I think reflection is essential to prosperity. Going through life trying to forget the past
can be stressful. Personally, I choose
to embrace the past. All memories – good
and bad – play a part in preparing me today, for what I am to become in the
future. When I arrived on death row in
July of 1997, the year 2018 was not a future I expected to see.
I have spent the last two decades battling my daily
frustrations and conquering the occasional defeatist mentality that swirls
around discouraged beings like a tornado raising the proverbial sands of
disruption. Within my first month of
being the latest addition to North Carolina’s death row population, I learned
that exercise could be a successful method of neutralizing the often-overwhelming
gloom of condemnation.
Dee-Cee was an old-timer who recruited me as a workout
partner when I was 29 years of age, and mad as hell about the outcome of my
trial. He would refer to me as ‘Young
Philly’ at a time when the ongoing thoughts of my pending execution gave me
every reason to lash out at anyone attempting to close the proximity between my
existence and their own.
He often stressed the word, ‘Young’ when he addressed
me. At first I thought this was his way of
‘sonnin’ me. You know, play me like a
lower case version in the red jumpsuit hierarchy. I most definitely wasn’t feeling that
shit! But, before any physical
confrontation ensued, Dee-Cee revealed what he saw in me, while he shuffled a
deck of cards at the dayroom table.
His acknowledgement of me being young was simply a reminder
that I had a lot of living to do.
“You’ve got to be able to deal with the cards you have been dealt,
before you can begin to change your circumstance. This is death row, lil’ bruh. So, you ain’t got a lot of time for
nothing. You either deal or die.” His
sneer revealed a rotten tooth.
He flipped an ace, a queen, and back-to-back 5’s. I was still processing the jewels he just
dropped on me when he said, “That’s 35.
Let’s get it in.” He dropped to the floor and commenced to do
push-ups. Now, I took great pride in
being an athlete, but I never had to do more than 25 push-ups in one
stretch. All the same, I wasn’t about to
let this old-timer shine on me, either.
After a few sets, I was burning out and he was just getting
started. He just kept flipping these
aces, kings, queens and jacks as if their denominations were a direct challenge
of his will to live. I just shook my
head as I reluctantly assumed the push-up position. “You gotta go with the cards, Young
Philly. Go with the cards.” The rotten tooth appeared again.
As we went through the deck of cards, I learned that a North
Carolina jury sentenced Dee-Cee to death when I was no more than a junior in
high school. Damn! He was one of the first cats to break down
the appeals process and the importance of having things filed on time. This brand of guidance made me somewhat
optimistic about my case, under appeal, because I knew I wasn’t guilty of the
crime I was convicted of. However, I was
still a virgin to state sanctioned executions.
Dee-Cee wasn’t my best friend, but he was definitely someone
I spoke with on a daily basis. Law,
sports, or women, the subject matter would vary. I had grown accustomed to him being
around. Then, he was given an execution
date in mid-December of 1997. It was
hard for me to talk to him about who would win the Super Bowl, knowing he
wouldn’t get the chance to see it.
He kept telling me he wouldn’t be executed. He said the state’s protocol was to give him
a date, due to his attorney missing a filing deadline. I heard him say this so many times I began to
believe he was in deep denial about his fate.
I could feel the pressure, but Dee-Cee appeared to be cool as a fan.
The day before his scheduled execution, several officers
came into D-block – escorted Dee-Cee to his cell. They commenced to packing up his personal property,
as I stood by my bunk feeling violated and helpless. The officers were expressionless as they
stowed his photo albums and transcripts.
I remember feeling like I needed to do something, but everyone followed
Dee-Cee’s lead to remain at ease.
His vocal pitch was smooth as butter when he handed me an
unopened deck of cards and an American Heritage dictionary. “You can keep the cards, but I just need you
to hold onto this dictionary til I get back.”
I was speechless. I
concluded that his will to live distorted his ability to assess what was
actually taking place. “They’re taking
you to the chamber Dee-Cee. Ain’t no
coming back!” I wondered if I would be
as clueless when it was my time to ‘take the walk.’
Even though I really needed a dictionary, I was more than
happy to give it back to Dee-Cee the following evening. It turns out; the old-timer knew what he was
talking about. We had some laughs that
would bring a smile to the face of an undertaker. Our morbid humor was complemented by the
sharing of some ‘slammin’ egg fired rice he brought back to D-block; his ‘last
meal.’
Dee-Cee eventually got off of death row and is currently
serving a life sentence. As for me, I
still have that deck of cards. A symbol
of what I’ve experienced and a reflection that makes me a much better Mann. I haven’t stopped writing since December of
1997. And, I can do at least 50 push-ups
in one stretch.
Still Livin,’
MannofStat
Copyright © 2018 by Leroy Elwood Mann
