Gratitude and Perspective: Living a Free Life While Remembering Those Still in Prison
By Percy Levy | Community Outreach Specialist, Washington Defender Association
On May 28, 2020, after being granted executive clemency, I was released from prison after nearly 20 years of incarceration. Life suddenly seemed so promising, the world looking and feeling as if it were my personal playground where I could now enjoy all those wonderful things I had dreamed about and envisioned over the years. The imagery of the outside world had been drilled into me through the colorful stories told by people coming in and out of prison over the years, their words reinforced by the smorgasbord of tantalizing images I saw displayed on the 13-inch television in the corner of my oppressively small prison cell. I couldn’t wait to be part of what I had been dreaming about for so long. But sadly, as strange as it may seem, it didn’t take long for my initial excitement to wear thin. The reality of what freedom meant for a person like me began to manifest in sadness. It didn’t take long to figure out where the sadness emanated from — the guilt concerning those I had left behind
Yes, I might have suddenly been a free man experiencing many amazing things, but the telephone calls from back inside the prison were constant reminders of my not-so-distant past. After all, these were calls from men whom I had developed intense bonds with over the years, bonds deeper than those I found myself trying to rebuild with my relatives out in the free world. I soon realized that these men in prison were my family, too. And why not? I had lived with them for most of my adult life, shared cells with some of them, shared meals with them, and, most importantly, spent time walking the big yard, discussing our troubled pasts, our uncertain present, and our hopes and dreams of a possible future out in the free world. These men were bonded with me, not just because of their physical proximity over the years but because of our intimate history of maturing together and evolving into better human beings during our incarceration. But although I was free, they were still locked up.
Please do not assume that I am sharing any inclinations, subconscious or otherwise, concerning a return to prison to live in that cage once again. My words are intended to reveal that for the past two years, I have been walking around with a heavy weight on my heart, especially after sitting through phone calls from those in prison. Unlike what many believe happens in prison, not all prisoners spend their time locked away, relishing and reminiscing about their life of crime. I can attest from the depths of my own experience that most people in prison eventually see themselves for not only who they are in the moment but who they can be in the future, realizing that what they did was wrong, but that life is too short to give up on redemption and making amends for the past. In other words, to blame a poor upbringing, poverty, or a negative social environment as the cause for crime is no longer helpful once a person reaches a certain age in prison. What matters now is the chance to rewrite one’s life story.
For all the reasons I’ve talked about, I feel incredibly fortunate to be working on the Redemption Project of Washington. What more could I ask than having the privilege of actively working to smooth the road for the release of those back inside? It is fulfilling on a level that is surreal to me. I would not change it for the world.
