Looking out: True friendship

July 30, 1997
Issue 

Looking out

True friendship

True friendship

By Brandon Astor Jones

"When you have succeeded in dehumanizing a person; when you have put that person down, and make ... this person to be but as the beast of the field; and when you have extinguished this person's soul and placed this person where the ray of hope is blown out in darkness like that which broods over the spirits of the damned; then you have raised the demon of tyranny." — Frederick Douglass, c. 1818-1889.

BAJ: What is your name and number?

MC: Michael Clapton, EF-315970.

BAJ: Okay, Mike: freedom. What is the worst case scenario in terms of how much more time you might have to do?

MC: Because of a mistake by the system, I may be forced to serve 14 additional months — making it six years for a five-year sentence.

BAJ: Have you learned how not to come back to prison?

MC: Most definitely.

BAJ: I mean, can you tell me exactly what aspect of your previous behaviour, the behaviour that brought you to prison, you feel that you will never repeat?

MC: I no longer have to search for an identity and acceptance from others. I never was really a bad person to start with. I just didn't know who I was on the inside. Therefore, I didn't know where I belonged on the outside.

I found acceptance among street people. Street life really wasn't in me, but because I was accepted, I embraced it. That's where my best quality kicked in: my best quality is when I embrace a thing, I take it all the way. I don't cut corners, and I don't play around. I stand firm, true and loyal to it.

So my best quality was focused in the wrong direction and became my enemy. Through my incarceration, I've learned who I am and where I belong in life. I can now focus my best qualities in proper directions now that I have a direction. I no longer need to seek acceptance from others because I now seek acceptance for my thoughts, actions and beliefs within myself.

BAJ: How old are you now, Mike?

MC: Twenty-four years young.

BAJ: So you were 19 when you came to this joint. If you had a chance to say something to a 19-year-old out there, who might be headed in this direction, what would it be?

MC: That's a tricky question, because for some — like myself — it will take a hard-core experience such as this to call them back to their consciousness. I know when I was 19, many people tried to forewarn me, but I wouldn't listen — couldn't see. I couldn't understand.

It really depends on whether the 19-year-old is sick and tired of being sick and tired, and is ready to listen. I would do my best to bring reality to him or her. But if a person is not ready, they're just not ready. Many of my partners have died on the street and in prison because they weren't ready. It's a harsh reality, I know, buy you just can't save everybody.

BAJ: In other words, you are unable to say that prison, in and of itself, changed your outlook and belief system. What was the most startling factor that brought serious change into your new being?

MC: The reality of the conflict between life in prison versus my nature.

Prison life is not conducive to the nature of the human being. It forces him or her into animalistic behaviour. Oftentimes, we are placed into situations in which human traits like rationality and logic are almost hazardous and life-threatening elements. Many times I have found myself engaged in actions that are totally uncivilised and unnecessary. My nature cries out in protest because it knows that my actions are not in keeping with it.

BAJ: When you go back out into freedom, and you see one or more of your peers from the past, and they say, "Come on, homie", what will the young many who just got out of this prison say?

MC: Hell no! I can't, and I won't, put myself into a position in which I could become a victim of anyone else's circumstances. I'm a young man with a bright and very promising future. I am 24 years old, with my whole life ahead of me. I'm a strong man, a mature man, wiser and more intelligent.

I've been to the school of hard knocks and graduated with honours. I'm learning what it take to live and succeed on many levels. I've come a long way and I've still a long way to go, and I need all of the help I can get. One of the most important lessons I've learned is the value of true friendship.

[The writer is a prisoner in the United States. He welcomes letters commenting on his columns. He can be written to at: Brandon Astor Jones, Georgia State Prison, HCO1, Reidsville, GA 30453, USA. For the first time in 17 years, Brandon has the real hope of his sentence of death being mitigated. If you can help by contributing to his defence fund or in other ways, please contact Australians Against Executions, PO Box 640, Milson's Point NSW 2061. Phone (02) 9955 1731, fax 9427 9489. Cheques can be made payable to "Brandon Astor Jones Defence Fund".]

Brandon Astor Jones faces a sentencing retrial in September. (In his original trial, 17 years ago, which was overturned on appeal, he was sentenced to death.) Readers who wish to urge the prosecutor not to seek the death penalty can write letters (to arrive before a pretrial hearing on August 4) to: Mr Tom Charron, District Attorney for Cobb County, Marietta, GA 30090, USA.

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