16 years later, whaddaya think, Maurice?
“Hey, Big
Bro, I can see us now, working on cases…”
Maurice
Carter always called me “Big Bro,” pronounced “bruh.” We were standing on
the banks of the Grand River in Lamont, Michigan…Maurice living in an adult
care facility up on the hill.
I’m thinking
about it today because it was exactly 16 years ago that I accompanied him as he
walked out of prison. He had served 29 years for a crime he did not commit.
In the
delightful stage play JUSTICE FOR MAURICE HENRY CARTER, written by Toronto
playwrights Donald Molnar and Alicia Payne, Maurice has a poignant chat with
me. He’s in heaven, and I’m still here on earth. I’m thinking how that chat
might be today, as I reflect on our story.
I spent
nearly ten years of my life trying to free Maurice. He walked out on July 24,
2004, and lived in freedom for just three months. The Hepatitis C that he
contracted while in prison claimed his life.
In our
riverside conversation, leaning on a fence, Maurice was fantasizing about that
day he and I would be working side by side in an organization called INNOCENT. Years
later, that name would be changed to HUMANITY FOR PRISONERS.
Maurice
envisioned it as a relaxing atmosphere, with a conference table, where he and I
would sit reviewing cases of inmates before making a decision as to whether to
help that individual. Well, things didn’t quite turn out that way.
Were he and
I to have a similar conversation today, he would be speechless, dumbfounded! He
could never imagine arriving in the office on a Monday morning, only to have
100 email messages from Michigan prisoners waiting in our “inbox” for a prompt
response. And, not to be confused with reviewing one case, our team is
responding to 1,500 messages a month!
He would be
blown away to know that we have our own offices, a staff of 5, a great list of eager
and dedicated volunteers, a panel of doctor and lawyer consultants, and an
amazing Board of Directors committed to our mission!
And the
messages.
I know he
would be proud to hear from James. HFP helps inmates reconnect with loved ones.
“My son is back in my life! Thank you.”
I know he would
feel the heartbreak. Allen died last weekend. Said his ailing mom: “I saved
almost a thousand dollars from my disability checks so I could pay for his
cremation. Now the funeral home tells me I owe another 700 dollars! Where the
hell am I going to get another 700 dollars?”
We found it
for her.
“You’re
doing good, Big Bro!”
Yes we are,
Maurice, yes we are. And you started it all! RIP.
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