What a friendship What a gift from God!

Have you ever stopped to consider when and where and how you met your best friends? Treasured experiences! I contend, however, that no one can tell a friendship story like this one. 

October 25 is the date that Maurice Carter died. That was in the year 2004, and he was only 60 years of age. Hepatitis C and all of its complications finally caught up with this quiet, gentle man. After serving 29 years in prison, he lived only 3 months in freedom. 

Every year at this time I reflect on the amazing impact of this friend and his story. 

For those who know nothing about Maurice Carter, he was a wrongly convicted Black man from Gary, Indiana, serving time in a Michigan prison for a crime he did not commit. 

Our first meeting in a Michigan prison in Coldwater led to a rather friendly partnership relationship. I agreed to do my best to assist him in obtaining his freedom and proving his innocence. From that day forward, in the mid-1990s, we would launch what was undoubtedly one of the impressive 10-year campaigns in Michigan history, and one that drew international attention. 

But another remarkable thing happened: The friendship of Maurice Carter and Doug Tjapkes led to a family-type relationship. Maurice became a part of my family, asking for regular updates on my kids and grandkids. I became a part of his family, calling on his elderly mother in Gary, Indiana, every Mother’s Day and every Christmas. He and I would visit regularly. He would call my home daily. Upon his release me met all of my family. 

Renowned author Alex Kotlowitz says, in my book Sweet Freedom’s foreword: “It was a remarkable friendship. Two men from polar opposite backgrounds. Two men with no shared history. Two men who met simply by chance, and who had a visceral sense that each could trust the other. It was one of the most profound and heartfelt friendships I have ever encountered. I learned from it. I drew strength from its deep well of faith and loyalty.” 

On this memorable date in 2026 I vividly recall my last hospital visit with my dying friend in 2004. He was barely conscious, but before moving on he mumbled one more message for me. His final words on this earth: “I love you.” 

Days after his passing I received this note from Phil Cambell, attorney with the Toronto-based Association in Defence of the Wrongly Convicted: “When you met Maurice he was a forgotten man; he died a celebrity. When you met him he was reviled as a dangerous criminal; he died a symbol of wronged innocence. When you met him he had no real friends; he died surrounded by love.” 

Thanks to this arranged-by-God gift of friendship my life would never be the same. I would devote my final years hoping to share and demonstrate compassion to people living in prison cells.  

Loved that guy. 

Love his memory. 

Love my work. 

RIP, dear friend. I look forward to meeting you again. 

“A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world.” — Leo Buscaglia

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