Saint Paulie and prison bells, Part 5
by Ray Ray Smith
Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.
Part 3 is here.
Part 4 is here.
Levi Thomas, a convicted cocaine user, seller, and buyer, entered the guarded room of the Everglades Reentry Center for our third meeting. I can’t say the prison was festive, but somebody made an effort. A small Christmas tree stood in the control room, and in the distance, faint Christmas music played through speakers.
Levi sat down and said, “Ray, I want to apologize for my crappy attitude. People in here get warped; we put up shields. You come along trying to do something decent for no reason, and I don’t even meet you halfway.”
I gave him a dismissive wave, “Don’t worry about it. They warned us that inmates have mood swings between aggression and remorse, part of the survival kit in here. More worrying is that they told us you inmates can be devious masters of psychological manipulation.”
Levi smiled, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to play you.”
“I don’t either. That’s not the point. We won’t be lifelong friends. What happens when you are back on the streets is a story only you can write. I’m a pragmatic person; it’s difficult for me to understand how places like this can get filled with people like you. What a waste.”
“Yeah, every one of us is a story, ugly stories, stupid stories, mostly involving drugs. But you’re right, you can’t fix any of that. Playing the violin is a waste of time. On your visit last week, you gave me a choice between music and horses. Then you left me hanging. I’ve spent every day wondering what you were talking about. I have about five scenarios bouncing around in my brain.”
I nodded, “I didn’t want to overpromise. I still don’t. What I’m going to put into motion is longshot, but as those of us in horse racing say, a longshot is better than no shot.”
“That explains nothing, and how did you manage to get an iPad in here?”
“I cleared the iPad through channels; they give mentors some leeway. There is no internet connection, but I have some pre-approved downloads. I also got clearance for a couple of books you will get as soon as they finish scouring them for contraband.”
“Cmon, man, where are we going?”
“You chose horses.”
“Yeah, your cart horses, I don’t get why some horses have carts, and others don’t.”
“Roads. Anytime you want to travel, a horse pulling a cart, a buckboard, a wagon, anything with wheels, is the best choice. It’s just common sense. A wagon or cart is more comfortable than riding a horse. You can load stuff, and you can take along other people. When it came to making a sport, one group went behind the horse, while the other rode on top of it. Both kinds of horse racing have long histories. Thoroughbred racing is about 10 times bigger. The horses with carts are more mom-and-pop operations. That’s been true since forever.”
“Okay, so what’s your plan?”
I rotated the laptop so we could both see the screen. “The first thing I am going to do today is show you three videos, a few races, and a groom at work. What I’d like to do is give you a brief overview of the sport. Anytime you have a question, tap STOP, and I’ll try to answer.”
Levi nodded. I tapped the play button. We watched videos for 30 minutes. He stopped the recording four times to ask questions.
After the final video, I pressed the button and asked, “Does this sport hold any appeal?’
“Hell yes. The racing was exciting, the barn stuff was peaceful, and it was nice to see girls, women, as part of the program.”
“Okay, now let me ask you a few quick questions.”
“Do you have a lawyer or a public defender?”
“No money for a private attorney.”
Levi shook his head, “No assets.”
“None?”
“You mentioned cocaine got you in here, but you haven’t talked about your specific crime. I need to know if it involved violence?”
“No, not really. It’s complicated.” Levi took a few seconds to organize his thoughts. “I was on bail, waiting for a court date for possession with intent. While on bail, I got high and rear-ended a parked car.”
“Anybody hurt?”
“No, but the owner was 10 feet from her car. That’s why my sentence is jacked up higher than your typical addict. Bottom line, I never hurt anyone in my life, not physically.”
“Good, that’s important. When will you be released?”
“They never tell you for sure. Possibly in June. I’ve kept my nose clean in here and taken some classes. If it’s not June, it will be November.”
“Do you have allergies?”
“No.”
“Do you have any experience in construction?”
He sat up a bit, “Actually, I do. My father was a construction worker. Up until the ninth grade, when I got distracted with the drug scene, I worked with him on the job and around the house. I don’t have any official papers or training, but I’m pretty solid at fixing things.”
“Excellent.”
“When you are assigned a probation officer, do they need to be in this area?”
“No, but I have to be in Florida.”
Levi opened his arms and shook his hands impatiently. I leaned back and tried to consider how much I would explain.
I spoke slowly, “The paperwork I signed for this mentoring program was clear. Mentors cannot give or receive money or gifts. We cannot in any way associate with any business. Essentially, we can suggest paths for inmates. However, we must maintain a distance on both sides of the wall. It’s part of your probation terms. As a lawyer, I understand those rules.”
“Okay. As I read this, you are fiddling around, creating a possible path for me. You will be hands off, and it has something to do with your sport?”
“More or less. I have some people to see, some calls to make. Tomorrow you will receive a pre-approved book, titled Care and Training of the Trotter and Pacer. If you find time, read it. Maybe read it twice.”
Levi nodded. “If I find time. Is that what they refer to as withering sarcasm? Time is all I got.”
