The Prison Podcast Episode 7: All That Anger
January 29, 2025
This week’s episode shares Michele’s remarkable journey. After losing her husband during a burglary, her grief hardened into anger toward the man responsible. This anger overshadowed her ability to reflect on her husband’s own challenges, including his temper and tendency to escalate conflict.
Over time, Michele came to a painful yet liberating realization: her husband’s actions had likely contributed to the tragic events of that night. As she processed this truth, her anger began to soften. When Michele finally met Steven, the man who killed her husband, she confronted not only him but also her own pain.
Transcription
Michael: My name is Michael, and I’m the Inside Communications Director for Humans of San Quentin. The contents of this episode include strong language and graphic descriptions of violent crimes, which may include sexual assault. This podcast is intended as a cure. Audience discretion is advised.
Diane: Hello and welcome back to The Prison Podcast. I’m your host, Diane Khan, and we’re so glad to have you with us today. In this episode, we’ll be speaking with Michele, a woman whose life was forever changed by the tragic loss of her husband. For years, she lived with a distorted version of the events surrounding his death, leaving her and her family consumed by anger and grief. But everything shifted when Michele made the brave choice to meet her husband’s killer, Stephen, face to face. This powerful confrontation brought the truth to light, offering Michele the answers she had long sought and setting her on a path toward healing and reconciliation. So today, I feel honored to sit down with Michele. Michele’s husband was one of the victims of a violent crime, and her offender, Stephen, is in prison in California. We’re honored to have her with us today. Michele, thank you for telling us your story.
Michele: No problem.
Diane: So, I know you’ve told me quite a bit, but I would love to hear about everything that’s happened. I’m not sure what my question is or where you are in the process of wanting to talk about it, so I’ll leave it up to you.
Michele: I’ve been talking about it with no problem. I’ve never had a problem talking about it.
Diane: Do you mind starting from the very beginning? Maybe when you first found out that he was killed?
Michele: I was in the front yard breaking the yard when all of a sudden some officers showed up. He was on probation or parole, and honestly, I thought they were there to tell me that he was being arrested again for something stupid. But that wasn’t the case at all. They told me they were from homicide, and they had to tell me that three times before I comprehended what they were telling me. They finally had to say it outright—he’d been murdered—and I didn’t know how to react. It was devastating. He was my sixth-grade boyfriend. We’d been together forever. By then, we were married for 22 years. So, it was a lot to take in. And then, I had four kids. Two of them had already moved out, but two of them were still at home. One of them was 14, the other was nine. My nine-year-old daughter overheard the officers talking to me about her dad being killed, and she ran inside. She just wanted to go to her grandma’s. She called her grandma, and my brother came over to pick her up to take her there. It was a rollercoaster from then on. We were told from the beginning that he was murdered for the bike. After they found out about the bike, I asked them where it was, but they said they hadn’t seen any bikes. So, I had to describe the bike to the detective and get all the details, but we didn’t have the numbers off the bike to identify it. They didn’t really have anything permanent to go by. However, one of the officers was a cyclist and had been a cyclist downtown for a while, so she was really familiar with different bikes. She got it right down to the details and knew exactly what bike I was talking about. But when I told them there was a blue light on the back of it, she asked me at least four times if I was sure the light was blue. I said, “Yes.” She asked, “How are you so sure?” I said because I had never seen another blue light on the back of a bike; it was always red. Later, she told me that the reason she kept asking was that the only blue lights she’d ever seen were on officers’ bikes, and there was only one place in downtown Sacramento where you could get them. Apparently, my husband knew where it was because he had one, so she thought that might help find the bike. But there are a lot of bikes in downtown Sacramento, so I was beginning to think we would never find it. I figured it was at the bottom of the river or something, but they finally found it. Two officers stopped at the scene of a car wreck. There were posters everywhere downtown for this bike, with a picture of it and everything. A pedestrian pulled up next to them and said, “There goes the bike you guys have been looking for.” One of the officers left the scene to find the bike. He went inside a thrift store, and the officer followed him there. He said as soon as he walked in, he could tell that the bike didn’t belong there. He walked over to it and asked for his bike. It wasn’t Stephen’s bike, but he claimed it as his own. They took him outside, patted him down, and the first time, they didn’t find a knife. But the second time, as they were putting him in the car, they found the knife he used to kill my husband. To prove it was the bike, my husband used to wax it every night when he got home from riding it. Spoke by spoke. I’d watch him wax it. To identify the bike, they picked up all the rags he used to wax the bike with. I also remembered that my husband had cut the handlebars to make the bike more narrow so he could go through tighter spaces. The only reason I knew that was because my youngest son, who was four, had been trying to talk his dad into letting him have one of his gold rings, but my husband said no. So, my husband gave him one of the handlebar pieces instead to appease him, but my son got upset and came storming into the house, pouting and telling me that daddy was being mean. When I went outside to see what he was talking about, I found out that my husband had cut the handlebars to make them more narrow, which is how I knew about the handlebar pieces. So, I gave those pieces to the officers, and that’s how they identified the bike—they matched up the cuts on the bike.
Diane: You told me earlier that when he was arrested, Stephen didn’t realize he had killed anybody. Could you go into that for us?
Michele: Yeah. Stephen said that when they arrested him, he had no clue that he had taken somebody’s life. He told them that to just sentence him to death and that he would tell them everything they needed to know. He took full accountability for it.
Diane: Did you ever consider Stephen’s perspective?
Michele: I never thought about asking what happened because I thought I was pretty clear on what happened. My husband was gone, and he took the bike. But from what I understand after talking with Stephen, it wasn’t about the bike. He said that after the fight, he was panicking because people were running toward him, so he jumped on the bike and left. That’s how he ended up with the bike. My husband was short and muscular. He could always handle himself in a fight, no problem. But he had a complex with people thinking they could get over on him because of his height. So, whenever somebody would look at him the wrong way, he’d say, “What, you got a problem with me? Let’s handle it.” I’d seen him do it so many times over the years. I knew when I finally talked to Stephen that my husband started that fight. The only difference is that when my husband started getting the best of him, Stephen pulled out a knife and stabbed him. That’s how my husband ended up dead. So, looking back on it now, I think Stephen is just as at fault as my husband was. It’s a lot to process. It’s like someone took a security blanket away from me that I didn’t even realize I had. I always thought of myself as very independent, but that was taken away. So much for being independent.
Diane: And how long had you known him at that point?
Michele: Since the sixth grade. He just turned 40, so you figure sixth grade, you’re about 11 or 12. We’d been together longer than I lived with my mom. It was a lot.
Diane: What actually happened that day?
Michele: He went for a bike ride after work, just like he always did. The officer showed up at my house around 5:36 in the morning. I remember being mad at my husband because he didn’t come home. I was thinking, “This is bullshit,” because he’d just told me he wasn’t going to stay out all night. Yet, here he was, doing it again. He’d gotten mad at me earlier when I went to the casino and wasn’t with him, and he didn’t know where I was. But then he turned around and did the same thing to me. Of course, that wasn’t the case at all.
Diane: How did he meet Steven?
Michele: They just crossed paths on the street. Steven was looking his way, and my husband, I’m sure, said the same thing he always did, “You got a problem with me? Let’s handle it.”
Diane: Where were they?
Michele: They were in downtown Sacramento, on, I think, K and 22nd. I’m not sure of the exact street, but I know it was K. It was just one block away from the railroad tracks over there.
Diane: Was it in the middle of the night?
Michele: I think they said he was killed around 1 or 2 a.m. It’s weird—my oldest daughter woke up out of a dead sleep at the exact same time my husband died. She didn’t know why she had woken up. It took four and a half years to get him to trial, and we thought it was taking so long because he was playing games with the system, with all the postponements. First, he fired his attorney and wanted to defend himself. We thought it was all about him playing games, but that wasn’t it at all. It was because nobody was listening to him. His attorney wasn’t listening. The system wasn’t listening. They were just trying to make the case about what they wanted, to get a win. He wasn’t okay with that. They wouldn’t put him on the stand. So he fired his attorney. Then he asked for a psych evaluation. It was just one thing after another. By the time we got to court, I was having panic attacks. I was afraid it would be postponed again, just like before. But it wasn’t because he was playing games. It was because he was trying to find an attorney who would listen to him. Nobody seemed to care enough to listen to him, to put him on the stand, or even let him speak. When I asked him why he didn’t say something at the sentencing, he told me that they told him he wasn’t allowed to, that he needed to just sit there and be quiet. It was wrong.
Diane: What made you request the meeting with Steven?
Michele: I spent 18 and a half years with a lot of built-up anger toward this man, anger that I didn’t need to have. And it didn’t matter to the court at all. They just wanted their win. Like I said, I never bothered asking what happened because it seemed pretty clear to me: they stole the bike, and then he stabbed him. But that’s not even the full story.
Diane: That’s a long time to sit with this story—and with the hatred..
Michele: It was, because by that point, I had so much anger built up. But it was all directed toward Steven. I didn’t take my anger out on everyone; I just needed that face-to-face. When I requested the meeting, it was the beginning of the pandemic, so we ended up having to wait two and a half, almost three years, before we could meet. By then, I was just really over it and needed the meeting to happen and be done. My daughters kept trying to talk me out of it, thinking it would make me relive the murder all over again. But I told them, “I feel like I need to do this.” I’m glad I did—it totally changed things. I felt like I was stuck, not moving forward or backward. It wasn’t okay at all, not even close.
Diane: I think we’d all love to hear how you went from so much anger to a place where you were ready to sit down face-to-face. How did that transformation happen for you?
Michele: I was working at a convenience store in Roseville, and a woman used to come in and talk to me at night. I knew she could communicate with people who had passed, but she only knew that my husband had been murdered. I didn’t know her before working there, and I’ve had no contact with her since. One night, she came in with a bunch of gifts for me, and she was hesitant, saying she didn’t know how to tell me something. I told her, “You’ve never had trouble talking to me—just tell me what you need to say.” She told me that my husband had come to her the night before and said she needed to bring these gifts to me, so I would know it was really from him. She said he also wanted me to look at these things with my oldest son. The first thing we opened when we got home was a weed pipe with Super Mario on it—something my husband used to love. He’d play Super Mario and always win with 100 lives left. My son lost it when he saw that—he doesn’t cry easily, but he broke down. He said, “Mom, do you know what this is?” I didn’t connect the dots, but he explained that everything she gave me was from different moments in our lives that she couldn’t have known about. I had to believe the message was from him. She said he needed me to either accept God into my life or forgive the person who killed him. I told her, “He could have asked me for anything else, and it wouldn’t have been a problem, but not this. I decided there was no God when he was murdered. I can’t forgive him.” She said there was urgency in his voice and that I needed to do this quickly. It was about a week before the anniversary of his death. I was trying to figure out what to do, so I decided to request the meeting with Steven. I contacted the victims of violent crimes group, and after that, the lady came back a few days later to tell me that he had crossed over, meaning making the appointment was enough for him to move on. I think his purpose in asking for that meeting was for me to know the truth about what happened, which helped me let go of the anger. I told Steven during the meeting that I had written him a 13-page letter, explaining how much he hurt my family and how much my kids had suffered. His son and my oldest daughter, who was nine when my husband was killed, had their own interactions. My daughter had been on a social networking site, and Steven’s son came to her asking if she had been in court a month earlier. He said, “You look really familiar.” She knew exactly who he was when he mentioned the court. The first thing he said was, “Don’t hate me—I lost my dad the same day.” Later, Steven’s son was killed in Rancho Cordova over a girl. It took everything in me not to tell Steven that was his karma, but I didn’t. My daughter had spoken with him and said he was a good kid, so I didn’t want to put that on him. But I did write about it in my letter. I told Steven, “You need to think about the fact that you can’t make things right with your son because he’s gone. Just like I couldn’t make things right for my kids who only wanted their dad.” I hoped he would think about that for the rest of his life. I feel bad about that now because after reading the 13-page letter, Steven read his own letter, apologizing to me and my husband. In my letter, I said I didn’t want any apologies; it was way too late for that. If he wanted to apologize, he should have done it then. After reading his letter, Steven asked if it was okay for him to speak freely, and I said, “Go ahead.” I never looked him in the eyes until he said, “It was never about the bike. It was about two males.” That’s when I knew that I hadn’t started this life. As my brother-in-law said, once the best of Steven got the better of him, that’s when he pulled out the knife. I told Steven, “I’ll never forgive you, but I understand. I understand, and my husband is just as much to blame as you.” I couldn’t put all the blame on him anymore. When he said that, it was like all my anger disappeared. Even the officer in the room noticed the difference in me, and he didn’t even know me. He said it was like a weight had been lifted. I even asked if I could give Steven a hug before we left, and I did. When the mediators checked on him before we left, he was in shock. He said, “She hugged me.” It threw him off completely, and I didn’t expect to do that. The mediators had even asked me beforehand, “What will you do if you end up liking Steven?” I told them, “Oh, don’t worry about that. That’s not going to happen.” But now, as weird as it sounds, I do like him. If they had listened to him, he wouldn’t be serving a life sentence; he probably would’ve received 20 years and been released. So, I’m in the process of writing a letter to help him get released. He shouldn’t be doing life. If they had tried him the right way, he’d have served 20 years. It’s time for him to go home, to be with his family. That’s all there is to it. Even my kids, who I didn’t think would ever ask about the meeting, all reacted the same way. They all knew Steven wasn’t the one who started the fight. When my oldest daughter finally asked me about the meeting, she had the same reaction. She said, “Dad started that fight,” and I said, “I know.” I think that was my husband’s way of making sure I understood what really happened.
Diane: I would love for you to walk me through the day you went to see him. What prison was he in, and how were you feeling that day?
Michele: We went to breakfast, and I looked at Martina and asked, “Is it wrong to want to have a drink right now?” She said, “No, afterward we’ll have lunch.” I agreed. I was nervous and anxious to get it over with because it had been so long, and I just really wanted it to be done. I’m not even sure why I was so anxious—it might’ve been because it had been years since I requested the meeting, or maybe I thought it would bring me complete closure, so I wouldn’t have to think about the murder anymore. I don’t know what it was, but I was just really eager to get it done. But when they brought him into the room, I got really quiet. I remember that. The whole ride there, Martina kept throwing different questions at me to get me thinking in a different direction. She asked me if that bothered me, and I told her, “No, I like it. I like having someone help me look at things in a new way, just in case I haven’t thought of something.” Every time I talked to her, I’d end up crying, and she’d say, “You need to learn to think of your husband outside of the murder—just with your memories.” And I’d tell her, “I don’t know how to separate him from the murderer anymore. It’s been so long. I just don’t know how.” It was the grand finale, and everything else felt like it was in the background. She kept telling me that I needed to separate those things. I started crying, and I said, “I don’t know how to separate it. I just don’t.”
Diane: How did you feel about the VOD after it happened?
Michele: As soon as we left that prison, I told Martina, “I know how to separate it now. It was easy.” Before that meeting, I didn’t know how. I couldn’t do it. If you’ve ever lost someone to murder, it’s so different from losing someone to illness. You never really know what to do or how to experience it unless you’ve gone through it. And it’s not just that you’re grieving—you’re not getting any answers. I never got any answers. Everything surrounding it just makes you more and more angry. I couldn’t even cry at his funeral because I was so mad, but I also couldn’t watch him being lowered into the ground. I had to walk away. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. It feels like you’re cheated. I said to Steven in the letter, “You took something you had no right to take. It wasn’t yours to take. It was my kids’.” That’s where it really hit me—how much my kids had lost. They just wanted their dad, and I couldn’t give that to them. I couldn’t even try, and it just broke my heart over and over again. I didn’t know how to handle it. But when something’s thrown at you, you just get through it. I feel like my life back then was just a blur. I was just going through the motions. I can’t really explain it, but it was definitely an experience.
Diane: How are you different now than before you sat down with Steven?
Michele: Oh, I’m amazingly different now. Since then, I’ve gone back to school. I’m going to get my high school diploma in January, something I swore I’d do for years but never did. It’s almost here now. I also got my license back, working hard to get a better job. Right now, I’m working seven days a week for 31 hours, and it’s exhausting, but I’m doing it. My life is so different now. I’m not walking around angry all the time. Honestly, I don’t think I showed much anger before, but you’d have to ask other people about that to know for sure. I’ve always been the type of person who couldn’t stay mad at anyone—it just wasn’t worth it to me. But with Steven, I had no problem being mad at him. And now, I can’t really stay mad at him either. My husband played an equal part in that, and I told Steven, “I’ll never forgive you, but I understand.” Just because my husband’s not here doesn’t mean he should be punished the wrong way. I just don’t think he should be.
Diane: How’s your relationship with Steven now?
Michele: I don’t really have a relationship with him. I basically sent messages to the authorities telling him that he needed to let me know, and I offered to write a letter to help get his sentence overturned because he shouldn’t be in there. He just shouldn’t be. From the moment he found out I wanted that meeting, he did everything he could to make sure I got what I needed from it. And on the day of the meeting, even though he could have gotten out of it—his grandson had passed away in a car wreck that same day—it had to have been incredibly hard for him to be there. You could tell that everything he said was sincere, that he honestly meant it from the heart. He really did what he needed to do. Before that, he hadn’t taken any classes or anything in prison, but once I told him I wanted the meeting, he started taking classes, doing everything he could to help me get what I needed from it. When I first told him I wanted the meeting, he asked why I was doing it. He asked, “Does she want to hit me?” I told him, “No, I don’t want to hit you. I just need to release some anger.” And by the time the meeting happened, I knew what he did, but I also knew I couldn’t hold onto that anger anymore.
I would never have written that 13-page letter if I wasn’t being mean. It was very mean, and even my daughter said it was just me needing to release that anger. Which is true. All I kept saying was, “If they let me push the button on you, I would do it right now.” But at the end of the meeting, I told him, “I wouldn’t push the button on you,” and he knew that all I really wanted was to push the button on him.
Diane: And what do you mean by “push the button?”
Michele: To have him executed. And I would have gone and watched it, too. Up until that meeting, I would have. But now, I feel he needs to be home.
Diane: You’re a really big person, Michele, to come away with so much healing, so much kindness, and so much good for him. It’s amazing to hear you say where you are now and what you’re willing to give to him. How was it for you when you realized your husband was responsible as well?
Michele: It was hard to hear, but it totally made sense because I had always pictured Steven not as an animal. But I couldn’t understand why someone would steal a bike and kill someone for it—it just didn’t make sense to me. But I never asked what really happened. I guess I just believed it.
Diane: Michele’s story is nothing short of remarkable. From initially advocating for Stephen’s execution to now playing a pivotal role in his quest for freedom, her transformation is truly inspiring. It’s a testament to the power of empathy, growth, and the human capacity for change. Thank you, Michele, for your courage in opening up about your experiences, your journey toward understanding, and your unwavering commitment to justice. Your willingness to share your story serves as a beacon of hope and reminds us all of the importance of second chances and redemption. Next week, we’ll hear Stephen’s perspective on his experience. Stephen is currently incarcerated at Neal Creek State Prison in California. His own struggle with addiction and shame over the years highlights the importance of these difficult yet essential conversations. If you or someone you know is interested in participating in a victim-offender dialogue, we encourage you to reach out to your local Department of Corrections. If these services aren’t currently available in your area, consider advocating for their inclusion through your local representative. Join us for this powerful conversation, and remember, even in our darkest moments, healing is possible and change is within reach. Be kind to yourself.
