by Amy Watkins
Love, Ethan
Letter 177:
Ethan,
Yes, for the millionth time, I forgive you. But sometimes when we do stuff, bad stuff, the effects go on and on. Kind of like dominos. You knock one down and the rest just keep on falling. You slept with Caroline and now you have a baby together. That act was just one domino that you knocked down, but that domino effect is going to last for at least eighteen years. I knew Naomi and Caroline were being snakes because you would come at me with all this ridiculous stuff, and I knew I wasn’t lying. I am not dealing with them anymore. It hurts, though. I would have liked to have a good relationship with my future mother-in-law.
I feel like God is pointing me to you too. All those dreams I had about me and you. And I never dream. One thing I don’t get, though. I dreamed of Trinity a lot, and in most of them I was holding her, and you were there. She was still a baby. I guess that won’t be coming true. Caroline and Naomi have made it pretty clear they don’t want me around. And I don’t want to be around them either, so I guess my dreams of having a wonderful relationship with Trinity won’t come true.
Anywho, to answer your question about why. Well, if you weren’t in jail this long you wouldn’t have found out the truth about Naomi and Caroline. And, I also think that God is priming us to be a great inspiration to other couples. Can you imagine us in a few years? Married, happy, and maybe leading a couple’s group at church or something. We have experienced so much together: financial struggles, being lied about, being lied to, lack of trust, dealing with baby mamas, dealing with stepkids, dealing with a premature baby, jail, toxic in-laws—and we stayed together despite it all. We’d make great counselors to a couple who was struggling. Maybe He’ll use us as a tool to let other couples know that if we can make it, they can make it too.
Love, Angela
Mike approached me as I read the letter, “Buck’s been real quiet. He still shook about y’all’s fight?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
Mike shook his head. “I appreciate the silence and all, but dang. Why let that shit get you out of your character? Buck is young. He tryna make a name for himself. He don’t understand that being a loudmouth just makes him look dumb. It don’t give you a name.”
I nodded. “Yeah, you are right on that.”
“I was hoping that you would take him under your wing. You know, talk to him about life and shit. He could learn a lot from you, ya’ know. And if he don’t learn from what you say, let life beat his ass,” he joked.
I knew God was speaking to me through Mr. Key, Angela, and now Mike. I walked a few laps around the pod, trying to prepare myself for the very humbling experience of apologizing. I pondered on exactly how to say it.
Buck was sitting alone in the pod when I approached him, “Hey Buck, let me holla at you for a moment.”
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Look, the other day in the kitchen, things got out of hand and I want to apologize,” I said with a serious tone. “There was a lot of mess going on and I lost my cool.”
“I understand, and my bad for fucking with you. I was being stupid and shoulda shut up when I saw you was getting upset,” he responded.
We dapped it up and buried the hatchet. After that, things between us were cool. He was still a loudmouth, but he stopped poking fun at people. He even taught me how to play poker. And we played often. We didn’t have cash to wager so we played for things we had purchased at the commissary. Honey buns were worth the most, followed by Ramen and peanut butter. It’s amazing how the smallest things are considered worthy when you have so little.
It was during one of those poker games that I happened to mention that I had no legal representation. Buck told me about his lawyer, Arthur Taylor who tends to represent poor causes like myself. He gave me his number so I contacted him and told him about my case. He agreed to represent me for four thousand dollars. When I told Angela about him, she offered to pay the fees.
Letter 178:
Dear Angela,
Did you ever think that maybe that baby you keep seeing in your dreams is not Trinity but the baby you and I are going to have together? We may just be God’s power couple in the making. We have been through a lot. Thanks so much for paying Mr. Taylor’s retainer. I promise, I will pay you back every penny that you have given to me as soon as I can. The minute I get out, I’ll start working out a payment plan so that money comes out of my account and directly into yours. I hate that I am in this situation. Every time you dish out more money, I feel like shit. I should be the one paying your bills. One day, I will be the man you deserve.
Love always, Ethan.
I had been a prideful person in my past. I was always the man of the house. I was accustomed to being the one who paid all the bills or gave my mom money for her medications. Now I had to rely on someone else. That, too, was a very humbling experience; but I thought God put me in that position for a reason. He had to knock me off my high horse. I think God was watching over me and had to slap me around for me to understand that He is the Most High and I am nothing without Him.
On May 17th, I woke up feeling horrible. I couldn’t believe I had to spend my fortieth birthday in jail. I prayed for God to give me strength. I wanted to die, but I was able to get up and face the day like I had all the others for the previous five and a half months.
I got up and headed to the kitchen for work.
“Happy Birthday, Dawg!” Mike dapped me up when I walked in.
He and a few of the other inmates had made a chocolate and peanut butter cake for me using little cups of peanut butter and some melted Hershey kisses that they bought from the commissary. It tasted pretty good, too. They even gave me a few gifts. I got some honey buns, a couple of pencils, and some paper. I was moved by their kindness.
A week later, I had a visit from Mr. Taylor. He informed me that he had received a packet of information from Angela, containing all the evidence she’d been able to compile. There were my pay stubs and my W2s, as well as all of my appeals and letters of rejection. She had also sent copies of my child support payments, bank statements, the police reports, and the harassing and threatening messages that I received from Tracy. I was shocked. Angela had collected it, organized it, and even made a table of contents explaining what everything was and why it was important to my case. All I had to add was a few explanations to some of Mr. Taylor’s questions.
“Mr. Conner, I’ve been reading through all this information and there’s a lot here. This Tracy is a piece of work,” he mentioned as he leafed through all the documents.
“She is.”
“Who is her attorney?”
“Mr. Jack Robinson.”
“Hmm, I should have known. He is a piece of work, too. He purposely draws out divorce cases out longer than needed so he can make more money, and he’s good at it. No lawyer wants to go up against him because they know it’s going to be a long, grueling process. But I’ve gone against him before and I’ll do it again.”
He skimmed some more pages. “Have you been making payments since you been in jail?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve been making payments since I was first ordered to do so, and that was over a year ago. Since I’ve been in here, the child support payments have been automatically taken out of my retirement check, which has been garnished to the maximum amount. I tried to explain to Judge Wilcox the amount he set was way too high for me to pay. I tried to show him all my stuff, but he ignored it. He is under the assumption I have a large amount of money stashed somewhere.” I told him.
“I don’t get why he didn’t give you credit for all the money you sent in so far. Why is he under the assumption you have…oh, I see. Here it is. A statement from Tracy claiming that you own land, cars, and that your previous income was a six-figure salary.”
“I don’t own any land. My family does but I have no access to that. And cars? If I sold the one car I have now, I’d owe money. And six-figures? I never
made that much. I am in debt. I have no hidden stash of money.”
“Your family. They have land, they have money. Why haven’t they helped pay your bail?”
“They are not going to help. They don’t even take my calls.”
There was a five-minute silence before he spoke again. He read over more documents and made some notes.
“Mr. Conner, I can’t promise you I can get Judge Wilcox to lift all the charges. However, I can get you out of jail. I will see you on your court date.”
“Okay, and thank you for taking my case.” I stood and shook his hand.
“Oh, and when you get released, get a damn job and continue to pay.”
“No problem,” I responded.
I went back to my cell, then lay down and prayed, “God, thank You for all that You have done for me. Thank You for Mr. Taylor. Thank You for Angela. And thank You for all the lessons that I have learned through this experience. Please Lord be there for me as I face this judge, Tracy, and Mr. Robinson.”
The other inmates were excited for me. They all thought I would be released on my court date. I wasn’t too sure.
“Prior to this season in my life, I always thought that court was fair and judges were unbiased. I thought that if I was a good person who obeyed the rules, I would triumph over those who were unlawful in court. Now I know that anything can happen in court.” I talked about it as I played poker with Buck, Mike, and Mr. Key.
“Heck yeah, anything can happen,” Mr. Key responded. “Look at Carlos over there.”
Mr. Key nodded his head in the direction of a short stocky Hispanic man who wore glasses. “You know what he’s in for?”
I shook my head no.
“Poor guy, some girl came over to his house and brought some pills for them to get high. He really liked the girl, so he took a few. But she took too much and overdosed. He did the right thing, called the ambulance, and stayed with her till they got there. Unfortunately, she died. And as a result, he was arrested and charged with manslaughter.”
“If he had left her alone, he wouldn’t be in here,” Mike chimed in.
“What!?” I was horrified.
“Yep. It’s manslaughter because the law states that unlawfully dispensing drugs resulting in death is murder, and the judge considered doing drugs with someone to be the same as dispensing it to that person. He’s been here for almost a year.”
I couldn’t believe that someone who was doing the right thing would get charged with something so grave.
“Damn, that’s fucked up.”
“See Slim over there?” Mr. Key motioned to a tall thin dark-complexioned brother, “Know what he’s in for?”
I shook my head no.
“He is only nineteen, one year out of foster care, and his girl just gave birth to their daughter. He was trying to provide for them, so he started growing weed in their one-bedroom apartment. He was caught selling marijuana and admitted to the crime. It was his first offense and should have been charged as a misdemeanor. He should have only had a thirty-day sentence. But that wasn’t enough of a charge for our legal system, so they sent his little dime bag of weed to forensics and they found traces of fentanyl. Now he is charged not only with marijuana possession with intent to sell, but also with possession of fentanyl which is a felony.”
“Them damn cops probably put that fentanyl in there. You know they be fucking over young Black men,” Buck said.
“You know, all cops aren’t out to get you. There are some good ones. Maybe the fentanyl was already in the bag he was using. You know them dime bags get recycled all the time,” Mike argued, “It ain’t all about race. I’m white and my ass in here, too.”
“Sometimes it is about race, but sometimes it’s just about money and power. I mean, look at who’s running the country. These politicians are running circles around the law and no one is doing anything. They steal millions, rape women, and molest children, and no one does anything about it. And here we are sitting in here on some bullshit. The haves and the have nots.” Mr. Key shrugged resignedly.
“You got money, you got power. You got power and the rules don’t apply to you. And when you don’t have to play by the rules, you lose your ethics. The same people on the news condemning and criminalizing us are making crooked back deals to get rich while hurting millions of hard-working families. They all turn a blind eye to our pain and suffering,” Mike replied.
“Michael Trellis!” a guard interrupted.
“Yes,” Mike answered as he turned around.
“You’ve made bail. Get your shit, let’s go.”
Mike was just as surprised as we were. His family came through for him. As he packed up his belongings, his expression changed from excitement to worry.
“Congratulations man, you made it,” I dapped him.
“I feel like it should be you getting out. I didn’t think you’d be in here longer than me.”
“Don’t worry, man. My day is coming. Enjoy your freedom. Enjoy it, don’t waste it.” I hoped he’d catch my drift. I didn’t want him to get out and start using drugs again. I hoped and silently prayed that he would turn his life around after he got out.
Mike smiled and nodded, “You right. Your day is coming.” He threw up the deuces sign as he walked to the sally port.
It was bittersweet watching him go. I was happy for him, but I was angry because I was still in jail. When would my day come? What was God waiting for?
Letter 183:
Dear Angela,
I am so tired of sitting in this damn jail cell. I don’t understand why I’m still here. I get what you are saying about the dominos and shit, but damn. Really? All that, for this? With all that is going on, I’m not even sure if Trinity is mine. I’m not even sure if my mom really has breast cancer. Every time I went to Kentucky, I never saw my mom take any medication. She never lost her hair. She was never in the hospital. I wonder if this was all a ploy to get as much money as they could from me. How could they do this to me? And at the worse time in my life, when I was going through all that shit with Tracy.
Tracy is a liar and a cheater. I want to be there for my son, but Tracy is doing all kinds of foul and illegal shit to keep me away from him. I don’t understand why I’m the only one getting punished and they are walking around free, without a care in the world. I don’t wish anything bad on them, but I damn sure hope something happens to them so they can learn their lesson, too. I know it’s a lot. I can understand if you want to leave me.
Ethan
Letter 184:
Dear Ethan,
You know, I come home every day and rush to the mailbox, excited and hoping that there is a letter from you there. I love reading about how much you love and miss me, but that last letter was filled with Tracy, Naomi, and Caroline. I don’t mind you venting. In fact, sometimes I gotta vent about them too, but I’m getting tired of our lives being consumed with them. Yes, they did some foul shit but we gotta let that go. I know you are filled with pain and resentment and it is eating you up, but you gotta let that go too.
That constant dwelling in pain and anger does not hurt them. It hurts you.
The grass is greener where you water it. Hurt are weeds and resentment is like watering weeds. If you water your past hurt, those weeds will grow and consume your entire yard. If you water the blessings God is trying to give you presently, those blessings will grow.
Like a cancer, hate grows and consumes. You have a choice, either you can cut it out or let that cancer grow and consume you. Holding onto grudges, keeping record of all wrongs that were done to you, constantly dwelling in those painful memories, building up walls and closing yourself off to the rest of the world to prevent future hurt, seeking revenge, and hoping that they receive their rightful punishment are all actions that is allowing this cancer to grow and consume you.
Sometimes we have resentment towards ourselves and the things we have done or allowed. I know you have a lot of guilt about the things y
ou have done to me. That’s why you keep apologizing and saying stuff like, “I understand if you want to leave me.” I don’t want to leave you. I’m here.
None of us are perfect. We are all sinners. And at some point, knowingly or unknowingly, we have hurt someone. But God had mercy on us. We thankfully did not get what we deserved. So why we wishing other’s to not have the same mercy that we were blessed with?
So, how do we get rid of the cancer of resentment?
Step 1. Forgive them and do not seek revenge. Ephesians 4:31-32, Mark 11:25, Romans 12:19, Colossians 3:8, 1 Peter 2:23.
Step 2. Forgive yourself and surrender to God. 1 John 1:9, 1 Peter 5:7, Matthew 6:14-15.
Step 3. Know that forgiving does not mean you forget. You still must be wise and have discernment when someone has hurt you. Some people hurt you because they are enemies. They are trying to use, abuse, and destroy you. You still forgive them in the sense that you no longer wish bad on them. You let the hurt go. You allow God to deal with them in His own time. But those people? You should distance yourself from them or cut them off, all together. You cannot let an enemy continue to abuse and take advantage of you.
Some people are good people who made a mistake. If that is the case, you not only forgive them, you can also forget the infraction and work on repairing the relationship. Matthew 10:16, Romans 16:17-19, Galatians 6:1, Matthew 6:13
Step 4. Get over it! Stop thinking about what they did and why. Thinking about what they did is not going to undo the action. And you may never find out the answer to why they did it. Either way, stop dwelling in it. This takes conscious effort. When you sense your mind drifting off into past hurts, make a conscious effort to stop thinking about it and think about something else. Think about the present or the future. Think about all the blessings you have now instead of all the things you lost. Read God’s word instead. Find a new hobby. Philippians 4:8, Ephesians 4:3, Hebrews 12:15, Isaiah 43:18.