Weapon of Choice
I thought it’s highly appropriate to end my year on Medium on a positive note, since I’m an optimist by nature and necessity. Necessity because we need to believe in that light at the end of the tunnel to recognize it. And because it gives us a reason to get out of bed every morning instead of wasting away your life in sleep. There’ll be plenty of time for that once you’re dead. No one wakes up from that kind of sleep unless you’re one of those that wake up in the morgue because whoever pronounced you dead isn’t particularly good at his job.
Jarvis Jay Masters is the embodiment of that light at the end of the tunnel. He spent almost his entire adult life in American prisons and ended up on death row for a crime he says he didn’t commit. There’s a lot of voices supporting him from all sides, including prominent figures like Oprah Winfrey who put his memoir That Bird Has My Wings on her Book Club’s reading list. The growing initiative to reconsider his pleas and new evidence piling up are gaining public momentum and could indeed open the door to freedom for him.
It’s one of those stories that make you believe in happy endings again since it’s nothing short of that for someone like Masters, who’s been locked away for so long he’d probably find it hard to navigate a changed world ruled by technology, social media and our way of life. However crucial things that define us change very slowly if at all: values, beliefs and prejudices. It means the world which we now inhabit is merely a shell for the core that’s as resistant to significant changes as ever.
Just like Morgan Freeman’s Ellis Redding from The Shawshank Redemption he might face similar challenges if his feet get to step beyond the prison gate in the end. In this sense, he could find consolation in the fact that the essence of human experience didn’t change a bit. It takes a lot to break our souls beyond repair.
We learned that from Jewish experiences in the Holocaust where abhorrent piles of dead bodies in places like Auschwitz resembled monumental sculptures of Louise Bourgeois. Now that he’s caught a place in the spotlight, I’d dare to say that Jarvis Jay Masters won’t be leaving death row in the box after all. If there’s one thing I learned is that life will be much easier on you once you stop being so hard on yourself. Maybe the jury will be easier on him next time too.
Whatever he did, he proved he’s a gentle soul who can’t be restrained by bars and walls. It’s encouraging for those of us who don’t see just how lucky we are because we can come and go as we please, exposed to the full experience of everyday life like grocery shopping, jogging, hanging out at bars or staying in, lounging on a sofa with a cup of cocoa and a good book.
We shouldn’t treat it as a given because it isn’t. Not for people like Masters. Yet, if you’re going to be lounging with a book next time, reading his memoir might be a good idea. However self-helpish it might sound, it’s only our bodies that can be put in solitary confinement. Everything else is up to us and the ability to grow wings when we need them the most, especially when it looks like a mission impossible.
Hinko Gottlieb is a Croatian author that experienced the horrors of World War II in Europe and eventually managed to escape abroad. He died in Tel Aviv in 1948 where was buried in the Avenue of Authors. His biography reads like an exciting movie script: deported with his wife to Austria, lost two sons and acted as comfort and spiritual guidance for his fellow prisoners.
The manuscript of his novel The Key To the Big Door perished in the rough and tumble of the war so he wrote it again from memory. It was published in New York in 1947. The recent Croatian edition of the book might actually be my favourite title of 2022. It’s a story taking place in a single prison cell during the war when a new cellmate is introduced to others. They are rather archetypes than full-fledged people in the manner of the allegorical Dance of the Dead.
The new guy seems to be unfazed by his plight and the depressing conditions of their confinement. Once they find out why that is everything changes in the most surprising way with hints he’s endowed with some sort of supernatural powers you’d rather expect behind Lewis Carroll’s Looking glass. The story is a wonderful allegory of the banality of greed which inevitably led his cellmates behind bars. Masters could also fit into Gottlieb’s group of outcasts led by a mysterious charismatic who can pull a piano or a dinner from his pockets just for the fun of it.
In a similar way, the American inmate represents a type of person that doesn’t waste his time on feeling sorry for himself but finds a new source of solace in Buddhism. His case is a strong reminder of the main function of human spirituality: a vehicle for hope and strength. You could say it’s his weapon of choice to keep up the fight that someone else would have given up already. But that would be the easy way out. An excuse to descend into violence and indifference to human suffering.
A more demanding but rewarding route would be to follow the example of this man who must be by now slowly losing memory of his days outside, before it all fell apart. He’s not afraid to admit to his own part in it, but he’s fighting to rectify supposedly unfounded accusations against him. This is the least we owe to him. Because United States take pride in their innocent-until-proven-guilty principle. His experience with the American judicial system is an example of why that’s sometimes true only on paper and not exactly universally warranted.
Is this too late for him? It’s never too late for things like those he’s been missing out on for so long. I’m conviced social media is the least of his needs right now. He needs real-life interaction in a time where many choose a postponed experience instead of enjoying the moment. Like those that take endless selfies in Rome or Paris instead of taking in smells and colors of the city that can’t possibly be matched by what’s captured on the screens of their smartphones. Sometimes a park bench is more than enough. His imagination is already capable of transporting his mind to places that his feet might never reach. I don’t think many are capable of it, primarily because they can afford not to be. That’s what travel is for. Believe it or not, it’s a privilege and not a prerogative. We’ve just grown so spoilt that we believe to be entitled to everything.
The death row inmate on the brink of freedom must be more aware of this than most of us. Just like everyone else I have certain wishes for the new year but I’m no Dalai Lama. If I were I’d join the campaign for his release. The most I can do is signing a petition and spread the word. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Jarvis Masters is an innocent man. A fly that got caught in the wrong spiderweb.
Although flies are not bees, they deserve an equal opportunity to roam free. Unlike bees, they’re not meant to provide food for us and they can’t protect themselves with stings. Maybe that’s why they’re treated as disposable. The life of the man who turned into a symbol of resistance to a system that erodes the dignity of those deemed to die inside should not be disposable.
I never met him yet I applaud his resilience and purpose he managed to find in a place where it easily disappears. After all, he never lost access to the most powerful weapon of all: the ability to smile. It melts the toughest heart and brightens the darkest night. Those untouched by it wouldn’t survive solitary confinement because their own hearts are as welcoming as it anyway. And it’s only the fact that they’re walking free that keeps them from descending into claustrophobic madness of a prison cell. The way they walk, talk or behave. It’s a symptom of derangement controlled only by a sense of purpose projected on the needs of others.
While it’s true that we all need each other in one way or the other, we’re more than just a vessel for someone else’s needs. In the meantime, an another inmate came forward with a confession to the crime in question. So let’s make an exception this one time. It’s really a matter of life and death for a man whose wings are fueled by the wind created by those who refuse to give up hope in a happy ending for him and others sharing his fate, waiting their turn for the lethal injection.
There must be a better way to deal with our sins. It doesn’t mean there are none who really deserve a place in death’s waiting room in San Quentin. But you can only die once. And once you do, you’re dead. Once they put you in that box, it’s safe to say there’s no time for second chances. Jarvis Masters certainly deserves one. It’s impossible to tell what might have become of his life had he been free. But there’s still time for a fulfilling future and the wisdom acquired inside might have had evaded him in a different reality. That’s the beautiful absurdity of life. Without darkness we wouldn’t appreciate the sun.
