The untrue saga of Oscar Kearnesky
A funny note: Last week I attempted to create a tribute to
my brother Glenn; however, I inadvertently made it sound like an epitaph. We
had a good laugh over it, but the truth is he is still very much alive. dj
Chapter one
August 1, 2015
Oscar and his wife Hilda ran a nifty little bed and
breakfast, Nifty B and B, in southern Utah. Their total duty and honor was to
serve their guests in the best way possible. In doing so they would be able to
provide for their ponderous posterity. They worked hard and enjoyed their lot
in life. One day a big city slicker, Slick Cain, selling snake oil came to
their bed and breakfast and laughed them to scorn. He told them they were
underutilizing their fine establishment, selling their wares too cheaply, and
generally not making enough money.
They took the city slicker, Slick Cain’s ideas to heart. At
first they were completely repulsed by the idea of cutting the courtesies that
made Nifty B and B. They were even more mortified by the thought that they
would deceive their prospective customers by distorting pricing and quality to
entice people to upgrade when they arrived. They discussed this new concept
with their family and friends who, for the most part wanted no part of Slick
Cain’s proposition. One daughter, Sun Shine, however, declared that she thought
it was a great idea. It was such a great idea that she had become enamored with
Slick Cain and they had gone to Lost Wages and had a drive through wedding. He
was now part of the family so how could they refuse. Slick became the manager,
Oscar and Hilda the on lookers, and things turned to mush in the blink of an
eye. As soon as Slick Cain embezzled what he could and trashed the rest, he bid
adieu to his very pregnant bride, Sun Shine, and went off to pull his slick
tricks elsewhere.
Alternate story (true): a friend named James Linn was one of
my students at Eastern Arizona College in my real estate licensing class. One
of the nicest people I ever met. He married a sweet young lady, had two
children and worked like a mule to create an honest living. His wife was a
teacher and he was the entrepreneur, always interested in, and participating in
real estate activities. He had a real keen eye for properties he could
purchase, maintain, refurbish, and generally create capital and income. He
didn’t attempt to swindle anyone, do the nasty business of “flipping,” short
change anyone, or become the bad guy in a “B” rated movie. He just kept moving
forward, enjoying life, raising his girls, and watching as he and his sweet
wife grew older and wiser. I talked to James about six months ago and he was
still the same delightful fellow I knew so many years ago. He was retired, yet
he still had his hand in a mountain community up near Heber Arizona where he
developed a subdivision of wonderful summer retreats for his family and many
others to get away from the scorching summers in the Valley of the Sun (some
call it Phoenix). No broken promises; no stolen property, no regrets. Almost
too good to be true, except as far as I know it is an absolute cross my heart
and hope to have a hangnail true story.
Life goes on, we make mistakes and we do the best we can to
cure the ills we have caused. We can’t go back in time; however, we can move
forward ever aware of what we want to do better the next time we make
decisions. Will I make decisions that I regret later in life? Absolutely! Will
I work to change the results so as minimize the damage I have done? I certainly
hope so. Then I will go on the next project with my head held high, my
conscience void of ill feelings, and attempt to do something else that will
help me learn and grow and perhaps, bless the lives of some around me.
What a great life we live. My good friend and real estate
broker, Mike Rowbury and I were discussing life yesterday. He didn’t say so in
so many words, but essentially he asked me why I still held on to my real
estate sales license now that I am 27. My response was simple, that it may help
me to keep my mind working, my heart pumping, and in the process may actually
assist someone in solving some problem in their economic life that will give
them a better direction.
Thank you for reading. God bless each of us as we attempt to
live the best life possible.
Duane Jacobs, husband, father, grandfather, uncle, cousin,
brother, and friend
The untrue saga of Oscar Kearnesky
A funny note: Last week I attempted to create a tribute to
my brother Glenn; however, I inadvertently made it sound like an epitaph. We
had a good laugh over it, but the truth is he is still very much alive. dj
Chapter 2
August 1, 2015
Oscar and his wife Hilda ran a nifty little bed and
breakfast, Nifty B and B, in southern Utah. Their total duty and honor was to
serve their guests in the best way possible. In doing so they would be able to
provide for their ponderous posterity. They worked hard and enjoyed their lot
in life. One day a big city slicker, Slick Cain, selling snake oil came to
their bed and breakfast and laughed them to scorn. He told them they were
underutilizing their fine establishment, selling their wares too cheaply, and
generally not making enough money.
They took the city slicker, Slick Cain’s ideas to heart. At
first they were completely repulsed by the idea of cutting the courtesies that
made Nifty B and B. They were even more mortified by the thought that they
would deceive their prospective customers by distorting pricing and quality to
entice people to upgrade when they arrived. They discussed this new concept
with their family and friends who, for the most part wanted no part of Slick
Cain’s proposition. One daughter, Sun Shine, however, declared that she thought
it was a great idea. It was such a great idea that she had become enamored with
Slick Cain and they had gone to Lost Wages and had a drive through wedding. He
was now part of the family so how could they refuse. Slick became the manager,
Oscar and Hilda the on lookers, and things turned to mush in the blink of an
eye. As soon as Slick Cain embezzled what he could and trashed the rest, he bid
adieu to his very pregnant bride, Sun Shine, and went off to pull his slick
tricks elsewhere.
Alternate story (true): a friend named James Linn was one of
my students at Eastern Arizona College in my real estate licensing class. One
of the nicest people I ever met. He married a sweet young lady, had two
children and worked like a mule to create an honest living. His wife was a
teacher and he was the entrepreneur, always interested in, and participating in
real estate activities. He had a real keen eye for properties he could
purchase, maintain, refurbish, and generally create capital and income. He
didn’t attempt to swindle anyone, do the nasty business of “flipping,” short
change anyone, or become the bad guy in a “B” rated movie. He just kept moving
forward, enjoying life, raising his girls, and watching as he and his sweet
wife grew older and wiser. I talked to James about six months ago and he was
still the same delightful fellow I knew so many years ago. He was retired, yet
he still had his hand in a mountain community up near Heber Arizona where he
developed a subdivision of wonderful summer retreats for his family and many
others to get away from the scorching summers in the Valley of the Sun (some
call it Phoenix). No broken promises; no stolen property, no regrets. Almost
too good to be true, except as far as I know it is an absolute cross my heart
and hope to have a hangnail true story.
Life goes on, we make mistakes and we do the best we can to
cure the ills we have caused. We can’t go back in time; however, we can move
forward ever aware of what we want to do better the next time we make
decisions. Will I make decisions that I regret later in life? Absolutely! Will
I work to change the results so as minimize the damage I have done? I certainly
hope so. Then I will go on the next project with my head held high, my
conscience void of ill feelings, and attempt to do something else that will
help me learn and grow and perhaps, bless the lives of some around me.
What a great life we live. My good friend and real estate
broker, Mike Rowbury and I were discussing life yesterday. He didn’t say so in
so many words, but essentially he asked me why I still held on to my real
estate sales license now that I am 27. My response was simple, that it may help
me to keep my mind working, my heart pumping, and in the process may actually
assist someone in solving some problem in their economic life that will give
them a better direction.
Thank you for reading. God bless each of us as we attempt to
live the best life possible.
Duane Jacobs, husband, father, grandfather, uncle, cousin,
brother, and friend
Chapter Three
Chapter 3 – The story of Oscar Kearnesky
Cortez, Colorado
Slick was hurt and bleeding. Where was he; and more
importantly why was he in a dark, dingy, cold, wet, alleyway beside a foul
smelling dumpster? No; wait, he wasn’t
beside a dumpster; he was in it, head down in a nasty mix of pizza, beer, and
other goop that must have come out of a sewer. He tried to move, but only sunk
lower in the ooze. Just as he felt like he had gone about as low as one human
can, he heard the unmistakable sound of a large truck The truck pulled up to
the dumpster and began its regular work of dumping the trash into a compactor
built into the vehicle. Then he heard another vehicle approach and man got out
and motioned to the driver of the garbage truck to come down and talk. Slick
determined that this would be his only chance to avoid the unenviable and
imminent threat of becoming worm fodder in some far-away dumping ground. With
all the energy he could muster, he began banging on the side of the metal
container. The conversation was heated and loud with questions about why the
truck driver had been late getting to work and challenges regarding his
continuing employment. As the driver and the supervisor started to walk away
from the container, Slick gave one more passionate bang with his hand and even
made an attempt to yell.
It was the yell that saved his life. Both the supervisor and
the driver began to seek out the sounds and soon found Slick in his very sad
state of affairs. An ambulance was called, emergency room and hospital
arrangements were made and half an hour later Slick was being carefully treated
for his multiple bruises and cuts, a tinge of frostbite, and a large bruise on
his head bringing the real possibility of a concussion or worse. He was
definitely in shock and had no conscious awareness of why he had been in the
garbage container. Slick jumped up with a start and started frantically looking
for his clothes and the money belt his had tied ever so neatly around his mid
section. He had carefully planned and carried out a scheme which had netted him
over one hundred and forty thousand dollars and now the money was gone.
Sadly, then with a burst of anger he began to understand
what had happened. Wearing his very best city slicker clothes he had come into
Cortez by bus. He had left his car and anything else that might connect him to
his new identity and life. Slick had carefully stowed his driver’s license,
birth certificate, high school diploma, and other essential evidence of his
life as Jason Birdwell from Round Valley, Arizona in a safe deposit box in
Gallup, New Mexico in the State Bank of New Mexico so he could return to being
Jason whenever he had a need to do so. He needed to do so now, but first he had
to find out what had happened to his money. Enter Detective Michael Stover of
the Cortez, Colorado police department. Welcome to Cortez, Detective Stover
said with a wry grin. Care to tell me why you were residing in a garbage
container, half dead and ready for the buzzards? The last thing Slick needed
was to get caught up in an investigation as to why and how he came to be where
he was so he began creating an elaborate story about coming in on the bus,
finding a restaurant and a motel and
beginning a night of quiet, peaceful, evening.
Well, so far the story was true and could be verified. He
did come in on the bus and he did register at the Red Rock Motel and he did
find a restaurant just down the street – the Road Runner – where he had a
baseball steak, a large order of chili fries and a pitcher of Budweiser. Detective
Stover leaned way back in his chair and with dead on focus looked right through
Slick’s story and shared with him that he had began a search for details in
this case because as soon as Slick had been placed in the ambulance he went
into a deep sleep which concerned the emergency room staff sufficiently that
they admitted him in the hospital and called Detective Stover. Detective Stover
said, “Well all that checks out, Jason. We found your room at the Red Rock
Motel. There are some puzzling elements we need to get cleared up as we go
forward in the attempted murder case. There is no doubt you were not supposed
to be alive today and we believe we know who the perpetrator is.” What do you
know about Slick Cain?” “We found his name and identification all over your
room. We also found a money belt with one hundred and two thousand dollars in
your room.” “We think he followed you to Cortez and attempted to steal your
money. When you resisted he beat you to a bloody pulp and threw you in the
garbage dumpster thinking you were dead.
Slick was truly on the horns of a dilemma. He could tell
Detective Stover the rest of the story about how he had gone to dinner, began
talking with a couple of fellows who said they would take him to the “best game
in town.” How he eagerly went with them after being “treated” to several more
beers, stories of wild women and a poker game that would make him rich. What
would be the harm; he had left the biggest portion of his stash hidden in his
motel room and he needed a little entertainment after all the work he had done.
He deserved it and he was a great poker player. He would double the money he
took with him. The game went well; however, the other players, especially one
named Sam Johnson began threatening Slick after he had won Seventeen thousand
five hundred dollars. “You’re cheating, Sam declared”, in a slurred ugly tone
that made the glasses rattle and everyone move back and protect them self. Sam
was a great poker player but he was no fighter. He had always made it known that
he much preferred talking –smooth talking – to any kind of physical endeavor.
It was all over in a flash for Slick. He went on the first hit but his
tormentor was crazy angry with liquor and rage at losing so much money. He
began pounding and pounding and finally grabbed Slick from the floor and
smashed his head on the concrete floor. Blood was everywhere and people were
running in hopes they would not be caught up in this murder.
Cortez was a very small town and you didn’t just murder
someone and not have anyone find out. Unless, Sam thought; if they guy was new
in town and really a stranger, he could get rid of the body and no one outside
the game room would be the wiser. He grabbed the body, slung him in the back of
his pickup and took him the half dozen blocks across town to the alley behind the
Wonder Lanes Bowling Alley. He immediately saw his way out and quickly dumped
Slick’s body in the container, then sped away. As he was hoisting Slick’s body
into the dumpster he decided he was owed something for all the trouble this guy
had given him so he took his wallet and the money roll he had seen Slick
flashing in the restaurant. Not a bad night’s payday. Twenty one thousand,
seven hundred and twenty three dollars plus the money he had lost to Slick.
That would by him a nice new pickup.
Remember! This is my story and I am using it as a bully
pulpit to show how situations like this may span more than losers. That people,
in fact, can go forward in life even after serious lapses in judgment. I watch
as people – real rock head – for the most part make mistake after mistake until
they feel trapped in the pattern and unable to break the pattern and do things
in their life they may have never dreamed possible.
If you get a moment go back to the Old Testament and David’s
Psalms. Listen as he pleads with the Lord to be gentle with him, to forgive him
of his dastardly deeds, and allow him to return to God’s presence.
Thank you for all your wonderful acts of service and love to
your family and others.
Duane Jacobs, husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle,
cousin, friend
Chapter Four
Chapter Four - The untrue saga of Oscar kearnesky
Crazy coincidences – or perhaps a little help from
ministering angels
Detective Stover brought his chair right up in Slick’s face.
He sat down so he was knee to knee with Slick and said, “Okay Jason, let’s start
from the beginning. I just had a heart to heart visit with a very worried lady
in Round Valley.” She says she is your mother.” Slick started to attempt the
creation of an elaborate story then realized that he was caught, dead in his
tracks. How did you know I was Jason? How did you find my mother? What do you
really know about me? Detective Stover gave three - word absolutely
flabbergasting. “I know everything!”
Your father died three years ago leaving your mother the
sole provider for you and your two sisters. I was raised in Round Valley, went
to school and church there and went on a mission for my church and had the
great opportunity of serving in the same mission and being a companion to your
father. By this time Slick was hunkered way down in his chair with his hands
over his eyes. Detective Stover continued, “As soon as I saw your last name I
started putting the pieces together. You mother contacted me because of our
friendship and because she knew I could help locate you. She has been completely
beside herself, working two jobs – custodial job at night and bank cashier
during the day – just to keep the family together and not lose your home. Your
grandparents and many others from the church, including the church welfare
system have made it possible for your family to continue to grow and return to
a relatively stable life.
Slick was completely dumfounded, scared, angry, distressed
and very sorrowful. He had just been so angry at his father leaving like he
had. Forty nine years old and dropping dead of a heart attack as he helped his
neighbors cut and stack wood for their winter supply so they would have enough
for their only source of heat during the upcoming winter. Ok, Jason said, “I am
sure they never want to see me again.” “What now?” The “what now” came like a
thunderstorm, tornado, hurricane, and range fire all tied in to one horrific
moment. Detective Stover went to the door and invited in two people who were
very anxious to see Jason, Jason’s mother and Oscar Kearnesky. Jason froze in
his chair. His mother, Amanda, came running over and pulled Jason from his
chair and squeezed and hugged and kissed her wandering son until he thought his
eyes would pop out. He had disgraced his family, his community, and his God by
falling prey to Skulleson, the contractor and done some very dastardly things.
The only way he had escaped prison was by turning state’s evidence against
Skulleson and twenty four hours after the dust settled on the perpetrators, he
left town with no forwarding address or way of contacting him. Jason’s mother
Amanda pulled back and said through tear stained eyes and pained, tired sobs,
“Jason, we will work this out and help you find your way once again.” A mother’s
love is forever.
Skulleson and his partners in extortion, fraud, and embezzlement
were in prison, which is exactly where he was going as soon as Oscar Kearnesky
had his say. “Slick, or should I say Jason, You have a beautiful wife and
daughter back at the bed and breakfast.” “You left quite a mess in Utah with my
daughter not knowing whether to be angry, fearful for your safety, or both;
mostly, unsure if you had ever had anything but deceit and dishonor in your
heart for her and her family. This was a dead center gut punch. He had gone
into the Bed and Breakfast with larceny and deceit on his mind and found
himself confronted with the conflicts that only a beautiful, sweet, innocent
young woman could create in his mind as he found himself completely wrapped up
in her very presence. Now everything was gone. The stolen money was gone; any
shred of decency and self respect had vanished; and any thoughts of living a
life of peace and happiness with this beautiful girl – his wife, were
completely out of the question. Why would she want anything to do with him
especially since he had betrayed her, stolen from her family, and would soon be
heading to prison where he belonged.
Oscar reached out to him and offered a hand suggesting he
wanted Jason to stand up and shake his hand. He did. Oscar said, “Jason I have
a friend I want you to meet. His name is Judge Frank Scarnoff. He is very wise
and very old and has been in the business of putting bad guys behind bars for
over forty years. He is the judge you will be going to stand in front of and
plead your case. Judge Scarnoff has been listening to some whack job theorists
in various parts of the country that are asking that the entire judicial system
be reviewed. The prevailing question is, “What good does it do to put people in
jail or prison other than to help with their criminal education?” If you stand
up straight and tall and give him absolutely honest answers, he is likely to
try some outright crazy experiments on you. You will have to have justice meted
out to you by this judge, but he is sincerely looking for ways to make the
system better and will use you as a lab specimen to see if this craziness will
actually prove beneficial to you, the community, and the system in general.
Stunned silence filled the room. Jason’s mother Amanda could
just barely scrape up a whispered thank you; Detective Stover gave a weird
snort as he stood incredulous; wondering what had just happened.
In the real world, Jason would become just another “loser”
going from one bad mistake to another until he achieved the sum of his life’s
rewards. Zero! Was this to be a real chance to turn the tide and become what
his father and mother had dreamed for him? Stay tuned.
Author’s note: I have been stiffed, stolen from, sued, lied
to, disgraced, vilified, and terrorized because I have attempted to use some
portion of this wild-eyed theory. The end result always depends on the inner
most, gut feelings of the recipient. Hopefully, Jason sees this as an escape
from the terror he will face in his life as a criminal and worse. What would
you do?
In the Book of Mormon (from the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter Day Saints) there is a real rock head named Alma. He and his chums, the
sons of Mosiah; all hottie tottie fellas that determine their fathers are just
old brainacs that don’t want them to have any fun; play hard and lose with the
rules declaring to their new friends that their fathers are liars and that
everyone just needs to play and get crazy. Their judge Scarnoff happens to be
an angel that comes to them and literally shakes the living tar out of them.
After Judge Scarnoff’s court they recognize the error of their ways and spend
the rest of their lives making amends to their family, community and God and
truly ask for and receive forgiveness and receive their reward of positive,
honorable lives.
Have a wonderful week. I hope I poke each of us in the place
where our brains are supposed to be and that we will all listen for and act
upon the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
Duane Jacobs, husband, father, brother, uncle, cousin,
grandfather, and friend
Chapter Five
Chapter 5 – The untrue saga of Oscar Kearnesky
Out of my life forever
August 28, 2015
Sunshine was so angry her red hair stood straight up and she
was breathing fire. “Dad, why would you even think of doing anything but
putting him in jail and throwing away the key?” Oscar had just returned home
from Cortez and shared his experiences with Hilda, his wife, and their other
children, Jonathan, Cherrie, and Heritage. Heritage, a vibrant, red-haired,
five-year old cherub, was very excited when his father shared the real story
about Slick Cain, AKA, Jason. Jason had been very likable and thoroughly vested
himself in working and playing with the whole family. He and Heritage had many
positive bonding moments as Sunshine became enamored with Jason. They took
Heritage everywhere making a grand three-some. Now Sunshine was demanding that
Jason, the father of her new-born daughter be taken the furthermost part of the
earth and banned forever from any contact with other human beings. Heritage
simply didn’t understand. All Heritage could see was the good and all Sunshine
could see was the terrible horror Jason had put her and her whole family
through. As far as Sunshine was concerned Jason had lied, stolen, cheated, and
destroyed all that was pleasant and good from those she called family.
Oscar being wise beyond mortality announced that no more
would be said about Jason and the entire sorted affair until the next day at
dinner time. For the next 23 and one half hours everyone was to find a place of
solitude, pray, ponder, read scriptures, and fast for understanding. Even
Heritage, the youngest, was to be part of the spiritual feast that would enable
everyone to find the inner peace that can only come from cleansing the soul.
Heritage would remain with his sister Sunshine because he was the youngest and
the most connected with Jason. Every person in the family would report the
personal journey to peace and understanding they encountered
The dining table was usually a bustling place with jokes,
chatter, and pleasantries. Tonight the mood was somber and one could hear a pin
drop from in the garage. Standard protocols were played out with a blessing on
the food and evening prayer of thanksgiving. Oscar looked around at each of the
family members and thanked everyone for participating in the spiritual
understanding time. Sunshine, would you please share your thoughts now that you
have had an opportunity to carefully assess the past, present, and future.
Sunshine glowed. She began by telling how angry, hurt, and vilified she had felt
as she fought through the agonizing understanding that she had been played like
a cheap fiddle. The man she had fallen for had used her naïve, sweet nature to
beguile her and stolen from the entire family, but most notably Jason had
stolen her heart, then trashed it like a well used oil rag. She and Heritage
had spent all waking hours together walking, talking, and rehearsing the events
that had brought them to this point in their lives. Each time Sunshine made a
comment about the dastardly deeds Heritage countered with a warm, funny, or
spiritual reminder about the time that Jason had spent with the family.
Sunshine, proudly announced that her wonderful brother, Heritage, had cheered
her and given her a new, powerful understanding of that anything other than
giving support and encouragement to her father and his plan would be unwise and
selfish.
The rest of the family readily echoed Sunshine’s
pronouncement and the doom and gloom of the past day became a thing of the
past. Oscar would see the inspiration he
had received from the Holy Ghost and would allow the plan he had presented to
Detective Stover and Judge Frank Scarnov. He had been given strong impressions
that something had to happen to provide a system where people who had harmed
others through any number of heinous displays of uncivilized and downright ugly
attacks on humanity would have a path to lives with better outcomes. Jason
would be one of the first. Sam, the lug that attacked Jason and left him for
dead in a dumpster, would find himself side-by-side with Jason in this
intriguing experiment. The results of their activities would be carefully
reviewed for decades to come.
Have an absolutely fantastic life.
Duane Jacobs, husband, father, uncle, grandfather, cousin,
and friend
Chapter Six
Chapter six
The untrue saga of Oscar Kearnesky
The Plan Unfolded
Judge Scarnoff sat in his chambers looking very scholarly
and judicious. Detective Stover, the Apache County, Arizona Attorney, Mr.
Candelaria, the Apache County Sheriff, Wendell Homes, Sam Garcia (The fellow
Jason (Slick) took to the woodshed in cards winning over $17,000 he had fleeced
from other games and burglaries.), Oscar Kearnesky, an FBI agent,and of course
Jason and his Mother Amanda. Judge Scarnoff began the discussion by stating
that because this case played out over state lines; namely, Arizona, Colorado,
and Utah, the FBI would be the lead on all cases and charges associated with
the circumstances, charges, and trials stemming from the Oscar Kearnesky
fleecing. Judge Scarnoff then introduced William Pitts, Special Agent for the
Federal Bureau of Investigation. The stage and the players were set. Judge
Scarnoff made an opening statement noting that this was a fact finding
exploration to determine what should be done and make recommendations to be passed on to all associated agencies.
He then turned the time to Special Agent Pitts.
Special agent Pitts was a tall, lanky, soft spoken man in
his late fifties. He had been an FBI agent for twenty-five years and seen more
mean spirited, angry felons than he could remember. In the last five years he
had become acutely aware of the astronomical recidivism rates, particularly in
crimes related to drugs and alcohol. He looked somberly into the faces of those
present and told them that He and Judge Scarnoff had talked, written, and yes,
prayed, for answers that would assist them in helping to find ways of rising
above the din and making a difference. Their remarkable determination to
recommend a pilot program for offenders was the most bold and insightful plan
one could imagine. Special Agent Pitts declared that these were the main
tenants of the plan he and Judge Scarnoff would recommend:
1. Under
the direction of the FBI and with the concurrence of the Apache County Arizona
Sheriff, the San Pete County Utah Sheriff, the Cortez County, Colorado Sheriff,
and the Utah State Legislature, the plan would be implemented as a subset of
the construction of a new Utah State prison in North West Salt Lake City.
2. Twenty
five felons would be selected to participate in the trial activity. They would
be selected on:
a. The
basis of job skills, or potential to learn needed skills
b. Willingness
to commit to following the guidelines of the project;
c. Individual
potential for successfully establishing a positive basis for living the
remainder of their lives.
d. Commitment
to support their families
e. Commitment
to make restitution to those they had harmed.
3. They
would live in temporary housing at the new Utah State prison site in FEMA Mobil
homes
4. They
would be paid a wage equivalent to the going rate for their specific skills and
experience.
They
would not all succeed. As one expert stated,
Your story in fact reminds me of one by O Henry and of course of the
many case studies I’ve perused in my prison advocacy program. The psychopathic
mind – I don’t mean the Hannibal Lecter kind – the psychopath next door, is
unique in that they can’t be cured, only learn how better to connive.
That’s what I believe you’re getting at here, redemption. Some can, many
can’t. I’ll check your blog real soon, busy weekend here. (Mitch)
Special
Agent Pitts made it very clear. This project will be watched by every fan and
antagonist in the world. They will look for flaws. They will look for ways of
crushing the sparks out of it before it ever hits the light of day; however, we
must try to create a better mousetrap. The one we are using keeps over one
percent of our population behind bars at any time and reaches between 63 and 84
percent recidivism rates. Our current mousetrap smashes all hope and possibility
and has no corrective value. Any learning in classrooms and otherwise is used
as a bargaining chip. Families are not served. Those who have been harmed are
not served. Special Agent Pitts sat down with his closing thought that only
history will tell. As noted, some will succeed while others fail.
A somber
bunch left Judge Scarnoff’s chambers that day. Sam and Jason back to their
cells. Amanda back to Round Valley, Oscar Kearnesky and the Sanpete Sheriff
back to Utah and the Judge and Special Agent wondering what kind of furry they
had created. Time would be the only true indicator. The next round would not be
a pleasant afternoon tea; rather, a hard hitting mean alley fight with both
sides taking off the gloves and giving their best to ensure the security of
their position. The question of the ages: How do we as a society, as a culture,
as a people embodying an understanding of the eternal worth of souls, create a
system in which citizens, protectors, and those who would do us harm, are
provided maximum justice and mercy?
May God
bless us all as we look carefully at our role in ensuring that our noble
officers are given the protection they need to fulfill their roles as protectors;
that those who find themselves on the other side of the law will find the best
alternatives for correctional activity that will bless the lives of their
family and loved ones.
Duane
Jacobs, father, husband, grandfather, uncle, cousin, brother, and friend
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