Questions and answers

These revealing questions and answers have been taken (with D’s permission) from an interview he completed with the Death Row Soul Collective (check them out on Facebook – they’re remarkable.

OK here goes…..

David speaks…

1. On what occasion do you lie? I lie sometimes when I say that I’m ok, when I’m really not.

2. What do you dislike most about your appearance? I’m not loving the gray hairs that seem to be increasing by the day.

3. What are your favorite names? Denyque, (pronounced like unique with a D) my niece, and Wilhelmina (my favorite person’s middle name).

4. What is your favorite extravagance? I’m ashamed to say junk food (As I’m eating some chocolate chip cookies, when I know that I shouldn’t).

5. What is your greatest fear? Not dying, but growing old in prison and not being able to take care of myself (My fear of frogs is a close second).

6. What historical figure do you most identify with? The character, Jean Valjean (The main character in Les Misérables).

7. When and where were you the happiest? My childhood in the Caribbean when I didn’t have a care in the world.

8. Which talent would you most like to have? It would feel like I had a superpower if I had the talent for public speaking.

9. What is your current state of mind? I’m a bit anxious at the moment. Feels like I’m not close to accomplishing the goals I’ve set for myself, and that makes me feel like I’m failing.

10. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be? I would like to learn to just follow my first mind and stop overthinking things as much as I do. It’s not always bad, but most time it’s not.

11. What living person do you most admire? My Mom, because 2 of her 3 children are in prison, and I can say that I didn’t always deserve her love.

12. What do you consider your greatest achievement? Surviving 18 years on Florida’s death row, and instead of losing myself, became a better person from the experience.

13. If you could change one thing about your family what would it be? I would repair all the broken relationships within the family.

14. What trait do you most deplore in yourself? Self-doubt, I don’t always see the potential in myself that others see in me.

15. What is your most marked characteristic? My optimistic mindset, no matter the situation

16. What is the trait you most deplore in others? Being close-minded is a trait I deplore in others.

17. What is your favorite journey? My favorite journey was any trip I took with my family, some of my most memorable moments.

18. Which living person do you most despise? I don’t despise anyone, so I’ll go with myself. There’s a side of me that I’ll forever be working on, so I despise that side of me.

19. Which word or phrase do you most overuse? Even though it’s a favorite word of mine, I do overuse the word “hope” at times.

20. What is your greatest regret? Not fully living, and enjoying my childhood, but instead rushing to think that I was ready to take on adult responsibilities.

21. What or who is the greatest love of your life? The Caribbean. That’s what I think of when I think of freedom, and I think about it at some point every single day.

22. If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be? I’ve experienced being a person, so I would like to come back and experience being an animal, and I would come back as a lion.

23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? I would say that getting to the point where you feel alone and like you have nothing to live for would be the lowest depth of misery.

24. What do you most value in friends? Accountability, that they’re accountable and hold me accountable as well.

25. Who are your favorite writers? That’s a tough one, but I’ll go with Paolo Coelho and Khaled Hosseini.

26. Who is your favorite hero in fiction? Not sure if he was a hero, but the character from The Count of Monte Cristo. (It’s been a while since I read it, but I think that his name was Edmond Dantes.)

27. How would you like to die? I would be lounging on the beach, Magens Bay to be exact, watching the sunset one final time.

Holiday season

I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I do look forward to this time of year. For me, I use this time to reflect. To think back on some of the good, bad, and questionable decisions I made throughout the year. I also think about the things I can improve on, mainly things I need to be more conscious of. It could be something as simple as being a better friend or cutting people out of my life that isn’t uplifting in any way.

Even though I don’t celebrate, it’s hard not to be more homesick than usual this time of year, so this is usually the most difficult time of the year for me as well. On top of it, it’s my 24th Christmas, on this side of the fence, and it doesn’t get easier seeing another year roll by.

It’s not all sad though, because I have loved ones that make this time of year a lot less lonely than it is, and that always gets me through. These are the moments I can’t help but accept the fact that life is what you make it, and every day is an opportunity to leave a lasting impression. I can think of so many things that have left a lasting impression on my life this year, like all the encouraging, and kind messages that were passed on to me. Thank you all.

One love

David

Keeping it together

Lately I’ve been thinking, and wondering, why some people are able to keep it together, mentally, in the face of adversity, more than others. Similar to having the gift of being able to perform under pressure. As I said in my previous entry, people are always telling me that I don’t act like I’ve been locked up for as long as I’ve been, it’ll be 24 years in December, or that I’ve even spent time on the row because I seem to still have it together. Trust me, I’m very aware that I’m dealing with some type of trauma from my experiences.

I’m all for therapy, and prioritizing one’s mental health. I’m talking from experience with my share of sessions with psychologists over the years, and seeing the difference those sessions made. They all agree that I’m good at compartmentalizing the trauma in my life. I truly think that’s my coping mechanism, but I often wonder if I have a tipping point where it’ll be too much. Also, is it because of my life experiences and what I’ve overcome made it easier to deal with the trauma? We all have our ways of getting through difficult times, but when do we know when it’s too much?

This week has been so stressful, and that’s putting it nicely. My mental state was tested, and it made me wonder about a possible tipping point. Let me share a bit of what I dealt with last week. Hurricane Milton hit this area last week. They ended up evacuating the guys from the work camp across the street to our prison, so it was very crowded. To the point where there were three men in a cell. Keep in mind, it’s a two-man cell that’s barely big enough for one person, so it was a tight fit. On top of that, we had plumbing issues and the cell was flooded for two days, that was the worst. I’m a clean freak, so imagine how I felt having to deal with that. I feel dirty just thinking about it. That’s on top of everything that comes from being in prison.

Anyways, I’m not good in crowds, it makes me anxious and agitated. I’m certain that’s why it wasn’t too hard on me being in solitary confinement all those years because I’m ok with being alone. Of course, it did get lonely at times, but as far as breaking me mentally, it was more stressful waiting for a decision from the court, especially when your appeals are being denied. That, and being away from loved ones, missing out on milestones, affected my mental health more than anything.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this. It’s like therapy when I can share a bit of what’s going on with me. With that being said, do take the time to focus on your mental health.

One love – David

Is it written on my face?

I transferred to another prison a little over a month ago. A prison that’s closer to my family and has programs that I’m interested in, so it was a win-win decision for me, and my family. At the same time, you never know what to expect when going to another prison. Of course, it’s still prison, but you now have to adjust to a new environment, new faces, new personalities, and a new cellmate as well, and that’s all unpredictable. Another thing, information moves quickly in the prison system. You’ll be surprised, but as soon as you step off the bus, word already spread that you’ve arrived, especially if you’re coming with a bit of history.

With that being said, I had an encounter the other day that let me know that that’s the reality. The other day, a guy I met through a guy that I knew from another prison said something that led to an interesting conversation. He said that he heard that I was on death row, but I don’t act like someone who’s been on death row. Keep in mind, I never include the fact that I was on death row when I’m introducing myself, so it caught me off guard. First, how does someone who’s been on death row carry themselves? I asked him what he meant by that, and he said that he expected them to act crazy and upset, whatever that means. Then I asked him where he got his information from. Apparently, he’s someone that a little pull on the compound and it’s his business to know who’s who. He also said that everybody knows. As I said, word spreads fast in prison. He added that he knew the day I got here and had been observing me. That’s another thing in prison, someone is always watching. There’s absolutely no privacy. It’s very important to have a clean reputation, because wherever you go, your history follows you. That’s a topic for another day.

I’m mainly stuck on the part about not acting like I was on death row. Am I supposed to be broken, out of my mind, and upset at the world? Or, should I take it as a compliment? I’m so confused. What I do know, in every situation, especially in situations that are not ideal, you have to either make the best of it, or let it break you. I chose to make the best of it. I definitely didn’t do it on my own, and I continue making that decision every morning before starting my day. So, I truly hope that people won’t think of the death row when they meet me, because I’m so much more.

One love

David

D’s view of our visit

A couple months ago, I had the pleasure of meeting the person that made this blog possible. My friend Karen and I first exchanged letters 8 years ago. I had no idea what to expect, but I can honestly say that we got along from day 1. Even though we didn’t have much in common, and come from completely different backgrounds, we vibed from the first day.

The friendship naturally evolved due to consistency. Even where there was nothing new to report, we somehow managed to not get tired of each others nagging!

When Karen first told me about her plans to visit, I must admit I immediately got nervous. Even though we got along all these years, you never know what to expect when meeting someone in person for the first time. What if we didn’t vibe in person? What if our differences were an issue all of a sudden? I tend to over think things and I was in my own head. I’m also nervous because I can’t hide it or fake it – if I’m not having a good time, I wear my emotions on my face and there’s no way to avoid it.

Then the day came. It did get off to a frustrating start. Of all the days, there was major issues with the prison being short of staff, and top of issues with the count. There’s no movement in the prison until every person is accounted for, and some days that can take a couple hours. Today was one of those days. They eventually got it all sorted out by midday. I was ready by 9am, so I’m in my head again, wondering what’s going on or if there was a change of plans.

Anyways, we’re finally face to face. I know that it’s been a long day. I wouldn’t know how bad it was until they told me, but Karen and her daughter Maya still greets me with a smile. The nervousness immediately disappears and it’s like any casual meeting with friends. It’s so true what they say about time flies when you’re having fun because the time flew by and the time for goodbyes came.

It was such an amazing experience, an experience I’ll never forget.

One thing that really stuck with me is the relationship between Karen and her daughter Maya. They have something special. I could’ve watched them go back and forth with each other and be okay with that.

With that being said, I’m so thankful to have met both of them and I will remember that day for as long as my memory allows me.

An unusual entry

It’s unusual to say the least to include my voice here. I type up and post David’s blog but do it without any changes or edits.

But I have made an exception, as I had the privilege of going to visit David in Mayo CI 2 weeks ago. It’s quite the thing, and I’ll try to paint a picture.

We (my daughter and I) got there at 8.30 and the weather was already incredibly hot and humid. We waited in line with maybe 50 other people, all of whom were welcoming to us as “first timers” and many of whom clearly knew each other well from regular visits. Babies cried, elderly people took time to sit away from the line in the shade – and many people joked that as Brits we were great at waiting in line!

After at least an hour, we were gradually allowed in, with totally understandable high security. We finally entered the “visitation park”, a large canteen-like room with folding tables, vending machines, a small “canteen” with microwaveable fast food, a few board games – and a palpable atmosphere of every imaginable emotion – anticipation, sadness, joy, love, misery. I watched a small girl silently crying, tears streaming down her face without making a sound. I also watched a baby walk for the first time to his daddy – and the whole room erupted into applause. And we waited. And waited.

Despite repeatedly asking the guards where David was, and getting reassurances that he was on his way, nothing happened. We began to wonder if he’d had second thoughts. Began to doubt we’d recognise him and maybe he’d come in, not seen us and left. And really worried that he’d think we’d “stood him up”.

After about 2 hours, there was “count”, when everyone had to go back to their dorms. Count wasn’t complete so had to be re-done, so the whole thing took about an hour. All in all, from joining the line outside, we waited 5 hours until David appeared. I’m not going to criticise the guards, who were always courteous to this old British woman. And I’m not going to dwell on the wait (although as a smoker – which David hates – I was climbing the walls at this point!)

When David finally arrived, we of course knew him immediately! It was hugely emotional – although he told me very sternly not to cry! You have to understand that this is someone I have had in my life for over 8 years. First of all by handwritten letters (and he always complained about the smell of smoke!) Then it was typed letters, every fortnight. Then emails. Once he moved to Mayo after the resentencing, we could talk on the phone (and I’m sorry D how many times I miss your calls!) And now to meet, and hug.

I know we were both very nervous. What if we found nothing to say? What if it was just too awkward? But very soon it settled into the same easy communication we’ve had through so many mediums. As D put it “it’s so easy to vibe with you”.

If you’re a regular reader of this, maybe you need me to describe David. Open face. Amazing eye contact. Gentlemanly. Funny. Very able to be teased. So so easy to talk to. Not someone who takes advantage (we were allowed to bring in around $20 for snacks and I watched other inmates understandably buy everything the canteen could provide. D just took a sandwich and a bottle of water, and was more concerned that we had had something).

And it went so quickly. We talked football (soccer). About his legal representation. About our great American road trip. Just stuff, the stuff you chat to a friend about. I can’t give you any major revelations. I met the same guy I’d “met” through letters, emails and latterly phone calls already. I certainly got a greater insight into where he’s living. The time flew, and after just under 1 ½ hours, time was called. And we said our goodbyes. The hardest thing is that what I wanted to say was “see you soon”. But I live 4133 miles away (yes, I looked it up!)

Finally, I’m aware that not everyone reading this will share my views on the death penalty, on rehabilitation and second chances. And I respect that – particularly for families of victims. I am not writing to explain or excuse, to challenge or minimise. I am simply writing to tell you about my friend, and the huge privilege it was to meet him face to face.

Karen Chandler

People can be overwhelming

Now that I’m in general population, I’m interacting with a lot more people; sometimes to the point where it’s overwhelming. I’m in a dorm with 84 other men, the complete opposite of solitary confinement. I get to interact with guys that’s only been in here for a couple of months so far, with guys going home in a few days, to guys that’s been in over 40 years, and everything inbetween.

General population and death row are like two different worlds. On the row, it’s as if you’re frozen in time, because everybody around you is in the same predicament, whereas in general population, there’s no telling what you’re going to get. Someone that has a few days until he gets to go home isn’t focussed on tablets or setting up the Securus app. he’s talking about his worries going back out into the free world and doing better – at least most of them are.

There’s a high turnover rate – guys come and go, so it actually feels like the days are different, especially when you interact with so many different people on a daily basis. I’m constantly learning from the guys around me, from the short timers to the lifers. I also learned from the guys on the row, but now it’s coming at me at a faster pace.

An important update

On June 27th 2022, the judge went against the jury’s unanimous recommendation for death and chose to re-sentence me to lie in prison. I’ve been adjusting to life in general population and really haven’t had time to stop and reflect on everything. Remember, I’m coming from 20 years of solitary confinement to a wide open prison population, which includes having to adjust to every little thing.

What was normal for me for the past 20 years is now a thing of the past. It does feel good not having to be handcuffed and shackled everywhere I go, but I do miss the privacy and the ability to set my own schedule which comes with solitary confinement.

I’ll get more into it another time, but I’m mainly reaching out to say thank you to everyone that helped me through some very difficult days. I’m certain that I wouldn’t be who I am today if I was on this journey alone. Thank you.

Do prosecutors have remorse?

I often wonder if, at the end of the day – or at the end of their careers – prosecutors have remorse for the role they play in getting someone to the execution chamber? In some instances, mine included, prosecutors are assigned to specific cases because of their track record of putting people on death row. How is that any different to being a contract killer?

Prosecutors are highly respected, and lots of them move on to careers as judges or politicians. I do understand that, in a civilised world, there has to be laws, and gatekeepers to make sure the laws are being enforced, but when you give prosecutors immunity, it will always be an unfair playing field.

At a recent court proceeding, the prosecutor was going through his calendar to see when he would be able to fit my case into his busy schedule. I couldn’t help but notice how nonchalant he was about the number of death penalty cases he had lined up. It’s as if he has become desensitized, and he’s just going through the motions. The idea of target practice came to mind.

When you exhaust your appeals, you’re given an execution date, and I don’t see how it can get any more premeditated than that. What makes their premeditated murder any different from the people they convict of premeditated murder? The appeal process is basically the opportunity to beg for mercy and prove why you deserve to live.

So, do prosecutors have remorse, or are they experts at compartmentalizing? Do they only look at it as just a job? And if that’s the case, that’s a whole other set of issues.

One love.

David

No fear

‘I try not to live my life in fear, but I’m starting to feel like one of my few fears in life is becoming a reality. The fear that I would become institutionalized, and I would start to feel, and think, that this, prison life is normal. There’s nothing normal about prison life.

I recently had my 41st birthday, 21st on the other side of the fence, and thankfully even after all these years, I still receive lots of love and well wishes for my birthday. Along with well wishes, there’s words of encouragement, and a few comments about how well I’ve held up after all these years. I know that they mean well when they say that I’ve held up well, but does holding up well mean that I’ve adjusted and accepted the circumstances? Have I fully adopted to my surroundings? Also, is that a good thing or not? I’m conflicted on the idea of holding up well, because I have my days where I feel absolutely out of place, then days where I do feel like I’m holding up just fine.

Then, I also thought about what if I got out this very moment. How will I manage? I can honestly say that there’s a good chance that I will struggle mightily. I’ve been in solitary confinement for almost 20 years and no telling how much damage that’s done, mentally, until I’m put I a ”normal” setting. Maybe I’m over thinking it, but I truly fear that I will wake up one day and think that prison life is normal.

I don’t fear dying, but another fear of mines is growing old and dying in prison, but that’s a conversation for another day.”