Some people just don’t know—but you do.
I love you,
L.
December 14, 2001
My lovely one,
You’re entirely too much lately. I can hardly even take it. Just the very sight of you hurts my heart, with all your stuff. You’re a real person. I’m not. Just seeing all your business reminds me that I’m not a real person. The closest I can come is this cartoon character. It just makes me love you a thousand times more. I’ll be very glad when tomorrow arrives and I get to see your beautiful face.
What’s the next unpleasant thing we have to deal with? There’s always something lurking just around the corner. That’s how I keep track of time these days, by how long it is until the next unpleasant thing. Someone coming, or something I have to do, or some other pure bullshit. It’s about time to be getting the hell up out of here. There are things we have to do, and they’re not getting done here.
I love you,
D.
December 18, 2001
My Lovely One,
This weekend I had terrible fun with you. It’s torture not to begin immediately calling again first thing this morning. You’re all the baby animals wrapped up in one. “Will you be my friend?” You nearly killed me when you said that. My heart blew up. Of course I will be your friend, little critter. Forever and ever.
I love you,
Damien
December 21, 2001
My beloved Damien,
I mean it about the mail thing—if you write me one letter a week—or even if you don’t do that—I will be happy. I would much rather get a letter from you that you were excited to write than letters that are drudgery for you. And I am so completely honest about that. With no hidden tricks—it’s exactly as it should be.
I love you,
Lorri
January 3, 2002
Dearest Damien,
That’s another thing about last night. I was looking around and I thought—if Damien were sitting here beside me, I would be so proud to be with him—he is so beautiful, your lovely face and body—but just the feel of you.
You really are mine, I have claimed you, but I know I must give you up to all and everything. It has been the work of my life. I used to think it was getting you out of there—that is a job—my work is to let go, but still have you. I know it will be the best life and you will love me even more than you could even imagine.
There are no more excuses.
I love you,
Lorri
January 15, 2002
My lovely one,
Most nervous about meeting your mom and dad. I guess they won’t get my letter until after they’ve already been here. Isn’t it hard to believe they’re actually coming here? Just to think, I’m meeting your parents!
I love you,
D.
January 23, 2002
My dearest Damien,
My heart hurts terribly. I love you so much. Seeing you with my parents yesterday gave me a whole new appreciation for you and for them. My parents are surprising me lately.
This morning my dad said, “Seems like you married yourself a pretty good boy.” I laughed and said I already knew that. He said, “I only wish he didn’t listen to that ‘heavy metal’—I don’t know much about it, but it seems to get blamed for a lot of things—like Columbine.”
I told him just like everything else, he shouldn’t judge it til he hears it.
They really like you. I think they are breathing a big sigh of relief—now they know you, I’m so glad!! I kept looking at you thinking of how proud I am to be married to you.
I’m a little emotional this morning.
I noticed yesterday, how you were very much yourself—yet you made allowances for my mom and dad. You were such the gentleman. I am forever amazed by you, Damien, and I can’t stop this overwhelming love I have for you.
I have to work really hard to get you out of there!!!
Your wife,
Lorri
January 24, 2002
My love,
You know what? I think I miss your parents. I really like them, as long as it’s in small doses. I wouldn’t mind at all if they were to come back for a return visit.
I love you,
Damien
June 6, 2002
My dearest,
I got three letters from you yesterday. I couldn’t get to sleep last night, so I reread them very late at night. I love your letters, Damien. There is always at least one thing in all of them that rivets me. It’s been a long time since I slept with your letters under my pillow, but I did last night. I can’t get close enough.
*
I believe “Miss Manners” is a Zen master. You’d know if you read it.
Your wife,
L.
June 28, 2002
My lovely one,
I hopped out of bed and tried to call you first thing this morning—no answer! Y’all are out and about early on this day. I miss you too much, Lorri. I just want to hear your voice. All day long I lie here in bed, thinking about how I always self-destruct. Sometimes, lately I think you’re like a test. Here I’ve been given this wife who is perfect in every way, in ways I didn’t even realize at first—like not knowing that every other woman on the planet apparently has cellulite—and it’s a test just to see exactly how long it takes before I fuck myself off. Sooner or later, it’s bound to happen. Even knowing what a rare, magickal, wonderful thing I possess —I’m still a time bomb, waiting to fuck myself. I just want to make you happy. Lately, when you say things about how you want to spend your life making me happy, I feel a wave of sadness roll over me, feeling like I’m not worth shit, I’m fucked up, worthless. I want so desperately to say the same things to you, but it feels as if they would be so false coming from me.
Forever,
D.
July 5, 2002
My lovely one,
You truly are a remarkable thing. I keep thinking of you offering to let Domini stay with you and try to find a place here. That is something that no one else would do. I’m so lucky to have you. There’s nothing like you anywhere else. You keep asking why I’m married to you and not someone else. It’s because of what you are, Lorri. You and all your magick and monkey business. You are the greatest thing. Just thinking of you right now, and all you do, it makes my heart hurt. I love you, Lorri. I never forget what you are.
*
Holidays are so weird in here. Especially the feeding times, only two meals. I really don’t think breakfast foods are very good for you, except for oatmeal. The rest of it just smells like it does more damage than good—eggs, biscuits, all that. Today is Jason’s birthday. He was a 4th of July baby.
I am yours forever,
Damien
July 9, 2002
Dearest Damien,
Cally sent a note this morning. All it said was . . . “How does a guy in prison spend so much money?” You know she should be smacked, or her head nuzzled for that. I’m sure you will get a like question.
I love you, beautiful.
L.
September 12, 2002
Dearest one,
Your case is now officially on hold. That was the big news today. J. Burnett has 60 days to do something about the DNA. We shall see. I’m so glad, it’s exactly what we need to happen.
I actually called your mother and told her the hearing was cancelled. I must be very lucid today—I feel like doing things.
*
I’ve missed you horribly today. I know I say that in every letter—but I do. I miss you so much in every letter.
Your wife,
Lorri
September 18, 2002
My dearest,
I forgot to tell you, I got that book Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda—the love letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda Fitzgerald. I have always lik
ed her—it’ll be fun to read, but sad. She spent much of their life together in a sanatorium. She was schizophrenic. But she was so lovely and very smart and creative. It’ll be a good read.
I would hate it if anyone ever published our letters!! Ha ha, can you imagine?! There would be 5,000 of them! Probably 7,000 in all!
Your wife,
Lorri
October 1, 2002
My Lovely Monkey,
This prison life is killing me. As soon as I wake up, I need a nap, and there are 100 and 1 little aches and pains scattered throughout my body that are just bad enough to annoy and make me uncomfortable. Like my knees. I’m getting old very quickly. All the concrete, steel, and stupidity is just sucking the life right out of me. All my chi and youth. I need ankle-deep shag carpeting and paneled walls, window-unit air conditioners, dark rooms and blue lightbulbs, soft black clothes and hair on my head. Then slowly, the process would stop.
Monkey bread. That’s what you took to your little party. A fresh baked loaf of monkey bread. Last night I kept smiling to myself, thinking of you on Friday wanting me to just sit and hold your little foot up, just suspended in the air while you played. And your little instructions of “Don’t do anything, just hold it there and let me be safe.” Every time I think of it, it nearly kills me.
They’re training a new mail woman this morning. If I’m not mistaken, I think they said it’s the real mail woman, from the post office in Tucker. I guess we’ll just have to see how it’s going to work out. I still wish they’d just keep the one who’s been doing it.
I just had a lunch of fried chicken and blueberry cake. I’m so exhausted, I believe I’m going to have to take a nap. And I haven’t even done anything today. I must finish this book. And write to the abbess, and Terry and Theresa. Among others. It’s a hard day not doing work calls. I miss you terribly.
I am yours forever.
D.
p.s. The phone is broken. Just in case they don’t get it fixed tonight, I wanted to make sure you know.
October 2, 2002
Dearest,
I went to the [Arkansas Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty] meeting today. I’m supposed to meet with Frank King* about the meeting with Norris over some of these things. They may have to file another lawsuit. I’m more than ready to work on it. They were pretty nice at the meeting, and Freddie Nixon told me she has been hearing horrible things as well. Maybe we can actually accomplish something.
Your wife,
Lorri
October 3, 2002
My loveliest monkey,
There’s a tree frog taking a sunbath on my window. He looks like it’s about time to hibernate. For some reason it reminds me of last night—there was one single star in the sky that was bright enough for me to see it through my window. A very rare thing. With all the spotlights and filth caked up on the window. When I saw it, I was amazed.
*
I must do a work call today. “Operator, please put me through to the monkey house.”
I love you,
D.
October 5, 2002
Dearest,
I get so anxious sometimes—I feel like getting you out of there is just around the corner (like Halloween) but I want it now. You would think after (almost) 8 years, I would have learned patience.
Things are changing down there. I could really feel it yesterday. I hope they get so much better for you guys.
Your wife,
L.
December 5, 2002
My lovely anniversary monkey,
Lorri, I don’t want you to volunteer to help with those Christmas sacks. I don’t want you to see back here. I don’t want everyone leering at you, and I don’t want you to see these cages. Not so much for yourself, because I know you can handle it. But for me. It’s bad enough with you having to see me in this environment when we’re together—but back here, the way it is—that’s 100 times worse.
*
3 years married, little thing. That doesn’t really mean anything because we should be celebrating 6 years. We should have just gotten married as soon as we met. I can feel the thread.
Happy anniversary, my beautiful wife,
Damien
January 13, 2003
Dearest Damien,
No word yet from the Dr. Phil folks; it’s still early out there, though.* Gwynne was going to watch the documentaries over the weekend. I wrote a draft of the letter to Johnny Depp, and heard from Joe about coming to Arkansas. He says he thinks it’s a very good idea. I only wish we could all meet together. You should meet with them first.
I feel much better today, not so frustrated as I did over the weekend. Things feel almost back to normal, more manageable.
*
Something has to happen, we have to figure it out. You have to help me.
I love you so much. I can just feel there is another way of doing this . . .
I love you,
L.
January 15, 2003
My love,
You must calm down, Lorri. Working yourself up into such a frenzy isn’t going to help either of us. Everything will soon be as it should be. I’ve allowed things to get too far out of my control—once upon a time, those Dr. Phil people would have come and asked me. Now everyone goes to the lawyers or to the website or to Mara Leveritt. No one even bothers to ask me anymore. That has to be fixed.
Yours forever,
D.
February 4, 2003
Dearest,
A girl from Seattle came here today to help with the bike master plan. We started talking and she knew all about the WM3 through Eddie Vedder. She was amazed that you weren’t out of prison yet. See, if we don’t keep things out there, people just think they have been taken care of.
I love you, beautiful,
L.
March 5, 2003
My lovely one,
Every week at practice you have to do the Kwan Seum Bosals for me to get out of here so we can be together. I’ll try to remind you every week.
They started passing out razors that won’t cut anything again. They’re trying to save money. They won’t cut, but then they take it out on us for not shaving. If they don’t go back to the others, I’ll have to go see the doctor about getting a doctor’s order for not shaving.
Those lawyers make me nervous. I just don’t trust them at all. Now that they’ve stopped answering at all, there’s no telling what they might do. I really hope those other lawyers want to come on the case. Someone who actually wants to work.
I love you,
D.
March 19, 2003
Dearest,
I hate it that you are so stressed. I really have to watch it, because my heart can hurt so much sometimes, just thinking of what you have to endure in there. I find myself getting so angry at how much time everything takes, and then it does no good. I’m trying to deal with it all better.
I just wish things were better in there.
At least they got “Healthy Choice” ice cream!
Nicole said in a note that her first order of business is getting us to sleep better at night—and the second order is getting us to sleep together at night!! I liked that very much.
I miss you so much.
Your wife,
L.
March 25, 2003
My lovely one,
I’m so exhausted. It’s seeped into my bones, and saturated every muscle in my body. It’s an almost constant feeling these days, making me miserable. I just can’t get enough rest, and it messes up everything else. Lorri, when I’m sleeping, you better not mess with me. Pestering and waking me up. I mean it, I need my rest. I feel like an old man. As if I should be bundled up, sitting next to a fireplace, dozing. It scares me, wondering how it’ll be at the age of 50, 60, or 70, if it’s already like this now.
I love you,
/> D.
April 1, 2003
My lovely one,
Lorri, I loved, dearly loved listening to you get ready for bed last night. That is something I will never, ever forget.
I love you,
D.
May 7, 2003
My loveliest,
The letters to Domini and Seth went out this morning. It’s hard for me to write to Seth, because I never know what he’ll understand and what he won’t. I told him that we both have to be good because our actions reflect on each other. That we must behave with honor, so that others who know us can’t say anything bad about us, and we can each have pride—he in his father, me in my son. I know it’s hard to think of such things when you’re young and things aren’t going like you want, but that’s when being strong comes in. I really do think he should be enrolled in something like a children’s martial arts class. Something to teach him the discipline that those around him lack.
I love you, little lotus,
D.
May 15, 2003
My lovely thing,
Last night I dreamed I was out somewhere and was attacked by that guy that always runs at me in court. He grabbed me from behind, and I was furious, because I kept thinking, “When is this shit ever going to end?” He tried to spray some kind of acid in my ear and I started doing everything I could to cripple him for life—smash his knees, break his arms—I can’t remember the end of it.
Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row Page 21