Serving Life is a play written by several NC death row prisoners who have contributed monologues to the Hidden Voices nonprofit (www.hiddenvoices.org) over a period of 18 months. When we began there was no real understanding of what, exactly, we were writing for only that we were writing responses to prompts.
 
The prompts were not especially difficult and many of the essays I submitted are also blogposts on beyondsteeldoors.com or featured on prisonwriters.com. Much of what I did turn in was never used, , but the writing that made the cut builds a single facet amongst many in the ugly picture of capital punishment and mass incarceration. I am proud and glad my contributions help move this story along in the direction all of my writing is intended to go – that of criminal justice reform.
 
Serving Life journeys through the early years of several different childhoods and relates to the universal problems contributing to mass incarceration. From abusive, disruptive and delinquent childhoods to misguided cultural values learned in poor minority communities, this play navigates the school-to-prison pipeline and exposes cultural myths about death row. It also reveals many of the negative influences leading to our poor decisions and life choices.
 
There was significant rehabilitative value in writing this play and it helped all of us better understand how some of us got to death row. This provides a blueprint for criminal justice reform and the advocacy of programs within the system, a map that needs to be shared with the general public. This play humanizes death row prisoners and demonstrates why communities must invest in their young as early as possible to reduce the risk of incarceration.
 
It is vital community leaders with a vested interest in criminal justice reform witness a performance of Serving Life. The drama class production of Twelve Angry Men displayed our ability to undertake a project more important than our own individual interests. This is especially true of Serving Life because it can benefit all of death row and Central Prison as it relates to the rest of the prison system in North Carolina. While Twelve Angry Men was central to the conversation on capital punishment 60 years ago, Serving Life is essential to evolving what is now a national conversation – a dialogue designed to teach, enlighten, and provoke thoughts of effective and humane justice.
 
Where can you see Serving Life? Most recently the play has been performed at a Hidden Voices fundraiser, Songs in the Key of Justice, held at the Historic Murphy School, in Durham, NC. It has also been show at “The Pit” across from the UNC Chapel Hill dining hall. Future performances should be requested at Hidden Voices.org .
 
So far the response has been tremendous. An article in the Daily Tar Heel stated “for once the Pit was silent.” One audience member at the Songs in the Key of Justice fundraiser commented:
 
“Thank you so much for sharing your stories with us. This country is not a place where everyone gets an equal chance in life, and I hate that. This country was built on injustice and oppression. And in your stories I hear the echoes of the reality that America cares more about some lives than others. I want to declare and affirm that despite prison walls, YOUR LIFE MATTERS. You are each amazing and beloved men, and I hope that you can know and feel that truth in the depth of your souls. Thank you again.”
When writing about my experiences as a troubled teen and life in prison over the last 18 years, it never occurred to me that such an outpouring of love could come from any community. I realize now that communication and the facilitation of our stories to the general public was necessary to changing the narrative told about those of us on death row. Up to this point, and even afterward, there is the overwhelming image of the people on death row at their worst. Serving Life shows we’re all human beings even though some of us make decisions that really impact others. In this case it seems we’ve finally been able to do some good.
 
NOTE: It may help to know the people who performed Serving Life at UNC Chapel Hill and the Historic Murphey School were:
 
Jade Arnold: attended UNC Wilmington, became a theater major and graduated with his BA in Fine Arts. He recently directed the Mountaintop for Justice Theatre Project.
 
Phillip Bernard Smith: performed in Don’t Bother Me, I Can’t Cope, An African Odyssey; and as the character Rashard in The Meeting, performing with the founder of National Black Theater Festival, the late Larry Leon Hamlin.
 
Estes Tarver: award winning actor, director, writer and producer who is currently recurring on Season 2 of “Under the Dome” on CBS as Tom Tilden.
 
John Flynn: Nashville staff-writer, social justice activist and nationally acclaimed singer-songwriter.

You don’t have to compete; others will take your place. Yet, when you sit back and remark upon their failures try to refrain from thinking “I could do better.” There are many could-bes and may-have-beens laying amongst the bones of history, people who didn’t care enough to try and were ground to dust beneath the heels of time.

“This isn’t a game!” you said. “How dare you reach above your place. Who do you think you are?” Your lack of concern or interest in resisting now sounds suspiciously envious of those who sacrifice to win. You lack the know-how and replace it with the hatred of defeat.

There is a simple solution to the problem, one you need to be re-acquainted with any time your thoughts stray. Keep your eyes on the prize. Throw your being into every task without thought for impossibility. You don’t have to understand now, that will come later as experience opens your mind and your humanity evolves.

Life is competition my friends, the only one that matters, and there will always be obstacles in the way of your happiness. There will always be naysayers and doomsdayers, chains to constrict, and walls to obstruct. You will be assaulted with nevers, can’t, impossibles, and it’s already-been-done. Ignore it all and set mind and energy to the task at hand.

Keep your eyes on the prize and everything will fall into place. Your progress may be incremental and slow, but eventually effort is rewarded with an increase in awareness of ability. Every step is purchase gained – a demonstration of desire, dedication, and drive. The opponent, you might ask. “Who and what am I fighting against?”

You’re fighting against anything that thwarts your goals, anyone who stretches your time, any place that limits your imagination. The enemy is everywhere, and can take many forms, but the most dangerous and insidious resides in the mirror.

The prize does not define you any more than the journey or its obstacles. Your will does. The prize then must be worthy if it means using every ounce of effort to achieve it. So it bears remembering one factor determines the next minute, hour and day until a string of years have been fashioned into a life. Your will. There is a very good reason why it’s free.

1.       Silence – peace and quiet and absolute stillness.

2.       A woman’s touch, female companionship, sex, etc.

3.       Eating what I want – curried chicken, chutney, BBQ pork ribs, lemon merengue

4.       Going to the gym – lifting weights!

5.       Swimming – pools, lakes, ponds, and the ocean, any ocean!

6.       Raising a family – having children, wife, in-laws and all that it entails

7.       The woods and wildlife, camping and hiking

8.       Being connected to and able to visit with my family

9.       Concerts – indoor or outdoor

10.   Plays, ballets and similar stage performances

11.   Normal clothes – pants, maybe even a tie and button down shirt

12.   Snow and real cold weather

13.   Skiing –downhill only!

14.   Going outside at night and seeing the stars

15.   Walking in the snow

16.   Walking in the rain

17.   Working for a paycheck

18.   Libraries –especially the hush between the bookshelves

19.   Driving – or riding in a car

20.   Walking in a straight line for more than a few hundred yards

21.   Not being completely dependent on other people

22.   Listening to whatever music I want without suffering through commercials

23.   Using a computer – Google must be amazing, along with everything else that was developed after 1997!

24.   Using a telephone – which means not needing to depend on snail mail.

25.   People conversing with me as an equal instead of someone less than.

26.   Not hearing the word “inmate”

27.   Not being identified as a murderer.

28.   Being able to visit the graves of deceased family members and friends

29.   Sunday Mass

30.   Going anywhere when the urge arises

31.   Dogs, cats, and other domesticated animals.

32.   Doing anything I want without the limits of an institution schedule.

33.   Gradually waking up rather than being awakened by somebody screaming.

34.   Human contact from people who care.

35.   Walking into a store to purchase things – shopping

36.   Eating in a restaurant – all-you-can-eat buffets

37.   Being around people I actually like

38.   Being able to help friends and family

39.   Holiday celebrations

40.   The potential for anything out of the ordinary

41.   Different scenery, even if it’s blurred trees on a highway

42.   The beach—sand, surf, sea creatures, shells and seagulls

43.   Riding a bicycle

44.   The potential for  . . . .anything!

45.   Not waking up in prison

I’m sure there are other things I could add to this list, such as all of the things I’ve never experienced, or have yet to experience, but this could go on for a while. Use your imagination, I do every day. What would you miss?

Sweat dripped own my spine and standing still was impossible. My tie, the first I’d worn since my capital trial in ’99, though not quite choking, was a reminder this was a pretty unusual circumstance. Even though September 4th was to be our second performance of Twelve Angry Men, our director Ms. Demetral, was more nervous and excited than the day before. That nervousness was contagious.

Apparently our first performance created such a buzz amongst the staff that word reached regional director of the DPS, Kenneth Lassiter, and the face of the DPS for media relations, Keith Acree. Also in attendance were the bosses of Dr. Kuhns and Ms. Demetral, the warden, unit manager of death row, deputy warden and a DPS photographer. The pressure was on, but we were ready.

One of the things about repetition – which is the essence of memorization and core of acting – is you get better with each rep. Our first showing was great, but not without glitches. This was so far out of our comfort zone, it would have required a gyroscope and map to get back. The other great thing about acting is that it’s fun. Like the role playing game Dungeons & Dragons you pretend to be a character, delving into his or her psyche in order to better portray that character’s actions and emotions. It’s a type of perspective taking and can be highly therapeutic if the players really get into it.

Our “stage” – replete with a Chicago skyline done in pastel chalk, a water fountain made of cardboard and colored paper, and two long tables with twelve chairs – was a taped off section of Pod-4. This cell block was typically used as solitary confinement and a quarantine. Over the years, as death row’s population shrank from overturned sentences, Pod-4 became a multi-purpose block used to show tour groups or hold dominoes tournament and  . . .plays.

There were maybe seventy people in the audience, or so we were told. I wasn’t about to violate the “third wall”, the division between the make believe world on stage and the real world offstage where a couple of state officials sat and watched with wary interest. No worries. I was no longer “me”, but Juror #3, and his only concern was rendering a verdict in this capital case.

As novel as the idea of death row prisoners acting in a play is, I have to stress the significance of performing Reginald Rose’s Twelve Angry Men. For those who are unfamiliar with the story it’s worth watching the old black and white movie with Henry Fonda and Lee J. Cobb to get a feel for the story. Once you have, imagine the supreme irony of twelve, most minority, death row prisoners acting as jurors in a capital case involving a 19 year old minority defendant. Ha. Ha-ha.

We filed onto the stage and took our places, making a valiant effort of not looking into the expectant faces of the audience lest we forget our lines. It was easier for me because I had to face the other jurors, so all I could see were the blurred legs of the people in the front row (it helped not wearing my glasses!). As worried as I had been about only having a month to memorize nearly eighty lines of dialogue, using the appropriate inflections in those lines, and getting the blocking right the character became my refuge. The rants of Juror #3 guided me through 49 minutes of jury deliberation and finally, acquittal.

Once the play was over and the applause done, here came the big wigs to shake our hands. Difficult to describe what that was like. These are people you see on TV or hear their names whispered in fear by prison staff or mentioned in conjunction with the other high level state officials. In other words, If the warden walking through the unit makes the guards nervous and tense, Kenneth Lassiter and Keith Acree can make the warden sweat. Not that he had cause, because the play was a huge success. Their smiles, devoid of anything but pleasure, were proof.

Okay, it wasn’t quite Broadway, but our enthusiasm and work ethic were paired with Ms. Demetral’s theatre knowledge (she minored in theater in college) and confidence in our ability to carry out the play. Without her willingness to volunteer her time for Drama and come in on weekends for rehearsals there wouldn’t have been a play. So if we were successful, much of the credit goes to her.

A part of me wishes there was a way to record the performance for others to see there is more to the men on death row than the crimes we’ve been convicted of. I understand we are a long way from reaching public support, but in the mean time we will continue to change the narrative of how people view the human beings they want to execute. I will certainly do my part in recording this evolving history. Stay tuned.