14. I Love You I Love You I Love You I Love You I Love You I Love You I Love You I Love You I Love You

"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.

13. Escape from Florida Attempt #1

I have this plaque hanging on my front door. It is a scripture and reads:

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unaware." Heb 13:2

God would put me to the test with those words when an inmate I had never met in a Florida jail decided to come to my home after his release.

The court date being postponed until January was actually a blessing in disguise. We hadn't figured out how to get Todd out of Florida in case the judge ruled in our favor, probation. In the event they did release him, I was willing to save up for a plane ticket for Todd to fly home to Long Island, but he had written that he'd rather come here to see me. A normal woman would be taken aback by such a request but I had some experience with homeless drug addicts while doing mission work with my church. Once I even rescued a man in the middle of the night from a crack house in a neighboring city. He spent a week in my home, sobering up and coming down off the drugs. When he felt ready, I put a $100 in his pocket and sent him on his way. To date, I've never heard from this man again and don't know if he made it or not. I doubt it. Drugs and alcohol are hard addictions to overcome. One can not simply turn the addiction off. It takes weeks or months of counseling and medical attention and almost always requires hospitalization. If Todd were going to come here, to my home, I'd have to make preparations.
Being Catholic, the first place I turned was to the Church. I googled catholic churches in Polk county Florida and came across St. Thomas, in Bartow. I telephoned the priest there, told him what I was up to and he'd said he'd be glad to help. He said he was a regular chaplain at the jail I was speaking of, and would look in on Todd during his next visit. I made lots of phone calls. I lined up a rehabilitation center, job interviews and I even lined up a sponsor for Todd. Someone who was in recovery himself and could help Todd in ways that were foreign to me. I penned a letter and sent it to Todd's attorney hoping the attorney would use it to sway the judge's ruling in our favor. Todd was a drug addict and an alcoholic. In order for him to ever beat those addictions, he would need long term therapy, counseling and medical care. Something that wasn't available to him while he was incarcerated. Added to that was the fact he had been a witness in the most infamous mass murder case in the history of Polk County. As a result, there was a valid contract out on his life.
I was ignorant to the correctional system though. I didn't realize that when one is placed on probation, that person cannot leave the county that issues the probation, much less the state. I did more research. I found a clause called "Interstate Compact". If approved, this clause allows probationers to transfer that probation to another state. If Todd were to remain in Florida, his life was in danger and I had to prove this to the judge. I telephoned the state attorney that represented the state in the Serrano case as well as that producer from the New York news station and asked them if they would write a letter on Todd's behalf. They agreed. I forwarded the letters along with the outline of my plan to the attorney and to Todd to have with him at the hearing.
December 31, 2006
REF:Leslie Todd Jones
DOB 03/01/63
SSI# xxx-xx-xxxx
To Whom It May Concern:
My name is xxxxx xxxxxxx and I have agreed to aid in Mr. Jones' recovery from alcohol and drug addiction. I have had a great deal of experience in these matters. I have served as a Volunteer Counselor with xxxxxxx County Youth Court Services in xxxxxxxx, xx and I have worked as a Confidential Informant with the City of xxxxxxxx xx Police Department.
I have outlined a plan of rehabilitation for Mr. Jones upon his release from Polk County Correctional Facility.
Upon his release, he will go immediately to St. Thomas Catholic Church located at 1305 Mann Street in Bartow, Fl. There he will meet with Father Mitchell. He will also find a duffel bag filled with clean clothing, toiletries, cash and a plane ticket to xxxxxxxxxx, xx. Fr. Mitchell will escort Mr. Jones to the airport in Tampa, Fl.
I will personally meet Mr. Jones flight when it arrives in xxxxxxxxxx, and then transport him to xxxxx House, a rehabilitation center located at xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The telephone number for xxxxx House is xxx-xxx-xxxx. They are well known for their efforts in drug and alcohol rehabilitation. At xxxxx House, Mr. Jones will meet with physicians and psychologists specially trained in addiction. The programs run anywhere from 12 to 24 weeks. Mr. Jones' length of stay will be determined by the doctors there.
Upon his release from xxxxx House, Mr. Jones will come to my home. I have prepared a room for him and he will be given free room and board as well as a small salary in exchange for "handyman" work. My address is xxxx xxxxxxxxx Drive, xxxxxxxxxx, xx xxxxx and my telephone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. I might add that I will not tolerate any form of alcohol or drug use. No exceptions.
Mr. Jones will be required to attend at least one meeting a day at a 12 step program known as The Recovery Club, located at xxxx xxxxxxx Drive, xxxxxxxxxx, xx xxxxx. The telephone number for The Recovery Club is xxx-xxx-xxxx. Their meetings are held every day at 8am, 12pm, 6pm, and 8pm. Mr. Jones will be free to go to any or as many meetings he chooses, depending on his work schedule. I only require one a day. Transportation will be provided. I have also arranged for Mr. Jones to have a personal sponsor, Todd xxxxx. Like Mr. Jones, Todd xxxxx has battled a lifetime of addiction to cocaine, crystal meth and alcohol. Mr. xxxxx has been "clean" for about 10 years and attends at least two meetings a day. I have the utmost respect and admiration for him. I also have a lot of faith that he would be the right sponsor for Mr. Jones. You may contact Mr. xxxxx at xxx-xxx-xxxx and his address is 8505 xxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx, xxxxxxxxxx, xx, xxxxx.
As for employment, I have arranged for three interviews. One with Lt. John xxxxx with xxxxxx County Sheriff's Department. He is in charge of internal affairs with the sheriff's office but also owns a concrete company that employs about 30 men. Lt. xxxxx has had experience with addiction with own son and is willing to "do what he can" to help Mr. Jones get on his feet. You may contact Mr. xxxxx at xxx-xxx-xxxx.
The second interview will be with xxxxxxx xxxxx, owner of xxxxx Heating and Air. You may contact Mr. xxxxx at xxx-xxx-xxxx.
The third interview will be with x & x Construction. Their phone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx or xxx-xxx-xxxx. They are located here in xxxxxxxxxx at xxx xxxxxxx Industrial Road. Mr. Jones has had experience in heavy equipment and this is an earth moving service. It may be the best option for him based on his experience.
If all this fails, Mr. Jones will be transported to Labor Ready to obtain day labor work until he can find permanent employment.
I will also aid Mr. Jones into having his driver license reinstated.
Mr. Jones will also be expected to attend regular church services. I am a devout catholic and believe that you can accomplish nothing without God. Mr. Jones will be able to choose his own church as long as it is a New Testament Christian church. I require that he goes at least one time a week. Again, transportation will be provided.
As you can see, Mr. Jones is a lucky man to have found someone like me willing to help him. I don't do this for everybody but Mr. Jones has shown to me that he is ready to change and willing to tackle all that is necessary to do so. He is aware that his recovery is not a temporary step, but rather a lifetime commitment. It will have to take priority in his life, above all else, permanently.
One of the reasons I am willing to do all this is that it has come to my attention that Mr. Jones has done a great deal in aiding Floridian authorities in convicting mass murderer, Nelson Serrano. Something Mr. Jones did on his own and without coercion. That shows to me that he is worth saving. As a result of this action, his life is in danger. Coming here to xxxxxxxxxx will be the next best thing to the witness protection program.
He has done the state of Florida a tremendous favor and I feel that the State of Florida needs to return that favor.
You may contact me either at my office, xxx-xxx-xxxx or by my personal cell, xxx-xxx-xxxx.
Sincerely,

Norma DePlume

PS: If the Interstate Transport Agreement transfer is approved, Mr. Jones' new probation officer will be William xxxxxx. His office number is xxx-xxx-xxxx.
Christmas came and went that year. Todd spent the holiday alone, as usual, in his cell. He had my photo though. It was all he had. Because this story is factual I do have to admit that Todd, being your typical man much less a felon, did jokingly ask me to send him more "revealing" photos. I wrote back to him and said,"that would be like showing you your Christmas present early and then wrapping it back up and putting it under the tree". He knew what I meant and he realized that I was not "that kind of girl". He wrote back and apologized for even asking. It only gave him more respect for me. He never asked again and I never sent him any more pictures. We had been lucky to get away with it the first time, I wasn't going to risk trying it again.
I spent my Christmas with family but I too, felt alone. I was lonesome for a man I had never met. I was beginning to become more and more lonesome for Todd as the days went by. I sent Todd a Christmas card saying, "You're in my heart now, stay there". I took out a $500 loan and packed a box as I had said I would do. I filled the box with clothing, toiletries, money for a plane ticket, a prepaid cell phone and a bible. Addressed it to Farther Mitchell c/o St. Thomas Catholic Church, Bartow, Florida. I carried this box in the trunk of my car, ready to ship at a moments notice. There was nothing left for me to do but to await a court date and pray the judge would would rule in our favor.

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.

2. Sixy Seconds

In 1997, Nelson Ivan Serrano walked into Erie Manufacturing and gunned down 4 innocent people. I had never heard the name before nor had I ever heard of these murders. Nelson Ivan Serrano was about to become part of my life. A name I grew to loathe.

October 4, 2006, was a beautiful fall day. Slightly cool even though the Indian Summer sun beat down on my bedroom window, a gentle breeze blew in through the blinds. Exhausted from the stress and lack of sleep I had experienced while at the hospital with my son the previous night, I laid down in bed to take a nap. I turned on the TV and began surfing channels. A weekday off from work was almost as rare occasion for me as was a midday nap. Television viewing in my house usually meant the morning news shows or late night episodes of Law and Order repeats. I've never been a soap opera or game show fan and I quickly surfed through those channels in my attempt to find something interesting to calm my nerves and help me sleep. I clicked past Channel 52 and then back again. Channel 52 was Court TV. A station that aired reality courtroom trials. Something I had never watched before, and have not watched since that day. But this trial interested me. It was the trial for Nelson Ivan Serrano.

On the stand was a young man. I guessed 35 to be his age. Dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, it was obvious he was an inmate. He was being drilled by a defense attorney named Norgard. The young man had been a cellmate of this Serrano guy and was testifying about what Serrano had told him about these murders. The young man was being held on burglary charges and the defense attorney, Norgard, was attempting to show the jury that the inmate's testimony was a ruse to have his charges reduced or diminished. The first thing that struck me was how eloquent and well spoken this inmate was. An inmate? I thought all inmates were ignorant thugs. I continued to listen as Norgard kept asking the same question in different ways in an attempt to trip the inmate up in his words. The inmate was too smart for him. Every time this defense attorney would ask the same question but in different words, this inmate would answer him with the same answer in different words. I laughed out loud as I watched these two in a match to see which one would trip the other up. The inmate won.

After this testimony was aired a news anchor came on to explain who this inmate was. Leslie Todd Jones. An inmate in the Polk County Correctional Institution in Florida. The news anchor added that the inmate was being held in isolation as a form of protective custody due to his willingness to come forward and testify in the case. I had some experience with inmates. I had volunteered as a Youth Court Counselor with my local Sheriff's department years ago. I had even visited a couple of prisons with youth in a sort of "Scared Straight" program. I quit my work as a Youth Counselor for that very reason. Prisons scarred me. I didn't like having to go in those places. Inmates scarred me even more. I had met a few on my tours with the kids and I had heard them tell their stories to the youth. Prison, wasn't a place for a young woman to visit. Inmates, weren't the kind of men I wanted to have in my list of associates. But on this particular day in early October, my heart swung in a different direction. This well spoken intelligent man had done a great deed coming forward to testify against this mad man. And right now he was alone, in an isolation cell. A scripture came to my mind though I didn't know the exact location in the bible. Something about, "when I was naked you did not clothe me, hungry you did not feed me, thirsty and you gave me no drink, imprisoned and you did not visit me. These things you do for others, you do for me". It was that scripture that led me to my next step. I had to find this inmate, whoever he was, and write him a letter of encouragement. It was my Christian duty. Or so I thought.