the other people who travel the miles, sacrifice the time and money (some driving long distances week, after week, after week. . .) and enduring the waiting, lines and discomfort of the visitation experience – for all of you I say prayers of thanks for the gift of love you share with someone who needs all the love they can get.

And perhaps all of you will join me in praying for all the children everywhere who cry themselves to sleep because daddy isn’t there to tuck them in.

Then let us all pray together that the Lord help those men and women whom we entrust to govern our society find the wisdom, courage, strength and desire enough to do what is right and seek intelligent and effective alternatives to mind-numbing years of separation and isolation from family, friends, and society unless and individual is violent, has harmed someone physically, or poses a threat to society as a whole.

Money spent on monitoring, treating, rehabilitating and education is a lost more effective than building more rooms for little children to cry in their Daddy’s arms.

“Because We Can!!”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 24 Comments

“The essence of government is power; and power, lodged as it must be in human hands will ever be liable to abuse”    James Madison

“. . . punish the guilty as they deserve.  Acquit the innocent because of their innocence”                 1 Kings 8:32 NLT

My friend Alan was arrested on state charges of ‘illegal videotaping’ – taking digital videos of nude woman in a tanning salon without their knowledge.  Alan had no prior criminal record of any kind and – as part of the investigation – there was nothing illegal found on his home computers when they were seized.

What would have gotten him – at best – a couple of years probation at the state level that quickly turned into a federal case and became a nightmare for Alan and cost his family their home, a business, many personal items and ~$180,000 – just on the material side. On the human side it cost his family and friends a husband, father, brother, son, and friend for the 20 months he was incarcerated.

That 20 months was just the beginning of a 15 year sentence he received in his trial.  But when the 5th District Court of Appeals heard his appeal they reversed his conviction stating that he was not guilty of the crime with which he was charged and the case never should have gone to a jury.

But wait a minute!!  How did this matter become a federal crime in the first place?

One of the short, 44-second videos found on the camera seized by police was of a young woman who – it was learned by police – was 16 years old at the time she was videotaped.

The U.S. Attorney stepped in because her pubic region was visible on the right edge of the frame for 1.5 seconds as she laid down in the tanning bed and decided that this constituted ”the production of child pornography”, and became the genesis of the charge. Alan was convicted and sentenced to a mandatory 15-year sentence by a misguided jury in West Texas – after he had been offered and refused a plea deal of 8 years. He, his attorney, and his family were all convinced no jury would see it for more than the distasteful voyeurism that it was.

Alan’s attorney (as well as Alan and his family) were stunned at the charge and at the government involvement and when he asked the US Attorney why they were getting involved and prosecuting this as a federal crime, was given the response “because we can!!”

It seems the mere fact that the digital camera used was manufactured in China, it enabled the US Government to step in and superseded the state and prosecute the case.

The exact “because we can” statement was reflected by another US Attorney several months ago in an extensive “USA TODAY” article on abuses by federal prosecutors.

Was Alan wrong in what he did?  Absolutely! But his behavior certainly did not warrant the government’s position of ‘let’s completely and utterly destroy this man’s life, his family’s lives, and take a productive (although certainly morally misguided man at the time) member of society out of circulation at considerable taxpayer expense’, and let’s do it for say – 15 years – and when logistically thinking, people ask why, we’ll just answer, “because we can”.

Now, I am sure (at least I hope I’m sure) that the vast majority of federal prosecutors, judges and federal law enforcement professionals are conscientious hardworking people who work many cases hand-in-hand, and risk their lives to protect the public from the violent terrorists, drug cartels and armed bank robbers, combined with the people who defraud the government – and in the end the public – out of billions and billions of dollars annually.  This group of public servant as a whole must keep all of the aforementioned individuals busy, and their efforts to stop the people are appreciated.

But when it comes to legislating morality, what a conundrum they face!  The public clamors for more and more sex of everything we see, hear, and do. It is everywhere, always just around the corner.  Sex, nudity, vulgarity, and immortality are now commonplace and accepted as a part of daily life as eating and breathing, and often comes before the former and makes the latter a little more difficult.

The monster is out of the cage and the US Government tries to convince people that they can get it back in the cage by locking up every person with a breakdown in morality – and do it under the guise of protecting the public from sexual predators.

The reality is that the only thing that is being accomplished is that we are filling our federal prison beds with formally productive members of society who could be dealt with much more effectively – and inexpensively – through therapy conducted in conjunction with home confinement.

Innocent families are being destroyed by the thousands as fathers and husbands (and in some cases, mothers) are being given prison terms of 5, 10, 15 years – even 25 years – for simply looking at pictures.  While many of these pictures are sickeningly horrific at worst, and shameful at best, the attraction often lies in an addiction to online pornography in general that turns into a morbid curiosity in regard to child pornography specifically.

This is by no means an attempt to exonerate myself or anyone else guilty of possessing pictures that shouldn’t exist in the first place, but then you don’t really believe you can eliminate the drug problem by locking up all of the drug users, do you?

Typically, the federal government passes out sentences from 5-10 years for simple possession of child pornography.  Now, to put things in perspective, consider this:  Recently, in Carbondale, Illinois a man was sentenced to 5 years in state prison for setting fire to a house in which 4 children were killed.

The news media is filled with despicable violent acts which are punished by ridiculously low sentences while otherwise non-violent people are filling federal prison beds at an alarming rate.

In January of 2009, I was working at the motel I would eventually live at. My mom and step-dad had both passed away the previous year and I was still living at their home while we waited to sell it.  I had not been arrested yet, but my computer had been seized by the FBI almost a year earlier.

In the early morning of January 12, I was robbed at the motel and was beaten severely with a baseball bat.  The person who did it was caught and was arrested shortly before he went to trial.  Leading up to his trial it was necessary to disclose my situation to his lawyer and to the state prosecutor who was, of course, representing me.

When I met with her and explained everything, she was quite understanding.  I remember she asked what I was “looking at” as far as time, and I told her about 4 years.  She said, “well, if you have to go to prison, you’re better off in a federal prison.  The bad news is, had this been a state charge, you’d get probation – you would never see the inside of a prison”.

Along those same lines, Jackie Onassis’ half-brother, James Auchincloss pleaded guilty in Medford, Oregon to two counts of a state charge equivalent to federal charges of possession of child pornography.  He received a sentence of 6 months in jail and 3 years probation.  Of course, he will undergo therapy and that is as it should be.  If a bigger problem is discovered, it can be dealt with.

(Editor Note, derived from several credible internet sources: “Jamie” as he was known to his friends is a repeat offender who was finally indicted on federal charges of child pornography, including two felony counts of first-degree encouraging child sexual abuse.” Recently Jamie was arrested for violating his probation, and is it is believed to have violated the terms of his supervision yet again. The article goes on to say that “as part of his negotiated plea agreement with Jackson County prosecutors, Auchincloss acknowledged possessing and distributing photographs of prepubescent children, images prosecutors described as lewd and lascivious in nature).

“Because we can!” should never be a reason, or a motivation, for doing something, no matter how good the intent may or may not be.

“Because we should!” would be more in line with what the country stand for and what is morally right as a motivating factor.

After all, if we are going to destroy people for being morally wrong, shouldn’t we at least morally right in doing it?

Numbers 6:24-26 NLT

Transparency is My Solution

On By Tony CassonIn Side Story3 Comments

When my dad entered Oakdale, I had two options: hide reality from people around me, or be completely transparent about the situation.

Perhaps the best and worst part about me is my natural tendency to trust people. Instead of making people work for trust first, I give them a healthy amount with which to play–they can either build on that trust or let it crumble.

Friends and coworkers often ask me about my dad; they’ll find out about our blog or hear one of my joking comments and want more information. I tell them what happened. I tell them about his attempted suicide in 2009, and how I flew to Austin, Texas, alone for a Longhorns football game–the one he and I was supposed to see together. I tell them about giving him a kiss and a hug at Dulles International Airport before I flew back to Seattle–days before he walked through Oakdale’s doors. I tell them what he was charged with. I tell them how he’s doing–quite well–and how I’m handling it. I lay everything on the table when they say, “What happened to your dad?”

How can someone hit you if you’re giving him a hug?

Some folks may choose to stay quiet and reduce any risk of getting hurt; vulnerability is a terrible feeling. But I can’t do that. Humans are distinguished from other things because of their emotions and how they are able to control those emotions, and I believe story and truth has greater impact when a person’s emotions get involved. Can it have consequences? Yes. Do I put myself in a risky position? Yes. But I didn’t do what my dad did, and my knowing that is enough for me to be OK with people knowing the whole situation.

Societal reputation is something on my mind at all times. I’m seeking a career in public relations, and reputation is a big part of the job. People have asked me if I think my easy admittance of everything puts my career at risk, and I say, “maybe.” After all, a person might hear my story and think that since I’m Tony’s son we’re the same people. The reality, however, is that I don’t think about that; I love my dad and everything he has done to make himself an improved person. Growth gets my respect, and growth during hard times is worthy of storytelling–but who else will tell the story?

I’m transparent because it’s necessary, and I’m transparent because I’m strong enough, as is my dad.

An Anniversary (of sorts)

On By Tony CassonIn Side StoryLeave a comment

It’s been a year since I walked through the gates here at Oakdale and I must say, I am surprised at how quickly time has passed. It will never pass quickly enough, of course (until I am out and then it will pass TOO quickly), but it does go by. Perhaps that is a testament to the people I have met and how the time here is utilized. At any rate, I thank the Lord for each new day, and I pray for continued patience until it is time to hug those I love outside of these fences.
Speaking of hugs: My sister, Kathy, and my favorite brother (in law), Larry, are coming to visit me next weekend. That will be a welcome break in the sameness. We’ll be taking pictures, so when I get them back, maybe I’ll share.
Thanks for reading. Sorry things have been slow. I slow down to ease then burden I place on those who try to help me.

“The Faces of Felons: The Face of Friendship, Faith and Freedom”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 2Leave a comment

“Man is unrest, but God is just: and finally justice triumphs”  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

My friend Alan is a free man once again, enjoying the love of his wife, children, grandchildren, and the rest of his family and friends after being imprisoned for 20 months for something the 5th District Court of Appeals in New Orleans said, “never should have been brought to a jury”.

I am – along with others here in Oakdale – ecstatic that he has rejoined his loved ones.

Even though the price paid by Alan and his family was incredibly high and should never have been paid, I have thanked God often for placing him here with us.  I have also thanked God for returning him to his family and friends.

No individual looks back with fondness on time spent incarcerated. Less so those who shouldn’t have been there in the first place.  As the reality of his freedom sinks in and the joy of hugs and kisses from those who love him warms his heart and soul, I pray he remembers those here who grew to cherish – and often depend on – his friendship, his counsel, his humor, and disposition.

We will miss him, but there is not a single person who new him who wasn’t elated at the news of his victory.

It was a victory of faith. Not faith in the system that placed him here in the first place, but faith in God. Faith that the Lord would work his will to undo the wrong wrought by the hand of men.

Alan is not perfect and mistakes were made; of this there is no doubt.  But that can wait for another time.  I have started – and restarted – this segment several times.  I had a tendency to gravitate too much towards the injustice of it all, but there will be time for that later as well.

For now though, I just want to share with a little about Alan – who he is, and what he meant to myself and others who were (are) fortunate enough to call him a friend.

I owe him a debt of gratitude I will not likely ever be able to repay..  My family doesn’t know him, but they know of him and as the month – and the years – go by they will see his influence on my character, my outlook on life, and my purpose for the future.

Most importantly, they will see that he helped me find my footing on my walk with the Lord and Alan – more than anyone – taught me that it is right to talk about God and he also helped me understand that even I could do it and not feel funny or embarrassed about it.

Alan is about 5’8”, I guess and is of medium builde although his 20 months of prison life added a roundness to his belly that I’m sure will disappear faster than it took to obtain it.  He’s from Texas and sounds like it.  His impersonations of Ron White (the Blue Collar Comedian) are only missing the cigar and the Scotch! Ok,  and the hair.  He wore his hair close to his scalp, as I do, and for a man in early 50’s looks a little younger.

We me at our first prison ‘job’ in CMS (construction and maintenance services) and I put quotations around ‘job’ because we really just sat on a bench in a shop– like building and do no work except that which was required to rearrange our position to shift the load of our butts on the wooden bench.

Alan played Sudoku and I became interested. He showed me how to do it then he would tear off paper from his Sudoku book for me to work on.

We ‘graduated’ to crossword puzzles. One from the Dallas News – the “Commuter” – was our favorite.

We tested the waters of friendship and found them to be warm enough to venture a little further from shore every time we talked.

Alan is a very warm, affable, easy-going individual with a knack for humorous story-telling unsurpassed by anyone else I have met her – or anywhere else for that matter.

We laughed a lot – perhaps more than we should given our situation.  But we did it to survive and the things we talked about didn’t always make us laugh.  We also touched nerves that were exposed and wounds that were raw as we shared our thoughts about who we were and why we acted in the manner we did.

My friend is not a monster.  He is a kind, gentle loving man and his belief in God and his devotion to his word runs deep.  That he lost his way a bit is not going to be challenged by him, but I believe he is balk walking with God where he belongs, and where he is comfortable.

While in Oakdale, Alan was active with the church choir and with bible study groups.  Many people do things in prison because it looks good in their “report card” or “programming” in prison vernacular.   In Alan’s case he did what he loved to do, and what he believed was necessary for him to correct the weakness – the flaw – that caused him to wander from the path of righteousness in the first place.

Perhaps,  in order to be forgiven by society for tacitly immoral behavior, one needs to be President of the United States.  I hope his not the case and that Alan and his family are allowed to go on and try to rebuild what was lost.  The loss was enormous, and not just limited to finances, although the financial cost was high- he estimates about $180,000.00!  Plus, he lost his business & his wife had to sell the home and many of their belongings.

Ultimately, his family’s faith will make everything all right, just as their faith served them well in getting him out in the first place. God’s will was done and Alan himself wrote to me giving full credit and glory to God for getting him out – not the government, nor the courts.  After all, it was the government and the court that put him in here the first place.

There will be those who are going to say “but he broke the law!”.  True, but you don’t shoot a squirrel with a nuclear warhead. (Well, maybe in Louisiana!).  You don’t punish a moral breakdown by destroying a family and an otherwise very good man.  No – you deal with things in sensible, constructive, rehabilitative ways.

All that aside, I can say it is a good day because my friend is no longer here to tell me stories, help me learn about God, or be there to listen as I tell him news – good or bad – about things happening in my life.

He’s no longer here to save a seat in church on Sunday morning, or to talk about the board game that we were developing that is centered on prison life, always in a humorous way.

He’s no longer here to share his thoughts on life, his family, God or to listen to my thoughts.  However, even though he has

He’s no longer here to share his thoughts on life, his family, God or to listen to my thoughts.  However, even though he has physically left he is spiritually here – for me anyway – in an even bigger way.

While he may have worn the face of a felon for 20 months, he now has the face of a friend whose faith has gained him his well-deserved freedom.

Numbers 6:24-26

“Faces of Felons – The Face of Evil”

On By Tony CassonIn Volume 21 Comment

“For you are the children of your father, the Devil, and you love to do the evil things he does”                                  John 8:44 NLT

“God bears the wicked – but not forever”  Cervantes

It was the eyes the sent the first fingers of cold climbing up my spine.  The airs on the back of my neck stood up, as of they were now on alert, cautiously observing the presence of something sinister that was being projected through the two small circles swimming in those pools of pale blue that were devoid of any warmth at all.

He appears harmless enough at first; a short, slightly stooped pale man of about 40 with shoulder length, greasy looking hair that he usually wears pulled back in a ponytail.  He strides when he walks, always making me think he is angry.  His voice is moderately deep with a pronounced drawl reflecting his upbringing in Kentucky – in the backwoods of Kentucky, not the bluegrass.

He wears prison-issue glasses which is, I suppose, why I didn’t get the full effect of his eyes at first.  The glasses have thick brown plastic frames and – due to his poor eyesight – the lenses are very thick as well. Adding to the distortion is the bifocal bottom portion of the lenses.

The first time he took his glasses off and looked at me, I felt myself tense as I shivered inside, feeling like icy fingers clawed their way up my spine.

If you saw Jurassic Park you will remember seeing the eye of the Raptor through the door window as he peered into the kitchen where the children hid, trembling in fear, consumed by terror.   Those are the eyes I speak of.  They are his eyes and I cannot shake the feeling that they are the eyes of a predator.  Eyes that are pure evil.

It is true that the bible tells us not to judge other lest we be judged. But I shall quote H.L. Mencken here, who once wrote “it is a sin to believe evil of others, but it is seldom and mistake.”

Tomorrow I will ask the Lord’s forgiveness, but for now I am compelled to tell you a little more about this face of evil.

I have known this individual – let’s give him a name; I’ll call him ’Billy’ – since I first arrived here almost a year ago, and my thoughts about him never progressed beyond a queasy discomfort whenever I found myself in his presence, until he acquired a new ‘cellie’ about 6 months ago who turned out to be a rather likeable fellow.  In the course of extending friendship to the new guy, time was unavoidably spent in the company of the other.

We try not to probe too deeply into the other people’s business unless encouraged to do so. As far as Billy was concerned though, I was curious because I had heard a disturbing things about him, but nothing directly from him. So, one day I asked him point blank (I have been called ‘blunt’, I prefer straightforward), “have you ever admitted to being, or been diagnosis as a pedophile?” ‘Billy’s’ response was nothing more than an eerily steady gaze from behind those thick lenses. After about 10 seconds of silence I told him I took his silence as an answer.  I told him we are very different and, like it or not, he was the reason myself and others were so hated in prison, and in society.

It was just a statement of opinion, not an emotional or impassioned discourse, but I was met, again, with the silent stare.

After this “exchange”, beyond common courtesy, we didn’t have a lot of contact.  He shared a room with someone I like so a certain amount of contact was inevitable.  Life went on, as it tends to do, until a few months later when he got in a scrape with a couple of D.W.B.s.  All 3 went to the hole.  None of the 3 were missed.

Almost 4 months later – only a few weeks ago – I was walking through the unit and someone informed me that ‘Billy’ was out of the hole and was visiting in the room of someone else I knew.  Out of courtesy, I stopped to say hello, and – again – out of courtesy I said “glad you got out”, and automatically extended my arm to shake hands.

The affect that simple gesture had on me was astounding.  It was like I had grabbed hold of death itself as a feeling of pure evil rippled through the damp, icy chill of his soft hand into mine, and spread rapidly through my body, leaving a trail of unexplainable and indescribable fear and loathing in its wake.

Later that day, in speaking with others that I knew, I described the sensation I had when ‘Billy’ and I shook hands.  No one was surprised.

No more was said or thought about the incident or ‘Billy’, until the wee hours of the morning – probably around 2 or 3 AM – when he invaded my sleep in a dream (nightmare?). All I remember of it with any clarity is that we were in a struggle, and I was trying to handcuff him to prevent his from doing something horrible.  As I pulled on his wrists, he suddenly slipped my grip and my arm actually flew backward in my sleep and struck the bar covering the narrow window next to my bunk.  I awoke with a start and cried out as the impact hurt.  I was breathing hard, as if just actually going through a struggle and I was slightly damp from sweat and totally weirded out by the dream.

Apparently I hadn’t disturbed my ‘cellie’ for I listened and his soft snoring appeared uninterrupted.

‘Billy’s’ actual charges are no different from my own, and perhaps it is wrong for me to presume him capable of anything worse than what he has already done.  I possess no powers of prophesy or clairvoyance – I have no way to ‘see’ any future evil on his part, but he has served most of his sentence and will be released sometime in March.

Whatever makes me feel the way I do, I just have a very uncomfortable feeling that he will be heard from again, and I am already sad for whomever is involved in his return to notoriety.

In the novel and movie “The Green Mile” there was also a ‘Billy’ and when he reached through the bars and grabbed John Coffey, John recoiled in horror as he ‘saw’ in his mind who ‘Billy’ was and said “you a bad man”.

Again, I make no claims of clairvoyance, but surely someone somewhere got a chill – some feeling – some sense of evil or horror from coming into contact with a face that was evil.

Hopefully, I’m wrong, but my feelings are shared by others.

May we all be proven wrong.