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CHAPTER 7
"Wake up," Sage says as she swats my leg, "it's breakfast time." I fell asleep soon after we started this early-morning drive to Talladega, Alabama. As I open my door, I'm hit with the sounds and smells of idling engines and a stale morning breeze.
"Where are we?" I ask.
"Still on I-20," she says, rounding the front end of our parking space, "at a Travel America truck stop."
I flip the glass on my watch and run a finger over its face. It's 8:50 AM. "Aren't we going to be late? It's almost nine o'clock."
"No, we gained an hour when we crossed the central time zone at the Alabama border. Here it's only a few minutes before eight. We're not that far away, and we still have an hour before he expects us."
We walk toward the restaurant as tractor-trailers rumble past in both directions. The only louder sound is someone yelling over an intercom to a driver at a pump. After we enter the restaurant, Sage leads me to a booth, where we place our orders before she gets up.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," she announces. "I've got to use the bathroom and make a phone call. You OK?"
"Uh-uh. This isn't how I want to spend my Saturday," I reply.
"You got better things to do, Mister Social Calendar?" She laughs as she walks away.
As I wait, I think about Simon L'bleak and imagine what it must be like to be in prison. According to Sage, Simon and three other men robbed an armored truck several years ago. During the robbery, the two guards were killed. The other men and the contents of the truck disappeared and have never been found. Simon is in prison for the robbery and the killings. I don't want to visit this prison, and I don't want to meet Simon, but Sage insists that he has some things to say that I need to hear, so here I sit.
"I see you started without me," Sage says as she slides in across from me.
Our food was delivered several minutes ago. "My food was getting cold, and who knows how long you'd be on the phone." I hear her suppress a laugh.
"Well, I had to confirm he's still meeting with us."
"How come?"
"No reason, just sometimes one's plans are changed by circumstances beyond one's control. Yesterday he told me to check with the scheduling guard sometime after seven this morning."
"We still meeting him?" I ask, hoping there's a way out of this.
"Yeah. No problem," she assures me.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. "How do you know him?"
"I've known Simon a long time. Right now I'm helping with his death penalty appeal."
"Death penalty!"
"Why are you surprised? The jury gave him the death penalty," she explains, "but after the trial, a new witness came forward, someone who can prove Simon was somewhere else at the estimated time the guards were killed. Together with recent psychological evaluations and a favorable recommendation from the warden, we might be able to get his sentence reduced to life."
"Life? He'll still die in there."
"Maybe, but he should've thought of that before he planned the robbery."
"That's cold," I tell her.
"I don't think so. Simon's a friend, but the truth's the truth. He should've thought more carefully and realized the chances of his plan falling apart were way too great."
"That's easy for you to say, after it's over, and you know he's in prison."
"No, it's not," she says. "It's as easy to see the likely result beforehand. These kinds of boneheaded ideas never work out, despite what they show in the movies and on television. No matter how carefully someone thinks they've planned a crime, fundamentally the plan is flawed, because what they planned is wrong."
"Wait, if he didn't kill the guards, why's he in?"
"Simon says he didn't kill or order the killing of the guards. I believe him and so does everyone else, I suppose. But our belief doesn't matter. Under a theory of criminal law called enterprise liability, a person can be held liable for the actions of an accomplice."
"What's an accomplice?" I ask.
"It's the partner in crime, the person who helps commit the criminal act. Four people were involved in that armored truck robbery, Simon and three accomplices."
"So he did the robbery, and the accomplices did the killing?"
"Not quite. Simon planned the robbery and hired three men to help. Simon worked from a computer somewhere to jam the truck's radio transmissions and send out a false tracking signal. Meanwhile, his accomplices actually hijacked the armored truck and hid it in a tractor-trailer. But rather than meeting with Simon as planned, the accomplices took the gold bars and cash after killing the guards."
"So where are the accomplices?"
"No one knows. Certainly not in this country, we assume."
"Because the accomplices are gone, Mr. L'bleak does the time for them all?"
"Pretty close," she says. "Under enterprise liability, each person involved in committing a felony may be held wholly responsible for the acts of the accomplices, whether or not that person agreed or even knew about the acts of the accomplices."
"Kind of harsh," I observe.
"Kind of stupid for him to plan a robbery, she replies.
"If he's so stupid, how come I've got to listen to what he has to say?" I'm still looking for a way to turn around and head home.
"For at least two reasons. First, I didn't say he's generally stupid, I said he did a stupid thing. He's in prison because he made a series of bad decisions that started with the thought that he could get away with stealing. Second, because you can benefit from people in a number of ways. One way is to listen and learn from their mistakes, so you know what not to do."
"You going to write what he says?" I ask.
"Don't worry. I brought my journal and will write down the important things." We finish our breakfast and then drive to the penitentiary in Talladega.
Sage describes the meeting room for me as we wait for Mr. L'bleak. It's a large room, constructed of bars instead of solid walls, that makes me feel like a prisoner. Around the outside perimeter of the room, two guards circle like sharks around a shipwreck. Inside, ten wooden tables are lined up in two rows with four stainless steel chairs to each table. Both the tables and chairs are bolted to the floor.
People are talking in low voices at the other tables. The entry door opens and slams shut for the fourth time. Someone calls for Sage. "Wait here a second," she tells me, as if I'm going somewhere.
She returns with Mr. L'bleak and introduces him.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. L'bleak," I lie. His hand is hard and rough. I guess he has to do manual labor here. He also stinks of cigarettes.
"Same here, Peter," he replies. I don't think he's lying.
"Thanks again for seeing us, Simon," Sage says.
"Like I told you before, I'm glad to help out, although I have my own motives. I don't get visitors, so talking with you today will be like spending the day a free man."
"We have a day pass, until five," she says. "But we have to leave between noon and one."
"How'd you get a day pass?" he asks.
"Friend of a friend."
"Figures. Well, at least you haven't changed," he says. "OK, let's sit and make the most of it."
I reach behind me to find my chair and try to get comfortable. I hear the two guards march in opposite directions and imagine this prison is as dark as it feels.
He begins speaking rapidly, startling me: "Peter, I wouldn't wish this fucking life on my worst enemy. If only you could see, so you'd know what to run from." Sage coughs and clears her throat. He pauses, restarting slowly and softly. "I'm sorry, Peter. My life is ruined. Even my college education is now a waste," he pauses again and restarts. "Sage tell you that she and me have a lot in common?
"No," I respond. Sage coughs and clears her throat again.
"Something you want to say to me?" I ask Sage.
"No," she says.
Mr. L'bleak starts again, picking up in what seems like mid-sentence, "in order to survive I've got to mentally escape, or I'll go crazy. Do you know what I do to escape?"
"Uh-uh," I respond nervously.
"I've spent my time, four years so far, thinking about the choices and decisions we made that landed us in this shit-hole."
"Any answers yet?" Sage asks.
He does not speak for a while, as if lost in his thoughts, then begins a very long explanation with, "Two so far. First, everyone I've met in here is either an idiot or a regular guy who thought he could get away with acting like an idiot. Second, a person is who they are because of what and how they think. If they act like an idiot, it's because they think like an idiot."
"Wait a minute," says Sage. "Let me get out my journal."
Sage's Journal
July 23, 1988
Talladega, AL
…a few here are probably innocent and imprisoned by mistake. Just as many in here are so absolutely vicious and unrepentant that they need to be put to death or at least walled off from the rest of society until they're dead. … All of our paths to prison started with the fact that we lacked wisdom.
…foster care and prison both house children of ignorance. The difference is responsibility. I, Simon, was in foster care because my parents made poor decisions. I'm now in prison because I've made even worse decisions. Neither you nor I could probably have avoided foster care, but I could've avoided prison and other difficulties by choosing to become wise when I was a teen. … Likewise, the sooner you choose to become wise, and do so, the sooner you will be able to avoid many difficulties.
…you start to become wise when you realize that you need to obtain wisdom, and that wisdom is available to you. Wisdom is acquired by learning from those who are wiser and applying what you learn to your life. … This concept shouldn't be any harder to understand than to realize when it's raining, that you need to find and put on a raincoat to avoid getting wet if you go outside.
"In here I see stages of ignorance," Mr. L'bleak explains, "beginning with being naïve. Someone who's naïve just doesn't know much about the world around them."
"I'm not stupid," I almost shout. I can't explain exactly what I'm thinking at this moment, but it feels like he's saying I'm stupid.
"No one said you are," Sage says as she pats my back.
"Don't you yell at me, punk," Mr. L'bleak sneers back, "I didn't call you stupid."
"Cool it, Simon," Sage warns.
"The kid started it," he replies. He pauses for a long time and all I hear is his heavy breathing. "I didn't call you stupid," he repeats, "but I'll say you're probably naïve, just like I was, and most people are at your age. Everyone starts life being naïe. This shouldn't be a news flash for you."
I stop listening to him, even though he keeps talking, to think about what he said. I'm not stupid. I know my school grades are not real good right now, and a lot of times adults say stuff I don't understand, but I can't believe I'm stupid. I begin to think about my life before I became blind, and I remember some of the things I did with my friends or by myself: shoplifting, stealing money from my foster parents, carrying drugs for a dealer who lived in my apartment complex. These are some of the things I remember, and now realize could have gotten me into trouble. I don't remember thinking at the time whether I would get caught or whether I cared. That must be what it means to be naïve.
Now I'm talking with Mr. L'bleak, who thought he wouldn't get caught when he planned that robbery. Now he's in prison. I start to listen again, but can't make sense of what he's saying, because I wasn't listening before. "Start again, please," I interrupt.
"Huh?" says Sage.
"Start again, please," I repeat, "with naïve."
"Peter, you're listening, aren't you?" she demands.
"Uh-huh," I lie. I don't have to lie to her, I think to myself, but in here I feel like I need to protect my every breath.
"Peeeterr," she says. Which only confirms she knows I'm lying.
"With naïve," I say, ignoring her and speaking toward Mr. L'bleak.
"Yeah, alright," he replies.
Sage's Journal
July 23, 1988
Talladega, AL
…ignorance, the state of being unwise, builds on itself. One can become good at being ignorant just as easily as one can become good at some other goal. The difference is that you achieve other goals by working at them, while you achieve ignorance if you don't work to avoid it.
…ignorance begins with being naïve -- simply being inexperienced in the ways of the world. Inexperience is nothing for a teen to be ashamed of since it takes time to gain experience, and a teen just hasn't been around a long time. … I've learned that a young person must work to become wise so that they grow out of being naïve, or by default they increase their ignorance until they become a scoffer.
A scoffer is a person who has experience being ignorant. It's easy to spot scoffers, because they're usually quick to show their disrespect or contempt. … Like anyone who has practiced something -- whether good or bad -- it's more difficult for scoffers to change their ways than it is for naïve people to change their ways. When they decide to change their ways, it will take scoffers more effort to shed the handcuffs of ignorance and begin to gain wisdom, than it will for a merely naïve person to do the same. … Do yourself a favor -- don't wait too long to begin to gain wisdom.
…the people most accomplished in their ignorance are fools. By fool I don't mean a person who simply acts silly or behaves selfishly, like a spoiled child. A true fool is a thickheaded person hostile to physical or moral truths. … Try to help them with anything, it doesn't matter what; they'll argue with you, hurting themselves and those around them by doing the exact opposite of the wise course of action.
"Wisdom! That's the ticket to avoiding or reversing ignorance," Mr. L'bleak concludes.
"Sage says a person needs wisdom and knowledge," I offer.
"What?" she responds.
"You said a person needs wisdom and knowledge to have a sym…symbi…"
"Symbiosis," she finishes my sentence. "I said a person needs wisdom and knowledge together in order to make good decisions. Without both, a person isn't going to make good decisions, except by accident."
There's a silence at the table. It's not that sickening silence you feel in the pit of your stomach when you think you're in trouble. We're just waiting to restart.
"Do you agree with her?" Mr. L'bleak starts.
I shrug and reply with, "I guess so."
"Not good enough," he snaps. "Either you agree or not, so think about it and take a position. It won't hurt, dammit."
"I agree," I snap back, which feels pretty good.
"Fine," he says, "so do I. Now tell me: Which comes first, wisdom or knowledge?"
For a second time, we are all silent, but this time it's uncomfortable because they are waiting for my reply. Another son-of-a-bitch and his Socratic method, I think to myself. "Why does everyone ask questions all the time?" I ask.
"Remember," Sage responds, "questions are the engines of thought. We want you to learn to think for yourself, so we ask questions rather than just bottle-feed you the answer like you're a baby."
My problem is that I know neither Sage nor Mr. L'bleak is going to answer for me. I think a bit, listening to my own breathing during the blank spaces between my thoughts, weighing which is more important, knowledge or wisdom. I decide they can't be separated; like inhaling and exhaling in order to breathe, both are equally important. "Neither," I say, smiling. "They're equally important and can't be separated. Making a good decision is like breathing. We must have knowledge and wisdom together, like we must inhale and exhale to breathe."
"Nice analogy," replies Sage with a small applause. "I wish I had said that."
"Not bad for a kid," Mr. L'bleak says, "but you didn't answer my question. I asked which comes first, not which one is more important. Which one is the inhale, knowledge or wisdom?"
I give up. "I don't know."
"You're right," he softens up, "in that they travel together. But you should seek wisdom first, because knowledge ain't useful in the hands of an idiot. A better analogy is that of a skeleton and muscles, where wisdom is the skeleton and knowledge is the muscle. Our bodies are much more useless with weak bones than with weak muscles."
"I think I understand," I say.
Sage's Journal
July 23, 1988
Talladega, AL
…most knowledge changes from time to time. The less important the knowledge, the quicker it is to change. Popular culture changes daily in that the current most popular movie, song, or sports player is quickly replaced by another, so retaining popular culture knowledge is a wasted effort. … Knowledge regarding the professions and sciences changes less frequently. … Still, laws are changed by judges and politicians, medical advances render previous methods useless or even dangerous, breakthroughs in chemistry or physics change what engineers build, and the lessons taught by human events shape how we interact. … Over time most knowledge changes, the only question is by how much.
The same can't be said for wisdom, which is far more stable. …is it unfair to steal another's money, food or property? …should you kidnap a person and force them into slavery? … Throughout the ages, wise people everywhere have answered these and hundreds of similar questions, time and again, in basically the same way. The difficulty is that the answers are sometimes lost and wait to be rediscovered, or the answers are known but ignored to the harm of the individual or society that chooses to be ignorant.
Wisdom is found through several paths. …you can listen to or observe people who are wise in order to learn and imitate the things they do or suggest. … or you can listen to and observe people who are unwise in order to avoid doing the things they do or have done. For most of us, a combination of these is how we actually acquire wisdom.
…you can expand your wisdom through the repeated process of learning and practice, until you know as much as your teacher. Then you move on to a wiser teacher. … Ideally, your first teacher is your parent, but foster kids frequently don't have a first teacher. Instead, we must learn wisdom wherever we can. … Usually we learn the basics by studying certain books and by seeking a wise teacher -- a mentor -- to guide us.
"Kid," says Mr. L'bleak, "the best way for me to contribute to the wisdom that Sage is piecing together for you is to tell you a couple of stories, and talk about the importance of thinking."
"You mean the skeleton?" I ask.
"That's right. I'll help you get started building your skeleton of wisdom now, and as you grow up, you can apply the muscles of knowledge you acquire. That's how you'll stay out of shit-holes like this."
He pauses and lights a cigarette before continuing. "I want to tell you about some of the idiots I've met here in prison and how they got here. I figure that if you learn about their screw-ups, you'll learn what not to do."
"We're listening," says Sage.
"Do you know what a thief is?" Mr. L'bleak asks.
"Uh-huh, a person who stole something," I reply.
"Fine. Do you know what a robber is?"
I hesitate before answering, "It's the same."
"No. Different words usually have different meanings, otherwise what's the use of having different words? Jeez, don't they teach kids anything in school these days?" he asks no one in particular. Answering for me, he says, "a robber is someone who takes something from another person by force."
"So what's the difference?" asks Sage.
"You know," replies Mr. L'bleak. "Let's see if the kid here knows."
"The only different word I hear is force, so I suppose a thief takes without the victim knowing, but a robber takes by force, like pointing a gun at someone and taking her purse."
"Good, you're smarter than you look," he replies. "Now I'll tell you the story of Bobby, damn if he wasn't an idiot."
Sage's Journal
July 23, 1988
Talladega, AL
Bobby Guise* grew up in rural Mississippi, and his childhood was typical of poor children everywhere. He lived with his parents and siblings in a small house. Neither his mom nor dad graduated high school. They both dropped out when their first child was born, and then they worked alternate shifts at the plywood mill outside of town. With the burden of several kids and few resources, they couldn't provide their kids with many possessions.
Although not great parents, Bobby's folks realized many of their mistakes and, in order to give their children a better shot at a better life, wanted their kids to at least graduate high school. The summer Bobby turned sixteen he joined his parents and his older brother in the hellishly hot plywood mill. Even though he earned only a few dollars an hour, Bobby was dazzled that he had his own money and could buy stuff without begging his parents for it. Caught up in the thrill of buying worthless crap, Bobby didn't learn from his parents' example. Instead of returning to school that fall, he dropped out.
Bobby worked about a year before he figured out he had made a mistake. Now he resented the mill because his was hot and boring work. While he didn't want to give up his paycheck-in fact, he only desired more money-the mill became more miserable than he could stand. Only after he was totally dissatisfied did Bobby really notice the plant manager.
What Bobby noticed about Mr. A.P. Ashcroft was that he always wore clean clothes and was always dry, since Mr. Ashcroft didn't work the production line. To Bobby it seemed that all Mr. Ashcroft did was walk around and boss other people, when he wasn't lording over the plant from his air-conditioned office.
Mr. Ashcroft spoke to Bobby only a few times. Bobby never listened to what Mr. Ashcroft said. Instead, Bobby focused on Mr. Ashcroft's gold jewelry and clean clothes. Every year Mr. Ashcroft had a new pickup truck, and everyone, including Bobby, knew the location of the big Ashcroft house, far from the noise and smell of the plant. Bobby was envious of Mr. Ashcroft.
Envy can build up or tear down a person. Envy can motivate an intelligent and mature person to study or work in order to achieve the things they desire or the status of the person they envy. But a naïve and unintelligent person will often permit envy to grow into jealousy. Bobby's envy of Mr. Ashcroft grew quickly to jealousy and then blossomed into greed. Despite the fact that Bobby had worked at the mill only a short time, he still thought: Why should he have so much while I work so hard and have so little?
Bobby didn't take the time to consider that Ashcroft was thirty years older. For Mr. Ashcroft, those were long years of sweating on production lines from Florida to Oregon, and operating every kind of equipment in a mill. In that time, Mr. Ashcroft easily worked harder and longer than Bobby. Through his hard work, Mr. Ashcroft earned his position of leadership, the luxury of wearing clean clothes, and the money to drive new pickups as well as live in a nice house.
All Bobby understood was that Mr. Ashcroft had nice possessions. If Bobby had known that people only improve their circumstances by improving themselves, he wouldn't have permitted himself to become jealous of Mr. Ashcroft or make the many bad decisions that soon followed.
Mr. Ashcroft had not given Bobby a reason to be evil toward him. Nevertheless, one night before Thanksgiving, Bobby and a friend broke into the Ashcroft house to steal whatever they could find. Bobby had misunderstood which week Mr. Ashcroft and his family would be away for the holiday, so the night ended very differently than Bobby planned. Toward midnight, upon hearing someone in his living room, Mr. Ashcroft grabbed his Walther pistol and surprised the teenage thieves. He was likewise surprised when he recognized Bobby. In the fight that followed, Bobby's friend was shot dead and Bobby, pumped with fright, managed to kill Ashcroft by bashing his skull with an iron candlestick. Before the police arrived, Bobby ran out a back door with the pistol.
Initially Bobby was scared and afraid of being caught, but after a while he suppressed his sorrow over killing Mr. Ashcroft and grew bolder in his ignorance. After breaking into many houses, he decided to leave his small town for richer victims. Bobby traveled the country, never staying long in any one place, splitting his time between breaking into homes or businesses and partying. He wore clean clothes and gold jewelry, just like the plant manager that he envied and killed. But when the rush from the burglary or the party was over, Bobby was alone with himself and his thoughts -- neither of which he liked.
Bobby had started robbing people because he figured it was a faster and more exciting way to get money than finding the right house to break into. With the Walther pistol, Bobby would rob four or five times before he moved to another town. At first he only shot those who resisted him. Eventually, he shot all his victims, because he was bored with just taking their money. One Saturday night in San Diego, Bobby attempted to rob a couple as they left an ATM. Instead of turning over their wallets, the two undercover police fired off a round each, both of which hit Bobby. A lengthy investigation tied Bobby to dozens of robbery-killings and the murder of Ashcroft.
Bobby is still on death row. Anyone who gives Bobby's misspent life any amount of thought can learn a lot about how not to behave. Beyond the obvious lessons of controlling your lusts and shunning the ways of violent men, Bobby is a good example of the effect of one's thoughts on his character and his future.
He permitted his thoughts of envy and jealousy to give way to actions of greed and destruction, which resulted in his imprisonment and will ultimately provide him with an early death. Bobby isn't in prison because of the way he spoke or the color of his skin. He's in prison and will eventually be put to death because one day he decided to act on his violent thoughts. Whether Bobby ever recognizes it or not, you can: Greed often gives birth to actions that carry negative consequences.
Continue with Chapter 7, Part 2
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