An hour in court, a lifetime in jail

Yesterday I spent an hour in Superior Court. I went at the invitation of a man who was being sentenced for a murder in the first degree. It was a sad, sad experience.

Sam (not his real name) is an Alaska Native in his late 40s. No one questions that he committed the crime. Sam is an alcoholic and was very drunk at the time of the crime. He killed his girlfriend, who was also drunk at the time. Sam has a significant crime record. In every instance he was drunk at the time of his crime. When sober, Sam apparently worked and was a reasonably responsible citizen.

Soon after he was arrested for this last crime, he called me. Someone in the prison gave him my phone number. He asked me to visit him, and I did.

Over the past two years I have accepted many phone calls from Sam. I made several phone calls to friends and relatives on his behalf. He has a large family, including mother, brothers, sisters and children. Without exception, all had despaired of his alcoholism, and his most recent crime was the last straw.

The judge listened to the prosecuting attorney, the defense attorney and Sam himself. The prosecuting attorney dwelt on the horror of Sam’s crime. The defense attorney attempted to put alcohol on trial, but the judge was not buying the argument. Sam made a rambling statement about his alcoholism and many times said that he was sorry. The judge found no mitigating circumstances and sentenced Sam to 99 years in prison. Sam will spend the rest of his life in prison.

I have had a full schedule over the past day and a half. However, at every pause in my schedule, my mind has slipped back to Sam, the courtroom and Sam’s future in prison. I had had no intention of writing about Sam, but my mind could not go elsewhere. Then early this evening the phone rang. It was the prison phone system asking if I would accept a phone call from Sam. I, of course, accepted the call.

It was a remorseful call. Sam has accepted that he will never again see his mother. He will never again see his children. He made a simple request. He asked that I call his brother and inform him of the 99-year sentence. He wanted me to ask his brother to call each of his children and tell them that he was sorry and that he loved them. I will do so.

Finally, I decided to make Sam and his circumstances the subject of this week’s column.

I do not excuse the horrific crime that was committed. I do not excuse Sam’s long history of problem drinking. Every problem drinker makes a decision to take that first drink. Sam chose to drink and is accountable. Sam committed a crime and is accountable for his actions. The fact that he was drunk does not take away his responsibility.

Courtroom No. 7 was not a very nice place. My eyes kept circling the room during the proceedings. I observed a judge, two clerks, three security guards and three attorneys going through their paces. All are being well paid for doing an unpleasant job. They all appeared dispassionate.

It was well over two years from the time of Sam’s arrest until his sentencing. During that period of time, Sam had been marched into the courtroom in shackles several times. There was hearing after hearing, delays and finally a trial. Sam became a familiar face to all the players. His court-appointed defense attorney had an impossible job. There was overwhelming evidence that Sam had committed the crime. The attorney was the lone person in the system who tried to take Sam’s side.

At the end of the day, might the bright young defense attorney ask, “Why did I go to law school?” Sentencing came as a relief. Finally the system was rid of the Sam case. Of course, the local newspaper felt compelled to assign a reporter to the sentencing. This morning’s paper carried a picture of Sam along with the blazing headline of the 99-year sentence. The newspaper headline, picture and article were the last sentence in the ugly story about the process from drinking to crime to arrest to trial to sentencing.

The state of Alaska has already spent tens of thousands of dollars on Sam to take him from arrest to sentence. Now he will spend the rest of his life in jail. The state will spend more than a million dollars during the next 20-25 years on Sam to keep him in jail and to take care of his basic needs. Sam will be out of sight and out of mind. The public will pay the bill.

About 30 miles from my home, the Mat-Su Borough has just spent hundreds of millions of dollars to build a new high-tech prison that will house about 1,500 prisoners. The borough will lease the prison to the state of Alaska. It could well be Sam’s home for the next 30 years.

As my phone conversation with Sam was coming to an end, he asked one last question: “What should I do now?” My answer was simple. People in prison need friends. Be a friend to those around you. Always be kind.

Sam asked the right question in his difficult situation. Our society is also in a difficult situation. We imprison a higher percentage of our citizens than any other country in the world. Building more courtrooms and more prisons is not the answer. Hiring more police and more guards is not the answer.

We need to be asking ourselves some questions that are as thoughtful as Sam’s.

The Rev. Howard Bess is a retired American Baptist minister, who lives in Palmer. His email address is hdbss@mtaonline.net.

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