by Amy Watkins
I looked at the second letter. It was from Angela. Letter 132. I debated whether or not to open it. I was worried it would be a Dear John letter and knew I’d already had enough bad news for one day. I tucked the letter under my pillow and prayed until I fell asleep.
The next morning, I said a little prayer, then mustered up the courage and opened it. Inside, there was a picture of her sitting on the floor wearing a black sweater and red shorts that said blessed on the side. I sat and admired her beauty - those big brown eyes, long smooth legs, wild curly hair, and big bright smile. She could light up a room with that smile.
It wasn’t a Dear John letter. The letter was filled with inspirational scripture and confessions of love for me. She talked about missing a week of work because of a bad stomach virus. I wish I had been there for her when she was sick. I wish I was there to comfort her, tend to her, and nurse her back to health. She talked about missing the court date regarding Tracy. She asked me to call Mr. Sealy to go over some legal things that occurred during the trial. She hoped he had information that could help me with my case. I sat back and smiled holding the picture close to my heart.
“What you smilin’ about?” Mike asked. I was so immersed in Angela’s words that I didn’t notice him get up. “That’s your girl, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, you lucky. She sends you like four or five letters a week. I’d be lucky if I got one. She sent you a pic, too?”
“Yeah,” I showed him the pic.
“She’s cute.”
Buck snatched the picture from my hand, “Damn! Now that’s a mother I’d like to f…”
“Hey!” Mike interrupted. “Watch your mouth. That’s his girl. He all in love and shit.”
I smiled as Mike took the picture away from Buck and handed it back to me. I stuffed it under my pillow and lay there again while I read Angela’s words over and over. She was still there for me.
As soon as the guards let us out of the cell, I made my way to the phone and called Mr. Sealy. I was relieved when he accepted my call.
“Mr. Conner, it’s good to hear from you. How are you?”
“I’m still in jail, but I’m alive.”
“Well, I have some news for you. I debated telling you, but I think you should know.”
“Mmm hmm,” I prayed to God to not let it be any more bad news. I couldn’t stand any more bad news.
“We were able to trace back the email that I got with that video on it. It came from Kentucky. We were able to match it to the same IP address that Caroline used to send me evidence against Tracy.”
I was silent while he talked.
“So, that harassing message came from Caroline or someone else in that house.”
The only other person in that house was Naomi. It had to have come from one or both of them.
“Mr. Conner, you there?”
I huffed, “Yes,”
“You don’t sound too shocked.” Mr. Sealy observed.
“I am. I am shocked. I’m speechless. Why would they do something like that?”
“I don’t know, but I have a theory. I don’t think they like Angela very much. I don’t know why, but I don’t trust them. I wouldn’t go back to Kentucky if I were you. They got some kind of agenda.”
I reflected on everything Mr. Sealy said and all the events leading up to my incarceration. Naomi and Caroline used me. They saw me wounded and angry and they took advantage of me. They added fuel to the fire until I was putty in their hands. I believed their lies because I was broken. I didn’t have the confidence that what was in my heart was right. They used my insecurity against me, pointing out my past mistakes to make me feel like I was incapable of making my own decisions. They told me I couldn’t trust anyone but them—and I fell for it. I believed them more than I believed what was in my heart.
I thought about what I read in Hebrews, Chapter 1 and compared it to what I was going through. I reflected on the story of Samson. He was a strong man, a warrior in God’s army. He was blessed, but he had a weakness—women—and that weakness led to his sin. He trusted the wrong women. He slept with the wrong women. He didn’t wait for the woman God showed him was the one for him. He went with the women he lusted after. They were more concerned with his money and fame, not with his wellbeing. And that is what led to his downfall.
Ignoring God’s guidance, Samson got involved with a woman named Delilah. But Delilah’s only concern was money. He trusted Delilah with his most valuable secrets, and she used them to profit from. Because of Delilah, Samson’s strength was taken. He was tortured, blinded, imprisoned, and forced into slavery. He was mocked and abused. Yet in the end, God forgave him. God renewed his strength and blessed him at a time when he needed it the most. He was able to defeat his enemies, though it cost him his own life.
I had trusted the wrong people. I trusted Tracy, Naomi, and Caroline. I followed them without waiting for God’s guidance. I followed them when I should have been following God. I followed Tracy when she told me to spend all my retirement savings and take out loans to support her wants.
Had I been the man that God wanted me to be, I would have prayed and waited on God. I would have followed His guidance. He would have shown me the right way and I wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t be in debt. I wouldn’t be in jail. I wouldn’t be broke.
I believed Naomi and Caroline when they told lies about Angela. I believed them when they told me not to trust her. I had accused Angela and fought with her about things she didn’t do, and I caused her pain because of their lies. Had I been the man God wanted me to be, I would have prayed to God for discernment and waited for Him to show me the truth.
I had trusted Naomi, Caroline, and Tracy; and in the end, they used my valuable secrets to hurt me, to take from me, and to profit at my expense. I had been blinded by their lies and manipulation. I knew I needed to keep the faith and hang in there. I needed to keep the true people close to me and distance myself from the fake.
“But God, how do I tell the difference?” I asked.
God answered, “Stay clear of the ones who want to steal, kill, and destroy. Resist the Devil and he will flee from you.”
“God, please bless me with discernment,” I prayed.
Angela’s Letter 133 came the next day. In it she quoted 1 Timothy 6:3-5 NIV, “3If anyone teaches otherwise and does not agree to the sound instruction of our Lord Jesus Christ and to godly teaching, 4they are conceited and understand nothing. They have an unhealthy interest in controversies and quarrels about words that result in envy, strife, malicious talk, evil suspicions 5and constant friction between people of corrupt mind, who have been robbed of the truth and who think that godliness is a means to financial gain.”
“Well, what is Jesus’s instruction?”
“Love!” The answer came to me as soon as I asked the question. Jesus did a lot, said a lot, and taught a lot; but his ultimate message was love.
I opened my Bible to a scripture that clearly defines love, 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 NIV: “4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8Love never fails.”.
My Bible was a teaching Bible, and this chapter made a reference to John 13:35 NIV. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
The answer was so easy. You could tell the real from the fake by observing them and identifying whether or not their actions were done in love.
Over the next few days, I tried to stay positive, but anger, pain, and regret continued to resurface in my mind. I thought about Angela and all that she had to endure. I thought about Naomi and Caroline betraying me. I thought about the disrespectful guards and about the unjust treatment by Tracy and Judge Wilcox. Most of all, I thought
about all the bad shit I had done in my life that led me to the fucked-up situation I now found myself in. I grew angry. I tried to suppress my feelings and I thought I was doing a good job at it, but I wasn’t.
I was working hard in the kitchen at the jail. We had a lot to do and I wanted to get it done so I could go back to my cell and chill. I had been up since two in the morning thinking about all that shit and I was tired. Buck was being an ass, like usual. He was joking around, talking shit, and not getting any work done. Because he was lollygagging, I had to pick up the slack to compensate.
“Yo, Buck,” I hollered, “stop your bull-shittin’ and let’s get this work done.”
“Who the hell you talkin’ to?” Buck yelled back.
“Look man, we all have jobs to do and if you don’t do your part the rest of us got to carry your load.”
“Fuck you. You ain’t the boss. You just a dumb ass nigga who needs to mind his own fuckin’ business.” He turned away and started mocking me to the other inmates. They laughed at his jokes. He fearlessly pointed at me and chuckled as he joked.
And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’d reached my boiling point. I felt a rage that I hadn’t felt in years. I went from zero to a hundred in six seconds.
“You fuckin’ bitch ass nigga gonna mock me?!” I yelled as I stormed towards him. My fists were clenched, ready to box.
The other inmates quickly sprang into action. They tried to hold me back. “Be easy, Cool Breezy, be easy,” they said, trying to calm me down.
Buck’s amused look turned to fear. He looked around for something to defend himself with and grabbed a pot of boiling water off the stove.
“You don’t want this!” he yelled, but he was trembling.
“I’m not afraid of you. It’s funny how everyone is holding me back,” I sneered, “and your punk ass is over there, all alone.”
Buck got scared. His hand was unsteady and the water was sloshing around in the pot. He threatened, “Don’t test me! I’ll throw it!”
Mike grabbed his arm in attempt to stop him and Buck lost his balance. The hot water went in the air and splashed onto my chest and neck. Everyone paused in silence, shocked at the encounter. Adrenaline flooded my system, so I didn’t feel the burn.
My anger exploded and I charged at Buck. I grabbed him by his shirt and hiked him up against the wall. “You think this as a fuckin’ game?” I yelled. “I will fuck you up.”
Mike touched me on my arm, “Hey, yo. He’s not worth it. Chill.”
I heard Mike. I saw the fear in Buck’s eyes. That’s when I realized I needed to slow my roll and check myself. Hurting Buck wasn’t worth it. Besides, I wasn’t really mad at Buck; I was mad at myself and my situation. I let go of him. My heavy breathing started to slow as I began to calm myself down. The guards and other inmates who had heard the ruckus came to see what was going on.
The first guard to get there was big, strong, and ready for some action. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Nothing.” Mike replied. “We was just dancing around and being silly.”
We all knew they’d put us all in lockdown if a fight broke out. No one wanted that. And then I’d be in the hole. They could charge me with assault, and I’d have to serve even more time. I didn’t want that.
“Yeah,” I agreed, my gaze still locked on Buck, “we were just playing.”
“Well, stop playing and get back to work,” the guard ordered. We hoped they would believe us and not look at the video.
I asked to take a bathroom break, which I was allowed. On the way to the bathroom I walked past Mr. Key, “Hey youngblood, you all right?” he asked as I walked past him still heaving.
“I’m fine.”
“Your chest, man, it’s red as hell. What happened.”
I still didn’t feel any pain. I looked down and saw my scorched skin.
He advised, “You might want to go get that checked out at medical. It don’t look so good.”
I agreed. I told the guards some boiling water spilled on me while cleaning a pot and they sent me to medical. Second degree burns on my upper chest and neck. I knew that would leave scars.
When I returned to the pod, everyone asked if I was okay.
“I’m good,” was all I said. Medical advised me to follow up with them daily for dressing changes. I just needed to keep the area clean, a challenge since showering was sometimes limited.
I returned to my cell. Buck was already there. He was still a little shaken and kept his mouth closed. My anger shocked him and the other inmates. I know the story of our fight spread around the jail like a California wildfire. I noticed people whispering and gesturing towards me the rest of the day.
“It’s always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for,” Mr. Key joked when I saw him in the pod. “I mean, I knew you was a soldier, but damn.”
I laughed and shook my head as I sat next to him.
“You know, the rumor is that you have PTSD from your time in Iraq and you snapped.”
I shook my head again, “That wasn’t PTSD. That was rage. I’m just so mad at all this mess I got going on in my life.”
“Hebrews 11, did you get a chance to read it yet?”
I nodded.
“Do you know who Jephthah was?”
“No.”
“Yeah, most people read through Hebrews 11 and they recognize most of the people mentioned, but not many people recognize Jephthah. He was a warrior, too. He was betrayed by his family, just like you. And people tried to use him, just like you. When he was at war, the people who swore to have his back were not there. They abandoned him. Nevertheless, he had faith and he went on to battle without that support. He was victorious, ’cause God is God. But after, he was consumed by anger at those who had betrayed him and he got his vengeance on them. Forty-two thousand people he killed. I doubt that all forty-two thousand people were actively trying to hurt Jephthah. Maybe they were just young scared knuckleheads who had trouble controlling what comes out of their mouths, like Buck.”
I nodded in agreement.
“You know what happened to Jephthah after he killed all them people?” Mr. Key continued.
I shook my head no.
“He died. Yep. The Bible doesn’t say how he died, but I know anger has a way of consuming you. If you don’t put that fire out, it will consume you.”
I lay down and reflected on what Mr. Key said. Maybe no one really knows about Jephthah because of his tragic end.
I was angry. So many had betrayed me. I betrayed myself. I did wrong ’cause I was so consumed with anger and wanted vengeance. I slept with Tracy trying to get vengeance on Deidra. I slept with Caroline to get vengeance on Tracy. Then I treated Angela bad because I heard she was sleeping around. I had been a Jephthah for a long time. Maybe God was trying to show me that this cycle of hurt, anger and vengeance needed to stop. All it led to was my downfall.
I pondered on that for a few days and reread some of Angela’s letters. Then I wrote her and let her know I’d have a few new scars the next time she saw me.
She wrote back. Letter 175:
Ethan,
I think scars are sexy. “From now on, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.”– Galatians 6:17 NIV. It is a beautiful scripture about scars. When you are trying to follow God, the evil in this world will try to stop you. They will lie, cheat, steal, and abuse you all in attempt to get you to turn away from God. The scars we bear as a result we should wear proudly. Our battle scars are marks to show that we have been through some shit and survived. They can also mark that we are children of the Most High. Have you ever read Genesis 30? Jacob got a broken hip trying to hold onto God. He walked away with a limp that he kept for the rest of his life, but he also walked away blessed. Keep the faith and hold tight to God and His word. You may walk away with some scars, but you will walk away blessed.
Love, Angela
Letter 17
6:
Angela,
I am absolutely in love with you. I want nothing but the best for you. I know this situation is crazy. I don’t know why all this is happening. I finally find the woman who is meant for me and I can’t even be with her. And by her, I mean you. I feel like God is pointing me to you. Like He made us for each other. I don’t know why we have to go through so much. I don’t know why I’m in this situation. I try to be a good guy. I try not to hurt anyone. I know I made some messed up decisions in the past, but how long am I going to have to pay for those mistakes? I have been locked up now for five months. When is this going to end? I just want to get out of here and come home to you. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me. I pray for you every day and I believe that it was always you who was supposed to be my wife. But I fucked that up by choosing to be with and trust people who were not meant for me. I trusted my mom and Caroline. I did some really foul shit to you because of their lies and manipulation. Now I know they were up to no good. I am so sorry for all the hurt that I have caused you. I know it’s a lot and I can understand if you want to leave me. I hope you don’t. It would break my heart. But I only want what is best for you.