Poor Nick and the "Big House"

Remember the fellow Nick that stayed at my house around the time of Halloween?

Nick was pretty much a homeless young man who was determined to turn his life around. And while the other squatters in my house were causing me much grief, Nick quietly kept to himself, sequestering himself in my studio.

There he wiled away the time either on my computer or entertaining the neglected daughter of one of the squatters.

But just as I evicted the troublesome squatters, I also needed Nick to find another place to stay. I needed to reclaim my house so that I could resume the work that I needed to do in order to get the house ready to be placed on the market.

Nick found someone who would let him crash at his place for awhile. And Ryan and Richie were kind enough to drive Nick to his friend's house.

Weeks had gone by, and we hadn't heard from Nick. We wondered how he was doing.

Anyhow, last month Ariana received a letter from the Plymouth County Correctional Facility. There was no name on the return address. As she read the letter, Ariana exclaimed, "Oh my God!" The letter was from Nick.

Nick had used the one and only free stamp and envelope that the prison provided to write to Ariana. No one else knew that he was in prison, not that it would have made any difference.

You see, Nick had no family other than a ne're-do-well brother who was well acquainted with the wrong side of the law. His father died of kidney failure. His biological mother, whom he had not seen in years and has nothing to do with, is a crack head in Connecticut. And his step mother, who raised him and whom he adored, just recently died a few months ago.

Nick had also been in and out of foster homes. Having once been in Department of Social Services custody, he tried to sign himself back into DSS so that he could get off the street and get into cooking school, as his dream was to be a chef.

But because Nick was already 19 years old, he was "aged out." DSS could not help him.

"Just because I am 19 doesn't mean that I don't have the same needs as someone who's younger."

So very true.

Anyhow, as hard as he tried to get his life in order, the siren song of the street was too strong for Nick to ignore.

Just days after Ryan and Richie brought Nick to his friend's house in Holbrook, Nick found himself on the streets in Brockton with a group of unfortunate and dubious young men.

They got drunk. One got into Nick's face. And Nick punched the fellow in the face 3 times.

Then one of Nick's associates kicked the stuffing out of the downed young man, so much so that the young man came close to dying. As of this moment, that injured youth remains in a coma.

Nick's co-defendant bailed on him, leaving Nick to take the entire rap. But as fate would have it, the co-defendant was caught in his lies. And Nick's story matched the witness report, which worked out in his favor.

As much as he does need to pay the consequences of his actions, one still cannot help but feel bad for Nick.

Here is a bright and articulate young man full of ripe potential who got dealt a bum hand. And while there are some people who can bluff their way through a lousy hand into winning big, that is not the case with Nick.

Today I went to visit Nick at prison.

It was my first time going to visit an inmate. What an interesting experience.

First I had to make sure that I left my cell phone in the car and emptied my pockets of everything except my ID. I had to remove all jewelry except for my wedding band. And I had to bring with me some quarters so that I could stash my jacket and car keys in a locker.

Once inside, I had to fill out a visitor's card so that my information could be entered into the prison database. Then I had to present my ID to get a visitor's pass.

But before I could proceed through the metal detector, I was instructed that I could have nothing in my hair. So I had to remove my headband and take out my pony tail.

I put my stuff in the locker. But after having put 2 quarters in the locker, I found out that it would not work. The correctional officer tried 2 of his quarters, and lost them as well. So I had to select another locker. Fortunately that one worked.

Before stepping through the metal detector, I had to fill out a log sheet.

When I went through the metal detector, a beep went off. It was my wrist watch. I forgot that I had it on. I took off the watch, and the CO brought it to the front desk for me rather than have me deal with the locker.

I had to step into the elevator.

Now here was where things got confusing.

It wasn't a straight-forward ride in the elevator where you went up to the appropriate floor, got out, and then had someone direct you to the visiting area.

Instead, I had to ride the elevator to the second floor, get out, follow a long corridor to another part of the building, and then get on a second elevator (where there were 3 COs actively engaged in gossip) that took me to the appropriate floor.

Once I was let out of the second elevator, there was a CO sitting at a table by the elevator. I had to show the CO my pass. And I was then directed to a room at the very end of the corridor.

Walking down the corridor, I passed many visiting areas. They belonged to different units and were color-coded. I needed to find the green area.

The visiting area was a long narrow room that had several viewing booths. A thick pane of glass separated the inmate from the visitor. We had to communicate by telephone.

There was Nick, sitting behind the glass, waiting for me. I almost walked by him.

"I almost did not recognize you. All that nappy hair is gone."

Nick's hair now hugged his skull, whereas before it was wild and bushy.

He was also very depressed and down-trodden looking. Nick was experiencing anxiety and was having trouble sleeping. He finally fell asleep 3 hours before I visited him. Also, he finally got to meet with a social worker.

"What's that in your ear?"

It was part of a plastic fork in order to keep his piercing from closing up.

We talked for awhile, and Nick told me the circumstances of his arrest and incarceration.

I asked him how he felt about the injured young man. Nick felt awful about what happened. He felt horrible that the fellow was in the state that he was.

And he emphatically stated that he needed for sure to get away from alcohol. It was alcohol that got him into this mess ~ that and answering the call of the street.

"Do you still have the book (Think Like a Chef) and the Bible that I gave you?"

Both books were lost when they were taken as evidence by the Brockton police. However, Nick got a copy of the Bible while in prison.

Nick asked where Ariana was. I told him that she was visiting another inmate. He seemed very depressed and disappointed that she did not come with me.

He also asked if I will visit him again.

I will.

Nick has not had any other visitors. Nor is he likely to get any.

However, Nick may be out in 2 more weeks. He still had not solidified his plans, of which he has 3 options: return to Brockton, go to Boston and enroll in the cooking school, or go to Florida to stay with relatives.

We talked until the phone timed out. He put his knuckles to the glass, and I did likewise.

Now I had to backtrack and find my way back to the lobby.

I went down the corridor to the CO at the desk by the elevator. I showed the CO my pass and got into the elevator w/another visitor.

The 3 gossiping COs were at the 2nd floor elevator, still gossiping away.

After I reached the lobby, I got my stuff out of the locker, turned in my pass, got my ID and watch, and sat down to wait for Ariana.

It took forever before she came downstairs. Apparently what Ariana's friend knew ~ what Nick didn't ~ was that after the phone times out, the inmate can punch in his number again to get another connection. So Ariana gabbed with her friend 3 times longer than I gabbed with Nick.

I told Ariana that Nick was very depressed that she wasn't there. So the both of us will go see him this coming Saturday.