Home - Compassion Prison Project https://compassionprisonproject.org/ Do No Harm Thu, 28 Jul 2022 08:45:55 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://compassionprisonproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/cropped-CPP-navicon-32x32.png Home - Compassion Prison Project https://compassionprisonproject.org/ 32 32 Compassion Prison Project false episodic Compassion Prison Project © 2022 Compassion Prison Project © 2022 Compassion Prison Project podcast Home - Compassion Prison Project https://compassionprisonproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Compassion-In-Action-Logo.png https://compassionprisonproject.org/category/portrait-of-a-human/ TV-PG Donate Donate Portrait of a Human: Sylvester Shockley https://compassionprisonproject.org/portrait-of-a-human-sylvester-shockley/ Mon, 02 May 2022 19:28:38 +0000 https://compassionprisonproject.org/?p=11977 by Melonie McCoy In this series, we share intimate stories written by the men and women living or working in our nation’s prisons. Poignant and captivating, these stories are a testament to the human spirit. They show our capacity, no matter our background, experiences or trauma, for self-compassion and ultimately, healing. Let us introduce you to Sylvester Shockley, affectionately known…

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by Melonie McCoy
Sylvester Shockley
In this series, we share intimate stories written by the men and women living or working in our nation’s prisons. Poignant and captivating, these stories are a testament to the human spirit. They show our capacity, no matter our background, experiences or trauma, for self-compassion and ultimately, healing.
Let us introduce you to Sylvester Shockley, affectionately known by our core team as Vessey. Vessey is CPP’s Strategic Advisor who carries a unique wealth of experience. His life has unfolded like a poignant novel, full of hardships and trauma, grace and hope. But there’s something beyond this story that makes Vessey special, that transcends the diamond-in-the-rough returning citizen tales. Maybe it’s the fact that he spent nearly five decades in prison, yet has the gentlest demeanor of anyone on our team. It could be because Vessey often sits quietly during our Zoom meetings, taking it all in like a wise sage. Then peaceably, but confidently, with a spirit reminiscent of Sidney Poitier mixed with George Burns’s “God”, speaks his mind. Vessey’s words never fail to be intelligent, thought-provoking, and perfectly timed… often a reminder to be gentle in our approach. Very often, a reminder to keep compassion for our fellow humans uppermost in all of our decision making. Recently, I posed a few questions to Vessey. My hope is that you’ll find his observations to be insightful and also the consummate example of a Portrait of a Human.
How long were you in prison?
My name is Sylvester Shockley, I’m 71 and was in prison for most of my life-approximately 50 years.  Perhaps it might be more than that if I really add it all up.  Approximately four years were spent in juvenile custody and the rest in adult prisons.
What was your childhood like, and do you know your ACE (adverse childhood experiences) score?
Growing up, my childhood was very troubling.  I had a very deep resentment towards my father as a result of the abusive ways in which he treated my mother, my siblings and especially me.  I remember that as a child, I was playing with matches, and accidentally set a hamper on fire.  I was able to put the fire out but when my dad came home, to teach me a lesson not to play with matches, he took the matches and burned my fingers.  Also, in my childhood, I had recurring terrifying dreams and nightmares of falling off cliffs, and monsters trying to kill me.  I would wake up just before I would hit the ground and before the monsters would catch me. Between the ages of five through eleven, I was sexually abused by two adult males and one adult female on three separate occasions. Furthermore, I had a very serious stuttering problem (still today I have problems in pronouncing certain words).  I was shy around people and the only time I felt comfortable and confident was when I was playing sports, or when I was by myself.  I always felt unwanted by my family, and that no one really cared for me.  By the time I was ten, I was stealing and getting into all kinds of trouble.  I was arrested several times and was sent to holding centers for youth until my mother would come and get me or until I went to court.  By the age of 12, the Family Court declared me a juvenile delinquent and sent me to Ferris School for Boys.  By the time I was released from Ferris I was filled with so much anger and rage that I didn’t care what would happen to me.  I made the decision that doing wrong was better than doing right, and that I would never again allow somebody to take advantage of me without getting some back.  I just wanted people to feel the same way I was feeling.  So, it made no difference how I would hurt people.  If I could get something financial out of it, all the better.  When I turned 17, I tried to rob a store in the neighborhood.  The owner pulled a pistol and we got into a tussle.  While we were tussling, the gun went off accidentally killing the owner.  I panicked and fled the store.  Causing the death of the owner brought about a very serious breach within my soul.  It was as if I had experienced the same kind of fear and dread that Adam and Eve had experienced in the garden of Eden when they had violated and disobeyed God law.  When I was sentenced for the crime, I wanted to somehow express my remorse and regret, but the hardness of my heart wouldn’t allow me to express how I really felt.
What happened to you while in prison that you found transformative or enlightening?
In prison as a young guy, I was looked up to because I had killed someone. I felt wanted and accepted.  Also, in prison you couldn’t appear weak.  So, in my assimilation to prison life, I made it very clear that there was a price to pay messing with me.  But after several times in and out of prison trying to live up to that reputation, my heart began to soften.  While in prison, before I went back to jail for the last time, I was experiencing some intense emotions and supernatural experiences that were beyond my understanding that shook me to my core. My conscience was truly convicting me about all the bad things I had done in life.  I knew that if I didn’t do anything about it, I would be lost for all eternity.  When I informed the prison officials and mental health officials about the intensity of my emotional pain and the disconcerting supernatural experience, they seemed to be at a loss in helping me, (as I think about it, perhaps the reason I did not receive any help or support from prison officials was because of the bad reputation that I had acquired).  I was left to my own device in figuring out what was going on with me. Finally, I concluded, I had no other choice but to turn to God for answers.  Through my faith in God, I was able to clear my conscience of all the bad things I had done and started to make some changes in my life for good. However, there were a few deep dark secrets that I was unwilling to face and deal with.  Subsequently, when I was released from prison before this time, it was my deepest desire to be a positive influence on my family, and to be a law-abiding citizen. However, because I failed to deal with those deep dark secrets, regrettably, I yielded to my base self and committed another crime. You might not understand when I say this, but going back to prison was the best thing for me at that time.  I was unfit to be in society, and I knew I needed help.  Once I went back to prison, I proposed in my heart to seek the help that I needed and to resolve all the issues that kept bringing me back to prison.  The healing process was very difficult, but I dealt with the man in the mirror and learned the principles to live right and treat other people right as well.  By participating in groups, one-on-one counseling, private time with myself, and especially spending time in the Word of God helped me to transform my thinking.  I accept that there is no substitute for treating people right and doing right.  Today and every day, I’m still learning how to continuously be a man of respect, honor, integrity, transparency, compassion and truth.  My past no longer defines who I am.  I have decided not to be the problem anymore, but to be accountable and responsible for finding the right solution to the problem.
Was returning to society difficult? What would have made the experience better?
Being released in March 2019 after spending 38 years incarcerated, was shocking to say the least.   I ran into a lot of subtle discrimination and roadblocks that delayed my maturation back into the community.  But I also have received a lot of support from people in the community in my adjustment.   Nevertheless, it seems to me that some folks encouraged me to pull myself up by the bootstraps yet holding their foot on my neck and holding my past against me all at the same time. However, I will not allow people ever again to control me or to hold me back from being the person I’ve always wanted to be, and succeeding in making a difference.  I’m grateful for all the support that I have received.  I think the reason for this is, I no longer present myself as a grizzly bear but as a teddy bear.  When you begin thinking well of yourself, people are more willing to think well of you too. That’s part of the reason I now have a good job working for the State of Delaware as a case manager for returning citizens, have a bank account and for the first time, own my own home (after being out of prison for only two and half years). I find that I’m meeting with success in my adjustment back to the community.  I’m actually enjoying life the way I wanted it to be for the first time.  I’m no longer concerned about my past catching up to me, because I’m too caught in my present and preparing myself for my future. I can see it’s getting brighter and better every day.
What advice would you offer to young people?
The advice that I would give to the young people is honor, obey and respect your parents. They can help you navigate the pitfalls. Also, treat others the way you want to be treated. Believe you me, we do reap what we sow.
What would you like to see Compassion Prison Project accomplish in the future?
My hope for CPP in 2022, is to see all prisons in America be trauma informed, and to know their ACE score and that CPP be well funded to accomplish those goals. Thanks to CPP I now know my ACE score is (7).  Knowing my ACE score helps me to understand why I feel the way I do and then to do something about those feelings in a positive way.

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Nathaniel Lindell’s ACE Quiz https://compassionprisonproject.org/nathaniel-lindells-ace-quiz/ Fri, 14 May 2021 18:20:47 +0000 https://compassionprisonproject.org/?p=9426 “…there’s a reason for that hyper-sensitivity.” Greetings Compassion Prison Project Staff: I just saw your ad in Prison Legal News, or I’d’ve wrote you sooner. Below I’ll answer the ACE survey, something that I’m very familiar with, as I followed the js online.com / time-to-heal series, discussing trauma-informed care, wondering why (& asking the editor so … ) no mention…

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Nate Lindell's typed letter with Adverse Childhood Experiences score

"...there's a reason for that hyper-sensitivity."

Greetings Compassion Prison Project Staff:

I just saw your ad in Prison Legal News, or I’d’ve wrote you sooner. Below I’ll answer the ACE survey, something that I’m very familiar with, as I followed the js online.com / time-to-heal series, discussing trauma-informed care, wondering why (& asking the editor so … ) no mention of the numerous prisoners whom are in prison due to childhood trauma. As I wrote about in an essay about my childhood that was published in Parental Incarceration, Routledge (2016), I am doing life in prison for killing someone b/c I believed he sold child porn … there’s a reason for that hyper-sensitivity.

(Answers to ACE Survey)

1. Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often… Swear at you, insult you, put you down, or humiliate you? or Act in a way that made you afraid that you might be physically hurt?

A: Yes, multiple times, usually daily.

2. Did a parent or other adult in the household often or very often… Push, grab, slap, or throw something at you? or Ever hit you so hard that you had marks or were injured?

A: Yes, at least once a month, usually multiple times a month.

3. Did an adult or person at least 5 years older than you ever… Touch or fondle you or have you touch their body in a sexual way? or Attempt or actually have oral, anal, or vaginal intercourse with you?

A: Yes, as a child (under age 8) I was raped by an adult male,& molested by my mom and aunt, multiple times.

4. Did you often or very often feel that … No one in your family loved you or thought you were important or special? or Your family didn’t look out for each other, feel close to each other, or support each other?

A: Yes. I still feel that way.

5. Did you often or very often feel that … You didn’t have enough to eat, had to wear dirty clothes, and had no one to protect you? or Your parents were too drunk or high to take care of you or take you to the doctor if you needed it?

A: Yes. I had to steal food to eat, ate food found in garbage, was hospitalized w/pneumonia 4 times before age 2.

6. Were your parents ever separated or divorced?

A: Yes. My mom divorced twice, both her husbands beat her.

7. Was your mother or stepmother:
Often or very often pushed, grabbed, slapped, or had something thrown at her? or Sometimes, often, or very often kicked, bitten, hit with a fist, or hit with something hard? or Ever repeatedly hit over at least a few minutes or threatened with a gun or knife?

A: Yes. My mom had MPD/DID, first husband tortured her, made us fast& kneel on spiked mats & pray to cast her demons out…

8. Did you live with anyone who was a problem drinker or alcoholic, or who used street drugs?

A: Yes. My mom was addicted to alcohol, heroin & coke.

9. Was a household member depressed or mentally ill, or did a household member attempt suicide?

A: Yes. Mom had Multiple Personality Disorder, Major Depression,as did my little brother.

10. Did a household member go to prison?

A: Yes. My mom’s second husband was in prison; mom went to jail for poss. heroin when we found her OD’d when we came home from school; my younger brother (not the one who also had Multiple Personality Disorder, Depression, etc.) is also doing Life & is my co-defendant for my murder case.

My ACE Score: 10 (Plus?)

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Just A Kid https://compassionprisonproject.org/just-a-kid/ Sat, 27 Feb 2021 22:08:16 +0000 https://compassionprisonproject.org/?p=8482 by Christopher Blackwell Christopher Blackwell is incarcerated at the Washington State Reformatory in Monroe, Washington, and is working toward publishing a book on solitary confinement. His writing has been published by The Washington Post, HuffPost, Jewish Currents, The Marshall Project, and many other publications. He is serving a 45-year sentence. Follow Chris on Twitter My first experience with the carceral…

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by Christopher Blackwell

Christopher Blackwell is incarcerated at the Washington State Reformatory in Monroe, Washington, and is working toward publishing a book on solitary confinement. His writing has been published by The Washington Post, HuffPost, Jewish Currents, The Marshall Project, and many other publications. He is serving a 45-year sentence.

Follow Chris on Twitter

My first experience with the carceral state came at the young age of 12. I stole a car — looking to impress a couple of girls — and ended up receiving a year in a juvenile prison.

Being young, growing up in an impoverished community, I had a deep distrust for authority. In my neighborhood, nobody talked to or trusted the police, and from a very young age this was imprinted on me.

While in the juvenile prison, I refused to follow rules and be controlled by authority figures — I rebelled, constantly. This led to my first experiences with solitary confinement, an experience that solidified my distrust for authority figures forever and drove me into a deep hate for “the system.”

It’s hard to remember what led to me being taken to solitary the first time, but what took place has been etched upon my memories for eternity.

I was standing there — small, pale and skinny — I couldn’t have been more than 100 pounds. I remember feeling embarrassed and defeated, trying hard not to let it show. I had just been stripped of all my clothing, except my boxers, and was yelling and screaming. I had to fight back, in some form, that’s all I remember thinking. But the more I resisted, the more those guards tried to control me. This led to me being hogtied by the oversized guards. To me, at the time, they seemed large enough to be NFL players — giants next to my slim hundred-pound frame.

"I remember feeling embarrassed and defeated, trying hard not to let it show. I had just been stripped of all my clothing, except my boxers, and was yelling and screaming."

After they had achieved their goal of fully dominating me, I was left in the cold cell, laying on the dirty floor, breathing hard and crying. I was mad that I had become weak enough to let them see me cry — I knew better than to let bullies see me cry. Where I was raised that only made things worse.

What seemed like hours later, my energy stripped from me, not a tear left in my eyes to be shed, the guards returned. They asked if I was ready to follow the rules now? My ankles and wrists hurting from the restraints, I was willing to say whatever they wanted for relief from the pain. All I kept thinking was, they had won this battle, but I would never be the same, and I would never trust anyone in a position of power again.

Released from the restraints, I stood up waiting for the clothing only they could provide. One of the large guards dropped my clothes on the floor and told me to hurry up and get dressed. I did as he said, refusing to make eye contact with him. I didn’t want the guards to see the pain I felt, or the redness in my eyes from the tears I cried. When I stole a glance at them, I knew they thought they had won, but they had no clue the seeds they had planted in me.

"I did as he said, refusing to make eye contact with him. I didn't want the guards to see the pain I felt, or the redness in my eyes from the tears I cried."

Many more trips to solitary confinement followed after this initial experience. I refused to comply with what I felt was a constant abuse of power and guards refused to allow me to rebel without punishment for my actions. This back and forth never facilitated a single thought that I should change my behavior, it only continued to push me to distrust the system even more, further distancing me from feeling as if I could ever be a part of society.

Now, 39-years-old, I know the damage those trips to solitary confinement caused. I have spent over a decade rehabilitating myself and processing the traumas I’ve caused and suffered. I know none of those trips to solitary were for my own good, but simply an easy way for guards to control me — oppression through fear.

Still involved in the carceral state, I see the same practice used on my fellow prisoners every day. Young adults are abused and mistreated through archaic practices. Solitary confinement is used as a form of punishment meant to control and dominant, not rehabilitate.

If our juvenile prisons and the Department of Corrections are truly looking to release individuals as functioning members of society, they must stop being reliant on solitary confinement as a means to control incarcerated individuals. The effort needs to be placed in trust building and rehabilitative programs that address the traumas many of us struggle with. The system’s energy needs to be geared toward helping us develop skills that lead to formerly incarcerated individuals living a successful life on the outside. This happens with the development of one’s confidence and self-esteem — building us up, not continuously breaking us down. Locking someone — isolated — in a cold concrete box doesn’t make them want to correct their behavior. This is especially true for those under the age of 25. Science has proven these young adults have an underdeveloped brain that leads them to make choices without contemplating the future ramifications. The practice of solitary confinement as punishment makes prisoners feel as if they don’t belong anywhere, that they are less than, and even disposable.

"The practice of solitary confinement as punishment makes prisoners feel as if they don't belong anywhere, that they are less than, and even disposable."

While someone is locked behind a wall or fence, solitary confinement may be a convenient way to control them, but how convenient is it to have a damaged person released from prison, only to cause more damage in our communities. Hurt people hurt people. Something we must all remember.

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Portrait of a Human: Ezra Williams https://compassionprisonproject.org/portrait-of-a-human-ezra-williams/ Thu, 17 Dec 2020 19:07:33 +0000 https://compassionprisonproject.org/?p=6668 In this series, we share intimate stories written by the men and women living or working in our nation’s prisons. Poignant and captivating, these stories are a testament to the human spirit. They show our capacity, no matter our background, experiences or trauma, for self-compassion and ultimately, healing. When I was 16 months old, my father was arrested on a…

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In this series, we share intimate stories written by the men and women living or working in our nation’s prisons. Poignant and captivating, these stories are a testament to the human spirit. They show our capacity, no matter our background, experiences or trauma, for self-compassion and ultimately, healing.
Handwritten letter from Ezra Williams

When I was 16 months old, my father was arrested on a string of burglary charges and eventually sentenced to 16 years in a California State prison, leaving my mother to support my 3 older sisters and myself on her own.

Starting a lucrative escort service and working as one herself, she indulged in freebase and cocaine to fuel her long nights of hustling and pimping. This ended in drug induced psychotic episodes, where she would turn abusive and suicidal, especially dealing with long lines of dysfunctional relationships and abusive boyfriends.

Many times I watched her slit her own wrists, passing out in a puddle of her own blood, or attempting to blow her brains out, if she could only figure out how to fire her boyfriend’s gun.
I was my father’s son, her only boy, and she saw too much of my father in me, and didn’t hesitate in letting me know how she despised me verbally and physically. Sleeping off her drug binges, I was a happy 4-year old boy playing with my sisters for a short time.

"If we focused more on the high chair, we could do away with the electric chair. We as a society should focus more on the why of crime than the what."

Ezra Williams
Being disturbed from her “drug naps,” she would storm into black rages and grab me up by my little arm and beat me until I peed myself. It became such a common occurrence, that eventually, I would see her come out her bedroom and start peeing in fear. I got my first black eye at 5 years old, from a kick to the face for playing quietly by myself, but not quietly enough. Maybe I looked up to her boyfriends who beat on her because God knows she whooped my ass enough. Later in life, I became a severe introvert with antisocial personality traits. I self-medicated with pills, weed, booze and eventually heroin. Committing a series of bank robberies to support my raging heroin addiction, I was eventually sentenced to 51-Life in state prison. I consider the fact that I never became abusive to any of my relationships or my own children a win. I became aware that I never wanted to cause the pain I had experienced. Many haven’t been so lucky, and have continued the cycle as violence. If we focused more on the high chair, we could do away with the electric chair. We as a society should focus more on the why of crime than the what.

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Portrait of a Human: Wesley Purkey https://compassionprisonproject.org/portrait-of-a-human-wesley-purkey/ Tue, 15 Dec 2020 17:28:27 +0000 https://compassionprisonproject.org/?p=6503 In this series, we share intimate stories written by the men and women living or working in our nation’s prisons. Poignant and captivating, these stories are a testament to the human spirit. They show our capacity, no matter our background, experiences or trauma, for self-compassion and ultimately, healing. Wesley Purkey was executed by the US Federal Government on July 16,…

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In this series, we share intimate stories written by the men and women living or working in our nation’s prisons. Poignant and captivating, these stories are a testament to the human spirit. They show our capacity, no matter our background, experiences or trauma, for self-compassion and ultimately, healing.
Portait of Wesley Purkey

Wesley Purkey was executed by the US Federal Government on July 16, 2020. He had an ACE score of 10.

Here are some of the pieces he wrote before his execution...

Wesley Purkey's writings, Hell's Front Gate

Hell’s Front Gate!

The house that I was born into was not home, because a house that is a home is a harbor, a refuge and a very safe place for a child to be, a place that a child doesn’t have to live constant fear and agony. What deterred this house from being a home was a miserable drunk who would fly into blind violent rages, spawn from his child’s most innocuous mistakes; you know the kind of mistakes I am talking about, the kind that every kid makes! Punishment and discipline were swiftly meted out for these innocuous mistakes – with strong slaps across the kid’s face, his head slammed against walls at a quick pace, and ultimately the kid was thrown in front of hell’s gate! This shameful indignation, belittling and out-right hate did not stop there, Hours and hours were mandated to be spent for this child’s innocent mistakes, in quite contemplation in the dark and lonely recesses of a secluded closet, bitterly know to this child, as hell’s front gate! This shameful palpable cruelty was administered in this house, not as a secret – and yet absolutely no one ever so much attempted to intercede to stop or rescue, this poor desperate child placed in desolation for a child’s meager mistakes! No child should have to face and bear such punishment and solitude – why did this miserable drunk hate his child so much and continued to hurt him so badly I asked myself! No answer has ever been tentatively found and these questions will hound me to my grave, such punishment and treatment spawn and cultivate enormous deep rooted seeds of hate, and no matter the vast amount of years that have past they cannot begin, to erase, eradicate, nor abate these soul wrenching childhood memories that are permeated in hate, that were experienced at the hands of that miserable drunk at hell’s front gates!

"Without a doubt, love is the best antidote for hatred and goodwill for anger; the presence of one implies the absence of the other. In saying as much, when unconditional love is mustered in a person's heart in lieu of hatred, then all individuals on the face of the earth will receive the love, respect and forgiveness that is so deserving based on a person's dignity in this world."

Wesley Purkey

Karma “The Poison Has to Run Its Course”

Some memories are indelibly etched in our minds that remain as vivid as a snapshot in time.  Some are memorable, and others are not. This one falls in the latter category, although bitter-sweet!

After suffering many beatings of different degree and magnitude and streams of different acts of humiliation at the hands of the person most despised in my life as a child; my alcoholic dad, his final act of cowardness drove home the true depth of his irrefutable despicable nature.  Many people are able to muster the conviction, courage and decency to stand accountable for their wrongs and fully accept responsibility for such no matter how egregious and wretched those wrongs are.  They are able to find the character to show remorse in admitting their wrongs and seeking forgiveness from those that they have selfishly hurt and not merely paying lip service to such remorse.  Unfortunately other people have a total absence of empathy for others, and not a clue of what true remorse is about and are simply not capable of demonstrating so much as a morsel of remorse for their wrongs even when these wrongs are committed against their own families and children.  This is a case in point!

Coming home early from 8th grade basketball practice I was taken back by the foul smell of alcohol permeating my Aunt Ga-Ga’s home entering the house.  This was a true anomaly because my Aunt never drank a day in her life.  Also unusual was the absence of my German Shepard, King who was customarily lying at the foot of the front door waiting on me to come home from school.  Entering the dining room a partial source of the alcohol stench was found sitting on top of the dining room table; an empty bottle of cheap wine with the lid off.  The brand name of this rot-gut wine had been burned into my memory as a child finding literally hundreds of them scattered around my parents home, when they had one, as well as in the trunk of my dad’s car and in the garage also, but I did not have a clue what this empty bottle of wine was doing in my aunt’s home.  I had never seen any alcohol in her home since she adopted me and saved me from those two drunks who if they were not trying to kill one another they were beating the hell out of me.  

Pushing aside the hanging drapes that substituted as my bedroom door the room was pitched black with blinds and curtails closed, not as I had left them I had left for school that morning.  Now the alcohol smelled to high heaven and there was good reason for that.  Turning on the bedroom lights I was a little shocked to see someone sprawled sideways across my bed particularly because most of the top of their head was blown off with brains scattered on my bedroom ceiling and back walls.  Recognizing the person didn’t take long.  Lying in the person’s lap was the gun used to killed themselves and not far away laid another empty bottle of cheap wine that they had found courage in to blow their head off with.  “You son-of-a-bitch,” I told him.  “You had to come to my home and kill yourself,” I said with enormous outrage.  “Why didn’t you do this fourteen years ago and saved everyone the misery you put them through,” I repeated to myself time and time again.  

The police found my friend and ally, King in the back yard where I had chained him up that morning and accidentally forgot to bring him back in the house when I was rushing to get to school.  In that same rush I had forgot to lock the back door giving the unwelcome drunk his fortuitous way in the house.  I bet King was raising kane when the unwelcome dunk entered the house, but he was physically incapable of addressing the problem or he would have.  The only emotions that I have ever felt witnessing that guy, my dad sprawled across my bed with his brains blown out is disgust, hate, bitterness and perhaps pity, but nothing that could remotely be considered as sympathy.  Not even close!  All poisons have to run their course or they will destroy the person clinging to them.  Unfortunately that is easier said than done because here even after a half of a century that poison is toxic in my life.  

Wesley Purkey's writings, Karma page 2
Wesley’s last words were:

“I deeply regret the pain and suffering I’ve caused Jennifer’s [Long] family. This sanitized murder really does not serve no purpose whatsoever.”

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