My Bid Goes On

Mickey Mouse Motors

I tried to slow down and take deep breaths as I stared down at my bare feet. The NHTSA officer was blabbering something about my rights while a platoon of officers beat and banged on the walls of my house in search of a phantom stash of cash. I shifted my torso around trying to ease the handcuffs behind my back that were biting into my wrists. I’d never been in handcuffs so the most comfortable position wasn’t readily apparent. After the agent finished reading me my rights he said, “If you're ready to cooperate this entire thing will just be a 18 to 24 month blip, then your life can get back to normal.” Handcuffed on my couch with federal agents tearing through my house, I desperately wanted that to be true, so I believed him. That was my mistake. But in my defense, even being a used car salesman didn’t prepare me for the way those guys stretched the truth.

Getting arrested by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration doesn’t get you much street cred in prison. Of course, I wasn’t what anyone would classify as a career criminal anyway. I’d always get a laugh when I told other inmates I was in prison for odometer tampering. That and the fact that I was such a late bloomer, didn’t get to prison until I was fifty four. Those agents must have been surprised that morning, coming in with guns drawn for an early morning raid, only to find they’d taken down Mickey Mouse Motors instead of Kingpin Auto Sales. They certainly sent me into a state of shock. But the biggest surprise wasn’t that I would have to pay for my crimes but just how high the price would be.

My punishment began fairly typically, in federal cases like mine you are taken to jail to await a bail proceeding. I was a first time offender so bail was fairly routine. That was followed by one year of waiting in limbo for the sword of Damocles to fall. Court dates are set and pushed back regularly so you can never truly know when it will all end. I couldn’t afford much of a defense and never argued for my innocence. In the recession of 07 & 08 I started rolling back the odometers on a few cars. Business was terrible, I had an addiction problem, and I couldn’t pay bills or buy pills. Not an excuse, just the truth. Like so many sins, the longer you do it, the easier and more normal it feels. So I continued dabbling in it even after business improved. I never argued about any of it. I was guilty!

But I had no idea of what that really meant….

I was dumbfounded after the judge sentenced me to 57 months in prison and I’m still scratching my head about that promise of a new beginning in 18 to 24 months. I began my bid (sentence in prison lingo) one year and six weeks after I’d been arrested. I’ve written a lot about that initial adjustment period in prison and in the end it comes down to mental agility. Your body will quickly adjust to the routines and schedules but it takes work to mentally adapt to the different landscapes. I started my sentence in April of 2019 by March of 2020 my prison bid had taken on a whole new meaning.

Every day in prison is bad, but prison during Covid was worse. I was at Oakdale FCI in Oakdale LA where the first cases of covid were reported in the BOP. By chance, I lived in the same unit only a few doors down from the first diagnosed case in the BOP. He went out for a medical procedure at the local hospital at the same time a group of people who had recently attended Mardi Gras in New Orleans were also seeking treatment for flu-like symptoms. If you remember that March 2020 Mardi Gras was later considered to be an early super spreader event. On March 13th of 2020 we went into modified operations which meant all normal movement on the compound was suspended. People started getting sick all over the compound and eventually eight died, including that guy a few doors down. Those modified operations would last for over two years. 

Covid quickly ran its course through our unit but since it was still rampant outside we stayed locked down. Locked down means you don’t leave your cell at all. We stayed in lockdown until the next August. We didn’t leave for meals, for work, for the rec yard, or for anything at all. Meals were brought in three times a day and since inmates couldn’t leave their cells to prepare them, we survived on a honey bun for breakfast, baloney sandwich for lunch, and peanut butter sandwich for dinner. It took boredom to the next level and was the greatest test to my mental state during my incarceration. Just try and recall how special it was when you were locked in your own house with your own family during the pandemic. Imagine 4 ½ months enclosed inside with 164 strangers that society had decided weren’t fun to be around.

Those pandemic months changed me. I had already begun this journey chasing after Jesus but He turbo charged my desire  while we were locked down. I found others who felt the same way and our faith grew by leaps and bounds in the middle of this terrible time. 

After that August, the next two years were spent in a whirlwind of covid testing, lockdowns, and quarantine as the BOP tried to figure out how to handle the pandemic. During Covid I found myself longing for a normal prison experience.

I know many would say, if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime! I wish it was that simple. Since I’ve been out of prison I’m finding that prison wasn’t enough and I’ve still got time to do.

When I was first released, I took a job working construction while I looked for a sales job. I figured it wouldn’t be too hard, I was well educated (BA in Communications) and had spent most of my career in insurance and automobile sales. 

But because I’m a felon, so far I’ve been turned down to be a real estate agent, insurance agent, window salesman, truck salesman, bathroom remodel salesman, pesticide salesman, kitchen remodel salesman, roof salesman, building supplies salesman, and even a used car salesman. I have my commercial drivers license and have even been turned down to drive eighteen wheelers. 

Now please, don’t feel sorry for me because I’ll be fine. I’m articulate, have a deep well of faith, thirty years of salesmanship behind me, and I’ve been sober and saved for six years. In short, I don’t look, talk, or act like a felon. 

What about the people without my advantages?

What about the felons whose faith is new, who committed their crimes young and grew up in prison, and those who maybe aren’t as well educated, but are still sober and saved? The ones you might very well be sitting next to in Heaven. But we are called to help before that! It’s not ok with Jesus to simply turn away and ignore. He never did! The world may always label them felon but a follower of Jesus is called to look past the stains that, compared to Jesus, we all wear.

Without His robe of righteousness, we are all felons in the Kingdom of Heaven! 

So the next time you see that person who maybe doesn't look, act, or speak like you, remember that he may very well be the one Jesus asks you about when you step up to Heaven’s Gate.

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