He is told his release date. It is further out than what we had calculated. August 30, 2010. Longer than a thousand days. Much longer.
We have used up all but a few precious phone minutes for the month. So calls are now a minute or less.
Yesterday, I read that there are new sentence guidelines going in place in November 2010. There are changes that may help him if the guidelines are retroactive. How do I find that out? My next step will be to send him the whole PDF file, hope it passes muster in the mail room, and then hope he can meet with his attorney who hasn't contacted him since he got there.
In the meantime, I get another letter from him. This one is 17 pages long. The first 2 pages are relatively legible and then it declines into a hasty scribble that I can barely make out even for context. Beyond the confinement, the lousy slop they call food, the call outs, the heat, the gangs, the lumpy thin mattress, the schedule he mostly complains about the grayness of everything. Everything is painted gray. His biggest source of joy was going to the dentist where they had a teal chair - the first colorful thing he had seen since his arrival. I write him that we will ban gray from our home and our lives when he is released. We will live in a world of color.
No comments:
Post a Comment