Preparing a Visit

It wasn't long before the letters I received from my penpal weren't enough. My curiosity about death row was high and I wanted more! Every letter to him was filled with questions. No matter what the badman wrote back, I still wasn't satisfied.

I laid in bed at night, thinking about my penpal, wondering what he was doing. During the day, I frequently looked at the clock, wondering the same.

One day, the badman wrote that it was my penpal's time to amend his visiting list. My penpal wanted to know if I would be on his list. He knew I probably would never come to see him but, the badman wrote, it would make him feel good to have someone on his list. I thought, why not? And sent my information to him. About a month later, I received a letter from the prison saying I had been approved.

I truly had no intentions of visiting him. It never crossed my mind-- until I received the approval letter. Then it was all I could think of.

I wrote to my penpal but really meant the letter for the badman. I wanted to know all about visiting. How did it work? Was it safe? I had questions for him but also questioned myself. How would I get down there? What would my husband say? Visiting was not one of the no-nos he laid out to me when I first came up with this idea of writing a death row inmate. But yet, he probably thought it would never get this far.

What was I supposed to tell my family? There was no way I could be gone for any length of time and them not know. I spoke to my mom every day and visited just as much. While my brother never said another word to me about the day he was over and I told him about my penpal, I still wondered. Did he forget? Did he tell my dad, or our older brother, and no one was saying anything about it? I didn't know what to think. But I knew as the days went by, my curiosity ran deeper.

I didn't have internet access then so I was left to make phone calls. I called the airlines for information. What time does the plane leave? What time does it arrive? How far is it from the town I was going to be visiting? And then questions about the return trip. I called everyday, as if something was going to change.

I wrote the badman, asking him to call me. I had too many questions for a letter. And I wanted them answered now! I didn't have time to wait for the postman to bring me a letter.

After a few days, the badman called me. I told him my idea. I wanted to visit my penpal. At least, that's what I told him. In reality, I wanted to visit death row and that was the only way I knew how to do it.

I had begun reading and watching everything I could about prison life, death row, executions, etc. This was way beyond anything I could imagine! I needed to experience this for myself.

The badman helped me out with the arrangements. He told me the names of the motels in the area. He explained the routine. He even gave me the phone number to his sister in case something happened and I needed assistance.

The only thing the badman couldn't help me with was telling my husband what I was about to do. I mulled over it for weeks, running it through my mind. I had the whole conversation set in my mind when I chickened out and decided to make the arrangements and then tell him. And that's exactly what I did.

The Truth Comes Out

I noticed right away that the third letter from my death row penpal was different. The envelope was in a different handwriting. My first thought was something had happened to him. Like I was that important already!

I ripped open the envelope and began reading.

The letter began with an explanation of who the writer was and that he was writing on behalf of my penpal. My penpal was illiterate! The writer explained that my penpal was excited when I began writing to him. He had nobody to care about him. Nobody wrote to him. Nobody visited him.

My penpal was so proud of the birthday card and letters that I wrote to him that he carried them in his pocket, telling anyone that would listen. My last letter to him made him angry. He was upset with the inmate that wrote to me, asking for money and clothing. He had no idea twhat was written in those letters. He hoped I would not quit writing.

The writer said he was my penpal's "next door neighbor" and promised my penpal that he would read and write the letters for us. The writer warned me that since my address was out there, someone else might write to me.

I felt sorry for the man. He came from a poor family. He had nothing and nobody.

I wrote to him and also included a note for the writer, thanking him for his honesty and thoughtfulness. I also included my phone number for my penpal to call me. He called me the same day he got my letter. I could tell he was mentally slow. It was hard for me to understand his speech. And what I did understand was hard to comprehend. Nonetheless, I could tell he was happy to have someone to turn to.

That same day, the write called me. He said he wanted to explain what his letter was all about. He said he heard the other inmates talking about me They called called me "vanilla shake", meaning they were planning on shaking me for whatever they could get in my penpal's name. He said he would watch out for both myself and my penpal. If he heard anymore he was planning on going to the authorities.

I thanked him for his kindness and told him if he ever needed anything, well, he had my address and phone number. He said he was alright at the time.

That was my first contact with the "badman".

My First Letters From Death Row

I finally received a letter back from my new penpal! He thanked me for the birthday card I sent. He told me about himself, his family, the town he came from. He told me about his case and that he was actually innocent. Hmm...weren't they all innocent?

He then told me he would be going to court soon and did I think I could send him some money to buy a few things so he looked presentable? He said he needed some new jeans, a few shirts, underwear, tennis shoes, and oh, just some extra money in his account for cigarettes and snacks. In a way I was shocked that he would be so bold to just ask outright for "things" so early into our friendship. But yet, in another way I wasn't. I had read about people in prison and how they played games and ran scams on those on the outside. I didn't sign up for this, I thought to myself. I decided to write back and just ignore the whole "buy me" thing.

My second letter to him was full of questions. What did he miss the most? What was his day like? I wanted everything down to the details. Did he watch tv and read a lot? If so, what shows did he watch; what did he read? Does he see the sun, grass, flowers? When was the last time he heard a bird sing? I tried to imagine living on death row and then tried to think of things I took for granted.

His second letter back to me answered a lot of my questions. He lived in a small cell and was allowed out for one hour a day to shower, make calls, visit with "friends" on the row, or go outside. He saw sunshine, birds and flowers everyday. He watched a lot of tv: football, wrestling, racing, The Young and the Restless (that made me chuckle). He answered my questions but left me with more.

And again, he asked me for money.

I wrote back immediately. I decided to just be upfront with him. Tell him there was no way I could send him money. All I had to offer him was friendship. Take it or leave it.

And then...his third letter to me knocked my socks off!!!