50 comments/ 45087 views/ 7 favorites Doing Time By: DG Hear I want to thank LadyCibelle and Techsan for making my story a better read. We all hear talk about life changing experiences. I have one I would like to tell you about. It happened somewhere around twenty-seven years ago. I was freshly out of college and on my way to be a successful accountant. I was in the top five percent of my class. I easily found employment in the local finance office. I figured I needed some experience before going on my own. That's where I met my girlfriend Christine. Of course everyone called her Chrissy. She just graduated from high school and was working at the local K-Mart till the fall when she was going to go to nursing school. She was a sweet young thing and was definitely easy on the eyes. I was twenty-four and she was nineteen. I had gotten my own little apartment and, when Chrissy and I started dating, we would go there to make love. God, she was wonderful, so soft and warm. We had been dating about three months when she told me she had missed her period. The following month she took a home pregnancy test and it showed positive. She was pregnant. She told her parents and they hit the roof. I told them and Chrissy that we would get married right away. I think it eased their hatred of me a little. My parents weren't the happiest either. They liked Chrissy well enough but as my dad would say, "You put the cart before the horse, Son." He wasn't happy about that part. Chris told her parents that she was still going to go to nursing school but that she was going to wait till after she had the baby. We had it all worked out. Her mom said she would watch the baby during the day while Chrissy went to school. I, of course, would be the bread winner. Chrissy decided to work until she was close to her delivery. She figured we could use the additional money and besides, she didn't have anything to do. She was about four months along when her store was having a Christmas party. I really didn't want to go but she insisted on it. She was hardly showing and most people didn't even notice she was pregnant except for the people she told. Different guys wanted to dance with her and it was pissing me off a little. There were a few stockroom guys there about my age. Whenever they saw me they kind of smirked. At one point during the party I didn't see Chrissy when I came out of the restroom. One of her girlfriends told me they saw her go out on the patio. I went out to find her and she was talking with these three jerks and one of them had his hand rubbing her belly and I saw his hand go lower. "What the fuck's going on?" I said rather loudly. "Nothing, Joey," replied Chrissy. "John wanted to feel if the baby was kicking." Then, smart ass John repeated the statement to mock me. "Yeah, Joey, I wanted to feel the baby kick," he smirked. I wanted to hit him but there was three of them and one of me. I wasn't really a fighter and knew the odds weren't on my side. "Chrissy, go get your coat and purse and let's go home. I'll meet you in the car," I said. Chrissy went inside to get her coat. She knew I was mad and wasn't going to argue with me. Meanwhile these three idiots baited me. I've always hated guys like this. Bullies as long as they weren't alone. "Yeah," said John. "You go wait in the car till Chris comes out," he said sarcastically, his two buddies laughing with him. As I sat in the car, probably thirty feet from these jerks, I could see them point at me and laugh. I was getting angrier by the minute. If there was only one of them I would take my chances. I watched as John lit another cigarette and his two buddies went back inside. I reached under my front seat and grabbed my tire iron. I always kept it under the drivers seat, just in case I ever needed a weapon to protect myself. I had learned that from my dad. I was tired of waiting for Chrissy and got out of my car and headed toward the patio to get her. I took the tire iron with me; that was my fatal mistake. When I got to the porch John called me a big wuss and started laughing at me. I had had enough and before he could react I took the tire iron and hit him across the temple. Down he went. I was in a rage and must have hit him a good six times. I heard screams and I was knocked to the ground and beat up. I woke up in the hospital with a policeman in my room. He told me I was under arrest for the murder of John Phillips. He read me my rights and the doctor gave me some pain killers that put me out. I was released from the hospital two days later. I was taken to jail to await trial. I didn't have enough money to post bail and didn't own anything but my car and it was financed. My parents came to the jail to see me and told me that Chrissy's parents wouldn't let Chrissy near me. I did get a public defender who took my case. He told me I ought to plead guilty to manslaughter and would get twenty-five years and possible get out in twenty years; otherwise I could get life or even the death penalty. I accepted the plea bargain for the twenty-five years. The lawyer told me that I intentionally went back to the building with the tire iron. If that wasn't enough, I hit John over and over again, so I couldn't use self defense as a factor. In fact John's two friends had to pull me away from John and had to beat me up because I wouldn't stop. I knew that last part wasn't true. They broke my arm and kicked me in the ribs because of what I did to John. Chrissy's statement helped the prosecution saying that John was just feeling for the kicking of the baby. There really wasn't anything else she could say. She was just stating a fact. I had no witnesses on my side. I was a cooked goose. I saw Chrissy at my arraignment. She was with her parents. After my plea I could see Chrissy crying as I was led out to prison. ------------------------------- Prison and I didn't get along. As one of the prisoners said, "Here comes some new meat," meaning me. I don't want to dwell too deeply on prison life but for the first six months I was sodomized quite often. I never went willingly but I couldn't fight off three prisoners at once. I was placed in the hospital three times for the beating I received. I never squealed on my assailants. In prison I would be killed for that. I needed to belong to a group, prisoners who hung together and protected one another. I was scared; now I understood why so many prisoners took their own lives. I honestly couldn't picture myself in this situation for twenty years or more. One day I was sitting in the yard and overheard three convicts talking. The one guy, the leader of the group, they called Mr. Big. He was some big Mafia guy who was in for murder also. He had plenty of ties to the outside. His life in prison was almost one of luxury compared to most of us. I overheard him talking about all the money he was paying in taxes even though he was in prison. He couldn't understand it. The more he talked, the more I listened to the conversation. He was being taken to the cleaners if he was right in his statements. He looked over at me. "What the fuck are you doing listening in on our conversation? You just might find yourself dead," he yelled at me. "Mr. Big, before I was locked up, I was an accountant and I do believe that by what I accidently overheard, you are being scammed. Whoever is doing your taxes is skimming off the top." God, I was scared. This man could snap his fingers and I'd be dead. "Get your fucking ass over here and tell me what you think. It might save your fucking life." I went over and sat on the lower planks. I explained to him what I thought might be happening with the little information I overheard. I had to let him know that I would have to see the actual papers to know for sure. I was just going on the theory on what I overheard. Two days later Mr. Big and one of his buddies were at my jail cell. They told my roomie to get lost. He sat down a stack of papers and told me to look through them. I was scared shitless. This wasn't a game; it was my life at stake. I went through page by page and listed inconsistencies. For the next hour no one said a word. I just looked at one page after another, writing down all the discrepancies I could find. Finally Mr. Big spoke. "So, am I being cheated?" "Well, Sir, here is what I found so far." I showed him thousands of dollars that were misappropriated. "There could be more but I would need more time," I explained. He told his friend, "Snake, you stay here and keep an eye on my papers. I'll be back in a couple of hours." Snake just sat back as I went page by page trying to find errors; he never said a word. It was over three hours later before I was finished going through them all. Mr. Big returned and I wrote down and explained all the differences for him. He gave me an odd look and he and Snake left my cell. If my calculations were correct he had lost tens of thousands of dollars this past year alone. I wasn't bothered by anyone for the next four days. Out of the blue Mr. Big and Snake were at my cell. I have to say I was very scared. Mr. Big spoke first. "We're changing your name from New Meat to Tax Man. I hired a new accounting firm and they said your suspicions were correct. For that I owe you. Would you like to work in the library?" I was surprised. The library was one of the best jobs a con could have in this prison. The worst was in the laundry room where I worked now. It's the place where I usually got molested. To get out of the laundry room would almost be a Godsend. "Yes, Mr. Big, I'd love to work in the library," I replied. "I'll see what I can do but you will have to pay your dues," he said. "I'm sorry, I don't understand," I replied. "You've been raped time and time again by the Chevez gang." I hung my head in shame. Being raped is one thing but the whole prison knowing was hard to take. "You have to get your revenge on Chevez. Snake will give you a shiv (homemade knife) tonight when he serves dinner. There will be a fight started away from you. You will have to go up to Chevez and stick him in the liver from behind," said Mr. Big. Snake spoke, "The Chevez group has been getting away with too much. He has to be done away with. I'll show you how to do it." He got up and poked me in the side with his finger. "One stab right there and he will be a goner. Make sure you keep the napkin around the knife handle and take it with you after the stabbing. The two of them walked out of my cell. I was shaking. In order to be part of the group, I had to kill the man who raped me more than once. If I didn't do it, I'd be thrown to the wolves. I sat in my cell trying to calm myself down till dinnertime. I was in line with my tray. I saw Chevez sitting where he usually sat with a few members of his gang. He saw me in the line and kind of smirked at me. It made me angrier and would help me get the nerve to do what I had to do. Snake put some mashed potatoes on my plate and a shiv wrapped in a napkin. I got the rest of my food and headed to the table behind Chevez. The second I put my plate down a fight started about three tables away. One con got up and yelled at another and threw his tray of food at him. At that time a lot of the cons stood up including Chevez to watch the fight. About a dozen cons started fighting and the guards rushed over to put a stop to it. The cafeteria broke out in pandemonium. When Chevez stood up I grabbed the shiv and jabbed it into his side just like Snake told me. Fights were breaking out all over the place as more guards were sent down to break it up. When all was said and done we were all lead back to our cells. All but Chevez who was found dead after the melee. We had total lock-down as the guards tried to figure out who killed Chevez. I was called into the warden's office and questioned. "No, Sir, I have no idea who killed him. I was just getting ready to eat my dinner as a fight began. Everyone was standing and fights broke out everywhere. I'm not a fighter so I stood back out of the melee, Sir." "Have you been molested by Chevez?" he asked. I know you never admit to that sort of thing whether the man is alive or dead. "No, Sir, I have not," I replied. "I know you're lying. Chevez is the one who named you New Meat, isn't he?" "My name is Joe, my number 847623, Sir," I answered. "Get the hell out of my office. If I find out you were part of this I'll see you get life in my prison." The next day I was headed toward the laundry room. I was scared shitless; Chevez's buddies still worked there and I think one of them might have seen me near Chevez just before the stabbing. I couldn't be sure. When I got to the laundry room I saw about five of Chevez's friends staring at me. Right then a guard approached me and told me to report to the library. My heart almost stopped beating. I could have literally kissed the guard as I headed up to the library. Mr. Big was in charge of the library; I guess you could say he was the head librarian. He grinned when I entered the room. After the guard was a distance away he told me I did good. He also told me that he was going to have me look at the last few years of his returns. I did his reviews and found more skimming in past returns. It was the last I heard about his taxes until the following year. I was now known as the Tax Man and did taxes for a number of the spouses of fellow cons. I never received money but I did receive a lot of special benefits. I even did the taxes for some of the nicer guards. At least now, life was bearable. A goodly number of years later a movie came out about a bookkeeper in prison that did kind of what I did. The cons were asking me if the movie was about me. "I wish it was," I would say. "The bookkeeper in the movie escapes to an island at the end. I'm still here," I laughed. When I reached twenty years, I was up for a parole. I went to the parole board and answered all their questions. I can't tell you how excited I was that I might be getting out. My hopes were dashed when my parole was denied. It was like my life had ended. It happened again on my twenty-first year, again the twenty-second year. The twenty-third year I asked why I kept getting turned down? The board told me that I had no plans. No place to live or no job plans. They figured I would be back inside within six months. After the twenty-fourth year I didn't even try. I mouthed off to the board that they had to let me go the following year. "No, Joseph, your sentence was twenty-five years to life. You won't get out till we till you that you can." I saw the smirks, and it really pissed me off. I was under the understanding that I would have to do twenty-five years at the most. A week after I was turned down for the sixth time I was told I had a visitor. It kind of surprised me. I very rarely received any visitors. I told my mom and dad not to come back after the first couple of times. I knew it upset them terribly and I couldn't see putting them through that the rest of their lives. I just told mom to write me regularly and she did. I got letters once a month and a card for the different holidays. She would write about all the little things in life. I would get pictures of the family. She never wrote about things that might upset me. I don't think I mentioned that I do have a sister who is a year older than me. She does come and visit twice a year. I know it's hard on her too but she is my only connection to the family. She has three grown kids and is happily married. The only other visitors I have had was a lawyer representing Chrissy. Her parents wanted our marriage annulled but it wasn't possible because of the baby. I ended up getting divorce papers. Every few years a new lawyer doing pro-bono work will come in and want to re-look at my case. After about a month, they tell me that there is nothing they can do. It is funny that I have gotten letters from strange women whom I don't even know. I became pen pals with a number of them. It's hard to believe that women would be so desperate that they would write a convict whom they've never met, especially one that was convicted of murder. I figured it was a safety net for most of them. They could write and talk dirty knowing they would never meet me. The few that have asked about visiting me I said no to. I didn't want to see good looking women while I was behind bars. I forgot to mention that I was in prison a few months when I got a letter from Chrissy. It wasn't really a letter but a picture of a baby. On the back was written. "This is your daughter, Marcella Hamilton. 6 lbs, 11 oz. 21 inches long. I'm so sorry, love, Chrissy." It was the only letter I received from her. She didn't even give the baby my last name. I guess it made sense seeing I wasn't supporting her and she went back to her maiden name. I asked Joan, my sister, about Chrissy and the baby on her visit after receiving the letter. She told me that Chrissy and her parents had moved out of state. They never talked to my parents or Joan. My parents never even saw the baby or even got a forwarding address. It was as though they wanted to put as much distance as possible between my family and the baby. I really had to wonder if the baby was mine in the first place after the deal with Chrissy on that patio. Maybe that John guy was the father? Hell, who knows? Who cares now? Joan did tell me that at the beginning it did hurt my parents. They were good people and would have been great grandparents to the baby. I do have to say that it really hurt me. My parents deserved better than they got for a son. Back to my visitor. I went to the cubicle with the laminated window. It had a number of small holes drilled through it. You could talk and hear your visitor but you couldn't touch them in any way. I sat down and saw this beautiful young woman. "Are you Joseph McVay?" she asked. "Yeah, I'm Joe. Who are you?" Tears started down her cheeks. "I'm your daughter, Marci," she cried. I knew right then who it was. It's been a long time but she looked like her mother although a little older. I know that sounds strange but the last time I saw Chrissy she was nineteen. "I'm sorry, young lady, but I don't have any kids. You must be mistaking me for someone else..." Why ruin this young woman's life? It would be best to let her think she made a mistake. "Will you take a DNA test so I can know for sure?" she asked. "What is it you want, young lady, a father in a prison? Just go home and call this a mistake." "Joe, that's your name, isn't it? My father's name was Joe McVay and he went to prison over twenty-five years ago. I want to find him," said the young woman. "I have a question for you. If what you say is true then why would you wait twenty-five years to see him?" I asked. "I was told he was dead and I just found out differently this year. I want to meet him and learn about his past growing up. I have a son who's one and daughter who's almost three. I want to be able to tell them the background of their grandfather, where he came from and maybe even find out about health problems that might run in the family. Please help me." "Look, I can't deal with this now. Write down this address and contact this woman. Maybe she can help you out." "Who is she?" asked Marci. "Her name is Joan Howard. She's my sister. Maybe she will be willing to help you out." I looked at this young lady and had to leave. I had tears in my eyes that I didn't want her to see. After all these years, "God why are you punishing me?" I had no one and now this young girl comes to see me and I could even be a grandfather. Life in prison is hard enough. I didn't need this; just another thing to miss. ----------------------- A month had passed and I had another visitor. I had to wonder if it was Marci again. She had been on my mind ever since she had visited me. I went to the cubicle and there sat my sister, Joan. Doing Time "You know why I'm here, don't you? I had a visitor last week who said she had come to see you," said Joan. "I'm sorry, Joan. I just couldn't deal with it. Not after all these years. She wanted answers and I just couldn't help her. Hell, how do I know she is even my kid?" I asked. "That's what she wanted, Joe. A DNA sample to find out if you are her dad. Why couldn't you do that for her? I talked to her for hours and believe me when I say this. She is a wonderful lady. When we were through talking she told me she hoped you were her dad and that she would love to have a relationship with me as her aunt and to meet her grandparents." "She hasn't seen Mom and Dad, has she? I don't even know if she's mine?" "Joe, she has that same hardheadedness that you have. I asked her if she would let me talk to you first and if you are her dad I would take her to see mom and dad. She thought it would be best too. She also asked about her cousins, my kids. She just wants to connect with that side of her life she never knew. I think you owe her that much, Joe. At least take the DNA test and we'll know for sure." "Okay, I guess I can do that much but don't introduce her to mom and dad until you know for sure. I don't know what I getting myself into." "Joe, I hope she is your daughter. It's like a lost part of our past is found. She told me all she knew about you and what happened with Chrissy and her grandparents. She honestly thought you were dead until a few months ago. Do you want to hear her story?" "No, I'll wait till I know she's my daughter before hearing about the past. It's all moot if she isn't mine." "Fair enough, Joe," said Joan. I made arrangements to have a sample of my DNA sent to Joan. I didn't hear from anyone for three months. I received my monthly letter from my mom and it never mentioned meeting anyone new. I figured the results were negative and I wasn't the girl's father. I had to admit to myself that it did hurt a little. I guess everyone wants family. Another month had gone by and I had another visitor. I figured it was Joan coming back to tell me the sad news. Instead it was a smiling Marci. She greeted me with a "Hi, Dad." I broke down and cried. I honestly couldn't help it; it just happened. After all these years I've been alone and now I had a daughter. She was gently crying with me. I recovered and we talked a little. She told me that the day before she had stopped in my old home town and saw Joan and showed her the results of our DNA. Joan had taken her over to meet my parents and she told me how much she loved them. She said mom cried as she hugged her, and dad would hardly let her go. She promised them that she would bring her kids and husband with her the next time. My parents were eager to meet their great-grandchildren. I know I had tears in my eyes during all this talk. I finally asked Marci about her mother and how she came about finding me. "I live in a small town in Kentucky, just south of Cincinnati, Ohio. I'm an accountant for a law firm there. About four times a year I have to travel to Cleveland to help balance the books. We have a subsidiary office there. I just stay the one night and then head back home. Sometimes my husband Ray comes with me. He's a lawyer in the firm. "We met in college. We were a few years apart but when I graduated he offered me a job. His dad is the owner of the firm. We got married and our daughter Krista was born and just over a year after that Ray Jr. came along. It works great for us because I can do a lot of my work from home. "Anyway, one day Ray was looking up the criminal records of a client and I asked him if he could do that for anyone who was in prison? He told me he could; I asked him even if the prisoner was deceased, and he told me yes. "The next time I was by mom's I asked her if she had your original records and she said she didn't remember but wanted to know why I wanted it. She seemed nervous and said it was probably locked up somewhere. I told her I was just curious and let it go. I knew mom had a small safe and only she and I knew the combination. One day when she wasn't there I looked in it and got your number. I'll never forget it: #847623, Joseph McVay. "Ray ran it through the system and it didn't show a Joseph McVay deceased. I asked him to run it through using names like Joe or Joey. He told me that the number is what counted and not the name. According to the records prisoner #847623 was alive and still in prison. That's when I lost it. I found out you might still be alive. "Ray told me to let it go but I couldn't do it. I had to know for sure if my dad was dead or alive. On my next trip to Cleveland I stopped here to see you. Of course you know what happened after that." I smiled. "You're a very lovely girl and I'm happy for you but why did you go through all this trouble for a con. It seems to me you had a pretty good life up to now. Why would you want to mess it up by knowing me? I'm no good and in prison to boot." "I guess a person has to go through it to really understand. It's kind of like an orphan not knowing his parents. Of course I know mom and her side of the family but the other side of me was blank. Grandma and grandpa wouldn't talk about you at all. Mom always said you made a mistake and had paid for it. I could tell mom never wanted to talk about it. Whenever I mentioned you she would get a tear in her eye and walk away." "So, does your mom and grandparents know that you contacted me? Especially since they told you I was dead." "First, let me tell you that mom knows and cried for not telling me the truth. She thought it would be best for me. Originally, it was my grandma that told me you had died when I had asked about where you lived. I was six years old at the time and was curious about my dad. You should know that my grandpa Hamilton died two years ago and grandma is in a nursing home. Her memory is failing her. It's hard to be mad at her now. She probably did what she felt was best at the time." "What about your mom? Is she happy? Did she get remarried? Do you have brothers and sisters?" I had so many questions. It's been so long since I even thought about Chrissy. "At first I was really mad at my grandparents and mom for lying to me when I found out. Mom said at first she was mad at my grandparents too but she went along once they told me you were dead. To contradict her parents would have made no sense and I was probably better off thinking you were deceased." "I almost agree with them. Thinking that I was alive and wasting time on me would have been senseless. Your grandparents never liked me but I have to think they did this because of their love for you. It's just that my parents missed out on having a granddaughter they would have loved." "They aren't going to miss out anymore. I promised them that on my next trip up here Ray and the kids will come with me. They will have a chance to meet their great grandkids," she cried. "What about your mom? You haven't said much about her," I asked. "Mom told me you probably wouldn't want to hear much about her but she did say that if you mentioned her that I should tell you that she really did love you and her parents are what kept her from seeing or writing to you. She was young and pregnant and her mom and dad was all she had after you were locked up. "She did say that she took a picture of me when I was born and sent it to you. She always wondered if you ever got it." I reached in my vest pocket and pulled out the tattered picture of a little baby. You could hardly read the inscription on the back, it was so worn. Marci looked at it through the plexiglas and tears were coming down her cheeks. "Mom will be happy to know that," she said. She went on to tell me that her mom went to nursing school and that her grandma watched her. Her grandparents pretty much raised her while her mom went to school. Of course she said her mom was there all the time but was always doing homework and trying to get her degree. She said Chrissy became a nurse and they all still lived together. When Marci turned ten her mother met a doctor whose wife had died and they dated. He had two young kids of his own. Eventually they got married and Chrissy and Marci moved into her husband's house. His kids were younger than Marci. She said he treated her well enough but never intended on adopting her. Of course he showed favoritism to his own kids. Marci said she didn't think her mom was truly happy but married this guy Brad so Marci could have a father. They were married for about seven years when Chrissy found him cheating on her. It ended in a divorce and of course he asked for his kids during the custody battle. He never did ask for Marci which Chrissy would have never given up anyway. He didn't have to pay any alimony or child support and Chrissy and Marci moved into their own condo. Marci said she and her mom were almost like sisters after that. They both loved shopping and spent a lot of time together. She went to an area college so she could live at home and be with her mom. Marci said her mom dated some but never remarried. She said she wasn't the luckiest in love and twice was enough. According to Marci her mom had a lot of friends. She was happy with her life and pretty much did her own thing. When Marci got married she said her grandfather walked her down the aisle. She had always wished it could have been her father who had passed away. She was still good friends with her stepbrother and sister and they even came to the wedding. They even visited Chrissy on a regular basis. They held the divorce against their dad and still considered Chrissy as their mother. "Well, Dad, that pretty much brings you up to date on my life. I wrote a long letter here telling you just about the same thing. I also included a couple of wedding pictures and a couple of pictures of your grandkids. How do I give them to you? "Take the envelope to the guard at the end of the hall and he will look through it and then give it to me." "Okay, Dad, I have to go now. My times up. I love you, dad," she cried as she blew me a kiss." I can't tell you how many times I read and reread that letter. I constantly looked at the pictures. Marci even included one of Chrissy. I could hardly look at it without tearing up. In the months that followed my mom wrote me and told me about seeing Marci and the kids. They were so happy. I received more pictures of mom and dad holding my grandkids. I needed to get out of here. I now had a family. I wasn't sure what I could do to convince the board that I would never be back. I needed a place to stay and a job to go to. I didn't want to put anymore pressure on Marci or Joan. I was told I had another visitor. I expected it might be Marci again but it was her husband Ray. I recognized him from the wedding pictures. "Mr. McVay, I'm Ray Zinkon, Marci's husband. She asked me or should I say told me to come and see you," he smiled. "Nice to meet you, Ray. Thank you for letting Marci come and see me; I really appreciate it." "You don't let Marci do anything. I swear that girl is as hardheaded as they come. She doesn't get that from her mother," he laughed. "What can I do for you, Ray?" "Marci told me," he smiled again. "She said you were turned down for parole six times. She wanted me to see what we could do to get you paroled. I will tell you up front that I was against Marci seeing you in the first place but she has convinced me that you're not that bad of a guy." "Thank you for the honesty; it's pretty rare anymore. I need a place to live and a job if the board is considering parole for me. I have a degree in accounting and am good at taxes." "So that's why Marci is a wiz with numbers. Her mom has a hard time balancing a checkbook. Hardheaded and a wiz at math; I guess Marci is a chip off the old block. I have to tell you she's the sweetest gal I've ever met. I hate to say this but I do believe that comes from her mom. I know you don't want to hear this but I have to be honest with you. Chrissy is a wonderful mother. My parents love her and the kids adore their grandmother. I thought I should let you know how I felt about her." "I understand. I've had a lot of years to think and I can hardly blame Chrissy or her parents for my wrongdoing. I don't hold a grudge whatsoever against Chrissy." "Good that we understand each other. Now I need a little information and I'll see what I can do about this parole," said Ray. I did my best to answer all his questions and be up-front with him. I was afraid to get my hopes up too high. After being denied six times I had to wonder. Of course this was the first time I had someone help me. I sure hope it was enough. At the next parole meeting I went in and the same damn board members were there. They didn't look overly happy to see me. Ray was sitting in a chair next to where I was asked to sit. They started asking me questions and Ray explained to them that he would be able to answer them for them. "Mr. McVay is my father." The board started looking through their papers and had no record of me having a child. "His daughter had thought he had passed away when she was a little girl; hence the reason you have no record of her." He passed forward a copy of Marci's birth certificate with me listed as the father. "Here is also a letter from Mr. McVay's parents who are still living and welcome their son home. They have a room available for him to live with them. I had tears in my eyes. Marci and Ray had talked to mom and dad. I could never have asked them. They've been through so much. "I also have a recommendation for employment. Mr. McVay is an accountant. He holds a bachelors degree. This firm will hire him as a bookkeeper until he can be re-certified as an accountant." I had no idea who this firm was or how Ray was able to get me employment but I didn't want to ask him right then. We were asked to step out in the lobby while the board talked it over. While sitting in the lobby, I asked Ray about the accounting firm. "It's owned by one of my former clients. There was some mis-management of funds from one of his partners. I handled his defense. He told me if I ever needed his services to let him know. Marci said it was time to call in the marker," he laughed. We were called back in the board room. My parole was accepted. I would have to report to a parole office once a month for the next two years. I should also know that I could be tested for drugs at anytime. If they were found in my system I would have to serve five more years. I've never taken illegal drugs so that wouldn't be a problem. I was released two days later. When I came out the door it was like entering a new world. There was a van waiting for me. Out came the daughter I have never held running to me. I put my arms around her and wept like a baby. I held her and never wanted to let go. Behind her came Ray holding a little boy in his arms and walking along beside him holding his hand was a little girl, my grandchildren. "Krista, Ray Ray, this is your grandpa," smiled Marci. They were a bit shy but I hugged and kissed both of them. "Why is he crying, mommy?" asked Krista. "Because I am so happy to meet you," I replied to Krista. I hugged and kissed the little sweetheart and gave little Ray Ray a big hug and kiss also. We headed back to my old home town. I saw a lot of changes and it really was surprising. Especially the new cars on the road. They were so different. I did recognize the old neighborhood where I once lived. How can a grown man cry so much? I felt I was making a fool of myself. At the front door were my mom and dad. They were in their seventies but still looked good. Mom was crying as I was hugging her. I guess moms really do have a forgiving love for their kids. I hugged my dad also and he hugged me back. When I walked inside there was a sign, "Welcome home, Joey." It's what my mom and sister always called me. Also inside were my sister and her husband who I met when they were first married. There were also her three grown kids and their families. I had never met any of them but I remember mom sending me pictures of them. Of course most were a little nervous about meeting me. Not everyone wants to hug a relative who just got out of prison. I said hello to all of them and we had a nice get together. Marci felt almost at home. Apparently she had met her cousins and was already friends with all of them. I spent time sitting in a chair holding my grandkids. They didn't know enough to be afraid of me. God, how I loved them. I guess I was getting a second chance at life. ------------------------------ Life went on and was good. Marci and Ray called once in awhile and we talked. Of course they lived a couple of hundred miles away. My job was good. I went and took the board test and passed it with flying colors. I was now a CPA and making good money. I was taking the bus to work till I got a driver's license and saved enough to buy a used vehicle. I had no credit and had to laugh when my dad signed for me. He got a big kick out of it also. I gave them two hundred dollars a week to help them out. They told me they didn't need it but I wasn't about to mooch off of them. I saw Joan fairly regularly and her kids and grandkids got to know me a little better. Thanksgiving was coming and Marci asked me if I could make it to Kentucky and have Thanksgiving dinner with them? I told her that I had promised mom that I would be home for Thanksgiving. She wanted to make me the traditional big dinner with all the trimmings. Marci told me she understood. She asked me to leave Christmas open. She said there is nothing better than watching kids open presents on Christmas morning. I told her I would see what I could do. I needed permission to leave the state. I was also a little afraid of running into Chrissy. It was something I usually didn't talk about. It was one of the reasons I decided to stay at mom's for Thanksgiving. I did some Christmas shopping buying for all my new nieces and nephews and their families. My sister told me I was crazy but I never bought for anyone before and it made me feel good. I didn't spend a lot but I did have fun. I bought presents for Marci and Ray also. I bought a lot of little things for the kids. I had no idea what they needed or wanted. All I knew is they were my grandkids and I was going to get them presents. I don't know why I did it but I bought a necklace for Chrissy. I figured I would tell Marci to give it to her. God, was I turning into some kind of idiot or what. I guess it was because of my first Christmas out of captivity. I called Marci and told her I had permission to leave the state for a couple of days. I would be driving down and staying in a motel and that Ray could pick me up Christmas morning so I could watch the kids open all their gifts. Marci was as happy as could be. I did drive down the night before and got myself a room. Ray came by at 7:00 a.m. He said the kids were already looking in their Christmas stockings and we were to hurry back. We loaded up his car with all the gifts I bought. He couldn't believe how many there were and just laughed. I walked in the house and Marci gave me a kiss and a hug and said, "Merry Christmas, Dad. Would you like a cup of coffee before we start opening presents?" I told her that would be great seeing I hadn't had any yet that morning. She couldn't believe all the presents Ray started carrying in. I told her that mom and dad each sent one for the kids and so did her Aunt Joan. That still didn't account for the other dozen gifts. I grabbed the present that I had bought for Chrissy and quietly asked her if she would give it to her mother when she saw her. "Give it to her yourself, Dad." Doing Time I looked up and Chrissy came out of the kitchen, handed me a cup of coffee and with tears in her eyes said, "Merry Christmas, Joey." Thank you for reading my story Comments are always welcome DG Hear