The Stigma of a Conviction

I must admit, I was plenty nervous about planning our Freedom March in Boise.  My involvement in the Innocence Movement is so new and fresh; I was concerned that I wouldn't

be able to rally the forces due to inexperience with the issues in this state.

By great fortune, I was contacted by a woman named Darcy Lagana, a passionate justice seeker, who offered to help spread the word and find the right people to address the our state issues. It made it all easier to say yes. This march had to happen in Boise to be effective. I had small vignettes of cases in this state involving wrongful convictions; I wanted to learn more about their stories.  My dedication to this cause began with Raye Dawn however I needed a place to channel the energy of being more effective in righting these wrongs. 

As I truly represent "Joe Q. Public", every turn of this journey has been a surprise - more like a shock.  It was not unusual for me to dismiss a conviction in the local paper thinking that if someone was involved in an illegal act, then their punishment would be mete fairly and justly.  I believed that American Justice was fair, balanced and one of full disclosure; where every person is truly innocent until proven guilty; that their defense attorneys would be fully dedicated and hard working, doing all in their power to ensure that their client would receive the best representation.  I suppose, for me, it was easy to dismiss a conviction because if a judge or jury thought they were guilty, well then the evidence must have been overwhelming and their sentence was surely what they deserved.

It was a privilege to meet the parents, siblings and friends of people who have not received justice in our state.  To hear each story was heartbreaking.  To think that anyone innocent would be violated by the system they trusted would protect them.  To hear of families losing their life savings to right the wrongs of botched and ineffective counsel. To learn that court appointed defense attorneys work for the state along with prosecuting attorneys, who learn that a trial must be held expeditiously to keep costs down.  To hear that 35 million dollars was paid out in CA alone by families who receive collect calls from prison.  To know that judges make judgemental statements early on, in front of juries, which can prejudice them prior to the start of the trial.  Evidence lost.  Evidence tampered with.  Juries coerced and tampered with.  Deals made behind the backs of the attorneys.  

I have witnessed this.  And I am mortified about this lack of humanity towards each other.

The biggest problem that exists is the absolute lack of accountability for this lawless behavior.  In our young lives, we learn accountability early.  Accountability is important for many reasons.  Not only do we show our true character by being accountable for our actions, but we learn through our actions, most often from our mistakes.  Our parents, teachers, employers, friends, neighbors, clients, children, neighbors...  all hold us accountable.  It is much like a carpenter's level - making sure all is fair.  It is a gauge of honesty.  It sets that standard we should all try to live by through our decisions and actions.

Having no accountability allows for the insertion of corruption.  As human beings, we can all be infallible.  There are always people who lack a conscience; people who look to advance their work or beliefs and may do so by altering a situation to their favor.   They may be pressured by others to break rules to keep themselves employed, get themselves elected or have conflicts of interests they don't disclose because of some negative backlash.

The only way to stop wrongful convictions is to make attorneys accountable for their behavior.  If they hide or lose evidence, there will be punishment.  If they don't provide adequate defense or care little for the needs of their client, there will be punishment.  If they don't show up or are unprepared, there will be punishment.  If there is not full disclosure, there will be punishment.

Can this be legislated?  I am not sure.  But I think it is time that is should be.  It is simply wrong for a defendant to be treated with so little care and concern. I understand it is definitely hard to have compassion for a lot of defendants when they are clearly guilty of their crimes.  But in treating people differently, defendants that are innocent suffer egregiously by being railroaded into prison.  This, their reward for trusting their lives to a seriously flawed system they believed would help them.  When they are convicted by such poor representation, often they will spend an average of over 12 years in prison - a loss of their lives, their talent and productivity.  Then there is shock and trauma of being convicted of something they did not do. Who wouldn't be affected by this?  There is also the huge cost to the taxpayer to keep them in prison.  And society continues to live with the REAL perpetrator, walking free on our streets, knowing full well how the justice system REALLY works.

All I ask at this moment is for citizens to listen to the pleas of our innocent who sit in prison praying for justice.  Some are very easy to believe when you review the evidence.  Those people deserve our help. For as long as we allow this system to continue in it's flawed state, we are all guilty. Remember - it truly could happen to you.

The Lost Child

There is something about his tortured soul that touches a part of my own pain. It was easy to dismiss him or laugh at him because of his strange behavior, but no one ever really cared enough to understand him and why he isolated himself. He was born a genius and I can't think of a single song he has ever written or performed that I don't love. Every song is attached to as memory of my life. They are happy songs, messages from his heart; they inspire us all to move, to love each other and to take action to right the wrongs of our society. So the irony of it all is how much he was loved and yet he trusted almost no one. He seemed to live in a prison of our culture's creation. Look at all the people who gather to celebrate his life and incredible talent. I wonder if he ever really knew how much he was loved in a meaningful way. It all makes me so sad.
I feel for his children; and I have deep gratitude for his generosity and philanthropy to children. I think in many ways, he remained a child himself.
It is a tremendous loss. I know it is affecting me in a profound way on many levels; I grieve for him and believe he has been released from the chains that bound him to his painful and lonely life. He will remain the most talented and gifted musician of my generation. Hands down.

The Daily Dish - Andrew Sullivan
The Thing about Michael
There are two things to say about him. He was a musical genius; and he was an abused child. By abuse, I do not mean sexual abuse. I mean he was used brutally and callously for money, and clearly imprisoned by a tyrannical father. He had no real childhood and spent most of his later life struggling to get one. He was spiritually and psychologically raped at a very early age - and never recovered. Watching him change his race, his age, and almost his gender, you saw a tortured soul seeking what the rest of us take for granted: a normal life. But he had no compass to find one; no real friends to support and advise him; and money and fame imprisoned him in the delusions of narcissism and self-indulgence. Of course, he bears responsibility for his bizarre life. But the damage done to him by his own family and then by all those motivated more by money and power than faith and love was irreparable in the end. He died a while ago. He remained for so long a walking human shell.
I loved his music. His young voice was almost a miracle, his poise in retrospect eery, his joy tempered by pain, often unbearably uplifting. He made the greatest music video of all time, and he made some of the greatest records of all time. He was everything our culture worships; and yet he was obviously desperately unhappy, tortured, afraid and alone. I grieve for him; but I also grieve for the culture that created and destroyed him. That culture is ours and it is a lethal and brutal one: with fame and celebrity as its core values, with money as its sole motive, it chewed this child up and spat him out. I hope he has the peace now he never had in his life. And I pray that such genius will not be so abused again.

The Heart Tree

Somewhere, near the river's edge, lies the heart tree. Whenever one finds a "heart" rock, that is, a rock in the shape of a heart, they place it near or on the heart tree. Many hearts surround it... loving hearts, lonely hearts, grieving hearts, bountiful hearts, searching hearts and joyful hearts. Each is placed carefully as an offering and symbol of each visitor's emotions. It is an unspoken rule - you never take a heart rock from the tree. Once it is there, it stays for life. As well, the rocks have no stories on their surface. Only their shape leaves it's imprint and you are left to wonder it's meaning and wish. I have several under the tree. Sharing space with other whole hearts of different shapes, sharing hope for comfort in their communion.

Father's Day +1

I think of my daddy a lot. I miss him. I guess I never thought after 16 years, that I would miss him more than the day he died. As a so called "grown-up" - I hear his words most often when I am afraid or scared. Paralyzed to move or take another step. Those moments when I really need someone to tell me I can do anything I put my mind and energy to... That I am safe and he will protect me from harm, hurt and pain... That nothing bad will ever happen to me... That he will always be there... His voice becomes clear in my mind and then his loss becomes painful and I wish we could hold each other for a few more moments alone. It would be such a gift to hear them again.
My beliefs include the knowing in my heart that we will see each other again. For that, I feel sure. However life on this earth can be so trying and difficult. I grow up but feel as though I haven't grown up. I want my dad to hold my daughter. To love her as I know he really would. She has no grampa. And that makes me very sad.
My father is around me all the time. I dream of him and I feel our relationship is so much stronger after the last three weeks we got to spend honestly and openly together. A lot of words, feelings and emotions were exchanged and I am forever grateful for the time we were given. It gave me closure to painful memories and renewed the gratitude of love that he was able to share with me. He was proud of me, despite how I felt about myself. He was hard on me, but only so that I would try as hard as I could. I guess you could say I was the son he never had, all wrapped up in a girl package that was a tough one for him to understand. But he grew to respect that. One of his greatest imparted lessons was that being a woman never made a difference in a man's world. "You want it? Then you go get it!"
One of the best memories I have of him is when I received top marks in my Grade 5 class. My mom never came to my events so dad would take time off work and come to everything. I wasn't expecting him. They called my name and I went to the stage, shook my teacher's hand and turned to the audience. I saw my father on the right - he stood up, clasped his hands like a sign of bravo and raised them high in the air. Then I heard his voice over the applause - "Way to go Wendy! Way to go!!" He never felt foolish for a moment. He stood out from the crowd and made me feel so special. And I hold that in my heart to this day. I did feel loved and special. I'd made him proud.
When he was going through his death process, he told me he was so afraid I would forget him. I think we all need to believe that our lives have value and that we have left some sort of mark or impression on those we love dearly. I told him that he would never be forgotten and that I would be sure he felt my gratitude in all my special moments, for showing me how to strong and understanding. Loving and forgiving. Grateful, honest, caring and true. To look out for the less fortunate always before myself.
Now that I look at my daughter, I can see the greatest gift you can give your parent is to model their best qualities so that in their memory, you are an example of the best they ever could be. In that way, you are their gift to the world and it goes on and on.
And so it goes. And so it goes.

Skunk Buddy...

Way back into my childhood, I thought Pepe le Peu was my friend. Truly, I believed that all the Looney Tune characters were my buds (explains a lot!). Anyway, Pepe always set after the felines looking for the perfect mate. Well Mook (BTW - a dog, not a cat) used to have a friend nicknamed "Skunk Buddy".
Mook's fall evening strolls would consist of a door to door walk of open garages, knowing that everyone has Milkbones to share. This was like a big payout because each neighbor thought they were her "special" friend. Well - several months into her nightly jaunts, she appeared at the garage of our neighbor, Bart Lassman. Bart and his wife Evan have the most amazing yard in the neighborhood and he has a sweet spot for animals, most especially Mook. When she appeared, he walked towards the front of the garage to get a treat. As he turned to toss it, there appeared....... a big happy skunk, sitting up on it's hind legs! It leapt forward, took Bart's treat, captured it and then scurried back to Mook's side. Mook wasn't leaving without one for herself, so Bart, wanting them both to disappear, tossed another. As the newfound buddies turned to walk away, Bart quickly shut the garage door.
This event appeared nightly at garages around the neighbor for several weeks until we heard the story. So we decidedly called Mook's pal, "Skunk Buddy". They appeared as pals for many more months; sitting under fir trees, wandering the street and palling around.
Well, as they say, all good things come to an end. Mook came home one night quite upset and smelling, of course, like she'd been "skunked". She must have really pissed off Skunk Buddy because she qot the best present possible that night!
So ended the nighttime romps and a possible lifelong friendship. Over a Milkbone? I doubt it. Mook was probably wanting a sniff and got a good one. She's been known to put her nose where it doesn't belong. Mook would tell you that Llamas don't care for it much either; their spit packs a powerful punch if you miss the kick in the face.
I tell this story because of Jack, who got skunked himself a couple of nights ago. And my haven, my home, smells - well you know, pretty bad.
Thanks for the memories Mookie - old girl!

First Times...

Tonight I took my first ride on a motorcycle. Not just ANY motorcycle, but a Harley Electra Glide Motorcycle. Repeated scare tactics, very real fears expressed by my father, have kept me off one for all of these years.

That open feeling, coupled with the fragrant aroma after a spring shower, truly took me in. It is a feeling of freedom; the speed, the wind, the opportunity to transport your mind (easy to do as a passenger) can easily hook you. And I get why a motorcyclist would love to eliminate that nasty helmut. However foolish that would be, it certainly would complete the sensory experience of flying. Well almost...

So to the tune of Billy Joel's Allentown, I won't forget the giggles and feel grateful for being able to capture that brief moment to relive in my dreams. Maybe again someday.

Half-Pint

I have always been interested in Melissa Gilbert. As a child, I wanted to be Laura Ingalls. It was as though I could pretend that Michael Landon could be my father. He played the perfect dad; a moral compass, a loving family man and one who cared deeply, showing his emotions in an honest manner. As I have grown, I've read enough to know that he was not who he portrayed and that as I have done many times before with other people I've admired, I put him on a pedestal of adoration no human being could ever live up to. It was interesting to read that Melissa felt the same way about him. She had, however, his physical presence so her relationship was real. Mine was simply pretend.

I also knew Melissa was adopted like me. I always wondered how that felt to her - and to her birth parents considering she had become so well known. The answer was as baffling to me as was my own meeting with my birth mother. Inconsequential, foreign, unfulfilling. She found that it took looking into the eyes of her son to bring her that feeling of not being alone in this world, just as my brother Randy had when I met him. Randy and I were so completely alike on so many levels; however we chose different paths to cope with our family of origin and self esteem issues.

Melissa's life went on to parallel mine is so many similar ways. Her relationships, self sabotage, acceptance of behavior that was wrong in people she believed loved her, inability to love herself fully, giving herself away on so many levels and finally, healthfully, choosing to work with children who are dying. This is the exact career I would chose if I were able to live in an area where I could be of benefit in this way. In reading it, I noticed that in many ways, it felt like a blueprint of my life. I missed all the fame and fortune thankfully. I could never have coped with life in a bubble. That would be the people pleaser in me. But in reading her story, I came to see that truly, the answer in life, is self acceptance and self love. In giving to yourself, you are able to give back so much more. I was moved by all that it took for her to get there. I feel blessed that I have that foundation already. So it was nice to "meet" another similar soul moving through life possessing those same feelings over similar experiences. I guess even if you aren't related it doesn't really matter. Our life experiences and what we can share with others freely and lovingly, means we'll never be alone. Adopted or not.

Thank you Melissa.

Room at the Inn

What relative would I chose to live with me? Well - it doesn't take too long for me to figure it out. Unfortunately, my first choice in a relative is deceased. I actually have a sign over my office door that says, "Friends Welcome. Relatives by Appointment." Adopted with records open in the early 2000's, I have come to meet family from everywhere. The gene pool is prolific and appears at will and randomly. Actually, I think I could be related to you!
My upbringing was difficult at best - discussing it all doesn't make for a funny story. The best part, after all the years of feeling solitary & alone on this planet, is when my adoption records opened I found out I have a plethora of siblings - fulls, halfs, quarters... Just keeping track of the birthdays overflows my brain cells. People were very busy in the backseats of cars in the early sixties. Wasn't there birth control then?
So dearly beloved family, I am going to chose Jack the Dog. Because he knows me the best & is by far the safest choice. Never short of kisses and a beard that can clean a toilet in a millisecond, he is my bud and a joy to love. So Jack, there'll always be a room at the inn for you. xox

Freedom March USA 2009

"An Injustice anywhere is a threat to Justice everywhere." Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Here I go! The first step off the precipice of personal social justice issues is sometimes the hardest to make. Maybe some of you think I am over my head here, but I was brought into a case over the past year that has touched me very deeply. I was compelled to research it extensively. Often, we are drawn to subjects that we can relate to. I am vigilant against child abuse of any kind & advocate for sentences that are tough for anyone who would bring harm to a child. In the case that drew me in, a mother named Raye Dawn Smith, was wrongfully convicted in an unfair trial in front of a biased jury of enabling child abuse.
A group by the name of Kelsey's Purpose, established by Raye Dawn Smith's ex mother-in-law, Kathie Briggs protested, threatened, lied, harassed, and used the media to ensure Raye Dawn Smith's wrongful conviction and imprisonment after the death of her daughter, Kelsey Smith-Briggs.
Without going into details because this is such an incredibly complicated case, I am thoroughly convinced and stand firmly behind the fact that Ms. Smith has been wrongfully convicted. I have educated myself to all sides, not directly with the persons involved, but through actual court documentation, information accessible through the media and the book written by Justice Craig Key, "A Deadly Game of Tug of War: The Kelsey Smith-Briggs Story."
So this is where the Freedom March comes in. It is sponsored by www.rayeofhope.org - the advocacy group set up by Ms. Smith's family for the wrongfully convicted, Our website is www.freedommarchusa.org and there will be a Freedom March in several states, held consecutively at 10:00 AM on June 27th of 2009. As coordinator for the State of Idaho, I am blessed to have Darcy Lagana, a fellow advocate, help me make this happen. Please check out our website and see if there is a march in your city. You will leave this march better educated about our justice system.
Please view this video - it will educate you in a brief fashion about the case. Thank-you.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q17np9emlm0

I'm Canadian, eh!

Most who know me are clear that my roots are firmly planted in my "home and native land". Yes - I AM CANADIAN. That sounds rather like an ad for a Molson's beer commercial. Now any of you who take interest in Canadian culture have much to learn. We are not a quick study and have habits befitting our unique & colorful culture. For whatever reason, we seem to breed fabulous comedians. We like our beer, are well know as peacekeepers, have a great affinity for Eskimos and Indians (yeah, I know - not politically correct in the States), worship SCTV and live for Hockey Night in Canada. We also use coins like Loonies and Twonies instead of your typical paper bills. And the word EH is akin to your American UH-HUH. Something else that's cool is that after years of having a crappy economy, Canadians have George Bush to thank for raising the bar on their dollar. The US economy is so bad that the Canadian dollar is worth more consistently than it ever has been! That makes it just the right time to take that much needed northern excursion. We have provinces, not states. We kind of like the Queen (Princess Diana was much more popular) and are forced to learn a second language (that would be French if you live anywhere other than Quebec). Now if you live in Quebec, you are subject to the language police (yes - this is true!) if you don't show everything in both languages OR francais! It makes for a great case study in keeping the United States uniligual.

So I only mention some of our finest cultural aspects because on CBS Sunday Morning, they featured Tim Horton's Donuts and their interest in capturing the American market. There isn't a Canuck that doesn't know about Timmy's. With morning 'til noon drive-thru lines that circle the block for fresh donuts and coffee, it is an icon that started with Tim Horton - quite a famous Canadian Hockey Player. Unfortunately, Tim met an early fate in a motor vehicle accident but his legend lives on. Now Tim Horton's is set to to take on Dunkin' Donuts; strategizing it's takeover as we speak. So you Dunkin' fans... look out. Today Buffalo... tomorrow the world!

As quoted from CBS Sunday Morning... "Tim Hortons CEO Don Schroeder describes the donut shop as a "modern day pub" with a loyal following. "We have people, wedding parties that wanna visit Tim Hortons the day of the wedding because that's where they met. We even had a funeral go through the drive-thru once. That, that was the last request. But, it's amazing the stories." But don't let all this folksiness fool you. This is business, big business. Revenues in 2008 exceeded $2 billion. That's lot of Boston Cremes, and it makes Tim Hortons the fast food king in Canada. "Yeah, there are more Tim Hortons than McDonalds," said Schroeder. "Our total sales are greater than McDonalds. And McDonalds does a great job, but they look at Tim Hortons in Canada as a unique competitor."

So now you get it... Tim Horton's is big in Canada. In the US, well it hardly amounts to a "hill of coffee beans!" There is nothing better than Tim's & I think you will be one step closer to actually being Canadian when you experience that love at first bite!

Time in a Bottle

If I could save time in a bottle...
the first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away
just to spend them with you.

If I could make days last forever...
if words could make wishes come true,
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,
again, I would spend them with you.

If I had a box just for wishes...
and dreams that had never come true,
The box would be empty except for the memory
of how they were answered by you.

But there never seems to be enough time
to do the things you want to do once you find them,
I've looked around enough to know
that you're the one I want to go through time with...
Jim Croce

Our Old Friend

As I write this post, our beloved best friend lays still on the softest bed we can find, slowly inhaling fresh air - her chest rising and falling rhythmically. She is comfortable and without pain however life for her is confined to this bed, which for this Siberian Husky must feel like prison.

This amazing dog was a special gift to my husband over 16 years ago. Gary always loved Huskies and I just happened about this 6 week old Albino Husky. No one wanted her because she didn't have that traditional Husky mask. However, she looked spirited and energetic to me and I somehow knew that she would fit in beautifully into our family.

And so came Mook - or more affectionately called Mookie. And what a gift her unconditional love has been for all of us. She lays here and looks around, alertly listening and being totally loved up. It truly feels like there is no adequate repayment for every moment of joy she has brought to our home and our hearts.

So I will honor her more later. Right now - it is all about being with her in this present moment. Soon we will say goodbye.