RV

I met RV about eight months ago in Tarrant County Jail. He was in there for murder. Nineteen years old. But I learned a long time ago to not judge anyone based on their criminal charge. I could tell that he had a good spirit about him.

When I got to know him a little better, I could tell that he was just “caught up” in the lifestyle. The gangster life. The F– the world attitude. I don’t want to get into details, but I believe he was at the wrong place at the wrong time when he caught his murder case.

He used to get in all sorts of trouble in county jail. Always bucking the system. Cussing out guards. Blatantly disregarding orders from the officers. Getting into fights. He was young, locked up, and lived like he had nothing to lose. It seemed like he was getting a disciplinary case every week.

I sat down with him one day. It was at a time when all his “homeboys” seemed to have turned against him. He looked alone. I took the opportunity to take him under my wing a bit. Share something positive in his life. Give him a little hope. A little guidance. I was almost old enough to be his dad anyways. Maybe like an uncle.

My main message to him was to not be a “crash dummy”. It’s okay to stick to yourself. Do positive things. Read a book. Workout. Carry yourself in a way that would make your family proud. Get better everyday. Even if it’s just a little. Build a connection with God. Read the Bible.

We spent a good amount of time together. Playing handball. Watching movies together. Making “spreads” – jailhouse feasts made with Ramen noodles, chips, cheese, summer sausage. Talking about his family and his girlfriend issues. His goals and dreams. I realized he was just like any other teenager. Rebellious. Impulsive. But inherently a good person.

When I finally got bonded out, he joked that he shed a tear for me. I don’t think he was really joking. We had gotten close. It was my time to move on. But I promised him I would write him when I got out.

I wrote him while I was at each rehab. I wrote him when I finally made it to my sober living home. I even printed out some pages of my blog for him to have something positive to read.

I think about RV on a regular basis. It’s a terrible time to be locked up. There are no visits. The inmates are locked in their room 95% of the day. When I write him and read his letters, I am reminded of where I came from. Where I could end up if I slip in my recovery.

I’m grateful to have made and kept a connection with RV. I pray for him from time to time. I think he prays for me too. He asked for a shout-out in my blog.

This is for you, lil’ bro. I’ve got love for you.