140. Earning Freedom (11.3) by Michael Santos
Earning Freedom by Michael Santos
Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term
Chapter Eleven: 2003-2005
Months 190-209
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It\u2019s the spring of 2004, and even at our 5,000-foot elevation, the snow has stopped falling. The Rocky Mountains are right outside the window, close enough that it looks as if I could reach out and touch them. I have a wonderful view from this prison cubicle in Florence.
Carole studies full time at Pueblo Community College and her schedule helps me mark off the weeks. We visit three hours every Friday evening, six hours on Saturdays, Sundays, and federal holidays. The more time I spend in Carole\u2019s company, with my fingers locked around hers, the more I feel as if I\u2019m a part of something more than a prison population.
While we sit beside each other in the burgundy plastic chairs of Florence\u2019s visiting room, she tells me that we need to generate more support for my clemency petition. It\u2019s been almost a year, and we haven\u2019t heard anything.
I squeeze her hand. \u201cI told you, President Bush isn\u2019t going to commute my sentence. Let\u2019s not divert our attention from what\u2019s really important.\xa0 We\u2019re doing well and we need time to prepare for my release. You focus on finishing chemistry and biology, and I\u2019ll work on getting a publishing deal.\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s too bad Bruce isn\u2019t alive. He could help.\u201d
\u201cWe\u2019ve got to do this on our own. You get your degree, and I\u2019ll find a literary agent who will represent my work. It looks like we\u2019re going to be saddled with four more years of Bush. But if I get a book deal, we might get enough support for a reasonable chance at clemency after he\u2019s gone. And by then you\u2019ll be a nurse.\u201d
\u201cFirst I need to pass algebra.\xa0 These word problems were tough when I was in high school, but they\u2019re brutal now that I\u2019m 40.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re smarter than I am, and I know you can do it.\u201d I pull out the algebra book she brought with her. \u201cLet\u2019s work through some problems together.\u201d
*******
Other than work in the Supermax laundry, exercise, and visiting with Carole, I devote all my energy to writing a book proposal and three sample chapters for a new manuscript.\xa0 I\u2019m titling it Inside: Life Behind Bars in America. It\u2019s my first attempt to reach a general, non-fiction audience, and I invest more than three months with a Bic pen and a dictionary to put the book proposal together. Carole types the document and sends copies to 90 literary agents I culled from an annotated list published in Writers Market.\xa0 I\u2019m hopeful they\u2019ll have an interest in my work.
Our effort to find a literary agent makes me a hit at mail call. The guard has been calling my name over and over, passing me no fewer than 73 rejections from literary agents who\u2019ve declined to represent me. But I\u2019ve also received letters from four agents who express an interest. I hold one in my hand now from James Schiavone, a Florida agent who has a doctorate in education.
Educators guided me through my first 17 years of confinement and they served as role models for me. I admire their devotion to improving society through teaching and I respect them for the energy they invest in helping others reach their potential.
I respond to Dr. Schiavone\u2019s letter, letting him know that I\u2019d welcome an opportunity to work with him. That response leads to more correspondence. I amend my proposal according to his suggestions and sign a contract giving Schiavone Literary Agency authorization to present my manuscript to mainstream publishing houses. It thrills me to have a valid contract with a literary agent Carole and I found through our own work.
The executive staff at Florence Camp, however, doesn\u2019t share my elation. This becomes clear when the Camp Administrator, Mr. Jimenez, calls me into his office for an admonishment. My Unit Manager, Ms. Otero, is also present. Anticipating the reason for the meeting, I carry copies of About Prison, Profiles From Prison, and a file with letters I\u2019ve received from numerous professors who use my writings as a resource to teach university students in their criminal justice and corrections courses.
Mr. Jimenez is confident and ambitious, clearly headed for higher offices with the growing Bureau of Prisons system. As the camp administrator, he\u2019s like a mini warden, and all staff members answer to him. As unit manager of the camp, Ms. Otero is his direct subordinate. She reminds me of a miniature bulldog, tough and mean.
Mr. Jimenez authorizes me to come in. He\u2019s sitting in a high-backed chair behind his large oak desk. Ms. Otero stands in front of Mr. Jimenez\u2019s desk, glaring at me like I\u2019m a problem child she\u2019s reporting to the principal, her hands clasped behind her back. Her dark polyester suit fails to hide the roll of fat she tries to camouflage.
\u201cHave a seat, Mr. Santos,\u201d Mr. Jimenez gestures to the green vinyl couch beside his desk.
\u201cI\u2019m placing you on mail-monitoring status,\u201d he says as I sit down.
\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d I ask.
\u201cIt means that the Special Investigative Services lieutenant will review all correspondence addressed to you. From now on, the SIS will have to approve all mail before it\u2019s distributed to you.\u201d
\u201cWhy?\u201d I ask.
\u201cSecurity of the institution,\u201d Ms. Otero says.
\u201cHow long will he hold my mail?\u201d
\u201cWe\u2019ll try to keep it reasonable,\u201d Mr. Jiminez says. \u201cDepending on the volume of mail you receive, you can expect it in two to three weeks, assuming SIS approves it.\u201d
\u201cWhat have I done to warrant this sanction?\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019re not being sanctioned,\u201d he corrects me. \u201cI have a responsibility to preserve the security of the institution, and this is a precautionary measure I\u2019m taking.\u201d
\u201cA precautionary measure against what? I\u2019m not threatening security. My record is clear, and I\u2019m an open book. All I\u2019m trying to do is prepare for my successful re-entry into society.\u201d
\u201cYou\u2019ve still got nine years to serve, and we don\u2019t care anything about your life after release,\u201d Ms. Otero hisses. \u201cAll we care about is the security of the institution. We don\u2019t like prisoners writing books and complaining about the system.\u201d
\u201cHave you seen the books I write?\xa0 I\u2019m not complaining about anything.\u201d
\u201cI don\u2019t need to see your books,\u201d she says. \u201cI don\u2019t want any inmates under my watch writing about prison operations. It threatens security.\u201d
I\u2019m puzzled by her hostility, and I turn to Mr. Jimenez. I sense he\u2019s uncomfortable with her self-righteous invective.
\u201cCan I show you my books?\u201d
He extends his hand and I give him the books and the file of letters.
\u201cI write about the importance of accepting responsibility, about preparing for re-entry. My books don\u2019t threaten security. They offer suggestions for improvements to lower recidivism rates. Universities from coast to coast use them as teaching resources. I\u2019m proud of my work and I\u2019d like to have your support.\u201d
Mr. Jimenez flips through the pages.
Ms. Otero watches the exchange and, sensing that Mr. Jimenez might reconsider, she verbally challenges me again. \u201cWhat are you in for? Aren\u2019t you a drug dealer?\u201d
\u201cI made the bad decision to sell cocaine in my early 20s. I\u2019m 40 now, hoping you\u2019ll judge me for the record I\u2019ve built over the past 17 years rather than the crime that put me here.\u201d
\u201cI bet you would. You\u2019re serving 45 years, right? Why don\u2019t you just serve your time like everyone else? Write your books when you get out,\u201d she snarls.
I\u2019m immune to her verbal hammer, knowing it\u2019s for Jimenez\u2019s benefit.
\u201cLike everyone else? Ms. Otero, 70 percent of the people who leave prison return to prison. Serving my time like everyone else would only lead to my failure after 26 years. I\u2019m determined not to let that happen. Why would you oppose me? You\u2019ve got gang members running around here who thrive on crime, and you want to spend energy blocking me? Why?\u201d
\u201cThe thing is, Mr. Santos, we\u2019ve got an institution to run,\u201d Mr. Jimenez explains, returning my books. \u201cHow do you think taxpayers would respond if they heard we were allowing inmates to write books?\u201d
\u201cThe BOP policy expressly encourages inmates to write manuscripts, and it says we don\u2019t need staff authorization.\u201d
\u201cIt doesn\u2019t say you can publish them,\u201d Ms. Otero barks, unwilling to back down.
\u201cI\u2019m not publishing them, someone else is. I give the manuscripts away. Wouldn\u2019t you rather have prisoners using their time productively in activities that will help them overcome the stigma of imprisonment? Isn\u2019t that better than wasting time on television and table games?\u201d
\u201cI told you. We don\u2019t care what happens to inmates after they leave. We\u2019re running a prison here,\u201d she snaps, angrily.
Mr. Jimenez shakes his head. \u201cWe\u2019ve made our decision, Mr. Santos. As of today, you\u2019re on mail-monitoring status. You may appeal the decision, but I\u2019ve consulted with the warden and he agrees that security of the institution comes first.\u201d
I walk out of his office sensing that Mr. Jimenez respects me, maybe even admires what I\u2019ve done. But he\u2019s a career bureaucrat representing a system whose policies have the unintended consequences of perpetuating failure; prison management rejects the workplace practices of innovation and \u2018thinking outside the box.\u2019 It\u2019s so much easier to isolate and punish.
I owe no allegiance to Mr. Jimenez, Ms. Otero, or the prison system. By writing about prisons from the inside, I hope to influence support for reforms to our costly prison system that perpetuates so much failure. I feel a duty to write about America\u2019s most flawed institutions, especially a federal prison system hidden from public view and squandering billions in taxpayer resources each year.
*******
From the window of my cubicle, I see Carole\u2019s blue Saturn two-door waiting in a line of vehicles on the side of the road.\xa0 Every day brings more reason for me to appreciate the blessings of my life.\xa0 With her love, I feel fortunate, strong enough to overcome whatever this prison system dishes out. When the guard at the main gate raises the barrier for cars to drive into the FCC for visiting, I leave my cubicle and walk toward the visiting room.
When Officer Zimmer pages me, I step into the room for a search. He\u2019s friendly to Carole and me, allowing Carole to bring her textbooks so I can help her study. She was excited on the phone when I spoke to her earlier, and I\u2019m eager to hear her news.
As I enter the visiting room she stands, smiling, her arms waiting for my embrace. She serves this sentence with me. For us, these few hours together are our dates.
\u201cWhat happened? Did you get an A on your chemistry exam?\u201d I ask.
She smiles at me. \u201cI\u2019m so proud of you,\u201d she says.
\u201cTell me why.\u201d
\u201cJim called. He got you a publishing deal for your book.\u201d
\u201cWith who?\u201d I ask.
\u201cSt. Martin\u2019s Press. They\u2019re giving us an advance. You\u2019ll have distribution all over the world.\u201d\u2028
The news thrills me. It\u2019s only been a couple weeks since I signed the agreement with Jim Schiavone and in his letter he urged patience. Although my mentors, George Cole and Marilyn McShane, helped me place my first two books with academic publishers, I\u2019m a novice author to mainstream publishers. I expected my imprisonment would present a real obstacle, but Jim is a solid professional agent. His representation brought credibility with the large New York publishing house, and once again, an educator changes my life. I\u2019m proud that the pens and paper I buy from the prison commissary lead to work that contributes to Carole and Nichole\u2019s well being. A sense of validation comes with this tangible proof that others see me something as more than a prisoner.
\u201cDo I need to talk with anyone, with Jim or someone from St. Martin\u2019s?\u201d
\u201cEveryone understands your situation. You can send everything through me, like always. I\u2019ll type it and forward the manuscript through email. The only question is edits. How will you meet the timeline if the staff keeps holding your mail?\u201d
\u201cLet\u2019s send the manuscript pages to Rick,\u201d I suggest, referring to my roommate. \u201cNo one\u2019s checking his mail.\u201d
\u201cI can\u2019t do that. They probably have some rule about my writing to another inmate.\u201d
\u201cHoney, you\u2019re free. You can send mail to anyone you want.\xa0 We can\u2019t let these mini-minds in prison block us from success.\u201d
\u201cNo way,\u201d Carole is adamant.\xa0 \u201cI\u2019m not going to do anything that might create a problem with our visits. I\u2019ll forward the manuscript pages I type to Jennifer. She can send them to her husband, and when he gets them, he can give them to you.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019ll meet the timeline.\u201d
\u201cNo one has any doubt about that,\u201d Carole assures me.
*******
The BOP rule that limits prisoners to 300 telephone minutes each month stifles family ties. With an average of fewer than 10 minutes of daily telephone access, I can\u2019t afford to talk with anyone but Carole. But it\u2019s June 11, 2004, Christina\u2019s 37th birthday. I haven\u2019t spoken with my younger sister since she flew to New Jersey last year to witness my marriage to Carole, so I dial her number in Miami to surprise her.
\u201cHappy birthday,\u201d I say when she answers.
\u201cHi, thanks.\u201d Christina responds softly, sadly. Then silence.
\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong? You don\u2019t sound like you\u2019re celebrating,\u201d I push for an answer.
\u201cYou haven\u2019t talked to Carole?\u201d
\u201cShe\u2019s still in school. I\u2019ll see her tonight when we visit, why?\u201d
\u201cDad died today, Michael.\u201d
I knew that my father\u2019s health had been declining for the past decade. His illness prevented him from traveling to visit me after I left USP Atlanta. The news from Christina, while not unexpected, hurts. The challenges of this lengthy prison journey keep coming, but I\u2019ve dealt with them repeatedly over the years and I take the news of my father\u2019s passing with stoic acceptance. I exhale, and urge my sister to be strong.
\u201cCan you come to the funeral?\u201d she asks, her voice sounds far away.
\u201cNo.\u201d I\u2019m a prisoner and I know my limitations.
\u201cWe can postpone the service a few days if you need time for the request.\u201d she pleads with me.
\u201cChristina, they won\u2019t even give me more access to the telephone. They\u2019re not going to let me travel to Seattle for a funeral.
You and Julie arrange the service without me. I\u2019ll pray here and write a eulogy.\u201d
Now the three men closest to me have died. I say prayers for my grandfather, Bruce, and my dad. My imprisonment stretches too long for them to have been able to welcome me home. Not being allowed to pay final respects and show gratitude, I silently hope my father\u2019s death is the last loss of family that I\u2019ll know as a prisoner.
*******
Carole and I eagerly await the celebration of our second wedding anniversary in June of 2005. Just as we did on our wedding day and on our first anniversary, we\u2019ll savor a romantic dinner, whatever snacks the four vending machines offer. We both feel good about being ahead of the schedule we set. Carole is completing the final prerequisites before beginning her bachelors of science in nursing at Colorado State University, and Ben Sevier, my editor at St. Martin\u2019s Press, has accepted my manuscript for Inside: Life Behind Bars in America.
After the 5:00 a.m. census count clears on Wednesday, June 1, 2005, I seal the envelope that holds the prologue for Inside and carry it to the outgoing mailbox. Except for the final editing, I\u2019m finished with that project and I look forward to its publication. It\u2019s time to begin something new.
I return to my cubicle and sit at the tiny metal surface mounted against the green concrete wall. The all-in-one table and stool \u201cdesk\u201d is large enough to hold my paper and dictionary, but nothing else. I drape a folded towel over the edge to keep it from cutting into my forearm while I write in longhand. The hard metal stool mounted to a swinging arm beneath the desk is directly beside the window to my right, which frames the million-dollar view of Pike\u2019s Peak and the Rocky Mountains. After 18 months we\u2019re settled, Carole and Nichole live in town, while I climb through the final years of my term in\xa0 Florence Camp.
After two hours of writing, I hear the page. \u201cSantos! Report to the Bubble.\u201d
The Bubble is at the camp\u2019s entrance where guards congregate. I begin my walk up with apprehension, as I know that nothing good can come from this summons.
When I get to the Bubble I see the SIS lieutenant who is in charge of security for the FCC.\xa0 He\u2019s sipping coffee with the other guards in the glass enclosure and he reminds me of someone who aspires to a career as an FBI agent. The same lieutenant questioned me a few weeks ago after a newspaper reporter wrote a story about the ADX and cited my work as a source. When I told the lieutenant that I hadn\u2019t had any contact with the media, my response seemed to end his inquiry. Now I\u2019m not so sure, as he rarely bothers with the camp. I present my red ID card to the guard at the window.
\u201cSit in there,\u201d he commands, pointing across the hall to the visiting room. \u201cSomeone will be here to see you.\u201d The guard keeps my ID card, and the SIS agent, who stands behind him, stares at me while sipping his coffee.
I sit alone in the visiting room and look around. Carole and I spend all of our time together here, but intuition tells me that change is about to bury the visiting schedule we value and appreciate so much. My heart beats faster when a guard I don\u2019t recognize walks in and confirms my suspicions.
\u201cAre you Santos?\u201d
\u201cYes.\u201d
\u201cCuff up.\u201d
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