May 2014 Philadelphia Chapter of Pax Christi U.S.A.
Echoes in Purgatory VI, SCI Graterford
A collection of writings by men who are serving a Life Sentence Without Parole [the other death sentence]. Read their words, then listen quietly and you will hear their cry for their God given “Right to Redemption.” …
*These reflections were written in the spring of 2013
Echoes is a continuing effort of CPF and Lifers Inc. to educate the public and our legislators about the injustice of Life without Parole here in PA.
[Bringing Attention to the lifer’s Plight] “Serving a life sentence feels forlorned and unjust.” Yet it’s what each lifer makes of it. Although I am guilty of taking another life at the age of 19 under the influence of alcohol from a fatal gunshot by way of struggle during the commission of a botched robbery, that I am deeply sorry for, I don’t believe that I should be condemned to death through physical degeneration. I refuse to let incapacitation and sanctioned retribution deter or let invidious others hinder me from my steadfast pursuit to regain my liberty, as well as to help others obtain their freedom along the way. This man-made iron house hell has invigorated my innate giving spirit, being dedicated to the betterment of others and never forgetting those who have made my life worthwhile, instilling in me to be respectful to all, to never give up, to be responsible and accountable, contribute to the community inside and out, provide a helping hand to others, and to lift others up too! So persevere my brothers and sisters! Make every day count for something meaningful because life is short, and our destiny shouldn’t end here. Keep fighting!
I feel like I am in a big trash can with a lot of maggots all over me. The more I pull them off, more jump on me and I feel discriminated against with the jobs and housing. I feel oppressed with the D.O.C. Policy on grievance system, medical care and meals. I feel disrespected with contact with my family through the mail, the phone and contact visits. I feel like I am a victim of injustice with the 1700 style legal system and policy of the Pennsylvania court system, even though I am in here for
protecting myself I am still a human being born and bred in America.
Second-degree life without having killed anybody. Twenty-one years of physical, psychological, and mental torture without proper medication for my chronic arthritis. Separation from my wife clearly teaches that Pennsylvania doesn’t incarcerate in order to rehabilitate, but as a money-earning business. All those involved in this will never receive mercy on the day of
judgment because they had no mercy for others, St. Mark 11:26. Like a slow death filled with false hope and promises! This should not be called “Life,” rather it should be called “the beast of Pennsylvania.”
Pitch blackness. In the center, a twinkling dot, growing bigger, or coming closer; flickering wilder now; a flame, yes; a crackling campfire. Glowing ashes rising up, swirling like fire flies, flying higher everywhere into the blackness, becoming
countless twinkling stars. I’m under a starlit sky, sitting Indian-style by a campfire. The silhouettes of endless pine trees
surround me. I hear sounds: crickets, frogs, owls, wind, whispering tree leaves … howling wolves … my heartbeat …
pounding. And a familiar voice: ‘Kempis, in five words, say something about your situation.’ I spin around turning my head in every direction, scanning the landscape. But my view is besieged by monstrous concrete walls and towers all around me. I swivel back around … on my metal desk stool to face the campfire … that is now my desk lamp. The stars are gone; the sounds are that of jingling, not like bells but more like… keys … and footsteps. ‘Say something about your sentence to life without parole, in five words.’ ‘Five words?’ ‘Yes, five words.’ Jingling keys and footsteps getting louder. A full moon appears, unusually and disturbingly bright, blinding me. But hold up; that ain’t no moon … It streaks away as suddenly as it intruded. The afterglow fades with the jingling keys and footsteps. ‘Your sentence in five words’, the voice persisted.
‘Okay, that’s easy’, I said ‘This..is..not..my destiny.”
If you would like to comment or respond to any of the above reflections, the envelope needs to include: the man’s name, number,
P.O. Box 244,
Graterford, PA 19426