He wanted a picture of me. Not wanting to break any rules or laws, I telephoned the jail. I was directed to the mail room and spoke with the young lady responsible for opening and inspecting Inmate # 0622141's mail. She said photos were not allowed to be sent to inmates. Remembering that my mother was a commercial artist, I asked her if I could send a drawing. The mail room lady said a drawing would be acceptable as long as it wasn't explicit. Explicit? She didn't know me! I was already apprehensive about sending an inmate a picture of me and if I did, it certainly would not be an explicit one!
I sat down and my mother sketched my face. I wrote a note on the sketch and mailed it the next day. They wouldn't allow this inmate to have it. He wouldn't get to see this sketch until months later. This would lead to my first and only "crime". One I learned to do well. Smuggling contraband into a correctional facility.
I've got a stack of letters in all sorts of different types of envelopes in my office. They all have two things in common. They are all stamped "Return to Sender: Contains Contraband". They have been slit open by a letter opener, re-sealed with scotch tape, and mailed back to me. I must admit I was embarrassed the first time I received one. Thinking what Phyllis, my mail lady, must have thought as she dropped the envelopes in my mail box. I would eventually overcome that embarrassment. The other thing these letters have in common, is that 90% of them all contain tiny pictures of me.
When I got a letter back from Todd saying, "Thanks for the sketch, but they won't let me have it. It's in my property room and I'll get it when I'm released", I knew I'd have to be more crafty. I'd have to commit my first crime; smuggling contraband into a correctional facility.
I looked around but I didn't have any current pictures of me. Not finding any, I decided to ask for help from my best friend, Maureen. She made her living as a graphic artist and her home was full of cameras and equipment that could make a photo small enough to sneak into an envelope. In order to do that, however, I'd have to tell her what I had been up to and where the photo would be going. She would be the first to know about my secret.
Maureen is my best friend. We all have one. She's the kind of friend that you can call in the middle of the night when you can't sleep over a heartbreak. She's the kind you can always depend on to feed your dog when you are on vacation. The kind that never forgets birthdays or anniversaries, the kind that always shows up with chocolate ice cream when you've had a bad day.More importantly, she's the kind that you can safely tell your deepest darkest secrets. How was I going to tell her that I had been writing an inmate that I had never met in a Florida jail and that I needed her assistance in photographing me and making a picture small enough to smuggle into the jail? Surely she'd think I was nuts. But that's what best friends are for.
We were walking partners and met every morning at 5:30 a.m. to walk before our kids awoke. I decided to divulge my secret to Maureen the following day. It took me a few minutes to gather up courage to approach the subject. About 15 minutes into our routine, I took off my radio head phones and motioned to her to do the same. "I've got something to tell you" I sheepishly explained. Then I told her the whole story. Her mouth dropped wide open. She asked what he was in for and I rattled off his list of crimes. "Oh my God!" she said. "What if he comes here? What if he steals our cars?" I laughed as she said that and told her, "Oh Maureen! No one could steal your car without first putting in a quart of transmission fluid!".
It was true. A few nights back Maureen and I had a hair raising ride in her mini van. We attempted to drive up to a convenience store only the van wouldn't go into "park" and we wound up on the sidewalk, nearly crashing into the glass window. Then, when we tried to leave, her van wouldn't go into reverse. So she ran into the store and bought a quart of transmission fluid, popped the hood and poured it in. Worked like a charm, this time. Next time we may not be so lucky.
Being a really, really good friend, she reluctantly she agreed to help me. Later that day I went to her house for my "photo shoot". We scanned the picture onto computer paper, just as Todd had asked, placed it behind an address label onto a 9x12 manilla envelope and sent it on it's way.
That envelope would come back to me. Stamped "contains contraband". As would a few others. I tried to sneak it in anyway I could. It always came back. Once I was standing in the local post office, diligently trying to fold it up and stick it underneath a stamp, when I heard a man's voice behind me say hello. I recognized that voice and startled, I jumped. It was Tom. Our local police chief. Here I was trying to commit my first crime and the chief of police himself walks up behind me! Tom and I were old friends and had dated years ago. We made small talk and he left without ever knowing what I was doing.
It would take weeks but the picture would eventually make it into the jail facility, placed in the seams on the inside of an envelope. In the meantime, we wrote back and forth and the letters became more frequent.
(excerpts from his original letters from November, 2006)
......please excuse my handwriting at times. I don't have a table or a chair and I write on my legs as I'm sitting on my bed. I'm having a serious sugar rush from the candy you bought me - thanks for the canteen money. I also bought skin lotion, deodorant and paper to write on. I started reading the book that you sent me and couldn't put it down. Several stories brought tears to my eyes. Have you read the book "A Million Little Pieces" by Michael Fry? If you come across it, I'd really like to read it.
Can you please find out what the statute of limitations are in the state of Florida for assault by a police officer and false arrest? I need to know the state limitations and the federal 1983 suit limitations.
He continued to ask for addresses too; Court TV, NBC Dateline, etc. Once he jokingly asked I go to Home Depot and purchase a package of hack saw blades and send those to him, but then he said he read their rule book and hack saw blades wern't allowed. "Figures" he wrote. I laughed. I was beginning to laugh more and more as I read those letters. Laughing was something I hadn't done in years. Struggling as a single mom to keep food on the table and the bills paid, going on one bad date after another, and watching my mom slowly drift into Alzheimers, I never had much reason to smile, much less laugh. Todd's letters gave me something to look foreword to each day. I was getting more and more involved with this mysterious inmate. And I was beginning to fall in love. Though I didn't see that at the time.
Some things Todd asked me to do were not connected to his case at all. He just wanted me to get to know him. Who he had been before all this.
(excerpts from his letter dated 10/30/06)
........If you have the time while you are on the internet, go to Charlotte County Sun .com in Florida. Go to the archives - I believe June 2002, and punch in my name. You have to be month specific on their site. Greg Martin was the reporter and he did a story about the phosphate industry. You can also go to the East Hampton Star . com in NY and go to their archives. I'm sure you will get several interesting and entertaining stories about me. I've been fighting "big people" and those that think they are better than others my entire life (most of it).
I absolutely promise you that I will compensate you for everything you have done. You are a God Send. This is no coincidence. Keep writing, I love reading your letters.
And I did write. Every day. I wrote about my childhood, my kids,my job, my dogs. Anything to give him something to read. I tried to make my stories light and humorous. I eventually told him my real name which until this point I hadn't done, and I sent him my phone number and hoped he would call. I wanted to hear his voice.
The man that bragged in the adjacent cell to Todd about shooting the girl with an AK-47, was taken to court for a hearing. As he was being escorted by Todd's cell on the way back he gave Todd a cold stare and held up his right hand; making a talking motion with his thumb and fingers. Todd knew they had told him that he had snitched. He never talked about the murder to Todd again. On February 19, 2007, he would take a plea deal, two counts of accessory after the fact. As of this writing he has yet to be sentenced. Todd would be moved again, for his own safety.
This killer's brother, also involved in the incident, would accept a deal by the State's Attorney's Office to just 3rd degree murder. He was sentenced in late September of this year to a mere 10 years.
In time, I would learn that prosecuting murderers in Polk County is not a swift process and the outcome is not always just.
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