Do I Even Believe in the Death Penalty?

I got three letters this time from Garry. He sent me our typical letter, an Easter card, and a beautiful drawing of Jesus with the crown of thorns and a tear in his eye. I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t believe in Jesus, or God, or any religion at all–he’s very religious and spiritual. I wouldn’t want to make any trouble or anything. I don’t lie to him, of course–I just don’t mention religion at all. It’s ironic, I guess. I mean, the program is through a church I’m not a part of, but they didn’t ask about my religious beliefs or anything when I signed up, so I assume it’s not a problem.

I found myself staring at the drawing for a while–tracing the perfectly drawn lines–it’s amazing what he can do with a simple red pen.

His letter was typical, I guess. He told me about the corrupt cops he knew–I guess to make me feel better about Ryan’s situation, but it didn’t. It just made me more mad to see just how many corrupt cops there are. Are we supposed to feel safe or targeted? I wrote back to Garry and after I was done praising him for his art, I told him all was almost clear for Ryan. It’s still fucked up he has to pay fines for something he didn’t do, but at least he’s not a felon and won’t have to put it on future job applications.

And then I did it.

In a very round about way, telling him of course there’s no pressure to answer, and that I’m sorry if it’s too soon or too uncomfortable to ask, but what eventually did get him caught and convicted? As soon as I wrote the words I got very very nervous. But I feel like I need to know now–like once I know it’ll be out there and that would be that. There would be no more questions and we’d finally have complete trust and honesty with one another.

Apart from Ryan and my family, I only ever talked about him with my friend Anna, and that happened yesterday. She didn’t judge me like my parents and siblings had–she just listened and seemed really interested.

We started talking about death row in general. She didn’t know how long prisoners had to sit and wait to die. I don’t really know either, but I knew it was years and years. Garry said he was already locked up for fourteen years–I still don’t know how long he has left–and I don’t know that I even want to find out. I don’t have “strong” feelings for the man–that would be absurd, we’ve only sent a few letters back and forth. But knowing he’s going to die in like five years, two years, a few months–I’d feel very bad and awkward. What do you say to someone when you know they’re going to die?

Anna and I also talked about whether or not we even believe in the death penalty. I have no idea if I do. I mean, I consider myself to be very liberal, so I’d like to say I wouldn’t want to see anyone die, regardless of the situation, but in my heart I don’t think that’s’ right. There are some people out there who are just sick and disturbed and they can’t help themselves and they can’t change–like the guy from the Aurora, CO Batman shooting. I believe whole heartedly that he should die for what he did to those people.

But then again, why do I feel like that guy should be killed but someone who killed one person or two should have life without parole? I guess for me it’s situational, I don’t know. That’s why I can’t take a stand on either side. I want to see murderers punished severely for what they do–but I also don’t want to see more killing. I’m always on the fence about almost all political issues, which gets annoying. I spend too much time in my head for my own good. Life would be simpler if I could just make up my mind!

But as I’ve worried before, obviously since Garry’s on death row and has been for fourteen years–clearly he’s a killer.

Ryan suggested a few weeks ago, and I agreed, that he’s probably in a gang. He’s from LA and said he’s known some of the guys he’s locked up with for over twenty years, even though he’s only been on death row for fourteen. His art is graffiti style–which also makes sense. If this is the case, maybe I can give him the benefit of the doubt…at least until I get his next letter. Maybe he got roped into a gang killing or something–maybe he didn’t actually kill anymore, but was just at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. Maybe.

Garry’s letter also conveyed a lot of peace. He seems content with where he is and content with his future. He says he’ll be reunited with his freedom before long. It was sad and hopeful at the same time. It made me uncomfortable–I still don’t know how to feel.

But What Did He Do?

I got another letter from Garry today. It amazes me at how happy he always seems. I learned he was on death row for fourteen years, but knew some of the guys in there for over twenty years. This makes me think he was/is in a gang, so although I still know he’s a murderer, at least he’s probably not a serial killer. He told me I can ask him anything and he wouldn’t be offended, but I’m still so nervous! I don’t think I’m scared of offending him, or making him uncomfortable, I think I’m afraid of knowing; even though my imagination’s probably worse. Is it wrong that I’m hoping he’s a gang member? I feels wrong.

With his pleasant letter, I got a really amazing drawing of a girl. He’s very talented–I wonder if he always had that talent or if it came with fourteen years of solitude with nothing to do other than practice. If I was locked up in a cell twenty-four hours a day, I wonder what I’d do to kill time; I’d probably read, write, and draw, but he said they didn’t get many good books. I guess those huge prison libraries you see in the movies are just for that; either that or the death row inmates just don’t have access to them. I want to send him a book, but I wouldn’t know what he would enjoy, not yet at least.

I wrote back as soon as I read the letter. I remarked a bit in response to what he wrote to me, but then I began writing about how my Aunt Angie’s death affected me and about my boyfriend, Ryan’s, arrest. There’s only a handful of people who know and who I can talk to freely about it, but for some reason I know I could trust him. Besides, who would he tell? Other death row inmates that have no real effect on my life whatsoever? It’s very relieving to have someone you can virtually tell anything to, without judgement, because no matter what I do, or Ryan, or anyone I write to him about, he’s always done worse.

I’ve decided in my next letters I’ll get the balls to ask him what he did and how long he has left, even though I’m terrified. I could easily just Google his name and probably find out, but I respect him too much, I’d rather hear it from him. That’s crazy; I respect a death row inmate. There’s so many things that are weird and uncomfortable about this whole thing. it’s like I’m thinking and feeling things I’ve never thought I would think or feel about a killer. It’s unnerving sometimes. I forget he even killed someone, like I don’t even want to believe it, but deep down I know no one gets sentenced to death row for not killing someone, or more than one.

My sister, Samantha, saw my letter at home before my mom brought it to me. She called me and started asking me a million questions. For some reason her tone really pissed me off, like she was mocking me or something. I just felt very put off by the whole conversation. Then she, like my dad, claimed she wants to do it too. I wonder why I got mad, though. Maybe I’m just embarrassed. Of what though? I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s actually pretty interesting if you think about it. Not many people you run into have a death row pen pal.

Writing to a Prisoner

I started writing to a prisoner on death row a few months ago. One of my old co-workers did it, and I’ve been thinking about it for a while. When I signed up for the site, it said it would take a year to match me up with a pen pal–but I got my first letter only two months later.

It arrived in the mail at my parents house while I was away to Ramapo. My dad found it and texted me–joking around that he was my boyfriend and I should invite him to my grandmother’s for Thanksgiving dinner. Even though he was making jokes, after he said he wanted to do it and took my side when my mom voiced her very strong opinions against it.

When I finally went home to get the letter–I panicked a little bit. Garry*, my pen pal, is on death row at San Quentin. SAN QUENTIN? A few weeks earlier I hadn’t even heard of the place, but then Joyce Carol Oates came to read at our school, and one of her pieces was inspired by her time teaching there. She gave a really rough description of the maximum security prison, so I understood it was a big deal. That’s when it finally hit me, I guess–this guy killed someone, maybe more than one person. Why else would he be on death row? Why wasn’t I scared to find out?

In addition to Garry’s introduction letter, the organization sent me a generic welcome letter with rules, guidelines, suggestions, etc. They warned me that the prisoners may ask for money, which worried me more than it should have. I wanted to believe this person was just looking for friendship and not trying to get anything out of me. Of course in the two letters I’ve since received from Gary, he had not once asked me for anything besides companionship and a photo so he knew who he was talking to.

In his first letter, he included a picture of himself for me. The letter was just about how he’s been searching for a pen pal–he was born in Cali in 1960. That was unexpected. He’s three years older than my dad–he could have kids my age, older. Apart from that he seemed nice enough–but how nice can a man on death row really be, right?

So I wrote my first letter (ever). I introduced myself back, tried asking harmless questions—what did he do for fun? What’d he do for his birthday/Thanksgiving/any plans for Christmas? I wanted to ask how many people he killed, but I didn’t want to scare him away–imagine that, I was worried I’d scare away a murderer–a 22 year old college student from New Jersey who cried when she hit and killed a squirrel. I cried for 20 minutes on the side of the road and I missed my hair appointment. They made me reschedule but I could never go back. I should have asked after my first letter. I had intended to but who knows why I didn’t.

My second letter from Garry came accompanied with a cute little Christmas card. It’s red and has a photo of a rocking horse on the front. The card’s from Hallmark. How did a death row inmate get his hands on a Hallmark Christmas card? There are so many things I want to ask him at this point, but I’m too afraid just yet. The rocking horse on the cover of the card is childish. It made me wonder if he thought of me as a child—or if he killed children.

In the card he referred to the “greatest beauty in life” that can be found in simple things—he was referring to being able to wish me a lovely holiday. What a profound thing to say, right? I was like, damn, this guy’s deep, and sweet—which is weird when I finally snap out of it and remember he’s a killer.

Not only did I get a truly sweet card, I got a two page letter to go with it. He seems religious, which I could have assumed because it’s a popular stereotype that prisoners “find god” in jail. But I’m not religious so I was a little off-put by his wishes that his letter found me “in god’s good care” because he’s doing pretty well himself.

He answered all my questions about his birthday and everything. He said he ate pie, ice cream, and chocolate milk. I felt like he was a child. I kept obsessing over wondering how young he was when he was locked up—was he a kid? 17? 18? I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I ended up asking him in my second letter to him, “how long have you been in prison?” seems fair enough, I thought. I prefaced it with the obligatory “if you feel uncomfortable, please ignore this question,” so who knows how much he’s willing to share?

Then he asked me to send a picture of myself—that seemed fair so I found one from a few years ago to include—it wasn’t easy to find a non-digital photo of myself. He told me he’d draw me a picture, which was nice—I do love art and drawings. I told him to surprise me.

I’m still contemplating whether or not it’s appropriate to ask him why he’s on death row. And if I did, and he told me, would I even be able to believe him? Maybe he’s a sociopath—he’d have to be in order to commit murder—but, then again, he could have been innocent and falsely accused? I watch a lot of TV (Prison Break).

Towards the end of his letter I got a little confused. He alluded that he wanted to be good friends rather than friends, which I didn’t understand, really. Then he asked “if you happen to find a person in your life let me know.” I wonder what he meant by that? So in my response I told him I already had someone in my life for three and a half years. There’s no reason to be dishonest with a man I’m sure I’ll never meet. He asked three times in the letter for a photo—it got a little weird—I’m on the edge of uncomfortable. But I shouldn’t be—he’s locked up. What’s he gunna do? But, then again, he’s locked up on death row, what has he done?