Life on Death Row

I never did like takin' responsibility for my mistakes. Always been a problem I've had and its worse because I've made a lot of 'em. It takes a lot of mistakes to end up in the kinds of situations I've been in. You don't just wake up one morning with a son on death row. There's a whole mess of mistakes that you gotta make to put yourself in a situation like that.

First mistake I made, I can admit now, was getting pregnant when I was still really a kid by a man I didn't even know. Sweet Lord, how many times have I thought back on that night and wished I'd done something different? I've always blamed him for everything, older man swooping in on a high schooler at a football game and...well I am not going to blame him for that anymore. My mama taught me about condoms. I knew what I was doing and, more importantly, what I wasn't doing. I just couldn't see that at the time...I put all my anger on that man. And that's what led to my next mistake. I remember bein' in that hospital, my new baby boy in my arms and hearing that man, the only man I'd ever been with at that point, say that boy wasn't his. Say he was leavin'. And instead of doing what I shoulda done, and told him I'd see his ass in court, I told him I didn't want his goddamn help anyway. Let my anger make another mistake for me. Told him to fuck off with whatever money he had. Didn't need him or his little pecker anyway. So he left and I never heard from him again. Never missed him. Always missed his money.

Years passed and those two mistakes got me making new ones. I can't even remember them all. Dropping out of school because I couldn't take care of the boy and my school work at the same time. Getting fired or quitting more jobs than I could count because I was always so goddamned angry at the world on account of how I turned out. Leaving my boy alone, by himself, when he was too little for that because I needed to work so I could take care of him. I could never focus entirely on the things he needed or do the things that a mother was supposed to do. I always wanted to, but it always just seemed to slip away from me. I couldn't never quite figure everything out. I built a bad life for myself and I gave a worse life to my son. I was a kid, I was stupid, I didn't know any better. But I still could of done better if I'd tried harder...I know now that I could've. But I didn't. It took a long goddamned time for me grow up and so my son never had no chance to grow up right himself.

But ain't none of this mean that my boy, my Tyler, was a mistake. I don't want to make anyone think that. I ain't ashamed to say that that boy is mine. Bringing that boy into the world was the one right thing I did in my whole life. I never did right by him after that. The world did worse by him. But I have always loved my son with all my heart, even if I wasn't ever able to do the right things with that love. Ever since his daddy left me in that hospital bed, he's been the only man in my life. Well...the only permanent man in my life. Maybe that was also a mistake...

Tyler made mistakes too. I can accept that now. I couldn't for a long time. I refused to believe...I wanted to think that my sweet boy couldn't do the things they said he done. But I can see now, that Tyler wasn't ever no angel. I shaped him that way with my own mistakes and my never being around. But that ain't no excuse.

Trevor walked into the convenience store at 18 with that older boy, and he was carrying a gun. He admitted that to me later and I didn't believe it. I believe it now. He went in and he intended to steal from that store. There is no question in my mind about that now. That was a mistake. That was a big mistake and Tyler and I have both paid for the mistake, and we should. But Trevor ain't never pulled the trigger on his gun. Even the policeman said at the trial that Trevor never wanted to kill anyone. He was just intended to rob the place. But the clerk put his hands under the table and Trevor's older friend...he killed that clerk. I seen the surveillance video. And the clerk died.

Judge told the jury later that it didn't matter if Tyler pulled the trigger. Didn't matter if he never intended to pull the trigger. Judge said that if Tyler meant to rob that place, that he brought a gun and was willing to use it, then he didn't care if that clerk died. He was...indifferent. And so he was just as responsible as if he'd killed the guy himself. That never made any sense to me. Judge never got me to understand. Tyler wanted money...he didn't want anyone to die. But the Jury did what the Judge said. They sentenced my boy to die for murder.

Tyler's friend, the boy who actually done the killing, he got 60 years to life at his trial. And I think that pushed Tyler into making more mistakes. He saw the boy who shot get a chance to leave and it made him angry. Made him fire the lawyer that the government hired for him. And then he wouldn't let me hire another lawyer, said they were all shady and just looked out for themselves. We didn't have enough money to get good lawyers, that's what Tyler said. So he was going to take care of everything on his own, prove he didn't deserve to be in prison. Well, Tyler ain't never read too good. That's my fault, I never did read to him. I wasn't ever any good either, to be honest. He got confused about the laws and he started missing deadlines. All the sudden, Judges start telling him he missed his chance for most of his appeals. Some guys stay on death row for decades. But at only 25, my boy had a date set with a poison needle.

Sweet Jesus have mercy on me.

I can't tell you what those seven years were like. Between the time when the police come round my house to tell me that my boy'd been arrested to when they called me to tell me that a date was set for the execution. It felt like every day I got broken again. Every time I woke up, it was like I was learnin' it again for the first time. Wasn't a single day in seven years that I didn't cry. That's the truth. But it wasn't always from sadness. Lots of times, I was crying from anger. Anger at my boy's daddy, angry at my parents for dying before I got pregnant, angry at the police, angry at that other boy, angry at the judge, the jury, and the law. And angry at Tyler too. I was so angry at him for being in jail. For leaving me alone without anyone. For getting ready to die while I was still here...

But other than the anger I felt about...everything in the world, something else strange happened over those seven years. After the first shock...it slowly started to become normal in a way. I had to live my life in those years too. I didn't want to but there weren't no choice in the matter. I had to keep eating and drinking and breathing... Even crying got to feel like a normal part of my day. I even moved to a new town (about a hundred miles closer to Tyler's prison) and got a job, putting down roots, I guess. I didn't feel comfortable in my hometown anymore. Everyone knew who I was. I didn't have an exotic name or nothing and nobody in my new town knew that Dani Leigh Jessup was the mother of Tyler Baines Jessup, the convicted murder. Hell, I was young to have a grown son and looked younger. I'd feel guilty though, like I was lying about who I was or that I was pretending that Tyler wasn't my boy...or just guilty because I was still living. Wasn't anything to do about that but visit Tyler every chance I got. And I did. After a while, it just seemed like that was the way things were going to be. I could deal with it. It wasn't a good life but you can get used to anything. I tricked myself into thinking that it would just go on like that forever.

And then the date was set and that whole thing up and vanished. They were going to kill my boy. And ain't nothing about that normal. The whole fake life I'd made for myself in my new town seemed to fall apart on me. The whole reason I woke up and went to work every morning was so I could afford a place to stay and a car to drive to the prison. When they took my Tyler away...why would I be doing anything?

I guess that was why I wasn't really myself that last time I went to see him. To visit Tyler in prison. It was a couple of weeks after they announced the execution date and just a short time before the date itself. I was going to be allowed to be there...on the day that it happened. I would get to spend the last day of my son's life with him. But this was supposed to be my last visit with him when he still had days to look forward to. The last one that wouldn't be taken up with priests and lawyers and the like. And I was jumbled mess, to tell you the truth. I barely slept the night before. I'd call off sick from work for a week and I don't even remember doing nothing that week, except for walking around in a fog. I can't even remember the drive there. All I could think of, over and over again, was that they were going to kill my boy because I didn't raise him right.

Ain't no one ever seriously think that Tyler was dangerous. I mean he was on Death Row so they kept him alone in that part of the prison and he had told me in the past that he had a cell all to himself. But he wasn't a danger to others. And they must've known he wasn't no danger to me. If there was one thing everyone who met Tyler Jessup knew, it was that he loved his mama. Even if she didn't deserve it. On top of that, I guess the guards kind of lightened up on a guy when his date was set. I mean with a more violent guy, they might worry because he didn't have nothing to lose no more. But, you know, mostly they realized that a guy was at the end of his rope and they didn't need to do nothing more to fuck with him than the universe was already doing. So that day, when I went to the prison, guard I knew said they'd be doing something special. Usually, when I met Tyler, I went to one of them normal prison meeting rooms. The kind with glass separating us, where we'd sit and talk quietly. But today, they told me, because it would really be his last chance to be with me, they set up a room for us. Just a little break room. White painted cinder blocks, a table, no windows. A guard would be at the door in case I needed anything. But they didn't think there'd be a problem. I'd be alone, in a room, with my son with no barrier for the first time in...forever.

Normally, the idea of seeing my Tyler for real would have been just wonderful. I had dreams about bringing him home and just sitting on the couch and watching him while he sat. But this time, I mean, I knew why they were doing it. A little mercy for a mother who was about to lose her only child. That was the long and the short of it. I can't describe how much I needed the pity those guards showed me, or how terrible that pity made me feel.

Still, the last time we'd talked on the phone, Tyler'd made me promise that when I saw him the next time that I wouldn't cry. I always cried. Every time I saw him. Every time we spoke, I cried. But Tyler said that he didn't want to see that. He said he wanted to remember a happy time with me the last time. He wanted me to...remember him being happy. And so when the guard entered the little cinderblock room and Tyler walked on in after him, I sucked in my breath hard and bit my lip. I could feel the tears in my eyes, stinging and itching, but I fought them off. I fought them off and I looked at Tyler.

He looked different than I remembered him. It was so strange to see his full body without any glass in between us. It was like seeing someone from TV live and in person for the first time. Tyler was tall, maybe six two or so. But built like a bean sprout, like my own daddy'd been. His arms and legs were long and spindly. He walked with his shoulder stooped slightly. His face was thin and his cheeks was real sunken in. His hair was shaved down next to nothing and it made his big ears look even bigger. He still had them soft brown eyes I could remember forever.

"Hey mama," he said when he stepped into the door. I felt my breath catch in my throat and I nodded to him.

"Alright ma'am," the guard said as he began to unshackle my son, "I am going to leave you be. You take your time, just remember that visiting ends at 3:30. You need something, knock on the door and I will come in." And with that, he turned and closed the black door behind him. I heard it lock. I was alone with my son.

I was sitting at the table in the middle of the room, looking at him. Tyler stood in front of the door, looking all nervous over in my direction. Neither of us said anything or moved for a long time. I didn't know what to do or what to say. I couldn't believe how good it felt to actually be in this same room with him. I couldn't believe how terrible it felt to know the reason why it was happening.

"How are you doing, mama?" Tyler asked and I felt my stomach dropped down into my knees. Everything my boy was facing and the first thing he wanted to know was about me. I stood up from my chair and walked across the room. It was all I could do to keep myself from running. I crossed the distance between us in second and wrapped my arms around my boy. I squeezed him so tight that I heard him made a sort of "oof" noise. But then I felt his arms wrap around me too. And I stood there, hugging my son for the first time in years.

That was the most bittersweet moment of my entire life. I could feel my son's hands on my back, his arms at my side. I could feel his chest against my cheek and I could smell the soap under his prison jumpsuit. He was there, in the flesh. And I got to hold him like I'd always done when he was little. And now he could hold me back. And that had been the one thing I'd always wanted to do, all these past seven years. Was to hold him and let him know that I was still his mama.

But I could feel the tension in him too. I could sense the weight that he was carrying in his shoulders. It sounds horrible...and it was...but I could feel death sitting on top of him. It sort of dripped out of him like sweat from his skin. I could smell it, underneath of the soap. It was heavy and thick and it made my throat feel tight. I had this feeling come over me when I sensed it. A feeling I hadn't had since I was a little girl and I saw them lay my daddy out in a pine box. The feeling that the body of the person I loved was right there in front of me but that the person was somehow gone.

I shuddered and I pulled away from the hug. I looked up at my son's brown eyes...just to make sure that he was really there. He was. For a little while longer.

"I love you, Tyler," I said, just whispering.

"I love you too, mama," he said. I hugged him again, just because I could. It was different this time. I don't know...it didn't have that not-real feeling about it this time. We broke the hug entirely and I took him by the hand and led him over to the table in the middle of the room. We sat down facing one another. We were quiet again for a long time. I was just looking over him. Seeing how much he'd aged in just a couple years. He was a man now. But a broken man. My heart ached for him.

"How're you feeling?" I asked finally. I knew what he'd do before he did it. He shrugged.

"Same old, same old," he said. What he always when I asked him. We talked a little then, like we normally did. I told him about the people at work and about the trouble I had with my landlord. He told me about what he was reading and the things he was thinking about it. Usually, when I visited, that was all we got a chance to say. It was so hard to talk about anything else. Anything real would just make it impossible. But that day, no one came and interrupted us. No one told us that we was out of time. And after a while, there was no more small talk to make. And we got quiet again.

"I'm sorry mama," Tyler said after a long time. I had been looking down at my fingers on the table and my head shot up quick. Tyler was looking at his own hands, his neck bent forward far.

"What're you sorry about?" I asked, "Not your fault its quiet. I should be the one bringing in stories..."

'No mama, not that," Tyler said, looking up. I know my jaw dropped open. I ain't seen it in years, but Tyler's eyes was red and there were tears in them. Not dripping down, just settling there. Tyler never cried. Not from the time he was a little boy. Lawyer told me that he thinks that was part of the reason he got such a rough time. Jury thought he was hard. But now I saw him and I could barely understand it.

"Tyler, I don't want you to be sorry," I said, my voice croaking. Tyler shook his head violently.

"I'm sorry about what I did," he said, "I really am mama. I never wanted no body to get hurt. That's the truth. Boyd, he told me that he didn't even have any bullets in the gun... but that don't matter. What I did do was bad enough and that is the truth. I am sorry that I did that. I am sorry about that man that got killed. I wish every day I could take it back. I play that moment over in my head every minute of every day and I wish I could stop Boyd. But I didn't. I am sorry. And I am sorry for you mama. You don't deserve this," he said, the tears, for the first time, streaking down his cheek. He waved his arms around the room.

"Honey..." I started.

"I am a man now. I should be having a job and giving you grandkids. I'm your only son and I let you down mama. And I so sorry," he said.

"Don't you ever apologize to me Tyler Jessup," I said, my voice coming out firmly. I didn't even intend to speak. It was the voice of my motherhood, talking without me, "I didn't even want no son but you. And I wanted you good or bad. Don't you apologize to me or wish you were a different man. You're my son. And I love you," I said. Tyler rubbed his hands through his short hair and went quiet again. I felt my heart thrumming and my head felt light. How could he think such a thing?

"You don't worry about me. I will be okay," I said to him after another pause, this one shorter. Then I spoke more quietly, "I am only sorry about you. You're right. You should have a job and you should have a wife and you should have children. You deserve those things, Tyler. I wish I could give them to you...but I can't," I said. Tyler shrugged.

"I don't even really understand that life, mama. I never really knew what it was. Even when I was little, I'd see kids with their brothers and sisters and their pets and their lives...and it never made any sense. I couldn't ever see myself there. How can I miss out on something, when I don't even know what it is? I just know those things are important to you," Tyler voice was cracked and defeated while he spoke.

I could tell by the way he said it that Tyler meant it. I know he wasn't trying to hurt me then. He didn't say it just to make my stomach knot up or just to make my tongue go dry. But that is what happened. I felt like he'd hit me, I almost doubled over holding my stomach. What kind of boy doesn't know what it is like to have a real family? What kind of boy can go through his whole life and not imagine himself having a home and being happy? Tyler was just being honest. He couldn't help it. That was my fault.

That, I guess, is when I really realized it. That's when is topped thinking about the convenience store, and the law, and the judge, and the jury, and the lawyers. Hell, that is when I really stopped thinking about Tyler. That's when I stopped thinking about all the terrible things this world has done to me. And I thought about the things that I done. The things I was responsible for. I looked across the table at my son, at his red, tired eyes and his bony frame... and I realized that this was what I'd done with my life. I got pregnant early, I refused help, I went out with my friends and left my son alone, I smoked and drank and fucked strangers...I had put all of this wrong out into the world and it had turned around and come back on me.