On January 31, 2024, I was escorted out of my hotel room at the Baymont Inn by a swarm of heavily armed Anderson County Sheriffs. It was like something out of an action movie. I asked one of the men if I could smoke a cigarette. He nodded and gave me one out of my pack. I leaned my head back, gazing up into the jet black sky that was speckled with stars, sparking like the flame on candles. I took slow, deliberate drags of the cigarette, cherishing every last moment of crisp air on my face. Even though I tried to play dumb when I was questioned, I knew exactly what I had done.
I will not attempt to glorify or glamorize any of it because it now makes me sick to my stomach. Knowing that in an altered state of mind, I was capable of inflicting that much terror and pain on another human. It was not until I had completely detoxed a few weeks later that the heart shattering realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in jail again.
Not just in jail, but locked up for kidnapping, shooting, and robbing someone and facing up to 80 years if convicted.
Depression set in as a deep sadness began to consume my every waking thought. I spent night after agonizing night trying to make sense of the choices that left me locked up with no bond and a pregnant girlfriend. A pregnant girlfriend that I had no way of reaching. As the severity of my predicament settled in, I wished I would have left the streets on better terms. We had been on bad terms prior to my arrest, so I did not expect help from her.
All of that changed on July 3, 2024, when my baby mama surprised me with a visit. She also brought my six day old son, Areko, with her.
I instantly fell in love. He was the most beautiful miniature version of me. As a new father, I had never experienced the connection between a father and his seed.
I sobbed, knowing inwardly that as I stared into those brown eyes just like mine, I had to change. Seeing a life that I had helped make gave me a renewed sense of purpose.
I also knew that did not change the fact that I had to be punished for the crimes I committed. I had to become a man. By becoming a man, I embraced retribution. I needed my son to know that as a man, you stand up and take responsibility for your actions, the good and the bad.
On my last attorney visit on March 6, six days before I was scheduled to go to court after sitting for 15 months with no bond, I sat at the table staring at her. She cleared her throat and said she met with my solicitor and he was willing to agree to a 20 year active sentence. That meant no probation, no parole, and I would have to serve 85 percent. I was dumbfounded. She told me if I did not take the deal, they would indict me on attempted murder and force trial. I could feel the air leave my lungs.
As the months passed, the bond between me and my son’s mother improved tremendously. She brought my eight month old son to see me. He was standing, babbling, smiling, and blowing kisses. He was me.
Seeing my son brought tears of joy and sadness. Joy because he was healthy and happy. Sadness because I would never get to hold him, change his diapers, or warm his bottle. I had physically abandoned them and it would be that way for at least 15 years. But none of that mattered to him. All he saw was daddy.
When I put my forehead against the glass and he planted a wet baby kiss on it, I broke down.
Areko was more than enough reason to change. He became the crucible. Thoughts of him fuel my rehabilitation, my writing, and my education. My main objective is to remain disciplinary free so I can transfer closer to him.
On March 12, 2025, I was sentenced to 20 years in South Carolina DOC.
Months later, I sit in my one man cell on a maximum security yard, still writing. I have written several manuscripts, two television pilots, and a full length feature film. I am drafting a newsletter to recreate the narrative for my fellow incarcerated comrades across the world.
All of this was inspired by one thing, change. Change that I owe to the best part of me, my son Areko.
Thank you, son. I know I left you in a world eager to oppress you, but my absence will not be in vain. I am creating a legacy for you to carry as you see fit. Even before you knew who I was, I knew you would be the reason I changed for the better.
Love,
Your daddy
