Bizarrely, today marks the end of my 11th year of incarceration. I never thought I would ever, ever be in prison, much less due to the weaponized false allegations of abuse levied against me by Myrtha Mikel and Bella Mendoza school employees that were being reprimanded and job target for poor performance. While they both eventually admitted to their lies at trial and I was acquitted of those charges, the manipulated and marionetted perjury of my then 21 year old adult son by ADAs Jake Cain, Sarah McAmis, and Amanda Self totally bamboozled the jury: thus my incarceration. I am still perplexed as to how I loved and raised a son capable of such lies, manipulation, and self absorption resulting in the appropriate pseudonym for my son: my Prodigal Absalom/Kylo. I know that Satan is well and alive and doing his crafty best to tear families apart. By targeting my son's pride filled greediness and self absorption (his sneaking out of his bedroom window at midnight to have sex with Kelsey, his smoking marijuana with Kelsey, his demand for a brand new truck while still in highschool without contributing financially through a job, and the expectation/demand to attend OU) satan found the opening he needed to create a rift. He found the few loose threads in the strong tapestry of our otherwise close, loving, and stable familial relationships that he needed to be able to unravel us. Libelous lies over these past eleven years have been keeping my preincarceral dreams put on hold for a long time. Recently, at the 2023 Global Leadership Summit, Pat Gelsinger (speaking of his own experiences) said that, "God takes 11 years to kill your dreams, rebuild your character, and give you new dreams." This really got my attention and gave me goosebumps because my eleventh year of incarceration was just being completed. I pray every day for people, pains, and problems to come against those whom have told lies, and continue to cling to cling to those lies, in the hope that they will repent and recant. Now that my son is 31 I pray that he will be brave enough to admit that Baumann, Cain, and McAmis encouraged him to lie as an 18 year old to support the flimsy accusations of Myrtha and Bella, and that he will realize that they can still be sued for manipulating him and encouraging him to testify for them. Several cases have been won against law enforcement recently for marionetting the testimony of psychologically immature witnesses, especially males like my son, whose then 18-21 year old brains were still in flux and easily malleable. Oh God, let this retooling phase be over and let us move on to rebuilding some new dreams. Dreams and hopes for a good future are what keep me motivated after eleven years of unjust incarceration. Running a quick key word search on "eleven years" in my concordance turned up this paraphrased gem from Ezekiel 31:1. After eleven years of Pharaoh being allowed to believe that he was getting away with some great deception by lying to himself, the Prophet Ezekiel is instructed to tell the pride filled, haughty, and greedy Pharaoh that in the eleventh year that he will be brought down. God compared Pharaoh to a tall cedar towering high with self consumed thoughts of his own beauty and importance. However, because of the cedar's proud deceit God allowed it to be cut down. I declare in Jesus name that very soon you too, pride filled, haughty, and greedy liars, will be brought down to the earth below. You too will lie with the uncircumcised, with Pharaoh and his hordes. As I finish up eleven years of being unjustly incarcerated and move on to year twelve I invite you to join me in this daily prayer:
Lord, I turn to your Word for reassurance and I declare these truths, establishing your claim that your Word will not return to you void. I trust that you, Lord, will hold true to your Nazareth Manifesto to proclaim freedom for this [unjustly incarcerated] prisoner (Luke 4:18, Jer. 1:12, Is. 55:11).
Lord, you claim to hate lying tongues and false witnesses. Let the lies of my prodigal Absolom/Kylo: Brandon as well as of TPD Detective Dianna Baumann, former employees Myrtha Mikle and Bella Mendoza, Antonio Paquette, and Tulsa ADA'S Sara McAmis, Amanda Self, and Jake Cain be destroyed. May they be put to shame. Declare them guilty, allowing them to fall into the pits they dug, be trapped in the snares they set, and let they stone they rolled come back upon them (Ps. 5:6-10, 27:12, 36:3-7, 54:3, 119:78, Pr. 6:16, 19:9, 21:28, 26:25-28).
Let their lying lips be silenced! (Ps. 31:18, 35, 59:11-13, 71, 120:1-2, 143:12, 144:7-8 Pr. 12:19)Awake, come suddenly God, degree justice, rise to my defense, hear the continual prayers and groans of this prisoner, break the chains, be my refuge, and testify against the perjurers (Ps. 7:6b, 31, 33:5, 35, 45:4, 79:11, 102:19-20, 103:6, 107:14, 142:5-6, 146:7, Malachi 3:1-5, Amos 5:15, 9:13 Pr. 2:8 Is. 62:6-7 Luke 18:1-8).
May those who plot my ruin be turned back in dismay. May those who gloat over my distress be put to shame. Hide me from the conspiracy of the wicked, snuff out their lamp, remove corrupt officials from office, and vindicate me (Ps. 35, 40:14, 64:2, 135:14, 138:8 Pr. 20:20, 25:5).
Satan, I declare to you in the name of Jesus that you have no authority over me. I bind you from operating against me in any way. I take my stand as one who is redeemed from the curse upon me (James 4:7 Mt. 18:18).
Thank you Lord for bringing me total exoneration, freedom, and restoration. I declare this done in Jesus name! (Heb. 4:16, 2 Cor. 4:13, Joel 2:25, Is. 61:01, John 14:13, Ps. 68:6, 18:19-20 2 Kings 25:25-27) Amen!
Uncertainty is always to be expected in prison. Amusingly, I finish up this eleventh year and move into the twelfth year with a peculiar twist of circumstances finding me cleaning toilets and mopping floors. Over the summer I was recruited into switching to a job in Career Tech from the GED tutoring I was conducting with the understanding that I would replace the specialized clerk who had recently been paroled. I went through all of the security checks, learned all of the protocols, and had shadowed him for two weeks. Then he received the unfortunate news that his parole had a hitch, and he would still be around for a few months. In the meantime, security did not want two specialized clerks in the same locked and secure room for several months until his parole took effect. Ironically, on the same day that this news was received two orderlies quit their cleaning jobs. So, I was asked to move into that janitorial position until the security clerks job was actually available. Due to the heat, as well as the opportunity to be off of the unit during the day, I accepted the position. It is a very easy job. I love to clean. I get immense satisfaction brining order into chaos: discovering cleanliness underneath the filth. I have no problem cleaning toilets, I did it every day in the canteen at Crabtree. I did it every day in my cell. I did it regularly at home. I frequently did it at school when the custodians were overwhelmed and circumstances required some immediate attention. I frequently cleaned the kitchen, dining room, and restrooms at church as part of the cleanup team after special events. I was glad for to opportunity to have something to do each day and get away from my bunk and off of the unit.
Nevertheless, there is something that bothers me about this job. The job takes place inside of an actual repurposed school building. It used to be a functional elementary school. It feels all too familiar everyday as I walk inside. It even smells like melted crayons, a distinctly elementary school odor. I used to run a school. I used to be a leader in a building with over 1,200 students and 100 staff members. I used to speak into the $1,000,000+ budgeting process for my site. I used to ensure 1,200 students were fed three times a day. I used to ensure doors were secure and safety was prioritized so that teachers could teach without fear of an intruder breaking in (which is part of what Bella Mendoza was being job-targeted for as she kept leaving a fire exit door propped open with a pebble despite frequent warnings to stop doing so). I taught students for twenty years. I used to supervise new teachers as an adjunct for NSU and as a TPS administrator. My first professional adult job the week after I graduated highschool was teaching at Career Tech! I used to coordinate activities, order supplies, and meet the needs of our community and clientele. However, as I walk the hallways of this actual school building pushing a dust mop and cleaning up the dribbled urine of men who cannot seem to aim correctly I hear satan's discouraging thoughts toy with my mind. I hear his demonic snickering as I push a dust mop and he falsely believes he has won. Grudging disillusion tries to set in, and I become actually quite distressed and disjointed, when I think about this absolute reversal of fortune over the past 11 years (almost 14 years now since Martha's initial lie on 10/21/2009). The smell of crayons, the shiny floor tiles, and the "feel" of the building trigger my notions of self pity and piety. However, I refuse to let those arrogant thoughts win (and self pity is a form of arrogance). I fight hard to emulate Christ and remain the humble servant, but it is undeniable that the emotions of disappointment and disillusion still lie just beneath the surface. Sometimes, just barely below the surface. Sullenly I try my best not to let it show, but the irony of going from principal to janitor is disheartening and emotionally taxing. I have an inner dialogue that says, "You are better than this!", yet here I am. My inner dialogue says, "You are a loser. You are lost. You have been forsaken." Unholy thoughts taunt me, "You spent 45 years trying to live an upright life, avoiding activities that looked like they could be fun: never drinking, never drugging, never smoking, living monogamously, and for what? To wind up incarcerated in the exact same place where men who seemingly enjoyed all of those vices during the same years that you were denying yourself are now living." It can often be overwhelming if I don't daily put on my full armor of God and combat those unholy thought with the sword of truth.
Relying on my Celebrate Recovery principles I find myself going back to do a step four reassessment. Am I really thinking that I am better than this? or am I just caught up in an emotional quandary? Since I believe that God has a plan for my life (to reflect the character, conduct, and conversation as Jesus Christ), that my steps are ordered (Psalms 16:33), and that He works all things out for my good and His glory (Romans 8:28), I continually remind myself that their is purpose in how the events of the past two weeks (8/21-9/1) have worked out. Their is purpose in how the events of the past eleven years have worked out. I am thankful, and praise Jesus, that I am currently living and working in air-conditioned spaces during the hottest days of the summer when a majority of the yard is unable to. Accepting a job in career tech facilitated my move to unit D with its working A/C and more mature and congenial vibe. This job allows for quiet time away from other people. For those few benefits I am so very grateful.
On a seemingly unrelated note, on 8/23 I let CMcD read my #GLS23 Reflection. On 8/24 he responded to it negatively. His response really took me by surprise. While I thought that I was paying him a compliment in writing about him exhibiting and reminding me to show empathy, he took great umbrage with the word "validation". Where I used the word to convey the meaning that "I see you. I hear you. I relate to what you are feeling. I appreciate you," he read it as, "I approve of you." In his initial response to me he wrote that my arrogance was bleeding through. His response confused and concerned me. While I did not read arrogance in my #GLS23 Reflection (GLS23 occurred earlier in the month prior to my temporary custodial duties), I have caught myself thinking arrogant thoughts this week like, "You are better than this" and "Look how far you have fallen" as I am exercising my janitorial functions. I would hate it if my unspoken thoughts are bleeding through into my daily interactions or conversations with the people I interact with. CMcD and I did eventually talk it out, resolved the miscommunication, and moved passed it. However, I was left confronting one of my major weaknesses and prayerfully determining if I was relapsing. Most of the time whenever I share my "recovery testimony" I readily admit that I have often been told that I give off airs of arrogance as I distance myself from most people. I am frequently and purposefully very stoic. In my preincarceral life, and even more so in prision, because I do not drink, do not drug, do not carouse, do not cuss, do not gamble, or do not womanize my "do nots" severely restrict my interactions with most other men. The men it does leave available for potential comraderie are so weirdly nerdy, or holier-than-thou uber religious bible thumpers, or so non-physically fit/active that I cannot bring myself to hang out with them. It makes me susceptible to a lot of isolation and limited interactions, which then make me appear snobbish or arrogant, when in reality I am not. I am just trying to protect myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually in a place that frequently wants to devour you. Although I know that in the past I often seem arrogant, especially over the past eleven years of incarceration as I keep my shields up with other inmates until there is a modicum of trust established that reassures me that they are not out to scam me, extort me, judge me, or reject me, I realize this appearance of arrogance is there and try very hard to keep that in check. However, being raised in the protective bubble that I was, it is as natural to me as breathing to keep those shields up. There is just something about being raised in a strict Church of Christ upbringing that reinforced the message that, "We are the only ones God loves. We are the only ones God will save. If you hang out with anyone other than CofCers you are putting yourself in jeopardy." It took years to deprogram those misleasding cult like messages. It was the second priority I had in healing my hurts, habitats, and hang-ups through Celebrate Recovery®. CMcD's questioning my use of the word validate has caused me to become more conscious of how I am perceived and made me reflect on keeping my recovery from overt arrogance in check. Noting the few days I have left to serve, and being aware of how I am perceived by fellow inmates, I know that I can move forward and complete this sentence with just as much success as I have experienced so far. As I move into this twelfth year I am certain that legislative changes are coming. At the most I only have 2188 days left to serve, but I am confident that that time will be considerably, considerably less. I just need to focus on exiting this season being the best version of myself, ready to carry out the tasks that the Lord has in store for me in the second half of my life. I will renter society ending this incarceral season on a positive note, with mistakes and painful disappointments over, and a life of usefulness ahead.
#bildungsroman #https://bildungsroman.blogspot.com
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