I met Jerome right after he got out of prison. He was doing 20 years to life for murder, but let go after 10 years under a “Compassionate Release.” He had a terrible heart condition and needed a transplant; not much time to live if he didn’t get one. Because his future was so grim, he was released from custody, essentially to die. He was 28 years old at the time.
When he arrived at my office he had a small backpack carrying a device that kept is heart beating. There was a cord connected to the pack, routed under his shirt and into his sternum. He was an African American male, but his skin was so pale he almost looked green. The walk from the waiting room to my desk exhausted him. He was defeated by the time he sat down.
“So, what happened?” This was a intentionally open ended question I asked when first meeting a parolee. How they answer helps me gauge where their head is at. If they are willing to take responsibility, or if they are going to blame someone else. Jerome took the path of the latter.
“The judge was a dick and the CO’s (correctional officers) didn’t give a shit.”
He told his story. He was doing his exercises in the prison yard; most prison gangs want you to be in shape in case there is a fight (he left the gang part out), and he noticed a shortness in breath. The condition got worse until he couldn’t run at all. He was having trouble sleeping because he was coughing all the time.
“Excuse me Mr. Correctional Officer, sir, I think I am sick,” he would explain.
“Shut the fuck up! I don’t care” … Now, I’m not entirely sure this is how the conversation happened. I was hearing it solely from Jerome’s point of view, and I suspect he was doing his best to play the victim in this story.
Eventually, he couldn’t lie down without his lungs filing with fluid. So, he slept sitting up on the top bunk. After a few nights he fell over in his sleep and cracked his head on the concrete floor. That got him into the infirmary where they diagnosed him with pneumonia. They gave him some meds and sent him back to his cell. It didn’t help. He spent the next few weeks sitting on the toilet and resting his head on the sink to sleep. It didn’t take long for another head injury and return to the infirmary. This time they took a closer look and found an abnormality in his heart. After a few more tests, it was discovered he had a rare terminal heart condition and he was soon released. Had they discovered his condition earlier he might have a shot at a recovery, but because it was so advanced, he was doomed.
I have to admit, I felt terrible for him. This poor kid, 28 years old, was looking death in the face, and no one seemed to care. He had no family and no friends. So young, but looked and acted like he was an elderly man. Just telling his story exhausted him. He was constantly out of breath and by the time the interview was finished he was slouched over in the chair like a bag of rice. He looked at me with pleading, desperate eyes. He was going to die alone soon and along the way he was going through terrible pain and sickness. It didn’t seem fair or right. He looked like a kid I might have known when I was that age four years before. I was ashamed of my profession. The criminal justice system was taking another young soul due to incompetence. He would never get to serve his time and get his second chance. I was eager to help him in his quest for a heart transplant.
After he left I read his file.
As I mentioned, Jerome was convicted of murder. According to police reports, he and his friend met a dealer for methamphetamines. The dealer was a care giver for an elderly woman. They met to make the deal at grandma’s house while she was napping. The two decided they were going to rob the dealer instead of making a purchase. Grandma had some old school shelving made of cinder blocks and wood, like the kind you’d see in a college dorm room. They used the blocks to beat the dealer unconscious, causing permanent brain damage and disfigurement of his face. Grandma woke and stumbled into the living room. They beat her with a floor lamp, cracking her fragile skull and left her to die. About an hour later they were at a pawn shop selling all her jewelry, cheating her family members of any heirlooms. When the police caught up with them hours later they were both high as kites and turned on each other instantly, ratting each other out.
Heart transplants are not easy to come by. There is a waiting list. I didn’t think there would be any chance Jerome would ever get a new heart he desperately needed to stay alive. So… thats it? He is sentenced to a slow painful death, all alone? It’s easy to dismiss him and simply say an eye for an eye, but he is so young. Maybe he learned his lesson, and if given another chance at life, he’d turn things around and be an excellent citizen, helping young kids like himself get their lives on track. I have seen so many that have successfully turned their lives around, they just needed to hit “rock bottom.” That has a different meaning for everyone, but this kid was weeks from death, has spent the past 10 years in prison, and was in terrible pain. If he were to decide to turn his life around, now would be the time. Perhaps he should get his chance?
OR
Does he even deserve another chance? Should he get a heart when there are others in need who didn’t commit murder?
I’m afraid we won’t know. Jerome died a month later.
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