'little pieces of humanity'...

Although I felt a deep disillusionment with regard to my countrymen as a young man, there were things that happened that would change my life for the better - little pieces of humanity. Once, stranded in the pouring rain with no money, complete strangers invited me into their home. I later learned that this couple had a son who had been mistreated while in uniform and this had prompted them to extend a kindness to me. They helped other as well. It was the first time I felt some of the humanity said to be common to our country. This kindness left such a deep impression on me it helped me find my path in life:a path I had been searching for that would take me to where I belonged - a place where I would be welcome and call home.

I guess God knew that I needed something to keep my spirits up in my quest because another random act of kindness a litttle later helped also to restore my faith in humanity. I found myself once again alone in yet another lonely town.( As an orphan, I found all towns were equally lonely.) I was sleeping in an all-night movie theatre where alcoholics and homeless spent the night. During the night one of the 'patrons' threw up on me. Next morning, looking worse for wear and my uniform a mess, I was wondering how I was going to get back to base when another stranger noticed me. He offered me some money and a place to clean up. In the space of a few weeks two strangers had shown me kindness like I hadn't experienced before. It was to be a long time before I would again see such kindness extended to another human being.

Vietnam - and home to what?

I made few friends.There was never time as we were coming and going. Many I'd known for a time I learned had been killed in the war. When we passed each other we'd exchange information as to who was alive and who was not. I was twenty when I returned from Vietnam. I was totally disillusioned with the service. I was made to face how alone I was in the world when going on leave I had nowhere to call home. I'd pick any destination rather than tell anyone I had no home to go to. There was no place I belonged and there were no loved ones waiting for me and it would hurt every time I would get off the plane and watch the families greeting their sons.

I'd had enough of the service and I left unsure of what to do and where to go. It was as if I were waiting for some sign of where to go next; then another stranger helped shape my life.

I had been sleeping in my car and working at a laboring job. It was bitterly cold with snow, wind, and ice on this particular morning as I waited on the platform to catch a train to work which paid all of 8 dollars a day. All I had to wear were old uniforms. A stranger sat down beside me and started to chat. When the train came he shook my hand and said I would go far in life because, he said, I had courage and strength in my eyes. After his departure, I realized that he had left a folded card for me with 20 dollars tucked inside.

This may not seem like a life-changing experience to many, but it was to me and never forgotten (as was true of the previous acts of kindness ). I had been cold and hungry for quite awhile since I had been waiting for a pay check to buy food and I was barely strong enough to make it to the job. Instead of going to work, I had a good meal and that day found a better job which proved to be a stepping stone to my next change of direction. I saved enough money to get to Seattle and a better job.

A new direction....

I now had a path I wanted to follow. I slept in my car to save money and went to college. I eventually started my own business and most importantly had direction in my life. Travel and experience had taught me few care or bother to assist the poor. Their existence is barely noticed. I now felt I was in a position to make a difference - to add some balance to what I saw as the neglect of the poor. I remembered what God said, " Let me be the one" - and this is what I set out to do; that is, to help people in need. I selected countries in south-east Asia as well as other areas. The truth is there are so many poor people in the world and so little help available.

A place to belong....

I remember a story from the Bible about how a rich man put a whole bunch of coins in the pot while an old lady behind him put in only one coin. The rich man thought how great he was and the lady so lowly for her small contribution. However her gift was considered the greater because she gave all that she had whereas the rich man gave but a pittance of his overall wealth. I have seen this example played out in life.
The USA is a rich country yet many poor people here are forgotten. On the other hand, I have observed that in countries which are considered poor by US standards the people are as a rule are very generous and welcoming. That was my experience: I found kindness in abundance. I used my work to make a difference in the world. Being self-employed allowed me to do this and in so doing I had found my path in life and where I was needed and wanted.Whereas in my own country no one cared if I lived or died, the people I encountered in so-called poor areas of the world extended to me a generosity and something that money can't buy - the feeling that I had family. I was a big brother, a loved member of the family and community, in many places that I went. Because of my success and relaxed lifestyle I was not prepared for what lay ahead.

The nightmare begins....

Despite what I was happily undertaking, my work came to an abrupt halt all too soon. I still had other hard lessons to learn and because of these events, I'm now in prison, on death row. My guilt or innocence hasn't mattered.

My disaster in life is short and simple and as old a story as time itself....
I live in a land where money and fame mean everything. When I was poor only those I mentioned above noticed or cared whether I was hungry or cold. But when I became sucessful everyone wanted to know me. I got to see both sides of life at first hand. And I also got to see the evil that comes from greed. I lost everything I had worked for at he hands of a girl that I trusted and loved. She and her boyfriend robbed me, set me up and left me to die.

I have found justice to be as elusive as kindness in my land of birth. To be poor in this country means legal representation is at best woefully inadequate and at worst means the death penalty for many - and as studies have shown that includes the innocent as well. Until this point in time my word had been good - a fact I took pride in and guarded with great care. I feel now that I am living a nightmare that never ends. I have never asked for help of anyone. All I asked ( and expected ) was to be believed. I deserved that much. But as I soon found out, justice for the poor is almost impossible to achieve. With no money allocated to mount any defense the jury are left with no evidence with which to refute the claims of the prosecutor.Thus it is easy to convict a poor person. In fact, it can take a matter of hours to sentence a person to death whereas it may take months to decide a case involving money or property. How can that be? A decision relating to material things can take months while a person can be sentenced to death in a matter of hours. My pleas to the jury to believe me fell on deaf ears. I understand that the case can only be judged on the evidence presented and it was in the interests of certain parties who could influence court proceedings to have vital evidence withheld.

It appears that in my country truth is not valued. The driving force seems to be to convict - that's why we have 2 million in prison with 3,700 on death row. It seems like we don't care who we sentence as long as they are poor and can't defend themselves. That's our justice. The large number of people eventually found to be innocent after spending many years in prison attest to what I've said. They only survived because they had a lawyer and loved ones who believed in them and never gave up the fight to right the wrong done.