Bars – Part 3

Prison. It is a tricky subject to talk about much less write about. Most people have very strong feelings one way or the other.

Last evening my husband and I were discussing our week ahead. I mentioned that I would be working on part 3 of Bars. As he is prone to do, he shared with me his thoughts on the topic. 

I could have written a short story centered around the theme. No harm, no foul. Instead, I have chosen to share my personal experience. He shared that he was concerned that by doing so, I may alienate some readers. My hope is that it does not. 

Instead, my hope is that it will educate you to the realities of a system set in place long ago that needs revisiting. I am a firm believer that when something no longer serves our betterment, we need a different approach.

Tim was born to a poor family in Memphis, TN, in 1974. He was the oldest of five children and  grew up like most of his peers, watching his parents struggle to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. 

Tim had trouble in school because he had a hard time with reading. He struggled to keep up and soon he often found himself in detention. As he got into his teens, he started skipping school any chance he got.

One area Tim did excel was in art. He could draw anything. His few school binders were full of images he drew while in class. No one was paying attention to his talent. With a little encouragement he could have finished high school and pursued a career in the arts. 

Eventually, hanging out with other delinquent friends became a way of life. Both parents worked two jobs and had little time to deal with a defiant young man. Over time, Tim slipped between the cracks of a school system already overburdened.

As it happens a lot, Tim began to see friends making quick money by petty theft or dealing drugs. For the first time, he saw a way to help his parents. In Tim’s world, it was a rite of passage and it also guaranteed you status. 

He had a nice smile and a gentle demeanor. This aided him as he worked the streets. He was doing good for himself. He had his own place, a nice ride, and a real job. It was manual labor, but he enjoyed being outdoors. He continued to do side “jobs” as needed, but for the most part, things were good. He was even able to give his parents a little extra money.

Not long after his twenty-first birthday, Tim and his girlfriend went to a popular nightclub in Memphis. It was the latest ‘cool’ place to hang out and party. On this particular night, the place was packed.

After several hours, Tim’s girlfriend got tired and asked to go home. Tim decided he was not finished having fun, so agreed to drive her back to their apartment and return.

In hindsight, he remembers a little voice saying that he should go home for the evening. He ignored that prompt and returned to the club parking lot.

While walking through the parking lot gunshots rang out. People started screaming and running. A man was down and it was total chaos. 

In minutes the parking lot was flooded with Memphis patrol cars. Flashing blue lights and people yelling and screaming. Turns out the man down was one of their own. An off-duty Memphis policeman who was picking up some extra money by working security at the club.

The next thing Tim knows, someone points at him. Officers immediately surround him, as they frisk his body. They find his gun tucked in his pants. Carrying a gun was standard procedure if you were black and lived in Memphis. 

Long story short – Tim was arrested that evening and charged with the murder of the Memphis policeman. Even though witnesses told the investigating officers that it was NOT Tim but someone with a similar car, Tim was held in the city jail.

As with most poor people, Tim was assigned a public defender. There was no way that his family could afford to hire an attorney on their own. Tim’s fate was in the hands of the PD. 

Public Defenders are over-worked and deal with the least common denominator for clients. Whether it was burn-out or cynicism that had taken hold, he did very little to present a case for Tim that painted him as innocent.

Tim ended up with a guilty verdict, and the added burden of a death sentence. Murdering law enforcement came with harsh sentences. Someone must pay. Tim was now in the literal hot seat at the age of twenty-three (by the time his case went to trial). 

Adjusting to life behind bars takes time. From what I understand, it is like grieving the loss of a loved one. There are stages one must work through. It took Tim a long while to get to the stage of acceptance.

What prison did allow was time to sit and think about his life. It also gave him time to focus on art. He purchased paints, brushes, and cheap canvases when family and friends sent money. He got a job working in the prison kitchen. 

With the guidance of another inmate who painted, Tim began to learn how to paint on canvas. He discovered, as with drawing, he could paint anything. 

Through programs at Riverbend, he was able to get a GED and even show his art. He sold a few pieces through the help of volunteers. This helped the loneliness he felt. His family could not afford to make trips to Nashville to visit. Painting became his comfort.

Tim had been in prison around fifteen years when he and I met. By this time, a group of pro-bono attorneys had heard about his case and taken an interest. They were working tirelessly to rebuild a case for appeal. This fact alone was unheard of. You cannot believe how many cases just like Tim’s are out there. Not many are willing to take pro-bono work. You need a case that can be won before they will even consider taking it on. 

Tim and I became fast friends and talked about art for hours. I was just beginning my own journey into art and he was able to give me some helpful instruction. I would leave my visit with him and run home to practice what he had shared. I was always so surprised at the level of his faith and the gentleness of his heart. A stark contrast to the label of death row inmate.

In 2012, Tim finally received word that his appeal was going to be heard. He was ecstatic but terrified. What if? What if this second round still produced the same verdict – death? But then, a miracle happened.

Tim got a not guilty verdict. He was free! Many of us celebrated with Tim that he finally got the trial he had deserved the first time. The number of people that played a role in his freedom is large. The time, money and effort can never be fully repaid. It truly was a miracle. So very few ever get to resend a death verdict.

We all encouraged Tim to not go back to Memphis to live, but instead to start a new life in Nashville. I was already thinking of ways to get him into graphic design school. 

Tim’s parents were getting on in years by then. His mother was a bad diabetic. Tim being the oldest, felt he needed to return to Memphis to help them. None of us thought this was a wise move. No amount of counseling or talking could convince Tim otherwise.

Statistics show that if a person returns to the same environment after incarceration, chances are high they will commit crimes again. Tim knew this information and promised that he would never serve time again. I believed him.

In 2013, we were in the middle of moving from Nashville to Mississippi to help care for my elderly mother. Tim was back in Memphis, trying to find work and relishing his freedom. He texted picture after picture of him with his family sharing meals. He looked so happy!

It wasn’t long after we had moved that a friend close to Tim’s previous case called with the news that he was in the Memphis city jail. My heart stopped. How could this be? 

Let’s take a step back. Tim was convicted (albeit wrongly) of killing a police officer. He was then freed and returned to the scene of the crime. For close to twenty years, the people of Memphis felt the man response for that death was behind bars, headed to the electric chair. With his freedom, all those old feelings were at the surface again. Who is going to pay for this death?

Finding work and housing once you have been in prison is difficult. It doesn’t matter if you were innocent or guilty and paid your debt to society by serving your time. You are still not trustworthy, and you are never forgiven. 

Tim’s situation was no different. No one wants to hire an ex-con, and certainly not one who had been on death row. Even though we warned, begged, and pleaded with him NOT to return to Memphis, he made the decision to go back. 

Tim was caught on camera robbing a convenience store, holding a gun on the cashier.  The proof was there in spades. No mistaken identity this time.

He called me not long after I found out he was back in jail. He cried and asked me to forgive him for letting everyone down. He said it was so hard trying to start again and he messed up. I was angry and disappointed but I told him what he needed to hear.  

I told him that I loved him, that he did not owe me an apology. The main person he let down was himself. 

WE, on the other hand, owe an apology to Tim and every man and woman who serves their time and re-enters society. We have made sure nothing will be easy and their mistake will forever haunt them. 

Hats off to the few that manage to rebuild a meaningful life despite all the challenges they face. Freedom always comes at a price.

(Tim is currently serving a life sentence without parole.)