by Billy Dee

A friend called this morning. She’s been working with a family whose son is preparing to go to prison. The lawyers have agreed to a plea bargain. He will serve three years. All that is left is for the deal to be certified. In the meantime, he just waits.

The young man is 19. He committed his offense at 17. It’s been 2 years in the system. The closer he gets to being locked up the more depressed he becomes. He wants to kill himself.

Those of us who work in some proximity to the criminal legal system often focus on the arrest, the court proceeding, the actual incarceration and sometimes re-entry. Yet it occurred to me this morning that I personally pay very little attention to that moment right before a person is about the walk into prison for the first time.

Today I was reminded of yet another terrible aspect of incarceration: the time right before the prison gates close the first time. What must this be like?

My friend spoke of the fear that this young man is currently experiencing; debilitating apprehension. His family is equally beside itself. My friend asked me for resources that might help this young man. I was distressed to tell her that I know of none.

I offered some ideas. They seemed woefully inadequate. I suggested that I would reach out to some formerly incarcerated young men so that they could share their experiences with him. Perhaps they could tell him what their first night in prison was like. Maybe they could share how they survived. I know, I know that this is cold comfort. Someone else’s experience can’t replace your own. You have to smell the smells, you have to taste the food, you have to experience the loneliness…. No one else can do your time. But…

Still I want to offer something to this teenager. I want to tell him that his life is not over; no matter how he is feeling today. I want to tell his family that the best thing they can do for him is not to forget him on the inside; to keep contact (letters, visits if they can afford them). One of the tragedies of incarceration is the sense among prisoners that they have been foresaken.

So I made some phone calls and two friends who are former prisoners have agreed to take part in a peace circle with this young man and his family. I am hopeful that the circle will provide him with a sense that he is cared for, will show him that he will not be forgotten, and will arm him with more information about the general experience of being locked up from the perspective of people who have done their time. I know, I know that this falls so short.

Ultimately, I feel helpless today. I really feel helpless today.