Chapter 12: Proverbs 4:19 - The Cell Next Door

The way of the wicked is like darkness;  They do not know what makes them stumble. 

The chapel was packed on this particular night, and we had two guest speakers.  Our choir was really good.  The choir was made up of Dodge inmates.  This guy, Fletcher, was blind, bald-headed, and black.  He was the lead singer, and his voice was shockingly great.  Chris and I sat in the back corner row. 

Jesus scorned the Pharisees and the scrubs for always sitting in the best seats, for wearing the best robes, etc.  We chose the humble road.  Our minister chaplain, “Wade” was once an inmate in a Texas prison for seven years.  I could relate to his past; his transformation was very admirable.  The first speaker was a tall, skinny, black guy.  He was at the door, greeting people as they were coming in.  It was getting packed.  That was when I spotted someone I knew from the streets.  He was an enemy.  We were on SOS, “Smash on Sight.”  He looked over at me and began walking in my direction.  I stood up and began walking towards him to show him that I was BTA, “Bout That Action.”  We stood face to face.  “You want to do this right here?" I challenged him.  “This is the only place I'm going to give you a pass.  You're lucky we're in the house of God,” my enemy replied.  I looked at him and clenched my jaw, “timing and real estate are on your side,” I threatened.  I felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me back.  It was Chris.  “Come on, go sit down,” Chris said, as he stepped between us and directed my enemy in the opposite direction.  We sat down and listened to the choir singing.  I wrote it and read it.  Chris handed me a Bible and had it opened to Ecclesiastes and pointed to chapter 7, verse 9.  “Do not hasten your spirit to be angry, for anger rest in the bosom of fools,” I nodded my head to assure that I had received and understood the message.  “Who was that,” Chris asked me?  “An old friend,” I told him. 

The choir finished, and the guest speaker gave a powerful sermon and a hit me a little differently than usual.  Some preacher’s sermons are too dry for my taste where I cannot relate.  This guy, however, seemed to speak to me.  The service was over and the COs were calling us unit by unit.  My enemy was lucky he was on one of the far units because he had sexually assaulted and robbed one of my homegirls.  After Chris and I returned from the service, we were talking about end of time prophecies.  We often spoke of life after death, and what it would be like being free from bondage.  Chris knew he was never going home.  However, his spirit was free.  He refused to allow his surroundings to define him.  I, on the other hand, struggled somewhat with being caged in.  I felt my incarceration.  I hated it then, and I still do now. 

“How are you so humbling with having life in prison?”  I asked Chris.  He sat a little and said, "Because God has me right where he wants me.  Perhaps I can help people inside here.”  “If you win on your appeal, you can help many people.  A lot of these guys here have all the help they need.  Your mom and dad are doing this time with you; I have put the gray in my mother's hair.  If you don't do it for you, then do it for your family.”  “Oh, I'm going to fight it.  My family is still looking for an attorney.  They cost so much, one wanted $100,000 and others wanted even more," he said.  "Perhaps our books will gross enough money, and we could lock in with a good lawyer.”  Chris said that money is all for you.  “I just want people to believe in Jesus.”  I was an author of one book so far, and I promised Chris that I would get us published.  We were continuing to work on a book series called God's Plan.  I think we will be done once you are released.  He suggested it through the electrical outlet.  “So, we work on it until then or until they move one of us?”  I asked.  “I will stay over here until they move you or until you go home,” he said, "Then we'd better get a lot done.” He instructed.  “Sounds good to me.”  

You know, I really don't like writing.”  I admitted to him.  "Why do you write, then?"  “Because I have to.  I've been locked up my whole life.  I didn't go to college, I didn't have a career, a 401k, a house or kids, I've never even had the chance to file taxes.”  I looked down at the concrete and shook my head.  "This is all I have, so I can't feel at writing.  It's this or the old life.  I either sell books, or I sell drugs, I admit it.” 

There was a moment of silence.  I could hear keys jingling down the hall.  This particular sergeant didn't care if we talked to each other from cell to cell.  Dodge had some petty rules.  “That's very admirable.  I can't even imagine what that would be like.  You have the gift of discernment.  Your spirit of knowledge and understanding is your strong suit.  You've got this bro,” Chris assured me.  “Thanks man.  I'm still going to try to help you get out.  You just need to guard your heart from all the Jezebels out there,” I said, as we laughed.  "Amen to that.”  I was troubled by how great of a friend in person Chris was.  How could he be accused of such a heinous crime?  I just had to know.  I just couldn't see him doing anything such as killing his family.  He never spoke badly of them.  They seemed like such normal people.  Well, he did cheat on her, but other than that, there were no signs of domestic abuse and their relationship.  His case is just so bizarre.  “Bro, you are too good of a guy.  I know you couldn't do everything the media is saying.  I don't think that you killed your girls.  NK should repent for the grief she brought upon you and your family.”  Chris sighed and took a deep breath in, let it out and said, "It is the glory of God to conceal a matter.” 

“But it is the glory of kings to search out of matter.”  “Proverbs 25:2,” I cited.  "I can't argue with the word.  Look, I can't remember a lot.  I didn't intend to kill my wife.  It wasn't my goal as everyone thinks.  Yeah, we fought over money and small things, but we loved each other.  I used to be a pushover with no backbone.  I never meant to kill my wife.  She attacked me.”  He paused.  I asked, "What do you think made her attack you?" “She found out about the mistress, and she tracked my spending.  I don't know if she was madder about the money or the affair.  However, she was upset.  She was going to kill me.  My older daughter woke up and was asking about her mom.  I told her to go get her sister, and Mommy was in a deep sleep.  We needed to get her some help.  Like I was telling you last time, bro, I was numb.  I was on autopilot.  I just lost the love of my life.  I was in love with Nichol at the same time.” he explained.  I knew about being in love with two women at the same time.  You can only choose one of them.  " Why didn't you call the police?  You called your mistress, bro.  You might not even be here if you had done that.”  I pointed out, matter-of-factly.  “I didn't know what to do.  I've never been in trouble," he said.  It made me think he's not a career criminal.  He's not a criminal mastermind.  He wouldn't know what to do in a situation like this at all.  “Somebody had to have helped you because you wouldn't have known what to do to your own family," I told him.  “Look, it's hard to explain.  I went to work at the normal time.  The neighbor's camera saw this. I already confessed.  So, what good is this going to do?" He pointed out.  "You're like a brother to me. I'm not going to judge you.  I just think you're full of shit when you ducked my question the way you did.”  I dug.  “You remember how I told you about Jezebel being the evil one, ordering the king to kill?" he asked me.  “I do,”  I answered.  Why was he trying to tell me that his mistress told him to kill his wife and kids?  I thought about this while waiting for him to continue.  “I remember this song playing.  It was called Devil by Shinedown.  The lyrics say that the devil is in the room right beside you.  I heard it in a couple of Facebook videos my wife recorded,” he said, "That's creepy.”  “I know.  She was of evil spirits, and that song was a warning, an omen.”  “Who, your wife or the mistress?  “The mistress.”  In my entry called “Playing the Harlot,” I define Proverbs 5:3-5.  “For the lips of an immoral woman, drip honey and her mouth is smoother than oil, but in the end, she's bitter as a wormwood, sharp as a two edged sword.  Her feet go down to death, her steps lay hold of hell, and in my injury, Jezebel convinced the king to worship her God, and she ordered him to kill.  She was feeding the king manipulative words.  Everything he wanted to hear to get him to do her will,” he explained in scripture.  "Speak clearly to me brother.”  “This is not an interview,” I told him.  “My older daughter was trying to wake up her sister.  She was sleeping deeply from the medicine her mom gave her.  She was having trouble staying asleep the night before.  I decided I would leave my wife's body at home.  I.” Chris had a slight sob catching his throat.  I heard his voice about to crack.  "It's okay, bro.  I know it's hard to talk about," I said in a comforting tone.  “I left her in a sheet, and I was going to check in with Nicole because we had plans to meet up before work.  I was going to skip work and spend the day with her until all of this.  I left with my girls and assured my older daughter that her mom was fine.  I lied to her.  My younger daughter was sleeping.  I had my girls with me, and their mother was home dead.  I thought of Nichol, and I thought perhaps we could start over somewhere in North Carolina.”  “You were going to move to North Carolina?" I interrupted him.  “I was pondering on it, but losing my wife, it made me feel doomed and alone, especially the thought of losing my mistress, too.  So, I met up with her where we were supposed to rendezvous on my way to work,” he explained.

A CO was doing their round which is why we stopped the conversation. Damn, he was saying she was part of this.  I had a feeling that she was involved.  "Go ahead bro, continue." “Nicole was calm about the whole situation.  She told me to just go to work like I was supposed to, and she asked me about the girls,” he explained.  “She asked you about the girls?” I asked him.  “We talked it over for a while, and we decided that we could make it look like they went missing.  Things blew up in the media and the pressure unfolded fast,” Chris explained.  "What about your wife's body act?  I questioned.  “She said she would take care of it.  I really didn't want any of this.  One sin caused another one, and one after that, and so forth,” he added.  “The snowball effect.”  “That's exactly what it was,” he agreed.  “We should probably get ready for day room and get a phone first," he added, and I agreed.  This stuff was getting deep.  I felt his pain.  I felt pain for the families of the victims.  I shook my head when I thought of the mistress.