12. The Serrano Diaries

The website that would become my passion was in it's infancy. Todd began sending me documents that had belonged to mass murderer, Nelson Serrano. Documents the judge had ruled inadmissible. No one had ever actually seen these papers except for the prosecutors, defense attorneys, the Special Agent in charge of the case, and Judge Susan Roberts herself, though I doubt she ever read them.
(excerpts from the original letter 12/04/06)

.............people just want to read his (Serrano) words, that's all that matters. They show how weird he is and all the sick things he made up. I think you'll understand why he asked me to organize all this and write him a letter. Once you get them on the site, call that producer from that New York News station and let him know.

It was kind of creepy reading a killer's words written in his own handwriting. It was even creepier that they were now in my possession. Or at least copies of them. I scanned the notes and posted them on the site and entitled them "The Serrano Diaries". I posted the skit and a biography of Todd he had previously written. The website was finally up and running and became a hit within the Bartow courthouse. I even received a kind note to Todd from one of Serrano's victim's family members. She wrote:

Hi Todd, thank you for all you did in helping the State of Florida prove what kind of person Nelson Serrano really is. I hope that when you are released you will have the good life God gave you the ability to have. You are an intelligent and caring person and although I believe we end up where we are for a reason, I pray that one day you will be able to help people while you are in a much better place.

About this time I also began to notice a change in the tone of Todd's letters. In between writing instructions about who to call and which document to track down, his letters were becoming more personal. We had never met in person but had come to know each other through our letters. He had received a total of 3 "contraband" pictures of me and hid them all over his cell. One photo, he kept hidden on the wall next to his bed.

(excerpts from original letter 12/04/06)

..........you are on the wall next to my head. When I lay down in my bunk I look right at you. What the heck are you doing writing to me? It still blows me away. I am quite smitten with you and your behavior. You are my angel from heaven. There's no other explanation. I feel as though I'm 18 again. I feel alive.

Love,

Todd

xoxoxoxox

p.s. And that's friend to friend, heart to heart and I mean it. I also know that it can only grow stronger. Who knows what will happen. You make me feel so good.

On 12/10/06 I received a package from Todd. I opened it up only to find a plastic soap dish filled with candy. It was the most beautiful gift I have ever received. How in the world did a guy with out a penny to his name in a jail's isolation cell manage to get that for me? Still being leery of this whole situation, I was afraid to eat the candy. Fearing maybe it was poison or laced with drugs. After all, it had come from a correctional facility. I placed the soap dish on my bedside table where it was later found by one of my huskys who ate every piece, soap dish and all. The dog survived.

(excerpts from the original letter 12/12/06)

I hope you received my card and my "kisses" that I sent you. I couldn't wait to send it to you. You mean a lot to me, you'll just never know. You have to actually be in here and see and feel the despair in order to know what I mean. To get a letter from you is like walking outside your house right now and seeing the prettiest rainbow you have ever seen.

My heart was becoming weaker too. As I go back and read these letters I can see it now though I didn't know it at the time. On 12/10/06 I wrote:

.........Am I in love with you? I'm not so sure it's possible to love someone you've never met before. And love isn't something that comes my way very often. I will tell you this, there's something there and we owe it to our selves to figure out what that "something" is. You told me once you were scared. Well I'm terrified.

He was still in lockdown and wasn't able to leave his cell except for the 45 minutes a day he was allowed to shower and shave. Sometimes, if there was unrest within the jail, he wasn't allowed out at all. Because he was in isolation, he didn't have a window or a television in his cell like they show on TV. But there was TV in what they called the dayroom. Todd would take his plastic mat off his bunk and lie it on the floor. From there he could see the TV underneath the crack on his door. Once, on a particularly dark and depressing day, he saw a documentary about 911. He said it showed the airport where I live. Just being able to see the general area where I was made him feel happy and the depression went away.

Todd had that upcoming court date and we didn't know what would happen. He said the worst he could get would be 15 months in prison. My heart sank. But he also said the best that could happen would be that he got released on probation. I optimistically began to make preparations just in case he was released.

(excerpts from the original letter 12/14/06)

....you asked me once what was the first thing I wanted to do when I got out. I want to take you somewhere on a clear night and lay down on a huge blanket and look up at the stars and talk about life and God and hold you tight. And be free. Totally free for the first time in 43 years. Free from the past and everything that haunts me. And free to be with you.

The star gazing trip would have to wait. Todd's court date was postponed until January 12, 2007. We would have to wait another month to hear the judge's ruling on Todd's case. He spent that Christmas in jail.

9. The Interview

Isolation, aka "the hole", is the most brutal of all confinements. A place in every prison usually reserved for the most heinous inmates. Either as a form of punishment or for inmates that can't be placed in general population because they are a danger to others. In Leslie Todd Jones' case, others were a danger to him.

There are no windows in the hole. No TV's, no chairs upon which to sit, no table for your meals. No visitors, no magazines, no books to read. No contact with any other human being nor any other inmate. You are only allowed out 3 times a week, shackled and handcuffed, for a 3 minute shower. No exercise, no trips outside to the yard.

Due to his cooperation with the State of Florida in the Nelson Ivan Serrano mass murder trial, Todd would spend nearly 60 days in this prison within the prison. It would even be many more weeks before he was able to see the light of day or the dark of night. On November 5, 2006 Todd wrote that he had finally been moved out of isolation. This would only be a temporary move as Todd continued to work for law enforcement, therefore, he would be returned to "The Hole" on a regular basis.

(excerpts from the original letter)

Sunday 10:00 a.m. November 5, 2006

I've been moved out of isolation into a 15 man unit. Each person is still "locked down" but I now have a desk, a normal height bed and a TV in the day room that I can see from my cell. Last night I got to watch "Con Air", no jokes please. It feels so strange to be sitting up writing at a desk, it's going to take a few days to get used to.

As for my cell I have a window, 2 ft. x 6 ft., with bars. But it has a cover on the outside blocking any real kind of view. All I can tell is if it's day or night. Better than where I was in isolation.

I'm still separated from the other 15 guys, but we all get about 45 minutes each day, one at a time, and get to float around and talk and trade things. I don't get to go outside. I would love to just be able to talk a walk outside in the cold, drink a soda, read the newspaper.

I'm in here again because of the Serrano case - and trust me - it's big news in here. All the CO's admire me for it but most of the slime ball inmates don't. Ironically, only one inmate (in here) knows about the Serrano case and he's very cool. Don't worry, I can fight.

Yes, I do get very cold sometimes. There's nothing I can do about that. Better than being hot I suppose.

As for a counselor, you're it! I put in to talk to the one here but he's never come by.

My lawyer was here last Wednesday and I have a court date next month. Please pray for me.

Yours truly,

Todd

Along with his usual requests for names, addresses and documents; he made an unusual request for an old Abbott and Costello skit called "Who's on First". I thought maybe the inmates were going to put on a Christmas play or something. I found the skit and sent it to him.

He also told me that he had an interview with a New York news station at the end of the month and that he really needed those papers he had left in the boiler room at Lighthouse Ministries. I didn't know why that box of documents was so important or why a New York news reporter would need them at the time. Todd asked me to call Tony at Lighthouse Ministries back and find out Billy's last name so that he could send him the money to ship the box of papers to his family in Long Island. I telephoned Tony the next day, only to learn that vital box of papers had been turned over to the director and subsequently destroyed. I wrote to Todd and told him the bad news. He took it all in stride saying, "We'll just have to get them back then". Something that would take us months to do.

It was about this time that Todd began trying to call me on the phone, collect. But as luck would have it, I hadn't had the money to pay the phone bill and my phone had been shut off. He would continue to try on a weekly basis. It would take longer to receive that first phone call from Todd than it had been to smuggle a thumb sized picture of me into the jail.

The New York news reporter did come to see Todd and as the interview was taking place, Nelson Serrano himself walked up behind Todd and a scuffle ensued. The reporter would later write:

The visitation room is an open space with individual stalls divided by sound proof plexi-glass with a phone installed in each booth for communication. Despite that Jones was under protective custody due to his participation with the State in the Serrano trial, Nelson Serrano was brought into the room directly behind where Jones was sitting, thus making him vulnerable to a potential attack. When Serrano saw that Jones was speaking to me, a person Serrano knew to be with the media, he became visibly upset. Due to the sound-proofing, I could not hear what was being said, but there were threats made and pushing and shoving. Guards had to separate the two of them. A female guard later came up and apologized to Mr. Jones for putting him at risk, for the two inmates are supposed to be kept separate at all times. She later explained to me that to make sure this problem did not reoccur that Mr. Jones’ visitation schedule would be held on different days then Mr. Serrano.

This reporter also asked the facility for an on camera interview, but the facility denied that request.

........Later, I approached the Polk County Sheriff’s department about conducting an on-camera interview with Mr. Jones so I could talk to him about his knowledge of the case. I spoke with Chief Steven Lester who is in charge of the jail facilities. Despite that Jones himself wanted to participate and the prosecuting attorney and investigators had given their okay, Lester told me that my request was denied. Lester indicated to me that he was worried about Jones’ safety. He went on to explain that it is his job to protect inmates even when they do not see it as in their best interest and he believed that Jones would be further opening himself up to retribution for being a “jail house snitch” if he participated. The problem is, however, that this is a very high-profile case in Polk County and the trial was held live on Court-TV, covered e news stations, Dateline NBC, as well as by area newspapers. The inmates in the jail are already aware of Jones’ participation in the case, which is why he is already in protective custody. Mr. Jones is not safe in his current surroundings.

This would be the first time Todd was attacked within the prison walls. The first of many. The Florida Department of Corrections did not give Todd very much protection after his cooperation with the State. And there would be many more attacks to come. Todd was on his own. Locked behind bars with people who wanted to kill him and handicapped by a prison system that couldn't figure out how to protect him.

8. A Picture is Worth a 1000 Stamps

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.

7. The Good Thief

Develop a benevolent world view; look for the good in people and circumstances around you. Look for the good in every person and every situation. You'll almost always find it.

There is a story in the bible about a couple of thieves. These two thieves were crucified on two crosses on either side of Jesus. One of these thieves mocked Jesus along with the Roman guards. The other thief believed in Jesus and asked Jesus to take him with him that day to paradise. The Catholic church has declared this thief, "The Good Thief", a saint. Saint Dismas is his name and fittingly, he is the patron saint of prisoners. A reminder to all of us that no matter what your sins, it's never too late to turn from your sinful ways and accept the Lord as your personal Savior and be accepted into heaven.

It was that thinking I had in my head when I decided to look up Todd's arrest record. I put my computer skills to work and did a little research. I wanted to see for myself, what kind of person this guy was. Arrest records are public knowledge, so it wasn't too hard.

Again I went to the Polk County Sheriff's website. I clicked on jail information and then again to the name of Leslie Todd Jones. It wasn't just one arrest as I had hoped. He had been arrested several times. I clicked each case number, starting from the oldest and worked my way up. Each record listed what he was charged with, how long he had been held in jail, how and when he was released each time and a mug shot. I read each one carefully. Domestic violence, possession of a controlled substance, carrying a concealed weapon, burglary, grand theft auto, fleeing to elude a police officer and driving while license suspended. I wrote back to him.

(excerpts from the original letter dated 10/20/06)

......I read your arrest record tonight. Kind of lengthy. If I could give you any advice it would be that you may want to think about relocating. LoL You probably can't walk down the street without getting picked up and harassed about something.

I had some experience with police officers. I had dated a couple over the years. I knew how they thought. When someone is marked as a troublemaker they automatically assume that person is up to no good when they see that person out. On November 2, he wrote back:

Ah....my record. Many explanations. First a little background. Born and raised in the Hamptons, as I mentioned in my last letter. No stranger to speaking out against authority. (If you found some articles on the internet about me). Night club security for the rich and famous through the 80's and 90's and all that comes with it. Rosie O'Donnel, Andrew Dice Clay, Charlie Sheen, Bianca Jagger, Billy Joel, Rob Lowe, Russell Simmons (CEO of Def Jam Records) and many, many more. No bull. Parents and family loaded. Me - only son and very black sheep. Family is pretty ticked off at me this moment.

I never adjusted to Florida. Check out my "record". The domestic violence and drug charge were both dismissed. They were from me punching out my brother-in-law for losing the deposit on our house we had wired to him, before moving here in May of '98. The cops went through my belongings and found my anabolic steroids. Anadrol, Clenbutoral, Sustenon, etc. I've always lifted weights and shot a little "juice" for the security work. I'm not a small man. 5'11" and 225 pounds. I bench press 425 pounds when in my best form. After the fight I became separated from my family for about a year. I lived in a hotel, became depressed and started to hang out with Mr. Jack Daniels again. Not a very good friend. One night coming home from the bar my car broke down, I needed pliers. Somewhat intoxicated , I walked into to a Wal-Mart and left with a $3 pair of pliers. It was my Wynonna Ryder train of thinking. As to the grand theft auto and those related charges, I did not steal that car. Someone left it in my driveway, a former friend. Turns out it was hot and when I took it out for a spin, LPD chased me in small un-marked cars - that's the fleeing to elude charge.

Again, all this after the mother of my children was diagnosed with breast cancer and my dad. He passed away on 10/16/04. I lost it. And yes many people go through bad things and don't screw up. I realize this. I'm never ever coming back here again - promise. I'm truly ashamed for what I've done. I'm done with Jack Daniels and coke (not cola) for good. I've lived this life for a reason and thank God I'm still alive.

Send me a picture. That's a big no no but there is a way. Print out a picture on a computer paper, a little bit smaller than an address label. Get a large 9x12 manilla envelope and put the picture face down under the address label. When I peel off the address label I'll have your picture.

By the way, my connections in law enforcement have me working on another case. Seems a man in Lakeland shot a 21 year old girl in the back of the head with an AK-47. She had a six month old child. He's in the cell next to me. He's toast!

I didn't really believe all his explanations about the reasons he had been arrested. I am the kind of person who has to find out things for herself. I would, in time, and after months of my own research, be able to verify that everything he was telling me was true. I would also find out all kinds of things I would wished I had never known. Details about murderers and child molesters and gansters; and about truth and justice and the fallible court system. This letter would mark my first involvement in funneling information to authorities. It would also mark my introduction into the criminal world and the realization that there are good guys and there are bad guys both in the criminal world and the world of law enforcement.

6. Unsinkable Souls

Un-sink-able Soul : Person who faces any challenge with hope, humor and heart. See stick-to-it-ness. See perseverance. See pit bull. See also victory.

The first book I sent this mysterious inmate, the first of many, was a Chicken Soup Book. Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul. It had been given to me at a particularly low time in my life and had lifted my spirits. Knowing that he was locked up in solitary confinement, void of any extrasensory stimulation, I hoped it would do the same for him. "Is there anything else I can do?", I asked. And the requests began. Ever so slightly. It wasn't money as I expected. He wanted names, and addresses and documents. These small tasks would eventually get me involved and a host of situations, including an unsolved homicide that occurred in Polk County over a decade ago.

The first thing he wanted to know was if I had a computer and did I have internet access. The deluge of requests poured in. He sent me a lists of addresses he needed. The Lakeland Ledger, the Tampa Tribune, NBC News Action 8, Associated Press in Florida and an attorney. "She represented me in the Serrano matter. I really need her phone number" he wrote.

Then he wrote that he had a huge problem. He told me to Google the name "Lighthouse Ministries" and when I found it, I was to call the number and ask for a guy named Tony. I was to tell Tony that a resident named Billy had stored Todd's legal papers somewhere at the shelter and to please find them and then Todd would make arrangements to have them picked up. It was urgent as these documents could not be replaced.

That's really how this story began. A simple box of legal papers left at a homeless shelter. It would take me almost a year to get them back for Todd. Looking back, if I had known how important that box would become in my life, I'd have driven to Florida that night to retrieve them myself. Now I sit and type my story as fast as I can. At the moment of this writing, there is a legitimate fear that a I will soon hear a knock on my door from a process server or a sheriff's deputy with a subpoena asking for my computer. (If my blog stops, it will only be temporarily. I have made arrangements if the inevitable happens. I've learned to be savvy and err on the side of caution where lawyers and law enforcement are concerned.)

I made the call as requested. I spoke with Tony and told him why I was calling. Tony put the phone down for a few minutes and I could hear him hollering at this Billy person in the background. Evidently, storing one of the resident's belongings was a big no-no. Tony came back to the phone to tell me he had found Todd's box of papers stashed in the boiler room. I could make arrangements to send for them. As for Billy, he was evicted from the shelter that day for his part in storing these papers, i.e.; breaking the rules. I've often worried about Billy. I've worried about what happens when a homeless person gets evicted from a shelter. He had done Todd a great deed in hanging onto those papers. Somewhere on the streets of Lakeland Florida, is a homeless person that's got a heart of gold. When all this is over, I have every intention of coming back to Lakeland and searching for Billy, if he's still alive. And when I do, he won't be homeless anymore.

I wrote to Todd telling him his records were safe and I listed all the addresses for which he had asked. Now I had some questions for him.

(excerpts from the original letter dated 11/2/06)

Tell me more about your cell. Do you have a window? What about the other guys in area? I mean, I know why you are in ISO (solitary confinement) but - gulp - why are the other guys in there? Do you get to go outside? Can you see the stars? Do you sleep okay? Do you ever get cold? What do you miss the most? What's the first thing you want to do when you get out? You mentioned a counselor, do you have someone in there you can talk to besides other cell mates?

I had lots of questions. I had no idea what it was like to be behind bars. Especially in ISO, aka "the hole". I often thought about locking myself up in my bathroom as a sort of psychological experiment. Just to see what it was like and how long I could take it. I was beginning to worry about this inmate. Of course, I'm a Christian, I care for everybody. When you are a Christian you can't help but care. What I didn't see then, was that I was beginning to care a little more each day for this guy. And I anxiously waited for Phyllis, my mail lady, to bring me the next letter.

5. Nature Versus Nurture

Encyclopedia defines the nature versus nurture debate as the relative importance of an individual's innate qualities and personal experiences in determining or causing individual differences in physical and behavioral traits. Does a person's DNA determine who will succeed in life and who will become an addict and a criminal? Or rather is it the person's early childhood development and upbringing that determines that? I used to believe the latter. That is until I met an unusual inmate in the Polk County Jail.

In my second letter to Todd Jones, DC # 0622141, I thought it best to relate my childhood and upbringing. If I were going to be able to encourage and comfort him, and eventually convince him to turn away from his addictions and criminal ways, then I'd better get down to his level. Or so I thought.

"I grew up on a small farm in Mississippi", I wrote. I never knew my father and my mother was an abusive alcoholic. My childhood memories were all painful. I dropped out of school and left home at the age of fourteen. Thumbing my way to a small town in Texas. "No one came to look for me", I added. Except the perverts, drug dealers and pimps that prey on young girls traveling alone.

I overcame all that and managed to land a small job, lying about my age. I had always taken care of myself. When I was eighteen I married a man 13 years my senior. Like my mother before him, he too turned out to be an abusive alcoholic. By the age of thirty, I finally broke away from this union and found myself sleeping on a dirty mattress on the floor of a rundown shack on the wrong side of town with my now two children. Despite it all, I managed to get my GED and land a four year scholarship. I eventually found a better job, a better place to live and had raised my children on my own. "If I had done it, then you can too", I suggested. I ended the letter with one of my fumbled scriptures. "Again", I wrote, "I can't say exactly where it is in the bible, but it goes something like, suffering begets endurance, endurance begets perseverance, perseverance begets character and it's our character that makes us who we are".

His letter back to me wasn't exactly what I had expected. He had a childhood just the opposite. He came from a wealthy and loving family in East Hampton, Long Island, New York. He had grown up in a life of luxury. He graduated high school and went on to trade school where he studied his passion, automobile restoration. He was first introduced to cocaine at a party for a famous Sports Illustrated model (name withheld). In 1998, he moved with his common law wife and two children to Lakeland, Florida to be near her family. It wasn't until coming to Florida, did his life take a turn for the worst. "Oh and by the way", he wrote, "that scripture you mentioned is Romans, Chapter 5, verses 3-5".

So much for the nature versus nurture debate. If anyone should have wound up a drug addict in jail in a small town in Florida, it should have been me, not him. I scrapped together 10 bucks for a money order and sent it back to him. I wanted to be sure he had plenty of stamps and envelopes so that he could write back to me. I had found his story fascinating and wanted to hear more. How does a rich guy from the uppity side of New York wind up a homeless drug addict in a Florida jail? The answer would shock me.