I'm a nice guy. I mean my friends think I'm a really nice guy. I get along with most everyone I meet. I open doors for women; I help anyone who looks to be in need; I serve as a mentor to men on parole and probation. I go to church. I tithe. I love my kids.
In the past six years since my arrest and conviction, I have probably met a few hundred new people, and have become good friends with some of them. But I lost ten times that many friends.
Being a nice guy isn't enough. When you tell people you are a felon, no matter how long you've known them or what kind of relationship you have with them, they become like sand in a gold pan. Your story runs out the bottom taking most of them with it. Only a few nuggets remain, and those are the people who can see past the crime.
I'd like to change that. There are tens of thousands of future felons out there, walking around amongst us. Many of them are good people, living good lives. They love their families, they are loyal to their friends. They are good employees. They believe in God, and may have even accepted his Grace and Christ's salvation. And they will find themselves sitting in a jail cell or a courtroom or a lawyer's office or a family member's arms wondering what the heck went wrong. "How did I get myself into this?" they will ask. "What have I done?" they will scream at themselves in the mirror.
Addictions, anger, depression, and tragedy consume people every day. And many succumb to them, pushing aside their better judgements to ease the pain or feed the anger. Then it happens. Arrested, hand-cuffed, booked, jailed, bonded out, fired, divorced, convicted, sentenced, ostracized, ridiculed, shunned, ignored. These are all consequences of the crime, and I'll be the first to admit that many of them are deserved. If you can't do the time then don't do the crime. That saying holds much truth. Unfortunately it is never comprehended before the crime. It is the quintessential "hindsight is 20/20" saying. Because even if you hear it before you ever commit a crime, the weight of its reality is never realized until after you commit the crime. The time referred to in that saying goes far beyond days, months or years behind bars. You lose your family, friends, job, money, home, car, just about all material possessions you once had. Not to mention your self-esteem, your reputation, your status, or your ability to find work, pay the fines, pay your debts, and pay your dues.
So what do you do when you return to society and try to start over? I shake my head as I try to answer that question. I was once a part of "this side" of society. I was the father and the husband and the friend who wanted to make sure my loved ones were protected from criminals. To be honest it made me feel safe to see that someone was arrested for a crime. It made me pull my loved ones a bit closer and thank God they were safe, and pray that they remained safe from all the bad elements out there. It angered me that the prisons were overflowing with criminals, but I felt good that so many of them were behind bars. "They deserve what they got." I would say. Whether I was referring to someone serving time or coming out, if hard times fell upon them, they deserve what they got.
That's how we feel, deep down inside. It makes us cringe to know that there are so many bad people out there, and that so many of them are coming out of prison and back into society. Nearly 1,600 people are released from prison every day in the United States (1). One in 31 U.S. adults are in prison, on probation or parole (2). The United States has the highest per capita rate of incarceration of any other country in the world (3). That's a lot of felons, folks. Chances are good that you know a felon or have been directly affected by one. Chances are good that someone you know will be convicted of a felony in the future. Chances are good that you will have an opportunity to decide whether you will accept them back into your community. And chances are good that you will choose not to.
That's not a knock on anyone reading this, it's just the way it is. But there's something to consider. Those felons were people before their crimes. They had friends and loved ones and problems and blessings. And then they screwed up. And once that label is affixed to their forehead, their past blessings are lost, and their admirable qualities fade in the shadow of their sins. But after the crime, when they return to the society they let down, they are still people. They still want friends. They still want to be loved. They want to belong. They want to do right again. They want things to be different. They want a second chance.
I'm on "the other side" of society now. I'm a felon. I have been called many things since my crime, and none too positive. But I am changed. I'm giving back. I want friends, and I want to be loved again. I stand on the opposite side of the window as you, and it is an undesirable place to be. I can see you, but I cannot join you.
There is never a dull moment here, although sometimes I wish for one.
(1) The Sentencing Project, "Prisoners Re-entering the Community". www.sentencingproject.org
(3) World Prison Population List. 7th edition. By Roy Walmsley. Published in 2007. International Centre for Prison Studies. School of Law, King's College London.
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