Prison Reform
“My dad couldn’t handle me. My mother was an alcoholic so he raised us on his own. I burned our house to the ground when I was four years old. I didn’t like my brother’s stuffed animal, so I set it on fire. The next year I punched my dad in the face. I threw a desk at my teacher in fifth grade. I ran away when I was twelve. My dad tried everything. He took me to psychologists. They diagnosed me with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, so they put me on medication. But it didn’t help much. Nobody could control me. They’d actually have to hold me down when I went into a rage. Dad could never get a point across because if he raised his voice, I’d explode. He’d try to give me incentives. He’d say things like: ‘If you do good in school, I’ll bring you to a ball game.’ He’d follow the school bus to make sure I didn’t skip, but then I’d just run out the back exit. Neither of my brothers ever got in trouble. It was just me. I’ve gotten multiple assault charges. I fight. That’s what I do. I feel like my head is going to burst and I see stars and I snap. My dad comes to visit about once a month, and we talk things over, just like we’re doing now. And he asks me all the time, ‘What else could I have done?’ I tell him: ‘Nothing. You did everything you could.’”
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