I am currently reading Wilbert Rideau’s memoir In the Place of Justice.  This is a fascinating read if you are interested in the justice system in the deep south during the 1960s and the prison system and its evolution during the last four decades. Rideau, an eight grade educated African American in Louisiana, murdered a white woman during a botched and spur of the moment bank robbery in 1961. He takes full responsibility for the death of Julia Ferguson but was convicted of first degree murder despite the lack of premeditation.  His case appeared before the Louisiana Supreme Court and the United States Supreme Court several times which resulted in him being retried multiple times. Each time the jury or grand jury was all white and convicted him after 15 or so minutes of deliberation. Not only were his appointed lawyers not familiar with criminal law but they mounted no defense or cross-examination.

Though the actual merits of the case against him and failure of the judiciary are very interesting, the focus of the book is on prison life and Rideau’s ability to rehabilitate himself, become an award winning journalist, and become a leader in the prison community.  Through Rideau’s experiences you witness the politics of prison from the inmate population, the guards, the administration, and the politicians.  I’m a little more than halfway done and so far would recommend this to anyone interested in the prison system and how we have neglected the idea of rehabilitating people and releasing them once they have proved themselves and now lock up as many men as possible since prisons’ have become a for profit business and no politician can afford to take stance that could be construed as not being tough on crime..

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; 
I lift my lids and all is born again. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, 
And arbitrary blackness gallops in: 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed 
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade: 
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men: 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 

I fancied you’d return the way you said, 
But I grow old and I forget your name. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

I should have loved a thunderbird instead; 
At least when spring comes they roar back again. 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

-Sylvia Plath

I must choose to be optimistic because as a tiny spec of humanity, I feel moved to not only nurture my own being, but also to engage others in philosophical, humanizing dialogue. I believe practicing empathy has the power to promote universal love.