Michael Angelo

                                                                           

Michael Angelo R., (early 90's)

Sixteen years ago, I met a young man at Attica, while doing an AVP (Alternatives to Violence) workshop. Michael had been in prison since the age of 14. When I met him he was 24. Before I tell you what for, let me tell you about his background.

Michael was born in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan. His mother was German-American, his father Puerto Rican. He had one brother who, like himself, had been raised in the foster care system or with relatives. You see, his parents were junkies. His father was in and out of prison for years due to crimes committed to support his habit. As a direct result of his heroin addiction, Michael’s father eventually contracted HIV. When his father found he was HIV positive he didn't tell Michael’s mother. Yes, your guess at what I am going to say next is correct; Michael’s mother contracted HIV as a result of the disregard of his father.

Michael’s father died first of full blown AIDS. His mother lived a somewhat healthy life for some years after receiving her diagnosis. But she still remained in her addiction.

Michael did not always live with his mother. There were times he was removed from the home and put in foster care or group homes. It was at one of those group homes that Michael was raped. Repeatedly. He was not yet a teenager. Michel never told anyone about the sexual assaults until many years later, when he eventually trusted me enough to open up. Eventually, Michael returned to his mother’s home. By then she had begun another relationship, this time with a woman, who had several children, including a toddler, by the name of Jeffrey. Together they lived in their small, cramped apartment like a family.

Growing up in Washington Heights is no easy task. Growing up in Washington Heights with dope fiend parents makes life hell. Michael ended up with the wrong crowd. He ended up doing drugs. There was no guidance in his life to steer him another way. His mother, while she loved him, was too strung out. Clerical leaders? Non-existent in his life. Teachers? Michael left school before he finished elementary school.

When Michael was fourteen, he smoked some PCP. While babysitting his 2 year old step-brother. I am not sure where the other adults were, Michael has talked about what happened but there are missing details. What I do know is that at some point, Michael and Jeffrey were wrestling and then had a pillow fight. All kids have pillow fights. Nothing unusual there but most kids don’t have pillow fights while high on PCP. Michael was so stoned that he didn’t realize when his brother had stopped breathing. When he finally realize something was wrong, Jeffrey was dead. His little step-brother’s life was cut short at the tender age of 2. When Michael came down he freaked out, devastated by what he had done.

When the police eventually arrived, Michael told them had"killed his brother". He felt such deep guilt and remorse that he couldn't tell them it was an accident. He felt he did the worst imaginable thing and should be punished. So he simply told them, "I killed him." There was no lawyer present. I don’t think Michael had the ability to clearly articulate what had transpired. The justice system is far from just and add to that a young kid from a tough neighborhood, with a Latin last name and no legal representation and the chances of things turning out right were slim to none.

Michael eventually received a sentence of 5-Life and was sent to DFY (Division for Youth) in Upstate New York. By the time Michael arrived at the youth prison he had decided he was a horrible monster and was going to act the part. He spent the next years going destructive things to himself and others, in addition to not following prison rules. He was in trouble often and instead of receiving any therapeutic intervention, Michael was punished with solitary confinement or loss of privileges.

When Michael turned 21 he went to the adult prison system where he continued his cycle of destructive self-behavior. By the time I met Michael at Attica he thought his  life was not worth anything. He had never had any visits from family and only received sporadic letters from his aunt and brother.  His mother had died while he was in DFY. He felt alone and unloved down to his core. When I met him, he could not read past a 5^th grade level. Our chance meeting (which was Divine Intervention) at that workshop was the beginning of the end of the self-destruction and the start of new path for Michael.

Michael later admitted he signed up for the workshop because he wanted to get out of his cell for the weekend and he had heard there were good snacks at the break times. But when he began to experience the openness, the trust that was built amongst his peers and facilitators something shifted. And he later told me that when I interacted with him, the way I met in with a non-judgemental presence, he felt for the first time that maybe he was a human and not a monster.

I had been an AVP volunteer for a few years at that point. I had very strict boundaries about having not involvement with the participants outside of the 3 day workshop. But the way I ended up in Attica to do a workshop was so divinely guided that once I met Michael I knew our paths had crossed for a purpose and that I was being guided to help Michael.

I had stared a program at another prison and so I had access to records. When I return to do my own program, I verified Michael’s charges and his prison record. Once I learned he was being up honest with me, I arranged for a children’s dictionary to be sent to him. I then wrote him a letter and told him that if we were to correspond he would have to start learning to read better and he had to study for and to pass his GED. Michael told me in his first letter that he was shocked that I would remember him and take the time to write. I responded in my next letter that his life had meaning and that it was time for him to start owning that.

For the next few years all of our correspondence was strictly of a therapeutic nature. I would inquire into his history which would require Michael to reach down and deep. I would also use vocabulary words that he was not familiar with, thus forcing him to learn as well. In those letters, I learned about Michael’s family and what he experienced as a child and teen. Those letters were heart wrenching. But even more difficult was learning how much self-hatred he had for himself and what he had done. He was physically imprisoned but much worse, he was emotionally and mentally imprisoned. Over the ten years of my work in the prison system I met men and women who worked hard to turn their lives around and who felt they deserved a second chance. Michael never felt that way. He felt he got what he deserved. And so every 2 years, when he went to the parole board he would tell them he was a child killer and as a result he would get hit with another 2 years.

After a few years Michael not only learned to read better, he learned to love to read. And he passed his GED (which he proudly sent to me and which I proudly returned). I had instructed Michael to read many books along the way to help him connect with his spiritual side. From The Celestine Prophecy, to The Four Noble Truths, to A Course in Miracles, to John Bradshaw's work. Michael read them all and would send me long letters with questions, thoughts and feelings about life. Eventually, he started to question his own life and through some difficult and challenging inner-work he was able to ‘ask’ his brother for forgiveness and eventually he forgave himself. It was not too long after Michael forgave himself that he started to love himself.
Michael also discovered a love of history and would devour anything he could about the history or man.

By the time I left for California thirteen years ago, Michael had been through countless parole boards, been moved to about six different prisons and has had some tough moments along the way.  Michael also tested me in countless ways. It was taxing at times but I knew that his transformation was one would take time. By then, I had long come to understand that Michael has some deep issues that would have been better served in a therapeutic institution instead of the penal institution. That Michael was given such a prison sentence felt a crime in and of itself.  None of the prison administration cared or was trained to see that Michael was deeply wounded and need help. At one point, when he started acting out destructively again, after significant time of ‘good prison behavior’, I had to give him an ultimatum; He had to ask to see a mental health professional on the inside or I would not correspond with him any longer. Michael followed through and ended up building a healthy therapeutic relationship with a prison psychologist. Unfortunately, Michael was moved to another prison so his therapy ended. Thankfully, a prison or two later, he was able to connect with another therapist who helped him continue to do the necessary inner work. to achieve both external and internal freedom.

For the past few years, I have not heard from Michael as much as I used to (in the first years it was monthly now it is few times a year). He knows I got married and had children. He knows I am busy in my life. But he is busy too now. He has been going inward more than ever before and making peace within himself about the reality of his life. Michael had been hit by the parole board so many times that a few years ago he accepted that he may end up dying on the inside. I countered his beliefs and encouraged him to keep on believing that one day he might get out and have a chance at a real life; a life he has never had. Michael didn’t want to hear that and stopped going to his parole board hearings.

Until about three years ago. When something shifted inwardly and Michael wrote and  said he knew that “I am going to go home soon.” I believed him. He went to his first board in years but still he was hit with a deuce. Yet Michael remained strong in his belief. “They are going to release me next time.” And then yesterday, when my family got home from a weekend away, I had a message on my answering machine; Michael had made a 3-way call (I gave him my number years ago but he hasn’t called until yesterday) and told me, “I made the board. I am coming home. I will be home by June 25^th.” After all these years, it felt anti-climatic but there was a deep sense of relief. Michael turned 40 in January. After all these years, after twenty-six long years he will finally be released.

The transition will not be an easy one for Michael. The world has shifted so dramatically and he doesn't have any family ties. In order to make in on the outside, he will need a tremendous amount of support. Thankfully, through my decade of prison reform, rehabilitation and reentry work, I am strongly connected to some powerful resources for re-entry in New York. I have already secured a place at a transitional half-way house in Brooklyn (The Redemption Center). Two friends, both who run programs at re-entry agencies have promised me assistance in linking vocational training and most importantly a good therapist. Michael will be met with support and friendship. I am confident that over time he will adjust and not only make it but he will make something meaningful out of his life.

Life is not easy and sometimes it sucks. I hope Michael's story will be an inspiration to others as well as a source of compassion for those who think everyone in prison deserves to be there and we should just lock 'em all up and throw away the key. It really is in all our best interest to look in each person's eyes and see their own individual story. I did that with Michael and my life is all the better as a result. I witnessed firsthand just how powerful healing, redemption and transformation can be.