SENTENCING

My Dad’s sentencing was this last Monday, April 22nd.

Although he told me what he thought the result was going to be, and we had discussed what his attorney was going for in the plea agreement, I hadn’t really processed what that looked like or that it would be a real number. Putting a number on life lived or missed is a touchy subject within my mind.

Time is weird because it goes by so fast, yet putting a number on someone being gone makes it feel like it’s ticking slow. Stories in the news about people getting such lenient consequences despite the action, led me to believe that what he is dealing with wasn’t going to be so bad. But, with the federal government and system, it all works a little differently than we are used to hearing about with state cases.

Going into the city by myself, parking, and walking up to the federal courthouse to attend his sentencing left me feeling nothing short of anxious and scared. I don’t get scared very often, but the city is intimidating, and so is the federal court system.

It wasn’t out of fear for my dad and the position he’s in; I know he’s got himself covered one way or another. I guess it was just fear of my own emotions.

Through court, the back and fourth between the judge and the government attorney, and then the judge and my dad’s defense, I was still feeling confident (and just on the edge over the lingering anxiety from the parking garage and walking in downtown Denver, for this small town girl).

The back and forth went on for about 45 minutes, and then my dad had something to say.

At this point (and honestly before he even walked into the court room) the judge had already made up his mind on what was going to be done. And to be transparent, I have so much respect for him. He was fair in his thinking, wise, and stoic in a sense. Being that this is my first experience with a federal judge, I didn’t know what to expect, but I was impressed. The kindness presented to my dad was not what I had envisioned for the day. The judge told him essentially, nothing you say is going to hurt you, and you don’t have to say anything, but if you want to I will listen.

A clip of what my dad said is at the top here. For a “drug dealing, gun slinging, addict” he sure does impress me with the ideas he holds, open-mindedness, and faith. After all, addicts are just people, too.

Since incarceration, my dad has been growing a pretty stealthy beard. With age it is grey, but in the last 18 months it has grown long. He went bald at the ripe age of about 20, so he has been shaving his head clean bald for mostly all of my life.

So just picture it, stalky, shiny bald, big grey beard, chained white man walks into a court room… What would most immediately jump to the conclusion of?

He said a lot of good things, but in the closing of his presentation he talked about my grandma telling him he needed to clean up his face before this appearance. She didn’t think the facial hair was going to be a good look for her imprisoned son. But he had something else in mind.

He told the judge, “I didn’t shave my beard. Not because I wanted you to think I am a biker, or some crazy convict, but because I wanted to resemble Moses both in image and actions, and I want to lead me and my people away from the slavery to addiction that we have.”

Goosebumps and chills filled my body.

He closed with, “I am ready to move forward in this process and accept full responsibility for my actions.” Which is something my dad has never had an issue with. He knows when he has done wrong and will accept whatever comes with that.

Then the judge got down to the numbers. He started with “5 years supervised probation”, and I’m thinking to myself, “Hell yes.” Recovery, church, dinners, work, life. All of that can be done within the parameters of probation.

And in the next slew of sentences, the judge said, “the minimum sentence for the charges is 120 months.” I’m sitting there trying to do math and thinking still, “Oh, that’s not that long, no big deal.”

“But given the nature of the situation, the minimum doesn’t sit right with me. My decision is 132 months.”

Instantly tears ran over my face. As I realized how long that many months is and converted it into years, my vision for my life of the next 10 years flashed in my mind. Hopefully marriage, children, a house and land, horses, cattle, success in my businesses, helping cowboys across the west to be recovered. All of this going through my mind before the judge even finished his thoughts.

My grandma has voiced that she just wants to see her son free before she dies.

But I just want to see my dad free while I’m living.

I snapped out of my imagination as the US Marshals got my dad up and walked him out of the room. Him and us saying goodbye and I love you as many times as we could.

The next 20 or so minutes were a blur. Outside, my dad’s attorney walked up to me as I’m crying on the street corner and asked if she could hug me. I word vomited what I had been thinking about through the sentencing to her and she just embraced me. I had never spoken to this woman in my life.

I do my best to turn this around into a positive situation. My dad is sober. My dad is growing so much in his faith, and becoming the spiritual leader that I’ve needed and want for my future. My dad is working on himself. My dad is so positive and goal driven. My dad is alive.

He gave this all up to God. He laid his life in his hands and in his words, “I have put it all in God’s hands, and I’m confident that whatever happens will get me where I need to be to become that better person. I have prayed and asked for God’s mercy and grace, and am confident in receiving that. Your decision today is an extension of God’s mercy and grace.”

As I have spent the last couple of years praying to be placed on my path given from God, I also have confidence that this is part of it. I know that in order to recover, in order for him to have the opportunity to find God, in order for him to be the dad that I have been missing for the last 12 or more years of my life, this had to happen.

I don’t know how I feel about prison. I don’t know how I feel about the decisions, time, or structure. But I do know that God’s plan works the way it is supposed to. And that He is giving my dad what he needs with what we have to work with in the realm of humanity.

Here’s to my dad’s next chapter. Actually, a whole new book.