"There's no other explanation. This is the Holy Spirit. There's obviously a Higher Power at work here".
Those were the words of my personal priest, Father Mike, when I told him the story I am about to share with you. I have chills as I write this. Of all the letters and boxes and notes and envelopes that occupy my office, there are two special ones. Kept in plastic for preservation. These two letters, one from Todd to me and the other from me to Todd, are my physical evidence that God does exist. And it was God who was in control of all the events that had been happening and all the events that were about to occur.
I hadn't caught on to it at first. Maybe you have by now. There were unexplainable things happening between Todd and myself. The fact that I was even at home the first day I saw Todd on TV. The very fact that I happened to turn on the TV to the exact channel at the exact moment a clip of Todd's testimony was showing or that I was even able to find him immediately through a list of 1000s of inmates should have been enough to convince anyone that there was something controlling all these events. Like the moon that controls the tides, something or someone was pulling all the strings. The scriptures that Todd and I unknowingly quoted to each other as our letters crossed in the mail. My first letter from Todd, addressed wrong and getting mailed to a large city in another state and winding up in my mailbox in less than 48 hours. The fact that I received it on October 16, the anniversary of Todd's father's death. I mailed Todd a dictionary once and that afternoon I received a letter from him asking for one. Too many coincidences to name. Todd and I were quickly becoming aware of all these phenomenons. After January 9, 2007, we would never have any doubts again.
I had been my mother's caretaker for many years as she suffered from a host of ailments. One of which was a form of arthritis nestled in her spine. Four times a year we would drive to a special clinic about two hours from my home where they would administer specialized pain treatments. It was always a long day for me. We'd drive down first thing in the morning and the procedure would take all day. Then we'd drive back in the evening. I usually took a pillow and napped in the car or sometimes I took a book to read. Anything to pass the time. On this particular trip, I dropped my mother off at the clinic and then drove a few blocks away to a local drug store. I went in and picked out a card for Todd. I sat in the car looking at the card and pondering to myself. I had never actually told Todd I loved him. I had been far to afraid to utter those words to myself, much less to Todd. The card was one of those tri-folded "Between You And Me" cards. I opened it up to the blank center and began to write, "I love you". I kept writing "I love you I love you I love you I love you" over and over until I had filled the entire center of the card. I addressed the envelope, sealed it, and popped it into one of those blue post office mailboxes. The sign on the mailbox said the next pick-up would be at 3:00 p.m. that day. "Good", I thought to myself, "I made it". The date was January 9, 2007. He would never receive that card.
Three days later, January 12, Todd had his long awaited court date. The emergency box of clothing and money addressed to Fr. Mitchell was still in the trunk of my car, ready to ship it at a moments notice. For a winter day, it was exceptionally warm with a bright sun shinning and not a cloud in the sky. I awoke that morning all excited and was overwhelmed with a sense of peace. I showered and dressed for work as usual, checked my watch several times. I had promised Todd I'd say a prayer for him the very moment we estimated he would be in the courtroom. Florida was an hour ahead of my time so that moment happened while I was at work. I had asked Todd's lawyer to call me with the results and waited patiently by the phone. That call never came. About mid morning I went out on the back dock of the store where I worked to check on some orders. My cell phone rang, it was Todd!
"I'm out, I'm out!", he shouted. "I can't believe they let me go!". He was calling from a Circle K convenience store located behind the Bartow courthouse. Apparently, Peter Sternlicht from the State's Attorney's Office had told the judge that he believed Todd deserved a second chance. The judge agreed. It is unusual for a prosecutor to do that. A prosecutor's job is to put people in jail, not let them out. Todd was released on four years probation. "No big deal", I thought. "We can file that Interstate Transfer and Todd can come here so I can help him".
That afternoon I found a letter waiting for me in the mailbox. This was one of the last letters Todd had mailed to me from jail. I opened it up and was shocked at what I read. It was a single paged letter. Contained only three words. Written in jailhouse pencil were the words "I love you I love you I love you I love you". Written over and over about a hundred times. I looked at the top of the page. Todd had dated it as he had always done. January 9, 2007. A few days later the card I had mailed to Todd while I had been out of town was returned to me. Instead of "return to sender contains contraband", it was stamped "return to sender inmate not in jail". I looked at the postmark to make sure I had been right. It was postmarked January 9, 2007. How? How in the world can two people, who have never met, write the same thing, in the same way, at the same time, on the same day 1000 miles apart from each other? How? If that's not evidence that God exists and that he hears and answers our prayers, I don't know what is. It was that moment I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Todd and I were meant to be. No question.
The first thing I had to do was to leave work and go to the nearest Western Union and send Todd money. They had released him in paper clothes, borrowed shoes, and he only had $10.00 left from his canteen account. First he would need shelter, and then clothing and food. I sent him $500.00. He found a "rent by the week" motel room in Bartow next to a place called John's Restaurant. I shipped him the package with the cell phone. And we talked, every day, every night, sometimes all night.
The following Monday he reported to his probation office as he had been instructed and applied for the Interstate Transfer. Todd's probation officer, Mr. Samples, was a kind man and had been the recipient of a letter, written on Todd's behalf by State Attorney John Aguero. He realized the severity of Todd's situation in Polk County. He was familiar with the Serrano case and knew that Todd had to get out of town as soon as possible in order to possibly spare his life. Mr. Samples said he would file all the necessary documents and didn't feel there would be a problem with the transfer. All we had to do was wait.
In the meantime, Todd looked for a job that would be within walking distance of the motel. Jobs that were already hard to come by in Bartow were pretty much non-existent to a convicted felon on probation. I sent him money for a bicycle and he tried riding it back and forth into Lakeland to look for work. Nothing. He was in a drug invested area and easily recognized on the street. Once a few street thugs spotted him and began throwing bricks at him shouting, "Snitch! Snitch". It became clear that Todd was not safe in Bartow so I sent him bus fare and he and his bicycle moved to Lakeland where he found a room at the Lake View Inn on Memorial Boulevard. Room number 13, the same number as his cell had been.
Looking back, this is where we made our mistake. Todd would have been better off staying in Bartow and facing those street thugs than to face what was waiting for him in Lakeland. A new address meant a new probation officer. This new officer, Ms. Rameriez, would not be as accommodating as Mr. Samples had been. She possessed a file. In that file were documents. The same documents that Todd once owned that had been tossed by Lighthouse Ministries. The documents I was having trouble finding or replacing. These documents would prevent that Interstate Transfer. They held secrets. Secrets the Florida Department of Corrections Probation Department would go to great lengths to keep hidden.
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