Author: CAGED
I first went before the Georgia Parole Board in 1992, after serving seven years on a life sentence. The law said I was eligible. I’d pled guilty to a crime of violence, accepted my sentence, done my time. I thought that’s how it worked — you serve your time, you show you’ve changed, you get a chance to go home.
They denied me for three years. The reason: I wasn’t “compatible with the welfare of society.”
That was it. Just that phrase. No explanation of what I needed to do differently, no advice on how to improve my chances. Nothing.
Three years later, I went back. I’d been taking whatever classes they offered, staying out of trouble, being myself. I’m not a violent person. I don’t believe violence brings change. I knew what I’d done, and I’d accepted responsibility for it. I thought maybe this time would be different.
They denied me again. Three more years. This time the reason was “the nature and circumstances of my offense.”
I knew right then I was being fed some garbage. The court had already sentenced me for the nature and circumstances of my offense. The Parole Board was supposed to look at whether I was ready to go home, not resentence me all over again. But that’s exactly what they were doing — acting like another court instead of a Parole Board.
After I’d done thirteen years, they denied me for eight years.
Eight years.
My counselor had my denial for several days and was afraid to give it to me. She finally gave it to her supervisor to let him do it. When I found out, I was shocked. But I knew I had to deal with it regardless.
I called my mother and told her. She called the warden the next morning, thinking I must have done something terrible to get hit that hard. The warden told her I wasn’t causing any problems. He said the Board was supposedly doing a lot of lifers the same way.
Even the warden knew it didn’t make sense. But it was happening anyway.
The reason for denial? The nature and circumstances of my offense. Again. The same thing the court had already punished me for.
My counselor asked me one day, “What keeps you going?”
I told her it was knowing I had the opportunity to be released that kept me going.
Those eight years were hard. It’s a hard situation to be at the total mercy of an agency that has control over your life. My parole was completely at their discretion because Georgia law doesn’t mandate parole. They could say no forever if they wanted to. And there was nothing I could do about it.
When those eight years were up, my counselor called me to her office. For the first time, she asked me for a parole residence address. That’s a concrete thing — like they’re actually planning for your release. After eight years of waiting, I thought, finally, this is it.
They denied me for three more years.
I was very depressed. I had a mental health counselor bring a doctor to the prison to talk with me because I needed whatever help I could receive. I requested a transfer, thinking the change would help me. They gave me the transfer. I was definitely carrying that same weight, but yes, the transfer helped get my mind off the situation enough to continue carrying on until the next parole consideration.
Three years later, I received a letter from the Board informing me they had put me in for work release. I’m a 100% VA disability compensated veteran, so I thought they’d made a mistake. I went to my counselor and showed him the letter. He told me he could call the Board and inform them of my VA situation, but if he did, they’d most likely set me off again for another year or so. He told me I should go to the work release and then inform the officials there of my disabilities.
So that’s what I did.
When I first got there, I noticed there wasn’t any fence around it. It felt so good to be somewhere that wasn’t a prison that I didn’t say anything about my VA compensation. It was a few weeks later that I let my guard down and smoked some marijuana. A couple days later, they called me for a urine test. I told them the truth. They told me it wasn’t going to hurt me.
Then they called me for a meeting with several officials and began badgering me. “Do you want to sign out of the program?” They kept doing this until I finally said, “Yes, I’ll sign out.”
I thought it was my chance to let the Board know about my situation. So I was sent back to prison. I was devastated. I wrote the Board several letters explaining why I had signed out the program, the VA disability issue, all of it.
A couple of months later, I received a letter from the Board denying my parole for five more years.
They didn’t acknowledge anything. It was as if they never read my letters. The only thing they were doing was punishing me for signing out.
I did another almost six years. Then they sent me back to the same work release facility.
The VA disability situation didn’t exist as far as the Board was concerned. At this point, I was so frustrated that I made myself do whatever necessary to try and get home to my elderly mother who had been waiting all those years for me. However, I lost two jobs and was never told they were making me start the program all over again each of those times.
After I had been there for sixteen months, my counselor told me that the Board had still not requested my parole release info. So I told her I was going to call the Board in an attempt to find out why I was still there and hadn’t heard from them. She didn’t respond. I went and called the Board and told the receptionist who I was and why I was calling. She informed me to get with my counselor.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t waiting on the Board. I was waiting on the officials at the work release.
I confronted my counselor immediately after the call. She said she needed to get with the Superintendent about it and would let me know something by the end of the day. She never did.
The next day, I saw the Superintendent in the lobby. I approached her and informed her I had called the Board. She immediately became irate with me and started yelling at me and acting as though I had committed a crime. It was a big scene that I will never forget. There was another counselor in the lobby that witnessed all this. She came over and took me by the arm and led me away from the Superintendent. She asked me what was going on. I told her. She told me to fill out a request form and put it in the box and she would get with my counselor about my situation. I said thank you. That’s all I could hope for.
I thought everything was calmed down. For the next five weeks, all was okay. Then I had gone to work — my last day there — and my boss told me to clock out and go to the main office. Twenty minutes later, I was picked up by a couple of DOC employees and taken back to the work release facility. The Superintendent and my counselor were waiting for me. I was given a letter from the Board denying my parole consideration for three more years, and told I was going back to prison. Again.
The letter said the same thing it always does: due to the nature and circumstances of your offense.
I had done about thirty years at that point. They sent me back in October 2016. They were denying me again for three years. I came up again in 2019 and again they denied me for three years. In 2022, they denied me for one year. However, I shortly thereafter got caught with a cellphone, and a couple more times after that. I must admit that at that point I felt as though I probably wouldn’t ever be paroled.
I no longer have my mother waiting for me. She’s in a nursing home and doesn’t even know who I am anymore. That was taken from me along with all else.
In 2023, they denied my parole for two years. They have a policy of denying two years for cellphones. They still continue to use the same worn-out reasons as always for being denied. I really can’t understand why I’m being punished for a cellphone. Who did I hurt to justify the continued incarceration?
And now, they have once again denied me for another year. For what? I haven’t been in any trouble and have done forty-one years. I won’t be robbing anyone upon my release. My criminal days are long history. I’ve got the VA helping me with anything I need if I ever get out. But they continue to keep me locked up like some vicious animal.
The fact is that if they never would have sent me to the work release, I never would have gone through all this extra amount of foolishness that I have been through.
I feel like Morgan Freeman in Shawshank Redemption when he said to the parole board, “I don’t give a shit about my parole anymore.”
I don’t believe the Board cares one way or the other. In fact, I believe they are more apt to parole those they believe will come back to prison. I’ve seen those make parole that everyone around me felt the same way — how did he make parole? It’s like they have to know these guys are coming back. Then they can say that they granted parole to all these people and they just didn’t want to do the right thing. Plus it keeps their jobs secure.
It doesn’t matter what they are incarcerated for. It’s just the behavior of these guys and knowing they are going to continue criminal activities upon their release. And those are the ones getting out.
I’ve had attorneys advocating for me and that didn’t help either. But I know that, especially if you are serving a life sentence or any sentence that has you doing twenty, thirty, or forty-plus years, it is not a favorable situation to be having your life decided by an entity that doesn’t look at you face to face, but decides your fate by what they see on paper, most of which is provided by the DOC — be it true or false, or right or wrong. I’m sure that in my case if I could have told them directly about my VA situation I never would have gone through this nightmare. And that’s the basic lesson I would give to anyone and especially the Parole Board.
I feel like I’m serving life without parole through the back door.
But I must say that it has actually been a huge spiritual blessing in disguise because I am convinced after certain events that God is real. While I was at the work release that last day and learning I was going back to prison and feeling all the joy I had inside me evaporate, a voice came through my mind and said, “Don’t worry, everything is going to be alright.” When that happened, I knew there was no way that came from me because I was feeling terrible to say the least. Since then I’ve had a couple more things occur that have proven to me that God is real. So as distraught as I’ve been over everything, knowing God is in control and has His reasons for everything and that He told me not to worry, then it has to be okay.
I’m still wanting to scream out for help. But I have to be grateful for each and every day because some didn’t wake up this morning and I know God must have something good in store for me if I can allow Him to work His magic.
Amen. God is good.