Sentenced To Life

How in the world did I get into this mess?

I'm twenty-eight years old, with full head of hair, nice teeth and I'm not fat or stocky. I have a good job as welder for Power's Shipyard. I have worked there since the day I turned eighteen, just like my dad and granddad. They're also welders. So how the hell did I get sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole?

My trial started at 3:00 pm on November 27, 1983. It was a cold day with a nice frosty breeze. At the time I just didn't understand how cold it was going to get. I should have listened to my granddad.

By the way my name is Hank Wilson, and today I am at my parole hearing. It's been thirty years to the day.

Like I said before, I should have listened to my granddad.

"Hank," my granddad said, "There will be days that you'll wish you could run away and hide. Other days you wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world. And then there are those days you'll want to bury it and put it out of its misery!"

My granddad told me this with the look of pride in his eyes that made me glad I was his grandson. My dad on the other hand wasn't so sure it was the right thing to do.

"Hank, are you sure son? Are you sure you want to take this on? Your life will never be that same boy, NEVER BE THE SAME!"

Like I said earlier, the trial started at 3:00 pm. The gallery was full with hundreds of witnesses. There was no way of getting free from this. I could run, but they would track me down. And after I was caught again, a life sentence would be a picnic compared to slow death in the electric chair.

My attention was snapped back to the trial.

"Hank, do you take Carol to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and hold, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad, to love and cherish her till death do you part?"

"TILL DEATH DO YOU PART" — that is a long ass time. Damn! Why in hell did I ask her to marry me? "SHIT!" That is what I was thinking, but I'm not dumb enough to say it out loud. But, boy oh boy, was I thinking it.

— Three Years into my life sentence —

"Damn, Carol! It's just a freaking couples retreat. Don't you realize that the Rams are playing in the Super Bowl this Sunday?" I said in my 'please baby, baby, please' voice.

I had been trying to explain that the Ram are my team, and we had been to all her 'lets improve our marriage' junk for the last three years. I'd been told and retold how we could improve our marriage and save money.

"Carol, I love you with all my blue and gold little heart," (the Saint Louis Ram's team colors.)

"I completely understand you want to improve our marriage. Let me make a suggestion: fewer books and more sex! You keep reading that crap, but don't you realize that most of those writers aren't married? All they want is your money."

I guess I didn't say it with the right tone because we went to the retreat and the Rams lost. You may not believe in karma but she jinxes the Rams every time.

— Year Ten: Three Kids Later —

"Will you guys shut up and go to bed! I won't tell you again," I said.

"Um, dad? Its 3:30 Saturday afternoon," said my seven-year-old cornerback-to-be.

"Ok, then go outside and ride a bike or play."

Again, there just had to be some kind of lip from the kids.

"Dad, it's raining," said my son.

Shit, it always something.

"Either go to your room or sit and be quiet."

"Hank, go watch the game at the bar and let the kids play their video games on the big screen!" yelled Carol.

I bought a $3,000 TV for Sunday night football and I get what? "Revenge of the Legos." The Rams lost again. I tell you —it's got to be Carol.

— Year Twenty-Three: Two Gone and a Wake-up —

"Carol quit crying. She's going to college, not Iraq. She'll be home in a month," I yelled.

I looked at my daughter to make sure.

"You will be back on the eighteenth of next month, right? I'm just making sure you'll be back; after all you promised you'd come home at least twice a month.

"Remember, you can call me anytime you need and one more thing: NO BOYS!" Not realistic, but I had to say it anyway.

— Year Twenty-Eight —

"Carol, isn't she so cute? She looks just like her mother." She was all bundled up in her cute little pink hat and blanket. The sign proclaimed, "It's a girl."

I looked at my little girl.

"Damn it! Didn't I say no boys?"

Her husband was too busy smiling and holding her hand to laugh; he had the look of a proud and scared father. I had the same look on my face twenty-six years ago.

Where had all the time gone?

— Thirty Years and a Day Later —

"You know what, Carol? My granddad was right about my prison sentence. And this is one of those days I wish I could run away. Damn the Rams are losing again...

"Carol, honey, what are you doing?

"WOMAN! Give me that damn remote! Hey, don't think I won't go in there and get it. Carol stop running, the game is on. Come on honey, the game is on.

"Hey stop that! You're not playing fair," I said.

"I'm damn glad the kids and the grandkids aren't here today, with you running around like that...

"What has got you so frisky?"

Carol smiled up at me, "Nice and slow. You know I like it when you do that."

Huh, what game?

"Damn. Its good to be given a life sentence with a warden like you. Thirty years with no parole. Can life get any better?"