Judge Not Lest You be Judged (Matthew 7:1)

Warning: This post will probably make my mother happy, make my friends wonder if I've signed back on the Catholic bandwagon and is generally sappy and not at all like myself.

I find myself in an unusual situation. A neighbor of mine as I was growing up has a son who got into some serious trouble a few years ago. What I know is what was written in the local paper. I assure you, the coverage was not pretty. I haven't thought about it in a few years until yesterday my father called to tell me his parents have the opportunity to write a letter pleading his case. My father, being the helpful guy that he is (quite neighborly!), volunteered the best letter writer he knows to assist (that's me, in case you were confused). I wasn't really sure how I felt about this. Certainly I'm not the greatest writer in the world (clearly evidenced by my "average" rating) but I suppose in a pinch I'm better than most.

Typically I turn on my letter writing skills when I'm pissed over a consumer injustice or want to send a funny letter to a friend, but this situation is unique. I'm faced with a bit of an ethical dilemma. Do you help someone who is incarcerated? Did he do it? Absolutely - no question. But I certainly didn't know why. Part of me hoped that his mother would lose my email address or feel uncomfortable sending me the email. I figured if I didn't receive the email I was off the hook. I asked a few co-workers what they would do. For sure it was a sticky one and they all agreed that if I was uncomfortable I should just look it over, correct the grammar and send it back.

This morning I woke up early, husband and I had breakfast on the balcony, I read about a friend going into labor last night and decided I would clean the house and we could go for a walk later to enjoy the nice day. Then I checked my email and there it was. With a huge sigh I started reading. Then I had questions so I called and talked to his parents. As I was awkwardly talking to them and asking all sorts of personal questions to understand the sequence of events, I had visions of them doing their nightly walks at dusk around the block with the dog and I was thinking about the little kid I used to see on the bus when we were in elementary school and then I started to feel really bad.

Shit it sucks to have a conscience sometimes.

And so I spent my afternoon writing, editing and trying my best to plead this kid's case. I kept thinking that his entire life was flushed down the toilet because he was injured on the job and became addicted to pain killers. I started thinking about how that could happen to anyone. I was pissed because when the kid was sent to jail before sentencing he managed to find drugs (allegedly from a guard) and did some more unfortunate stuff while all hopped up. On top of all of these things they didn't acknowledge that he was an addict (which should have been considered as a factor in sentencing) and it was his first offense to which they showed zero leniency (gave him consecutive sentences instead of concurrent). I felt angry that so many things had gone wrong for a guy that probably should have led a fairly uneventful normal life.

The only good thing that's come out of this is that he's clean and he's a model prisoner. The guards like him and is apparently asked frequently how a guy like him managed to get himself locked-up. Who knows what will happen if he gets out. I guess everyone deserves a second chance and a fair break. Will I feel bad if he spirals out of control again, yes. Would I feel worse if he could have gotten out to lead a productive life and he didn't because I didn't help, absolutely. I guess it's not my place to choose. Who knows, maybe someday the tables will be turned and someone will help me. I have to believe that things happen for a reason because if they don't, then that's just shit.

I don't know if his mother will like my letter or not. If she does, I sure hope it's good enough. I tried my best. I read it to my husband, I almost cried. I hope that's a good sign.