Friday afternoon was the last time I saw Charlie Wesson (pseudonym) alive...
We talked for several minutes, and he seemed fine. He always had a sickly look about him, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then shortly after Saturday's lunch meal, Charlie laid down on his bunk to take a nap from which he would never awaken.
An officer making his rounds saw Charlie lying on his bunk, but not breathing. The officer then called in a "Code Blue" using his walkie-talkie. A medical team responding from the prison's hospital could not revive him with CPR. He was gone.
This morning, being a Sunday, I requested and received special permission from the area sergeant to be able to go to E-North to visit the residents. I am not assigned to report for work on weekends. But the sergeant thought it was a good idea if I spent time with the men before I had to leave for this morning's chapel service at 10 a.m.
I did get to spend about two hours with the guys. Some of them were clearly grieving. I brought along four sympathy cards for the men to sign as a group. And each one was able to write a special message for Charlie’s family.
Within a short time, the cards were all filled. On Monday, the civilian counselor for E-North will mail these cards to Charlie's sister. She's going to be touched that he had so many friends. His only family, however, consists of one sister and a niece.
Charlie grew up poor in a housing project in the Bronx. He died poor in a prison cell.
D.B.
An officer making his rounds saw Charlie lying on his bunk, but not breathing. The officer then called in a "Code Blue" using his walkie-talkie. A medical team responding from the prison's hospital could not revive him with CPR. He was gone.
This morning, being a Sunday, I requested and received special permission from the area sergeant to be able to go to E-North to visit the residents. I am not assigned to report for work on weekends. But the sergeant thought it was a good idea if I spent time with the men before I had to leave for this morning's chapel service at 10 a.m.
I did get to spend about two hours with the guys. Some of them were clearly grieving. I brought along four sympathy cards for the men to sign as a group. And each one was able to write a special message for Charlie’s family.
Within a short time, the cards were all filled. On Monday, the civilian counselor for E-North will mail these cards to Charlie's sister. She's going to be touched that he had so many friends. His only family, however, consists of one sister and a niece.
Charlie grew up poor in a housing project in the Bronx. He died poor in a prison cell.
D.B.
