by Denise Bee

Created on: October 14, 2010   Last Updated: November 02, 2010

Hate the sin, love the sinner. How many times we've heard that saying and yet how many times have we failed to follow this sentiment? I think whether a person loves the sinner depends on what sin he or she has committed.

In my entire life I've never known anyone in prison nor had I ever seen a prison. All that changed one day with a phone call. My brother was sent to prison for 15 years. No chance of parole.

Soon after my brother was sentenced I received a small box in the mail with all of the clothes he was wearing when he turned himself in to the police and was arrested. I remember thinking that it seemed like he was dead. He was gone and all I had was a small box with his shoes and clothes. Soon after that I had his address changed to mine and the bills started rolling in. At first I paid as many as I could but I was laid off after almost 12 years at my job and I had to quit paying his bills.

My father was a retired police officer with 25 years of service in the department. He was so well liked and respected that he went into politics after retirement and worked closely with the mayor as a city councilman for 8 years. That was 27 years ago now. The news that my brother was convicted of a felony and sentenced to 15 years was a sad day in his life. He passed away this last September never seeing his son again.

 After a year, I traveled the 8 hours to see my brother in prison. The prison is located just off the highway in farm country. It was such a stark contrast to see the huge concrete building, chain link fences and tall walls topped with rolls of razor wire, set against the rolling fields of grain and farms. I've never felt as vulnerable as I did walking up to that foreboding structure and entering its doors. There were no welcome mats at the doors and the cameras installed everywhere echoed that sentiment. To really set my nerves on edge were the solid steel doors crashing shut behind me when I passed through.

 The person that sat before me was a shell of the person I knew as my brother. His hair almost all gray now, teeth missing in the front and with no molars to chew his food his weight had dropped significantly. He needs dentures so he can eat and he has to pay for them himself. The time we spent talking passed quickly. At first it was a bit awkward but soon he was asking me questions about family and friends and I about life in the pen. He works in the kitchen prepping vegetables and makes about a dollar a day. Since he pays $25 a month to a gang member for protection not much is left to pay for his toiletries and other incidentals. He shared with me that they took x rays of his back and his spine is full of arthritis so he won't be able to work in the kitchen and earn protection money much longer.

 This story is about a person...a person with family and friends. This person broke the law and is a convict. This person is also a grandson, son, brother, father, uncle, cousin and friend. Just because this person is gone for 15 years doesn't mean that I stop loving him and forget my childhood memories of him. I don't ask for pity for the convicts in prison but I do ask for compassion and understanding for the families and friends of those incarcerated.

 Hate the sin, love the sinner, his family and friends.

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