The Last Day of a Life Sentence
The prison guard came to my cell and told me
to gather up the things, I wished to take with me, it was a beautiful spring
morning; April 29, 1983. Today was my birthday and I had much more reason than
most people to celebrate on this birthday.
I had gotten up long before the sun on this special day and had watched as the
sun made its appearance into a brilliant blue sky, there was not a cloud to be
seen anywhere; never had the sky looked so blue or the air smelled so sweet as
on this day. It was one of those warm spring mornings that you feel the rays of
the sun on your face and know that the long hard, bitter and cold winter is
over. That warm sun gives you a special feeling and a glow; it’s a joy to be
alive and to have survived the cold winds of winter.
The cell door slid open and I picked up the brown paper grocery sack that held
all of the things in life I owned, with a pen, the night before I had written
in bold letters on the sack “Canon City Suitcase”, ah! It was nice to see that
after all these years my sense of humor was still intact, as you will soon see.
I believe that it was my sense of humor to a good part that helped me survive.
I had given away most of the things I had accumulated in the last seven years
to the other prisoners; men who had become my close friends over the years. The
bonds of these friendships had become very close, so close that a few had even
offered to kill for me.
I stepped through the cell door and looked around at what had been my home;
there was a mixed feeling of pain and relief at walking out of here still alive,
with only the scars of the prison left on my mind unseen. The very spot where I
stood outside my cell door had been covered with blood of a prisoner only weeks
before; where he had fallen in pain, bleeding from his stab wounds, life ebbing
away.
And now I stood in the same spot to begin my journey to freedom, to once again
join the living and begin life anew.
I looked down the tier and saw Pierson (a prisoner) standing in front of
another prisoner’s cell door. Pierson was serving a life sentence for first
degree murder; although he was capable of murder he was not a very strong
person mentally.
The prison had turned him into a homosexual, the day before my release Pierson
came to my cell door and told me how happy he was for me and my impending
release, I considered Pierson a friend but not a close friend. In prison unlike
the free world your selection of friends is much more limited. Your only choice
for friends is from the men who are locked in the cells around you. Often I
have seen the prison administration place a known homosexual within a certain
cell block as a means of keeping it quiet. The prison guards figure that if the
convicts are busy having sex then at least they are leaving the guards alone.
Pierson knew how hard I had struggled in court for this day of freedom. Very
few things in prison are kept unknown from the other prisoners; prisoners have
little else to do with their time but talk and so everything about the
prisoners is known by the other prisoners; his politics’, his sexual habits, his
drug habits; if any, if he is married and how his relationship with his wife is
withstanding the test of prison.
As Pierson stood in front of my cell door, he told me that he wanted to do
something for me; when I ask him what? He told me that he wanted to give me
“head” so that I would have something to remember the prison by and he would
have something to remember me by. As soon as I got over my shock, I told
Pierson “Thanks but no thank you” I declined his gift and told him that I had
made it for seven years without sex and I was sure I could last one more day, I
told him that I already had more than enough things to remember the prison by.
The cell door banged shut behind me and there I stood with my paper grocery
sack (my canon city suitcase) ready to begin the long slow walk out of the
prison.
Had it really been seven years ago the prison door slammed shut on me, on what
was supposed to be for the rest of my life. When it did slam shut on June 30,
1976 it was suppose to stay shut for the rest of my life, I’m sure many of my
friends and family thought it surely would stay closed as they picked over all
of my material possessions for themselves. I thought of the story from the
bible; as Jesus hung on the cross and the soldiers cast lots for his garment.
In no way, shape or form did I think of myself as a Jesus but I certainly could
relate to the feeling of betrayal. There is an old saying “When you go to
prison, you find out who your friends are”.
I never gave up the struggle to free myself from that prison, I always felt and
believed that someday I would, in spite of the many things that happen to me in
those seven years to hold me there. It was much more than a dream that I knew
this day was coming for me.
As my escort guard and I were leaving the cell house, another guard came up to
me and wanted to shake my hand, I declined his offer, I told him that we didn’t
shake hands when I entered the prison and that I didn’t see any need to do it
now. He also said that he wanted to wish me “Good Luck” and hoped that I made
it out there in the free world. Not more than one week earlier this same guard
had refused me two minutes time to go to the shower and get a bucket of hot
water so that I could wash my clothes and now here he was wishing me “Good
Luck”, somehow I did not feel his wishes were very sincere; and so I ask him if
he would wish all of the men (prisoners) there the same “good Luck” that I had
had, knowing that if they did the prison would soon be empty and he would be
without a job? He never replied as he turned away with a pained expression on
his face. I was well aware of the anger and bitterness that I held inside of
me, not just for what the prison had done to me but also for the many men that
I saw there and what it had done to their lives and even reaching beyond the
prison walls to hurt the people who loved them.
In my seven years there at the prison I had always been known for my strong
criticism of the guards and the warden, for writing letter to the media, the
courts, for filing law suits (One that closed old max) and it was mostly aimed
at the injustice that I saw being done by the warden and his guards to the
prisoners. The warden classified me as a troublemaker and said I was very
dangerous (the truth is I was a pacifist) and because of their classification I
spent nearly all of that seven years in “Administrative Segregation” This is
what Geo Carlin would call kinder and softer words, I was in the “Hole” for the
greater part of those seven years for the crime of being critical of the warden
and his guards. I never let them reduce me to screaming at them “F**k you!” as
most of the prisoners did in frustration. Maybe the warden thought if he called
it “Administrative Segregation” instead of the “Hole” it wouldn’t be as painful
for the prisoners and it would appear to the general public that the prisoner
were all living in a country club. I often reminded the guards that we were
prisoners in a prison……not inmates in a correctional facility and then I would
add “You can’t correct the problem in your own life and have little time left
to work on mine”.
I recalled a time a few months before my release that a guard named “Rocky”
confided in me that I was different than most of the convicts there and that he
didn’t believe that I belonged in prison, I told “Rocky” that if he had lived
with these men as I had for the last seven years he would see that there are
many more men that do not belong in prison. “Rocky” hated his job as a prison
guard but he was also faced with a family to feed and a home mortgage that
needed to be paid and little prospects for other employment in the small town
of Canon City,
the prison was Freemont counties largest employer. Many men and women are
caught in this same trap. Rocky was right about one thing; I was different as
all men and women are. Rockies’ problem was
that he was trying to put me in a neat little box with a simple little label
“Inmate” and it didn’t work. I don’t think we should do that to people; in
prison or out of.
On June 30th 1976 the day I entered prison to serve the first of three life
sentences, I vowed to myself that I was not going to let the prison rob me of
the things I believed in, that I would not become a part time homosexual for
lack of a normal sex life,
That I was not going to start drinking home brew or start using drugs to escape
the terrible boredom, monotony and drudgery of every day prison life. Nor would
I become a “Snitch” looking for a few small favors from the guards. I saw many
men who went down this path and most always became very disappointed and
ashamed of their actions. I wanted to hang on to what self respect I had left;
I believed the one thing the prison can never rob me of, “My thoughts” and how
I responded to my environment no matter where I found myself. I believed that
when we find ourselves in an uncomfortable environment, do something positive
and constructive to change that environment or leave. And so at the beginning I
took the course of escape. My freedom had been illegally taken; I reasoned that
I had every right to take it back. And so that is just what I did with two
successful escapes from “Old Max”. Escape from prison was not that hard,
remaining free is the hard part; because as J Edgar Hover said “No man can
remain free on escape, because someone either loves’s him too much or hates him
too much”.
I found this out with the tragic loss of my family. And so I set a new course
for myself; I was going to walk out the prison’s front door; totally free. And
this would require that I study the law that had sent me to prison, and so with
my 8th grade education I poured myself into the law books and in my spare time
of which there was a lot of, I used my sense of humor to entertain the other
prisoners and myself; of course! At the prison and guards expense. One of the
more memorable and funny event happened while I was in the
“Dog Cages” of cell house three, the “Hole.” It happened soon after I was
returned to “Old Max” from my second escape in 1979, it all began when I happen
to come across a small plastic bottle with a lid, the bottle was about the size
of the small bottles of shampoo, like the ones they give out in all the finer
motels. I confided only to my close friend (Carlos Henry) in the cell next to
me of what I was going to do. He fell out laughing when I told him and said
that he didn’t believe the guards would be that stupid to go for it. My reply
was “We’ll see”. I pissed in the bottle and secured the lid. I was allowed a
one hour weekly exercise period in a small yard, I hid bottle in my underwear
when I went to the yard; there was a guard tower atop the 30 foot wall and
whenever I was out in the yard, I was watched closely because of my previous
escapes.
I walked in circles around the small yard keeping a close eye on the tower
guard, at one spot I dug a hole with the heel of my shoe so that I could bury
the bottle undetected. Because of the watchful eye of the guard, it took
several passes to accomplish this. When my one hour was up I return to my cell
and took up pen and paper, I was composing what is called a snitch letter, but
of course my snitch letter was anonymous, the way I had it figured; someone was
really going to be pissed over this little game. I began my anonymous snitch
letter with; “Someone one is going to get killed and I don’t want to be any
part of it” I went on to explain that the convicts in cell three were planning
to escape, They had a bottle of “nitroglycerine” and planned to take the cell
house guards hostage and then use the “nitroglycerine” to blow a hole in the
east wall of the small yard. I told them where the “nitroglycerine was buried
on the yard; under the second wall light, five feet out from the wall. I signed
off on the letter with “please help! I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. I
sent the letter to John Snow, who was the chief investigator (the convicts all
referred to him as Barney Fife) at the prison and who was in charge of all
crimes committed on the prison property. The following two days after I sent
the letter I spent standing on the foot of my bunk where I could peer out between
the bars to the spot where I had buried the bottle of piss ( by the way;
nitroglycerine is a light yellow color, just like piss) And nothing happen. No
guards digging up the yard.
A week went by and nothing. And then one day all hell broke loose; guards were
coming out of nowhere hollering “Lockdown” “Lockdown” we all jumped up to see
what was going on, we didn’t have a clue as to what it was all about until we
saw some strange uniforms and people we had never seen before, there were about
20 of them and they all had dogs, never seen dogs in prison before, there was
such a mad commotion of men running up and down the tiers and then it became
clear, the strange men were from the Denver Bomb Squad, flown to the prison in
an emergency call from the warden. They needed to find that nitroglycerine and
stop the big prison break. The convicts were all hollering to add to the
pandemonium that had broken out. Some of the convicts were whistling at the
dogs distracting them from searching for the nitro and the bomb squad was
having trouble controlling their dogs. It was total insanity for well over
three hours and all the convicts were laughing and hollering; it was like the
4th of July, Christmas and New Years all rolled into one. The convict’s lives
were so void of any activity in cell three, this was a great event.
Carlos slid his hand through the bars of his cell with his mirror in his hand,
he had the biggest smile on his face that I had ever seen in the seven years
I’d known him. It was only one of the events that I dreamed up for a
distraction from the horrible monotony of prison life. I learned later the
reason for the delayed reaction to my letter; John Snow had left on a two week
vacation just a few days before I sent it and it wasn’t opened until he
returned. A small foot note; is that even after I gave them clear instructions
on where the nitro was buried, they never found it as I discovered a few days
later.
The escort guard and I walked an open area toward the sally port and I could
see the other prisoners at the windows watching me and waving goodbye, as I
made that final walk across the prison.
In the sally port I would be put for a final time into a cell, stripped of my
prison clothes. I would put on the clothes of a free man, the clothes that Lila
had left for me to wear home.
I quickly removed the prison clothes and discarded them in a pile on the cell
floor, those long hated, ill fitting prison clothes. No longer would I have to
look at them or feel them next to my skin.
The clothes that Lila left for me were simple clothes but yet they felt so good
on my body. I remember looking down at myself and thinking; I looked so strange
in these clothes. They fit and they had color, how strange they seemed from the
world I had known this past seven years.
I stepped out of the cell in those beautiful free world clothes and waited for
the last three doors to open. Those doors were all that stood between me and
freedom and as I waited for the door to open the thoughts began to creep in;
this was all a mistake, somewhere along the line a guard would come running up
and say it was all a mistake, for me to be taken back to my cell, I would not
be released because they had a new charge against me. And just then a guard
that I knew well came walking towards me, Charlie Linam, I was a little shocked
by his question, he wanted to know how it was that I was being released from
prison with all of the sentence’s that I had, he meant the three life
sentences.
I explained to him that the sentence’s had all been overturned and the judge
had ordered me released, he wanted to know why I had not received any time on
the second escape. I explained to him that I would not plea bargain and that
because the DA had spent so much money on my first trial, he elected not to
waste any more money on me, the DA stated to me that I was like beating a dead
horse. If we had had the second trial I was going to make them spend every dime
I could. When you have three life sentence’s you don’t feel the fourth that
much. And beside that if I was going to get them overturned? It didn’t matter
if was three or four.
Charlie’s eye’s, face and voice were filled with anger over my release, he told
me that he would take me out to a car that was waiting to escort me off prison
property.
This was not the first time I had felt Charlie’s anger for me and it was not
the first time I had been the cause of his deep anger for me. Charlie never
quite knew how to deal with me and that was just how I liked it. When I was in
junior high school a teacher had told me that if I had a weak spot to never let
any of my enemies see it or they would use it against me. Charlie’s weak spot
was he had a deep seated anger for convicts and I was at the top of that list.
I truly believe that if Charlie thought for one minute he could have got away
with it, he would have shot me right there in the parking lot and then claimed
I had tried to escape while being released. One of our more infamous meetings
between Charlie and I took place in Anchorage, Alaska where he had come to pick
me up from the county jail after my second escape from “Old Max” I had been
working on a ship when I was captured at Dutch Harbor and then moved to
Anchorage for safe keeping while I fought extradition. I did not kid myself
into thinking I could win; I was only stalling, looking for another chance to
escape. The more I stalled the angrier Colorado
got. So that by the time Charlie got there he was pretty upset. It was Feb. of
1979 when he came to the jail to pick me up for my return trip to Canon City.
And to make matters worse the FBI told the warden Bill Wilson that if I got
away from them again they weren’t going to hand me back to them a third time.
The warden and the Governor were somewhat embarrassed that I had written to the
newspapers after my second escape telling my side of the story. So now here
stands Charlie reading me my rights as required by law, “You have the right to
remain silent, anything you say can be used in a court of law against you,” The
Miranda Warning”. Charlie and another guard wrapped about fifty pounds of chain
around my waist legs and arms and then it was off to the airport we went. But
there was one small problem; the Anchorage
airport was closed because of a howling winter storm. This only served to make
Charlie more nervous. They told us that our flight had been transferred to Air
Force base where the runways were being kept open. When we arrived at the plane
the stewardess told Charlie that they would not allow me to go up the stairs
with all of the chains on, he would have to remove them, Charlie tried to tell
her that I was an escaped convict but the stewardess was having none of it, she
told him if you don’t take the chains off of him you can’t board.
Poor Charlie, he just couldn’t get any respect for his authority. We boarded
the plane without incident, but after I was seated Charlie began to put the
chains back on me, until the stewardess saw what he was doing. She walked
quickly to where we were seated and told Charlie that he could not put those
chains on me or we would have to get off the plane, he didn’t argue with her as
he removed my restraints. There was an authority in her voice that quietly said
“I’m in charge here” it was a beautiful thing to see and experience. This small
woman standing up to the big powerful prison guard with all of his chains,
guns, his symbols of power and her message was clear to Charlie.
My eyes met with her eyes and in that moment I saw something that I had not
often seen, compassion.
Her instincts told her that I was not the dangerous convict that Charlie wanted
her to believe. And she was right. I might run away or escape (who doesn’t want
to be free) but I did not want my freedom at the cost of hurting another human
being.
I have a great fear of flying but I can honestly say it was a flight that I
forgot my fear because of the kind human treatment of the stewardess. It was a
beautiful flight to Seattle for me as the stewardess showered me with kindness
and service, while Charlie’s request for a coffee refill were ignored. This
strong small woman turned the world upside down with her common sense and
compassion.
Did Charlie think that I was going to jump from the plane at thirty thousand
feet?
When we arrived in Seattle,
I was taken to the King county jail and booked as an overnight guest, and once
again, Charlie began with his dangerous convict speech to the jailers.
The following morning after check out at the county jail, I was driven to the
airport where to my surprise, was waiting a small six passenger plane. It had
the state of Colorado
logo on the side; it was the governor’s plane along with his pilot the “bald
eagle”. Wow! I was being given the royal treatment, but this time there was no
compassionate stewardess to make Charlie remove the chains. Charlie was back in
charge.
After we had been in the air for some time and everyone began to relax, Charlie
turned to me and said “David” just for my own curiosity; I wondering how you
got those hacksaw blades into the prison; did a guard bring them to you? Yea,
right Charlie. I didn’t believe him for one minute when he said for his own
curiosity that he wanted to know.
And so I thought to myself; well Charlie, two people can play at this game;
tell me everything you know and I won’t use it against you, remember the
Miranda warning?
I told Charlie that I would tell him how it was done but it would only be in
strict confidence (these last words had a nice sound of truth telling) and that
if he ever revealed how he found out I would deny telling him. Boy! The
bullshit was getting so deep in this small plane we must have lost a thousand
feet of altitude. Charlie loved it, there was a gleam in his eyes as he was
sure he was about to learn and extract the truth from me.
I told Charlie one of the biggest bullshit stories I had ever manufactured;
unknown to me and Charlie at that time, it would have disastrous effects for
Charlie in the distant future for his authority over the convicts and make him
the laughing stock of the prisoner’s and guards alike.
And so I began my wild tale; I told Charlie that several weeks before the
escape, I was out on the big yard of the prison with a friend when the idea
came to me of how to smuggle the hack saw and blades into the prison and that
at this same time the plan for escape began to form in my mind;
As my friend (Pollock) and I stood there on the big yard, Pollack was once
again telling me of his misfortune at getting caught selling drugs in Denver,
especially when he had worked out such a fool proof plan on getting the drugs
into the states from Mexico. I had heard Pollack’s story a hundred times
before, but this time something clicked! Maybe it was because of the spot where
we were standing as Pollock once again told his story. We were standing on a
small bridge of the prisons big yard; the bridge covers an open irrigation
ditch, the bridge was about thirty feet from the north wall, there is a guard
tower directly over the irrigation ditch (see illustration) where the guard had
a bird’s eye view of all below. The irrigation ditch comes into the prison on
the south wall through an archway that is cut into large sandstone wall; the
archway is covered by a double set of heavy steel bars that allow that passage
of the water. The irrigation ditch travels directly from the south wall to the
north, dividing the prison in two. Pollock and I stood at the north wall that
day as the water flowed to its exit with another set of heavy steel bars. The
water was about four feet deep in the ditch, as it leaves the prison it travels
through the heart of Canon
City, strait through the
residential section of town. And yes I knew that many convicts before me had
tried their escapes from this very same ditch and all had failed. I remember
standing on that small bridge, staring into the water, watching it swirl around
the heavy steel bars and then leaving the prison behind, traveling on into the
free world.
Often I stood and day dreamed that I was a leaf floating on the water and that
the current would carry me to the freedom beyond the wall. I somehow knew that
it was right here in the water that we would make our escape. It was about this
same time that Pollack came to the part of his story of how he and his wife
would travel to Mexico with
their trained ducks; Pollock would go across into Mexico with the ducks and his wife
would remain on the state side. After he made connection with his drug supplier
he would head for the Rio Grande
and a pre determined spot where his wife waited on the other side. Pollock
placed the drugs into sealed plastic bags and then secured then to the ducks
whereupon he would release them into the river, his wife had a whistle that
Pollock had trained them to go to; It was here that I made the connection of
the ducks, the irrigation ditch and the hacksaws.
I stopped Pollock in his story and ask him if his wife still had the ducks? He
told me that his wife was in Denver
and that she still had the ducks. I ask him if he thought the ducks could be
trained to follow a red ping pong ball that was floating on top of the water.
“Piece of cake” he replied, I then ask how long would it take to train them? He
told me “Maybe a couple of weeks”. I told him to get word to his wife and start
their training as soon as possible and then let me know when their training was
complete. I contacted a convict that worked in the gym and traded him a pack of
smokes for a ping pong ball, I then had a con that worked in the paint shop
swipe a small jar of red paint. I pulled the heavy thread from my mattress that
I would use for the string; the waiting began; for word from Pollock’s wife. I
had Pollock contact his wife and set a date for our action; the date was set
for July 30th 1978 and the time would be at ten am she would drive to canon
city and wait one block from the north wall in the residential section next to
the ditch, When she sees the red ping pong ball floating on the water secure
the hacksaw and blades to the ducks and put them in the water.
Right on time Pollock’s wife contacted him and said everything was ready on her
end.
On our pre arranged date I headed for the big yard with my red ping pong ball
safely hid in my underwear and the string wound around my waist hidden under my
shirt. Pollock was with me and would act as my spotter for the tower guard.
When we got to the bridge I dropped the ping pong ball into the water and began
letting the string out. I waited 15 minutes and then began to reel the string
in; when I saw the ball at the bar there were no ducks following it, Pollock
said let it out again and give her a little more time. Pollock was right as the
ducks were right behind the red ping pong ball when it got to the bars; where I
left it floating until the guard was on the other side of the tower, Pollock
quickly slipped into the water and retrieved the hacksaw blades and frame. I
broke the string and the ball began its journey back to where Pollock wife
waited to retrieve the ducks.
And this is how I got the hacksaw and blade into the prison, Charlie. And then
I added a little flavor to the story; I told Charlie the reason there were no
ducks following the ping pong ball the first time was because Pollock’s wife
had tied too many blades and the frame to one duck; when she sat him in the
water, he sank to the bottom of the ditch and drowned.
The story I made up and told Charlie that day was pure fiction; it was my way
of saying to Charlie; if you want to bullshit me by saying “Just” for my own
curiosity then I will give you some bullshit back. The truth was that a guard
had carried the hacksaw blades into the prison; but he didn’t know he was
carrying them, and had I given Charlie his name, Charlie would have had him
fired in a heartbeat. I reasoned that the guard should not be fired for
something that he was not guilty of knowingly doing.
At that time I had no way of knowing that the story of the “The red ping pong
ball and Ducks” would ever come up again.
A few months after I was returned to Canon
City from Alaska,
a preliminary hearing was held in the District Court, downtown Canon City
concerning the last escape. In this hearing it was necessary for the state to
present evidence and witness that I had escaped and was returned to the prison.
(Against my will; of course!) And the states star witness was none other than
Charlie Linam. When Charlie took the stand, he testified of how he had flown to
Alaska to pick me up and return me to Canon City, when my attorney turn came to
cross examine him; he ask Charlie if he had given me my “Miranda Warning”
Charlie said “yes” my attorney then ask if I had said anything and began
walking back to our table, as Charlie replied “No” that I had made no statement
to him, and then he made a long pause as if he wanted to add something. My
attorney turned to look at him and waited; and then Charlie said Oh! He said
something about some ducks and a red ping pong ball. Where upon my attorney
looked at Charlie not sure of what he said and ask him to repeat what he had
said. And when he did, my attorney turns to look at me with a look of “What the
hell is he talking about” all I could do was turn my palms up, shaking my head
as if saying “I don’t have a clue as to what he’s talking about” and Charlie
saw me do this, his face began to go beat red with anger. Everyone in the
courtroom was on the edge of their seat as my attorney drug the story out
Charlie over the next twenty minutes. The judge had sat up strait in his chair
and turned to stare at Charlie as he retold the story of “The Ducks and the Red
Ping Pong Ball” It was one of those small unexpected events that it is so
funny, you needed to be there to truly appreciate it. As Charlie told the story
everyone would look at me and then back at Charlie as if to say “Are you
kidding or have you completely lost your mind” When Charlie got to the end of
the story, everyone in the courtroom was laughing so hard, the judge tried to
show some restraint but could not compose himself from laughing and the clerk
was laughing so hard that she stopped taking notes. Charlie had the look of a
wild animal with its foot caught in the trap. He wanted desperately to escape
the ridicule and laughter but there was no place to hide as he sat in the
witness box reduced to a tormented, pissed off prison guard that wanted only
revenge. Charlie had not been one of the prison guards that escorted me to the
court that day but he was waiting for me in the room where they put the chains
and cuffs back on me after court, he had a quiet fury boiling up inside of him
when he looked at me and said “you motherf**ker, you’ll pay for that!” then
turned and walked out of the room.
There was one person that could have stopped that from happening with a few well
placed objections; the DA, Dennis Falk, but he was also so engrossed in
Charlie’s story he forgot his job and sat there listening.
A few days after the hearing the word spread like a prairie fire at the prison,
by both the guard and prisoners who I informed of the event; they loved it and
you always knew where Charlie was in the Prison by the “Quacking” sound the
convict made behind his back.
And now here we are again, April 29th 1983 back together again, David the
convict and Charlie the prison guard; how much Charlie must have hated his job
on this day; to have to be a part of my release.
On Charlie signal to the control center the first steel door slid open and we
stepped in, as this door closed the second door opened. We walked to the last
door and on command it also opened; beyond this last steel door was that lost
freedom, I had hungered for these past seven years. We were still on prison
property but there were no more walls or steel doors to pass through; I could
smell and taste the air of freedom. As Charlie and I walked the last hundred
yards to the parking lot where a van waited for me I fell into a silence and
calm in knowing my nightmare was finally over. But Charlie the prison guard
would get one last turn to exercise his power over me. Unknown to me, my
attorney, Norm Muller and Lila Gracey the two people who had been so
instrumental in making this day happen were waiting for me. They had both
worked so hard and wanted to be a part of this special day when I walked out of
the prison. Norm had gone inside, trying to find out when I would be released.
Lila remained in the parking lot. They wanted to be the ones that drove me away
from the prison. That was also very important to me, quite simply because they
were the ones who had made it all happen.
Lila saw me before I saw her, she cried out my name “David” and came running to
me; she wrapped me in her loving arm and began kissing me, and then Charlie
stepped in, he ordered Lila to get back away from the prisoner, he told her I
was still a prisoner until I was off of state property, there would be no
joyful kisses or loving embraces on state property. Lila turned and began
walking away, then stopped and turned to Charlie and said “You want him for
every second that you can have him”
Charlie put me in the prison van; I was driven to a small parking lot near the
hi-way where the prison guard left me standing alone.
In a few minutes Lila and Norm came driving up and we all celebrated my release
without any interference of a prison guard. We took some pictures with the
prison as a background, and then started up that hi-way to freedom.
God!.. What a beautiful day this was, what a wonderful birthday present I had
received all because some very special people cared. For me I know there will
never be another day like April 29th 1983.
I’m sure if you had looked at me as I sat riding in the, I would have appeared
calm and relaxed; maybe I was stunned. But inside there was an explosion going
off; explosions of beauty and pleasure, dear god! The pure sweet taste of
freedom.
There is only one small footnote to this
story; when I left the prison for the last time that day, I thought I would
never have to look at Charlie Linan again in this lifetime. I was wrong.
A couple of years after my release, I was walking down the street of Cripple Creek, Colorado.
I was an old mining town that is a favorite for the tourist.
Coming down the street is none other than Charlie Linan, he is in civilian
clothes and a woman was beside him who I assumed was his wife.
As we came within speaking distance I broke out into a beautiful smile, not so
for Charlie as he just stared at me not knowing what to expect. I kept the
smile on my face and just said “well hello Charlie”. I could see that he was
pretty stunned by this chance meeting. And then he came up to me and said
“David” I’ve often wondered if that story you told me about the Ducks and Ping
Pong Ball was true? I reminded him that if he ever brought that subject up
again, I would deny I ever told him. Those were my final words to Charlie as I
walked past him never looking back.
