Hope

Stateville Correctional Center                  Matthew Davis                          www.hopeforinmates.com

I was 24 years old when I committed the crime that I would regret for the rest of my life. I killed a friend during a drug fueled argument, which in an ironic twist of fate, I barely remember. I was arrested about 24 hours after, charged with first degree murder, and it was deemed that if found guilty, I would receive a death sentence. This is the beginning of my story, thankfully not the end.

It is said that a man with nothing to lose is a dangerous man, and I am no exception. I felt confused, lost, angry, and hopeless in my situation. I stewed for months, feeling lost. Eventually I began lashing out at those unfortunate enough to be around me. I pushed my family away and assaulted nearly every cell mate I had. Very quickly it was deemed that I should be housed in isolation. Isolation cells are the ugly hidden truth of the American Prison System. I was thrown naked into a small concrete box in the freezing cold and the lights kept on 24 hours a day. There was no toilet, only a small hole in the corner. I slept on the cold, bare concrete floor. With nothing to occupy my mind and no idea if it was day or night, with no human contact. The hours, weeks and months began to blend together. Hopelessness consumed me and I began to lash out at the only people available-the police. I would lash out in small ways by sometimes verbally assaulting the officers or in larger incidents when I would physically attack them. However, no matter how small or large my outburst, the beatings I would receive in response were consistently swift, overwhelming and severe. This was my existence for nearly two years… constant abuse and the promise of execution.

Stop and imagine for a moment. For two long years a man presumed innocent in America, is held naked in a small box with no toilet or running water. He doesn’t know what day it is or even if it is day or night. He sleeps, freezing, on a bare concrete floor. He has no contact with any humans except the often frequent beatings meted out by his captors. The promised lethal injection looking more and more like an escape.

You may choose to disbelieve this account, and you have that right. But what if it is true? What if I am only one of thousands of people treated this way? What if most of us get out one day?

My escape came in the form of a life sentence. Looking back now it is all a blur. Those two years just a moment in time. But, on October 18, 2006, it was a fresh wound. I had no idea what my future held, only that the hell I was living was over with. I was being sentenced to life in prison, and I was relieved!?! The whole process took about four hours, during which I was so overwhelmed I heard nothing. I was given the opportunity to speak so I read three pages I had wrote that morning, in ten minutes, in the presence of four officers. I don’t remember what I said, but I can assure you it was pointless and rambling. The only thing I remember, and I will never forget, was the emphasis by the prosecutors that I have no hope…ever. I had no hope, so it struck me as odd. Hell, I had no hope, dignity, pride or joy so why is it so important to them? The line I’ll never forget is “his victim had no hope, so he shouldn’t either.” It didn’t then, but it makes so much sense now. They spent two years draining me of even the memory of hope, now they wanted to ensure I would never find it again.

So, off I went into the broken thing known as the I.D.O.C…hopeless with nothing to lose, dangerous. For the next five or six years I lived the life of the worst of the worst. Violence. Segregation. Violence. Transfers. Violence. On and on, round and round. I was a zombie. Stumbling through life for no other reason than my body refused to quit. My mind was in shambles, but for some reason that line kept repeating in my thoughts…”his victim had no hope, so he shouldn’t have any either.” For years that line would pop into my head at the oddest moments.

One day, near my 30^th birthday, I had enough of life. I was at my lowest point. I either had to figure out a way to change or give up. I started thinking that if it was so important to the prosecution, the people who want me dead, that I have no hope, then it should be equally important for me to have hope. As this idea dawned on me I grasped the only hope I had. My child. I hadn’t seen or heard from her in seven years, but I could HOPE that that would change. And when it did change what kind of man did I want her to see. I began making changes within myself, always with the hope of a better future. It was amazing. My entire world changed. I began rebuilding relationships with my family, and eventually I reconnected with my daughter. She has become one of my biggest supporters. I even found love and despite my surroundings-happiness. I’ve managed to build a life within a life sentence and it’s all because of one small spark of hope. Hope is something that as a “free” person, I never really thought about. Consequently, when I was at my lowest point it never crossed my mind that hope was all I needed. Now armed with that knowledge, I hope to bring hope to those who need it most….the hopeless.