Gene and Carol Kent’s son, Jason, is serving a life sentence for murder. In her book, Between a Rock and a Grace Place, she tells of “divine surprises in the tight spots of life.”
My heart skipped a beat when I noticed the bold letters beneath the official seal for the State of Florida: “Office of Executive Clemency.” The photocopied letter from the coordinator of that office was addressed to Jason’s attorney. More than three years had passed since Jason had submitted an application for clemency. Finally an official response had arrived.
The Florida parole commission had issued a favorable report to the Executive Clemency Board, which meant the parole commission believed Jason’s case merited consideration. My hopes were soaring!
A few days later, Jason’s attorney arranged to meet with Gene and me, and during lunch together we energetically made plans for our next steps. The attorney asked if we could make that five-hour drive to Tallahassee within the next few weeks so he could arrange for us to meet members of the parole commission, the attorney to the governor, and perhaps additional members of the Executive Clemency Board. At these meetings we would have an opportunity to speak about our son regarding his record as an inmate, his achievements while incarcerated, and his plans and specific goals, should he ever be allowed to walk in freedom. It would be important for the clemency board to understand our family could provide Jason with a place to live, income-producing work, and accountability if his sentence was commuted to a set number of years. Gene and I made careful notes throughout the two-hour meeting and returned home.
Forty-eight hours later, the phone rang at our home, and Gene picked up the receiver. Quickly walking to my office, he said “Carol, it’s important. Please pick up an extension.”
I was surprised to hear the voice of Jason’s attorney, calling so soon after our face-to-face meeting. He is always upbeat and has an energized, engaging personality, but after we exchanged the usual pleasantries, his voice became serious, even somber, as he said, “I have some disappointing news. I have received another letter from the coordinator of the Office of Executive Clemency, stating that what would have been the next step in the process has been denied. There won’t even be a hearing.”
Now I realized, at a new rock-bottom level, that Jason would be in prison for the rest of his natural life. I created a mental picture of a worst-case scenario. Even if he waited to apply for clemency again until he served 25 years, I convinced myself he would never walk in freedom. Or maybe he would be released when he became so elderly or so deathly ill that the government no longer wanted to pay for his health care. Despair settled over me like a cloud. I put the phone down, and Gene finished the conversation with the attorney. I felt too sick to speak.
That night, I created a prison of my own making. I began to cry – not ladylike, sad tears, but body-shaking, nose-running, audibly wailing kind of sobbing from the depths of my aching heart. Gene put his arms around me, but I pushed him away. I didn’t want my husband’s touch, which in the past had always been comforting. I wanted to feel the depths of the pain because my only child would soon be experiencing it himself.
Once again I felt angry with God. Why had he allowed us to hope one more time, only to receive such a cold and insensitive response from the governor’s attorney? Why couldn’t we have at least been allowed to have the recommended opportunity for a hearing? Why hope? Why try? Why bother? God was not going to help us.
The next day was Saturday, and Gene told me he would drive to the prison early for visitation and break the news to Jason. I knew I couldn’t handle seeing the disappointment on his face, so I told Gene I’d be there by noon.
I drove the 40 miles to the prison and parked in the large lot outside the razor wire. As I went through security, I had a routine pat-down. I heard the first heavy metal door close behind me as I picked up my visitation paperwork. The second door opened to the large room where many families had already gathered. When my eyes landed on J.P., my tears immediately started to brim over. We are allowed one embrace when we arrive and one embrace when we leave. My young son held me as I burst into sobs. No words were needed. He knew that I knew there would be no clemency hearing, and he would have to wait a mandatory five years to file the paperwork again, followed by the three to four years it usually takes for a request for a hearing to rise to the top of the pile, with the same uncertainty and political challenges we faced this time around. I sensed that he knew as well as I did that there would never be a commutation of his sentence to a set number of years that would eventually lead to freedom.
And yet, Jason did not appear to be upset. He wasn’t angry and disheartened the way I was because of the “rubber stamp” rejection of his carefully prepared application for a clemency hearing. In fact, he seemed totally at peace – something I never thought possible. After we sat down together, he said, “Mom, we’ve done everything we can do. The petitions have been signed. The letters have been written. The application has been filed. We are at the end of our human ability to do anything else. The rest is up to God. And, Mom, if I am never released in this lifetime, remember that life is very short. In the blink of an eye, this life will be over, and we’ll all be truly free. Eternity will have begun. And it won’t be long.”
That did it! The tears started rolling down my cheeks again. My incarcerated son was reminding me of one of the synonyms of the word freedom. It’s sovereignty. God is sovereign, and he is totally in control of my future and Jason’s future and my husband’s future. He is in control, and I am not! Frankly, on my bad days, I don’t like that one bit. On good days, however, I realize that our son’s lack of freedom on the outside has resulted in a freedom on the inside that he might have never experienced to this degree if he lived his entire life outside the prison walls.
Taken from Between a Rock and a Grace Place by Carol Kent. Copyright © 2010. Used by permission of Zondervan, www.zondervan.com. Carol Kent joins James and Betty this week on LIFE Today.
