Perspective from the Inside: Letters and Correspondence in Prison

Asia McClain writes him in prison. Let me give my perspective from someone who's been through it ... this is a BIG deal.

After I was arrested, it would take over a year and a half before I finally surrendered to the prison itself. Lots of stuff happening in that time. Fortunately for me, I had strong family support. They were there for me in a big way. It is when it gets to friends where things become nebulous. As you might expect, no one knew what to think. There were a few that were strongly supportive. Others were verbally supportive, but you could tell it was tepid. Others I just flat out never heard from again.

I don't want to be so cliche' as to say "You'll find out who your real friends are." That's being a bit unfair to them. I would have no idea how I would have reacted if I were in their shoes. Being as honest with myself as possible, I probably would have subscribed to the "where there's smoke there's fire" line of reasoning.

From the moment of the arrest, the treatment is something akin to sub-human. This is the way we treat animals. They dragged me into my arraignment down the street and into the courthouse at 7:00 AM, in handcuffs, with no shoelaces or belt (so I don't decide to hurt myself), while all the kids are waiting at the bus stop. Did I really need to be humiliated like that?

And that was only within the first 24 hours of the arrest. It only goes downhill from there.

Fast forward a bit, and a year's worth of constant worry over what other people think, you can imagine how I might latch onto whatever bit of kindness is shown to me. Prison is a depressing place. You can imagine watching guys trying to keep in contact with everyone on the outside as their kids are growing up without them, their wives are slowly drifting away from them, and whatever connection they have to the past eventually evaporates.

On top of which, prison is boring beyond words. Work assignments help pass the time. I worked in the kitchen and was usually done shortly after lunch. Afterwards, I walked endless laps around the track.

That is why I say it is a BIG deal to get mail. It means someone out there still cares enough about you to stay in touch. It means someone still believes in you. For a few minutes, you're not in prison. You're doing what normal people do. You're keeping in touch.

Some of my old college friends found out about my predicament. By then, none of us had seen each other for a few years. It was a mixed bag though. One was very supportive (bless her heart). She sent letters every month or so. Another wanted to help and wanted to stay in touch, but her husband was uncomfortable with it. I totally respect that. I couldn't imagine myself being comfortable with my wife writing to an old college friend in prison. I don't hold it against her. I completely understand. At least I knew she wanted to be supportive.

But damn it still hurt.

After that, I had no desire to see anyone I used to know. I'd rather them not know what's become of me.

Prison is all about judgement. There's the judge (obviously). There's the endless supervisors assigned to you on Pre-Trial and afterwards in Probation. There's court appointed therapists casting judgement about your mental state. There's your own family (can you imagine what it's like to have to call home and say "Dad, I got arrested last night"?). There's your employer who has to decide whether he should fire you or not until you actually start your sentence. There's all the CO's on the inside trying to decide if you're dangerous or not. There's all the other inmates trying to determine where you fit in the social hierarchy. You sit there and judge yourself, because an inmate has nothing but time to think about it.

To have someone who is not judging you ... that's gold.

Adnan Syed got his letter of support in prison. Someone who stood by him in his time of need. You can now imagine what that would have meant to him.

So speaking from someone who has been on the inside, I have a question for Adnan Syed:

If these letters were so important to you, both as evidence and as a token of support, why did you not respond to them? The idea that it wasn't important to you won't fool me. I have never heard of a single incident where a fellow inmate simply did not respond to a letter. It's just not done. So this requires some explanation as to why such an important moment for you simply gets forgotten nearly as soon as it happens. Only you can explain why, and you have chosen to remain silent. That is your right. Neither you nor your advocates owe me an answer, but neither do I owe you support.