Thomas laughed. “At least not without an endorsement deal.”
Even Brady had to smile. “That’s awful. If I’m going to reappear anywhere, I owe it to Burger Boy to show up there, don’t I?”
Thomas drove home that day sad to his core about the eventual loss of his friend. But deep in his heart was also a flicker of hope about his own daughter. Something about her was changing. Was it just the time he and she were spending together? Was she seeing that Thomas wasn’t such a bad guy after all? She was as earnest and committed to a cause as he had ever seen her, and yet her edge, her cynicism, her anger had seemed to soften. Maybe Brady was becoming her friend too and she was ruing what was to become of him.
70
Death Row
A year into the maelstrom of activity surrounding what was sure to be the most monumental media event in history, Brady was astounded at how much had changed, especially in his own life, which had settled into a unique routine.
A major part of his life continued as it would for anyone on the Row. He was awakened before dawn for first count, had his breakfast delivered, and every three days was soon thereafter escorted to the shower. Despite his celebrity and new casual friendliness to the officers, he was granted no special privileges during those routines. He was still searched, cuffed, escorted, uncuffed, stripped, showered, cavity-searched, dressed, cuffed, escorted back, and uncuffed every time. And he endured the same routine for his daily hour in the exercise kennel.
Brady’s extravagance was that he enjoyed more time out of his house than any other inmate. Since it was impossible for him and the chaplain to accomplish anything with all the noise on the Row, they met approximately every other day in an isolation unit. There they studied Scripture and talked and prayed. Brady came to cherish every minute he had with the kindly old chaplain, whose enthusiasm never seemed to flag. Brady could tell when the reverend was worn-out and tired and worried about either his ailing wife or his spiritually straying daughter, and they soon began praying about those things too.
The advantage to incarceration was that Brady had almost all day every day to read, and it wasn’t long before he had most of all four Gospels memorized. He gilded that by studying everything Chaplain Carey gave him on the life of Christ, by talking it through during their meetings, and even by studying the prophecies from the Old Testament concerning the Messiah.
The constant racket of the Row became just a backdrop of indistinguishable sound as he paced and recited verses aloud from just after breakfast to around midnight.
But one day in the spring, with just two months to go before his execution, something changed. On one of Brady’s shower days, he awoke to the racket for first count and prayed silently while waiting for his meal. He ate all of it, as he had been doing for months now, then quietly cooperated with the laborious routine of getting to and from the shower. Along the way on both ends, Brady was aware of shouting, swearing, banging, and even an extraction when a con refused to return his breakfast tray to the meal slot.
But for once none of the commotion seemed directed at him. That was a nice break. Was it possible his commitment to never, ever respond had finally wearied the men and stolen their fun? They had kept it up for a whole lot longer than he ever would have without enjoying any reaction.
When Brady was dressed and back in his cell, he walked back and forth in the tiny area between his TV and the front corner of his cell opposite the toilet, very quietly reciting the words of Jesus he had memorized from the Gospels.
That had always elicited shouts and whistles, but today, nothing. In the past he could speak aloud and no one could hear over the daily ruckus. Now he was aware of a few men who had their TVs tuned to a morning game show, but oddly there was no conversation, let alone the usual shouting and cursing and barbs.
Brady was concentrating on remembering passages from the first half of Matthew. He closed his eyes, able to navigate the small space by memory.
In a normal tone, Brady began.
“Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. For you will be treated as you treat others. The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged. And why worry about a speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, ‘Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.”
Suddenly Brady stopped. Was it possible? He thought he had heard first one, then another shush noisy inmates. A couple of TVs even went off. From distant parts of the cellblock he heard other cons making noise, but the Row was virtually quiet. How could this be?
Brady held his breath. Was he dreaming? Surely not. He heard a low rumble of thunder outside, and soon heavy rain, and yet the Row got even quieter.
He continued, speaking evenly.
“Anyone who listens to My teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock. But anyone who hears My teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash.”
Someone called out something, and another quieted him with a curse. It sounded like maybe two TV sets still blared until their owners were told to stifle them too.
Were these men listening?
“Foxes have dens to live in, and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place even to lay His head.”
Brady waited. This was like a dance. Could he lead? Or was he imagining this?
“More,” someone said quietly. Then another said the same. Then someone shouted it.
“Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do. . . . Now go and learn the meaning of this Scripture: ‘I want you to show mercy, not offer sacrifices.’ For I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners.”
Brady hesitated again. Not a sound. He glanced at the observatory. Three officers had gathered on the other side of the glass, peering out, clearly as puzzled as he. The supervisor shrugged at Brady, then nodded, as if he should continue.
“Don’t be afraid of those who want to kill your body; they cannot touch your soul. Fear only God, who can destroy both soul and body in hell. What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”
Now, each time Brady stopped to gather his thoughts, the men seemed to encourage him to continue by making little noises, something tapped against their doors or scraped on their walls. He silenced the knocks and clacking by continuing.
“Everyone who acknowledges Me publicly here on earth, I will also acknowledge before My Father in heaven. But everyone who denies Me here on earth, I will also deny before My Father in heaven.”
Brady stopped only for head counts and meals or when someone was taken to the showers. It was as if the entire Row was of the same mind, and everybody realized that the recitations would continue when a man returned. Brady did not stop when someone was in the exercise kennel, because they could still hear.
When he was summoned to the isolation unit for his regular meeting with the chaplain, Brady asked the officer to let Reverend Carey know that he should instead come to the cellblock. And Brady continued:
“O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, thank You for hiding these things from those who think themselves wise and clever, and for revealing them to the childlike. Yes, Father, it pleased You to do it this way!
“My Father has entrusted everything to Me. No one truly knows the Son except the Father, and no one truly knows the Father except the S
on and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal Him.
“Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you. Let Me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”
Isolation Unit
Thomas was alarmed when word came that Brady wanted him on the Row. He rushed through the security checkpoints, aware of the storm outside and wondering what might be wrong inside. When he reached the cellblock, he was struck first by the silence.
What could it mean? Anything out of the ordinary here always resulted in more, not less, noise. These men had even been known to cheer the loudest thunderclaps, but they were ignoring the current boomers. Thomas glanced questioningly at a few officers, who just raised their eyebrows and shook their heads as if they had no clue.
As he neared Brady’s cell, he could actually hear him quietly reciting Scripture.
“A good person produces good things from the treasury of a good heart, and an evil person produces evil things from the treasury of an evil heart. And I tell you this, you must give an account on judgment day for every idle word you speak. The words you say will either acquit you or condemn you.”
When Brady saw the chaplain, he stopped and beckoned him close, though this resulted in more banging and knocking.
“What’s happening, Reverend?” he whispered, telling him what had gone on.
“The Bible says the Word will not return void,” the chaplain said. “Past that, I have no idea. But you should continue, don’t you think?”
When Brady started in again, Thomas lowered himself to the floor and sat with his back against the cell.
“You are permitted to understand the secrets of the Kingdom of Heaven, but others are not. To those who listen to My teaching, more understanding will be given, and they will have an abundance of knowledge. But for those who are not listening, even what little understanding they have will be taken away from them. That is why I use these parables, for they look, but they don’t really see. They hear, but they don’t really listen or understand.”
Thomas started when he thought he heard a sniffle and then another. No way. Not these men. Not aloud, in view of each other! Brady himself seemed to grow emotional, his voice cracking. When he stopped, unable to continue, Thomas rose and picked up where Brady left off.
“If any of you wants to be My follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow Me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for My sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul? For the Son of Man will come with His angels in the glory of His Father and will judge all people according to their deeds.
“I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven. So anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.
“‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.”
When Thomas fell silent, the noises came from the surrounding cells once more, and Brady took over again. They traded off, continuing for hours, interrupted only by a count, a couple of showers, and finally by dinner. Thomas told Brady he had to get home to Grace but that Brady should continue for as long as he could.
“This is exhausting,” Brady whispered. “Memorizing is one thing, but reciting for an audience really takes it out of you.”
“I suggest you just announce when you’re finished for the day and tell them when you will start again tomorrow. Who knows how long they will be willing to listen?”
“Let’s try something,” Brady said. “Let’s have our next meeting here and see if they’ll listen in while you teach me and we pray.”
“Now you’re really pressing your luck.”
Brady chuckled. “My mentor would scold me for calling this luck.”
Adamsville
Grace wept when Thomas told her of the phenomenon. She insisted he get the recorder and enlisted his help on a duet. When it seemed she didn’t have the breath for a phrase, he carried the melody. The next day he would deliver one new song to Brady Darby, and if the cellblock was still cooperating, maybe they’d hear it too.
The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell,
It goes beyond the highest star
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win:
His erring child He reconciled
And pardoned from his sin.
Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry,
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
Death Row
Brady finished with a brief passage from Luke.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, for he has anointed Me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent Me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.”
When he stopped, the light clanging began again, and Brady noticed that no TVs or radios were on. “I’ll begin after breakfast tomorrow morning. Good night, all.”
“Good night, Brady.”
“’Night, bro.”
“See you then.”
Here and there conversations began, but in normal tones of voice. A few TVs came on as Brady stretched out on his cot. He found himself overcome with emotion, little surprise after what he considered a daylong privilege. How long would it last? And wouldn’t the press have a field day with this?
Brady turned toward the wall and shut his eyes, realizing that these men, his prison mates, had called him by name for the first time.
71
Administrative Wing
“This I got to see to believe,” the warden said the next morning as Thomas sat across from him. “Quiet, you say?”
“Like nothing I’ve ever experienced here, sir, especially on the Row.”
Gladys knocked. “Okay, what in heaven’s name is going on?” she said, her fist full of paper. “We got all these in this morning’s interoffice mail.”
She slapped them down in front of the warden, and he began to pick through them, finally lifting his eyes to Thomas. “You been complaining about too light a workload. Well, here you go, Mr. Gung Ho.”
Nearly every man on the Row had requested a visit from the chaplain, and not one of them in the isolation unit.
“This is as close as I’ll ever get to having a group meeting here,” Thomas said.
“You better just go slow, that’s all I got to say,” Gladys said. “Something doesn’t smell right, and the review board is gonna be sus-pi-cious. These men are up to something.”
“Let’s go down there,” the warden said. “Gladys, how long has it been since you’ve been on the floor?”
“Oh no you don’t. More’n six years, and that’s too recent. I was with you, and they still wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“These guys might behave this time,” Thomas said. “They would have yesterday; I guarantee it.”
“Well, maybe so, but lucky for me and you, not to mention them, I’m busy.”
Death Row
The polite banging and scraping began just as breakfast was ending, and someone called out, “Brady! You talking again today?”
Brady quietly began with pa
ssages from the Gospel of John.
“I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God. . . . I assure you, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life. So don’t be surprised when I say, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.”
Brady hesitated as officers arrived at a cell across the way. It was time for the man’s shower, but he held up his index finger as if asking that they wait a moment, and to Brady’s utter amazement, they turned and looked at him, as if giving him permission to continue.
“These are the words of Jesus,” Brady said. “No one has ever gone to heaven and returned. But the Son of Man has come down from heaven. And as Moses lifted up the bronze snake on a pole in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in Him will have eternal life.
“For God loved the world so much that He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him.”
The intercom crackled. “Keep moving, gentlemen. Darby isn’t going anywhere.”
The officers escorted the man away, and Brady continued, breaking only while the shower was running. And while he waited silently, so did everyone else.
Riven Page 49