Fifteen
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Shakedowns & Desert Skies
Sitting alone in his cell, Renie
read from his notes some of Clifford James’ words from one of the Cyrene
meetings, 'You boys remember the stories I told about that 1950’s gangster
youth from New York City, that man who has Sunday School for thousands of needy
New York children on Saturdays, and even the Bible’s own story about Samson?
Those folks are like you youths… rough edges of the cross. They ain’t no money
pumpin’ middle-class-by-charge-card kind of folk. They’re like Jesus, out on
the streets talking to people one-on-one. They don’t just sit around singing
fluffy hymn songs all day and night instead of getting their hands busy and
their feet dirty walking the lonely sin-filled alleys and back roads of
society’s forgotten inner cities. And just like Jesus they get ridiculed, denied,
condemned and even hated by folks who claim to be their family in Christ. They
don’t need to fake it here in this life, no way! ‘I was in prison’ Jesus said,
and that is where you boys are and that is where you must reach out to folks
for our Lord.'
Hearing some commotion down the
tier from his cell, Renie peeked through his narrow cell door window attempting
to see what the noise was all about. From what he could tell, the officers were
either conducting some routine cell shakedowns or engaged in a cell extraction.
He sat down on the empty lower bunk and continued with his thoughts, but shouts
throughout the unit interrupted him again. Renie peered out his tiny window
again to see some officers escorting Roland Cords away in cuffs. “Perv!” Renie
heard the unit’s residents’ cries of hate. He could feel the rush of anger and
hate swell up inside him, but refrained from venting his feelings. Love your
enemies, resounded through his mind like a church bell ringing the twelve
strokes of noon.
Renie thought about the words
Lenny Vance had spoken during another one of Cyrene Ministry’s Friday evening
meetings, 'Picture that thing that makes you feel like running, that thing that
makes you act out in violence, picture it as a one-on-one enemy that you must
face directly with prayer, resisting those negative thoughts and feelings, all
the while asking God to help you. As time progresses you will grow in your
spiritual strength and mature in your life in Christ'. It was often a
difficult thing to do, especially with certain types of people, but Renie
forced himself to think about Bible scripture passages.
Lenny had also promised, 'It
will get easier as time goes by. In the meantime, if you make a mistake and
fail remember Proverbs 24:16-17, For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth
up again: but the wicked shall fall into mischief. Rejoice not when thine enemy
falleth, and let not thine heart be glad when he stumbleth. So get back up and
accept God’s forgiveness and move on.'
The J-Wing porter stood with a
mop outside of Renie’s cell. Renie asked him what was going on.
“Blood, man, lots of blood,” he
replied. “I hears the Perv got shanked in the stomach on the way to his weekly
phone call. I was listenin’ to the floor officer talkin’ to Control and they be
sayin’ that the Perv called and told his brother what had just happened to him.
His brother called this here prison and told ‘em all about it and that the Perv
didn’t want to snitch as to who done the deed.”
“Thanks for the 4-1-1, man.”
“No problem, homes.”
Renie commented, “Just another
day in another world.”
“You got that right. I gotta mop
things up now, bye.”
The inmate porter scampered
around the tier nervously with his mop in hand, continuing to spread the dismal
tale of Roland Cords throughout J-Wing.
Renie sat back down to think
about construction work and being away from the mainline prison population. He
envisioned how peaceful it would be working and living on correctional
construction sites. But he was a realist, he knew it was not going to be all
balloons and party favors. It
will be away from the normal daily life found inside these razor wire fences
and concrete prison walls, if anyone can call that normal, that is.
Inmate Stone enjoyed having hope
for the future, a thing many youth convicts knew nothing about. Many of his
fellow prisoners came from horrible family lives full of physical, emotional
and sexual abuse. Some had children on the outside they had never seen and
probably never would, others grew up in worlds so contrary to the social norm
that it would take a miracle for them to ever relate to the average norms of
daily city and urban life.
Another thing Renie pondered was
what Clifford James had said to him personally once, 'It is generally the
non-Christian who is focused on acts of sin; acts of adultery, theft, murder,
etc., it is the Christian that is concerned with the motives, thoughts,
emotions and responses. Once God has changed your inner being, your heart, your
focus becomes so much more than mere acts; it becomes centered on who you are.'
A few hours later the Control
Officer announced, “Inmate Stone, S2-53373, 2-217 Upper, cell move in fifteen
minutes, pack your things.”
Renie hopped up and gathered
together his few personal possessions and waited patiently. His heart raced, I
sure hope this is really ‘it’ and not just a regular cell or housing unit
transfer. His hopes solidified when the floor officer stood at his door
while Control opened it. “Looks like you’re headin’ out for a bus trip, Stone.”
“Yes!” the excitement almost got
the best of him.
As an IIS officer escorted Renie
to the Intake/Release Unit, two other officers searched his former cell to
clear it for the transfer of new inmates waiting on the orange side.
His final walk down the long
prison hall provided Renie with time to reflect upon his brief stay at Y-MAX
and how it felt to him that though years had passed by. He hoped that the
deterrent program for youth offenders, Final Hope, would get going permanently
one day and that Christians would get involved. He regretted that he didn’t get
to be a part of it. The program had lasted only one session due to the internal
troubles caused by the inmates. Maybe
later one day I can be a part of it.
Cornell was already in the IRU
when Renie arrived, “What’s up, buddy? This is it.”
“Looks like we’ll be workin’
hard from now on,” Renie replied.
“The only thing I will miss here
is the Friday evenings with those Cyrene dudes,” Cornell commented.
“Me too,” replied Renie. He
wondered what was on the future’s horizon and what God had in store for him.
“Boys,” the IRU desk officer
hailed Renie and Cornell, “Come in here.”
The two youths entered the
office and were granted one telephone call each to a relative. “A relative
only,” the C/O asserted. Cornell called his great-grandmother in an assisted
living center. The ninety-seven year old family patriarch was thrilled to hear
his voice. Cornell knew it might be the last time he would talk to her this
side of life. Renie called his mother.
“I knew God had his hand on you,
Ren,” Renwick's mother said with joy. “Travelin’ ‘round on a bus buildin’
prisons, my word. Praise be to God!”
The two exited the building
where the Desert Zephyr bus stood with engines running.
“Caravan Construction,” Renie
read the writing from the side of the prisoner transportation bus. “Not too
many caravans you see with bars on all of the windows.”
Cornell added, “Or armed guards
totin’ shotguns.”
Before entering the specially
converted bus, their new traveling home, the two youths looked back toward the
Youth Maximum Security Detention Facility. Fond and painful memories raced
through their thoughts as they both said, “Goodbye for now Y-MAX.”
With the smell of diesel engines running and the
youths firmly secured, the bus rolled out of the prison compound and into the
cool of the desert evening.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The months ahead passed by more
swiftly than waters cresting a plateau’s edge, pouring into its river's misty
haze below. Renwick and Cornell enjoyed working with their hands and the
satisfaction of completing construction project phases at the new maximum
security teen women's prison. This hard work provided the self-therapeutic
discipline both youths needed. Eventually the two young men would embark on an
unexpected adventure into realms not all would be willing to explore. Where
would the future lead them?
Next Chapter: Time Out
Part II - Cry of Silence
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