I JUST WANT MY BEAUTIFUL BOY BACK - Anonymous

I'll never forget that phone call — my son, Will, had jumped off a freeway overpass.

His illness began a while before then when he developed psychosis from using Crystal. I kept trying to get him help, but it seemed like there was no help available. Police would respond when he was in psychosis and take him to the hospital or to jail — depending on the officer. He’d been picked up so many times for possession under the influence that he was finally sentenced to a dual diagnosis program.

The program was terrible. I'm sure they did fine with some illnesses but not with schizophrenia. There were no medical people on staff and it was run mostly by recovering addicts or alcoholics. Will was sentenced there by San Diego probation and court to complete treatment. He tried to run away a couple of times but was returned to finish his sentence. Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he ran away and jumped off the freeway overpass.

As Winston Churchill said, that was “the beginning of the beginning.” Will was in the hospital for quite some time due to his injuries and then was moved to a step-down care facility. While there, he started having psychosis again, and they kicked him out on a weekend with no aftercare plan. He ended up going to his father's house to stay until we found a placement for him. While there, he was in psychosis and thought his father was the devil and that he had to attack him before his father attacked him.

That resulted in the police being called. Will was going to jail with a broken back and a broken foot. It just was awful. He was in a wheelchair with a back brace. They wouldn't let either one into the jail so he had to hop on his broken foot and try to climb to the top bunk with this broken back.

So many horror stories I could tell about that time — his cast being wet, not being seen to have some pins taken out. After much intervention, they kicked him out to the county mental hospital to wait for placement. He got much better care there although it was just a warehousing situation. He was there four months and then was put into an IMD (institute for mental disease).

Now, Will is there awaiting trial for attacking his father. He attacked him with a butter knife. Out of all the sharp knives in the kitchen, that's what he grabbed. I think that goes to show his state of mind. Anyway, visitation in the IMD has stopped due to COVID-19. I feel very grateful and fortunate that that is where he is when so many are homeless or in jail for the crime of being mentally ill.

My son is pleading “guilty to assault but by reason of insanity.” His attorney thinks he has a pretty good case but it's so hard to know. Currently, he’s happy and doing well. We pray that he doesn’t have to go to prison but he may have to go to the state hospital for a while. I'm almost as afraid of that as I am of prison for him. For now, things are good. We talk on the phone and I send him cards. I’m trying to enjoy as much time as I can with Will — while I can. I have no idea what the future holds but, for today, we’re okay. I pray for a future for my son but have little confidence in the system.

I just want my beautiful boy back.

TODAY IN THE LAist: A STORY ABOUT US by Robert Garrova

Coronavirus Is Bringing Back The 'Lost Art' Of Letter Writing For This Mom

BY ROBERT GARROVA IN NEWS ON MAY 14, 2020 5:30 AM

Diane Rabinowitz' son Tariq Carlson has a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia. 

"In the first few years, he heard voices, he had hallucinations, you could tell by the way he expressed himself that he had delusional thinking," Rabinowitz said. 

She's been fighting to help her son for a long time, as Carlson shifted among different treatments, homelessness and jail. Over the past few years, Rabinowitz said Carlson, 28, has spent more time in Twin Towers jail than at home. And that's where he is now, finishing out his time for a misdemeanor. She declined to say exactly what his crime was.

Carlson is one of thousands of people living with a mental illness inside an L.A. County jail. And with in-person visitation frozen because of the coronavirus, they're more cut off from the outside world than ever. 

But even before the pandemic put a pause on friends and family coming inside the jail, Rabinowitz said Carlson would go through periods of refusing her visits. 

Now left without the option to visit, Rabinowitz has been trying a new old way to connect with her son: She's mailing letters and getting family friends to do the same.

That's led to an unexpected positive story in our COVID-19 world: Rabinowitz' written correspondence that grew out of necessity has opened up a whole new channel of communication with Carlson.

Her son calls from the jail "to compliment the letters," Rabinowitz said. "He's been touched by these letters and it's been really gratifying."

Carlson's mailbox is also getting a boost thanks to Dede Ranahan, a writer who's advocated for people with mental illness since her own son got sick over 25 years ago. With the pandemic serving to further isolate those with mental health issues, Ranahan added a "Pen Pals" section to her blog, where family members can post the mailing addresses of their incarcerated loved ones. 

"I don't have nearly as much hope or idealism that I had when I started," Ranahan said. "I think our whole mental health system is worse than it was when I began, and now, with COVID-19, resources are getting stretched more and the need for mental health services is increasing." 

Still, Ranahan is hoping her blog will have some positive impact for people living with a serious mental illness. "You help the person standing in front of you and if it goes further than that, great," she said. 

Carrie Bearden, a professor of psychiatry and biobehavioral sciences at UCLA, loved the idea of keeping in touch during the pandemic through letters. She said it's important for people to try to find new ways of connecting with people in their lives that may be outside the norm. 

"There's a lot of literature [showing] that being socially isolated actually leads to earlier mortality and increased rates of heart attack, stroke and so forth," Bearden said. "So [there can be] lots of physical consequences." 

For her part, Rabinowitz believes the letters are giving her son something physical to return to when the loneliness of living with a mental illness in isolation sets in. 

"I think we've lost the art of letter writing until now," Rabinowitz said. "[But it's] coming back and that's a good thing."

To hear the audio, click on the link

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HOW TO ASK FOR HELP IF YOU (OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW) NEEDS IT:

• Los Angeles County Department of Mental Health, 24/7 Access Line 1-800-854-7771, links to COVID-19 information.

• National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-8255 (TALK)

• The Crisis Text Line, Text "HOME" (741-741) to reach a trained crisis counselor.

• Steinberg Institute website, links to mental health resources and care throughout California,

• Institute on Aging's 24/7 Friendship Line (especially for people who have disabilities or are over 60), 1-800-971-0016 or call 415-750-4138 to volunteer.

• California Psychological Association Find a Psychologist Locator>>

• Psychology Today guide to therapists

I NEED WORDS OF HOPE AND REPORTS OF PROGRESS by Dede Ranahan

A couple of blog posts back (April 22, 2020) I published “A LETTER & A POEM FROM TRAVIS” by Travis Christian (BB8099).

Many of you have been following posts about Travis on this blog and many of you are also corresponding with him. Thank you. For those reading for the first time, Travis has SMI, has been in prison for over eight years, and is currently in solitary confinement at Mule Creek State Prison in Ione, California.

Your response to the poem Travis wrote was receptive and encouraging. I copied and pasted some of your Facebook comments about his poem into a letter and sent it to him. I wanted him to know people appreciated/liked his poem and to encourage him to write more.

On May 3, 2020, Travis wrote me a letter and I’m sharing it here. We can’t romanticize Travis’s writing or his situation. It’s difficult and often seemingly hopeless. He may be facing many more years in prison due to an altercation he caused in the middle of a psychotic episode. Travis, like thousands of other SMI prisoners, should not be incarcerated. He should be receiving life-long psychiatric care.

May 3, 2020

Dede,

Hi. I’m not doing so good. I keep thinking of my life before prison. I miss my life. Being in prison is lonely. I’m starting to unravel back here. I don’t see how I can ever make a life for myself. I’m frustrated with God. I know everyone tells me that God has a plan for me, but right now, I don’t see it. I do see that my future will be spent in prison.

That was nice of you to print the comments people said about my stupid poem. It was terrible. I’m sorry I’m being negative. Here’s my latest attempt.

My loneliness goes to the bones.
I don’t know how much longer I can go.
I’m inspired by all that I know
And by people who have gone before.

(Travis crossed out the following section of his poem.)

I’m getting tired of being alone.
I wish I had someplace to go.
I miss my home.
This is my attempt at a poem.

I haven’t been writing. I’m stuck on stupid. I can’t dedicate the time. Well, that’s not true, I try but I can’t write. Thank you for your advice. I give up for today. I don’t want to bring you down. I couldn’t finish that poem. I tried.

I hope you're okay. Have a good day. Maybe I’ll finish that poem. I love you. I’m sending you good thoughts. I’m okay. I got my stuff together. I’m watching golf and I drank some coffee to help my mood.

Love, Travis

I think of Travis every day. I can’t imagine being in a caged cell, all by myself, with a compromised mind, and with no hope of release in sight. According to a Kaiser Health Foundation poll, one-half of all Americans report that the COVID-19 pandemic is harming their mental health. At the same time, COVID-19 stimulus relief is not going to our already overburdened and underfunded mental health system. I’ve been an SMI advocate for over 25 years. I’ve never been as discouraged as I am right now. I hope some of you can send me words of hope and reports of progress.

A LETTER & A POEM FROM TRAVIS - by Travis Christian (BB8099)

April 15, 2020

Hi Dede,

I wrote a poem. If you think it’s good, can you put it on your blog? This is day one of my writing. I want to aim for one poem a week. It feels great to write. I feel like I’m contributing to society.

It’s funny how fear is always present. Was that how it was for you when you were writing? Fear of failure? Fear of inadequacy? I won’t tolerate fear. Sorry about my handwriting. (Travis writes with the wobbly inside stem of a pen. The prison removes the outer casing.)

It’s a beautiful day as far as I can tell. (Travis uses a narrow slit of a window to look outside. He sees mostly sky.) I have swallows building a nest just outside on a light. They inspire and comfort me.

How are you doing? I hope this virus isn’t as serious as it seems. I’m trying to not be pessimistic about reopening the country. Hopefully, California will have been locked down long enough not to re-expose citizens.

Inside is a letter I wrote to you about a week ago. I never sent it because I tried to make up a poem and I got overwhelmed. Please don’t share that letter.

Well, anyway, here’s my poem that I would like you to share if you think it’s appropriate. Also, thank you for even being willing to go through the effort of sharing my poetry.

I hope you’re doing okay. I’m laughing at myself the way I behaved at our last visit.

MY POEM

by Travis Christian

I’m sitting in silence staring out my window,
All I have is myself to look forward to.
I hear whispers of temptation beside my head.
I pretend that I don’t hear them, instead.

I’m thinking of everyone that I’m connected to.
The birds work to build a nest,
With each passing dash, I’m impressed.

I’m sitting in silence staring out my window,
I relax as I refocus.
I’m reminded that I’m not alone,
And, for the moment, I feel at home.

This is my attempt at a poem for day one. Let me know what you think. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Stay young,

Travis

NOTE: You can write to Travis and/or others. See their photos and mailing addresses on the blog’s Pen Pal page.

FROM THE DIRECTOR OF NURSING AT A STATE PRISON

I’m the director of nursing at a state prison. I received a shipment of supplies yesterday and 200 toe tags had been added to my order. The state has rented coolers to store bodies and it hasn’t been able to get body bags. We’ve been instructed to order extra trash bags and refer to them as "plastic bags" when utilizing them for bodies.

We’ve managed to keep this pandemic out of the prison so far, but it will arrive. It’s evident that, when it does, the resources will have already been expended on the general population. My patients will be left to me and my 19 nurses who are trying to help 1200 inmates armed with nothing but one mask each and an eight-bed infirmary that never has an empty bed. I have three oxygen concentrators, four nebulizers, and no IV pumps. Only dial flow tubing.

I know much of society believes these guys are expendable but they aren't all "bad." Many of them are young people who’ve made poor decisions and gotten caught. They have parents and kids who love them and so many will be productive, law-abiding citizens when released. Unfortunately, many will receive the “death penalty” because we’re not prepared to handle the influx of illness that is imminent in the next weeks.

I love these guys the same way nursing home staff members love their residents. Yet I’m forced to put on a face that reassures staff and inmates that everything is under control.

NOTE TO READERS: If you know an SMI prisoner who would like to receive mail, please send me a brief description, a photo if you have one, and a mailing address. Email it to me at dede@soonerthantomorrow.com. Or message me with your information on Facebook. I’ll add that person to the blog Pen Pal page. SMI prisoners need to hear from us — more than ever — in the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic.

Photo credit: Marcelo/Flickr

I'D LIKE TO BE A PEN PAL FROM SCOTLAND by Anna Heath

Dear Dede,

Hello, my name is Anna and I am a 35-year-old young woman from Scotland here in the UK. I saw your Facebook post on Mental Health Bloggers and also clicked through to your website. Your pen pal project looks great to me and I would like to begin to be a pen pal for someone. 

A bit about me: It’s hard to know where to start, but Mason Lantern's mum (on the Pen Pal page) has introduced him really nicely so I thought I’d return the favor. I live in a little village in Scotland with my mum, but I’m no stranger to big cities, having lived in London, Edinburgh and in Lima, the capital of Peru as well. I think I am friendly, open, non-judgmental and caring. I used to work as a translator (Spanish to English technical documents) here in Scotland, but that came to an end in March 2016. I became more and more anxious while working as a translator, due to the shouting from my employer, repeated forced overtime, and other unfortunate circumstances, and after five months in the office, my extreme anxiety about it was tipped into psychosis. I was so unfamiliar with the true meaning of this word before it happened to me, because, as your readers will be aware, as a society and in schools, this possibility is not spoken about. And it’s such a scary-sounding word.

Since then, I have suffered from anxiety and depression and gone along to a therapeutic garden project we have in Edinburgh called Redhall Walled Garden, for trainees with experience of mental health problems, who work in the garden for four and a half hours per day. Then last year I was lucky enough to go and stay for six months at Lothlorien Therapeutic Community, a live-in community for people of all ages with mental health problems. More gardening, cooking, and cycling through the beautiful countryside there. That’s where I really managed to come to terms with my illness and circumstances and to feel more in charge of my life, and that’s where I also began to act as a support for others going through similar experiences.

My hobbies now include playing guitar, quilting, bread-making, and hopefully some more gardening here in the village. I have plenty of positive things to be getting on with, and not every day is easy for me, but I would be very happy if I could reach out and share a bit of happiness with a new pen pal. 

Dear Anna,

Thank you for your email. It’s so good to hear your story about your experience with serious mental illness (SMI), about your success, and about Scotland’s continuity of mental illness care. I hope your story encourages the development of similar programs in the US. To be a pen pal, simply check out the Pen Pal page here on the blog. You’ll find names, photos, and mailing addresses there. You can write to one or more as you choose.

Good Luck, Anna. You’re an inspiration. Stay safe. Stay well. 

NOTE TO READERS: If you know an SMI prisoner who would like to receive mail, please send me a brief description, a photo if you have one, and a mailing address. Email it to me at dede@soonerthantomorrow.com. Or message me with your information on Facebook. I’ll add that person to the Pen Pal page. SMI prisoners need to hear from us — more than ever — in the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic.

A NEW PAGE ON THE BLOG - PEN PALS by Dede Ranahan

A NEW PAGE ON THE BLOG

PEN PALS

With the corona virus pandemic, visiting rules have been changed in most US prisons. Many of our SMI family members are in prison and often in solitary confinement. We’re all experiencing various levels of solitary confinement as we stay home — with one or two others or by ourselves — in response to COVID-19 directives. We’re getting a feel for the stresses of being in isolation. Can you imagine being seriously mentally ill with schizophrenia or bipolar disorder and being in solitary confinement with family visiting sessions cancelled? No. Neither can I.

Several of you have asked if there might be a way to set up correspondence with SMI prisoners (in and out of solitary) to let them know they’ve not been forgotten. I’m adding this page to the blog as a place to post the names/addresses of prisoners who would welcome news and connection to the outside world. In other words, they’d love to receive letters from you.

Please send me a brief description of a SMI prisoner you know who would like to receive mail. A photo of them would be great if you have it. I’ll begin this list with Travis Christian whom I’ve been visiting and writing about on the blog. Send your information to me at dede@soonerthantomorrow.com. Thank you so much.

Travis Christian

Travis Christian has been in prison for over seven years for a crime he committed while he was in a psychotic state. You can read my stories about Travis on the blog. Check the archives on the right. Travis was due to be released this year, but now, he’s in solitary confinement indefinitely for attacking his cellie while in another delusional state. The DA recently told Travis that he’s bringing charges against him for attempted murder. Travis is potentially facing many more years in prison. Travis’s mail address: Travis Christian, BB8099, C-12-242, Mule Creek State Prison, PO Box 409060, Ione, CA 95640.

Dillon McCandless

If you could add my son Dillon to your list for mail, that would be great. I'm very worried about him. He’s currently in isolation in Butner, NC. He has schizophrenia and is in isolation most of the time because he either won't stay on meds or they don't have him on the right medication. He was doing so well when he first arrived but we don't know what has happened and I can't get anyone to tell me. He can't even call us for a month. He was at a medical center in Rochester last year and spent four months in isolation there unmedicated. Then in Oregon for seven months and three of those in isolation. He’s been moved numerous times because federal prisons don't know how to take care of the mentally ill. I know he needs mail and positive, encouraging words. Dillon’s mail address: Dillon McCandless 19101023, FCI Butner Medium 1, P.O. Box 1000, Butner, NC 27509

Mason Lantern

My son, Mason, is 28. He’s been ill with schizophrenia since 2009. He just made it through high school to get his diploma. He used to be a math and science whiz, loved playing online computer games, and made friends easily. He was also great at sports. Any sport you put him in he could do, and he loved it. For a minute there, he was in a good treatment program. He lived at home, was able to attend community college, made friends, had a girlfriend, and started taking piano lessons and practicing. However, he's been in pretty bad shape since 2012. He’s had in multiple arrests, failed attempts at treatment, been homeless, and spent significant time in the largest mental hospital in the world — Twin Towers Los Angeles County jail for men. He's there now and we're hoping to get him into a locked IMD but chances are he'll have to be held at the county hospital until a bed opens up. Mason’s mail address: Mason Lantern, #5854725, Terminal Annex, PO Box 86164, Los Angeles, CA 90086-0164.

TRAVIS AND KATHY AND ME - SO MANY QUESTIONS by Dede Ranahan

My friend, Travis Christian, has served around seven years in prison because, in the middle of a psychotic break, he stabbed someone he thought was Satan. He was due to be released this year. Several months ago, Travis told prison management he wanted to go off his medications. The prison said that was his right and they would monitor him. As may have been anticipated, Travis’s mental illness symptoms reemerged and he was sent to the prison hospital. Before he was stable again, Travis was returned to the prison and placed in a new cell with a new cellie. With his delusions intact, he thought his new cellie was Satan. Travis tried to choke his cellie to kill Satan. Then, without his physician’s knowledge, Travis was moved to a different prison and put in solitary confinement. Last week Travis was told that the DA is going to bring charges against him for attempted murder and that he could face many more years in prison.

Why was Travis allowed to go off his meds?

Why wasn’t he monitored more closely?

Why was he released from the prison hospital before he was ready?

Why was he placed in a cell with anyone?

Why, after attacking his cellie, was Travis moved to a different prison without his physician’s knowledge?

Why is Travis being charged with attempted murder while being mentally ill?

Why isn’t the prison system being held accountable for prisoner mismanagement and neglect?

Why isn’t someone stepping up to make sure that Travis receives legal justice?

I received this letter from Travis before we knew that prison visits had been canceled due to the coronavirus.

March 12, 2020

Dede,

I hope you feel better. Not to scare you or anything, but do you think you have the coronavirus? It’s okay that you haven’t visited me. Just take care and you’ll get better. I’ll be looking forward to our visit on March 21. I’m believing you are going to get better.

So I’m excited to hear that your book is a finalist in the Excellence Book Awards. I enjoyed your book. That is great news! I like your blog. I can see why people like it. (I sent Travis a copy of my blog entry about Chico the happy dog. He’d never read my blog before and doesn’t have access to it.) I wanted to write to your readers about how nice you are. Thank you for visiting me when you can. Your support has gotten me through dark times. Although I’m still in the middle of this ordeal, in the beginning, especially, your support shined — a light in the darkness.

I will pray for you that you get rid of that cough.

Thanks for thinking of me. I sometimes get so lost in myself. I don’t think of anything else, or anyone else. Today it seems that all I have the energy for is to watch TV. I have so many books and magazines, but I don’t feel like reading them. I hope that changes soon because I like reading.

I’m feeling kind of down today. I’m not accepting my situation, that’s what it is. I’m uncomfortable with myself. I’m going to go. I hope I don’t bring you down. I’m just being hard on myself.

I love you.

Love, Travis

On March 9, 2020, Travis’s mother sent me a text message: “Dede, I saw Travis yesterday and I couldn’t sleep. He’s not doing well, again. His new med flopped, they’re raising his meds again, and he was told yesterday that the DA is going to charge him with attempted murder. Travis said, ‘I’m having thoughts of killing myself, the devil is attacking me in my dreams, and I wake up punching things thinking it’s Satan.’ If Travis weren’t constantly allowed to be taken off meds and to be changing meds, and if he’d received the right care in prison, he would have been out of prison 2 years ago. I’m afraid he’ll give up, or give in to his satanic thoughts, or someone will kill him. It’s a miracle he’s still alive after the last beating from the guards. Solitary is killing him. My daughter and I were shaken by his lifeless eye contact and his hopelessness. It was a hard visit. I wish I knew what to do.”

Travis counts on his monthly visits from his mother and sister and me. Now, with prison visiting shut down, he’s more isolated than ever. Travis is a conscientious correspondent. I was concerned that he’d feel overwhelmed trying to respond to those who write to him, but he assured me, “Letters are a blessing.”

Travis Christian
BB8099
C-12-242
Mule Creek State Prison
PO Box 409060
Ione, California 95640

WHY IS THIS OKAY? by Sharon Underwood

My son, Tim, has been homeless, staying with friends or couch surfing, since he turned 18 (24 now). The minute he turned 18, he walked away from his supported-living group home. He can’t live with me. I can’t control him. He refuses all forms of therapy, including meds, and blocks me from all legal and medical information. He demands money, thinks I injected him with poison to make him sick, and believes I'm withholding a non-existent trust fund from him. I'm out of work and broke. Real broke. Barely making it broke. I've been giving my son at least $100-200 a month as he won’t apply for SSI because he thinks that’s how the demons will track him. He says, “I’m not sick.”

The doctors have diagnosed my son with schizoaffective disorder. He self-medicates with whatever substance he can get his hands on, has been arrested 40 times, and has a felony assault charge against a police officer. I've tried to get him committed (for at least long enough to get him some help) for six years with no luck. He tells authorities he’s not suicidal or dangerous and they let him go. I love him so much but he’s prone to disturbingly scary behaviors and I’ve had to get restraining orders on the advice of his doctor.

Last week, my fiancee and I were driving home from the grocery store and saw my son coming from my house. We stopped to talk with him. He was pissed. He said, “I put a hole in your garage door, and the landlord called the police.” I reminded him, “You can’t come over and get me into trouble.” He basically told me, “You don’t care about me,” and he fled on foot. I pulled up the street into my parking lot. My son had smashed my fiancee’s truck, over and over, into the garage door. He caused $5000 worth of damage. The truck wasn’t touched due to a customized front end. The police picked him up down the street.

I’m losing everything. My fiancee is wonderful and my landlords are trying to be helpful. I filed for a new restraining order and plan to move. I feel like my son’s left me no choice. He’s in jail and will be for a while. I don’t know if I’m relieved to not be terrorized every day or profoundly struck with heartbreak and guilt. I’m now $5000 in debt and have, for all intents and purposes, lost my son. I'm sick of this terrible disease. I’m sick of the terrible system that governs it. The cops all know he’s sick. The doctors all know he’s sick. The judges all know he’s sick. I can’t believe my sick son can be left to his own devices. I can’t believe that the only treatment he’ll get will be in jail or prison.

Why is this okay? Tim talks like he’s 10-years old. How is this okay?

My relationship with my son is now damaged beyond repair. I’m heartbroken and scared to death of him, and all because of the law. It says, basically, my son has to kill someone in order to be committed and properly treated and evaluated.

I don’t know if I'll ever be okay in my heart.

UPDATE:
Since Tim’s arrest in Oregon for unauthorized use of a motor vehicle, he’s spent two months waiting for a spot in Oregon State Hospital. I’ve been in contact with his probation officer as well as the district attorney because I was a witness to my fiancee’s truck being taken. We’ve been assured that, in Oregon, a crime with mental health issues is treated differently. A new order was designed to assist a mentally ill suspect in being evaluated, treated (mandatory treatment if necessary in an attempt to get him fit for trial), and transitioned out of jail or the hospital.

On a Saturday night, I got a message from the Automatic Defendant Tracking System (VINES) saying my son was released from jail. The jail’s phone line wasn’t open on the weekend, so I waited until Monday and called the district attorney who assured me that Tim was finally transported to the state hospital, and he would be there at least 30 days — possibly a year or more —determined by his evaluation and needed treatment.

So, ten days later, there was a knock at the door at 8 A.M. It woke my fiancee and me up. It was my son. We had a restraining order and my fiancee, shook up and barely awake, reminded Tim he couldn’t be on the property. Tim ran. I called the police, but they couldn’t find him. I called the probation officer. She called me back seven hours later. My son had been released from jail instead of being transported to the state hospital. He was told he was free and instructed to show up in court on January 15, 2020.

Apparently, the jail made the mistake and, now, no one knows where Tim is. There are warrants out for his arrest, but the police can’t find him. I live in Medford, Oregon, a tiny 80,000-person town. Not Portland. Not LA. My fiancee and I have been to every shelter and homeless outreach and driven to areas known to homeless people. My son is nowhere. Just nowhere.

I didn’t know he’d been released and was half asleep when he came by. If I’d known that his release was accidental (and didn’t just feel that, once again, they’d let him fall through the cracks), I’d have possibly done something different that morning. My fiancee and I are sick that that might have been our last chance to get him into the state hospital. It’s 30 degrees here at night right now. I feel angry and guilty for trusting the system. I feel helpless at the same time. As I write, my son is out there with no help. I’m going to check some places again. I feel like I have to find him myself because the police can’t. Or won’t.

If you google “Aid and Assist” In Oregon, you’ll see the services they claim to provide — serving time in the state hospital getting help, transitioning through aftercare, housing-assistance. Our family was so happy and hopeful for what that meant. We all thought Tim might get his meds back and have help filing for disability. Instead, every day or other day, I go to the drug dealing park, or to the soup kitchen or to the shelter. I try to spot Tim so the police can get called and we can continue back to what was supposed to happen in the first place. I’m sad. I’m scared for and of him. I’m so disgusted with the system and that I have to do everything myself and, if don’t find him, I’ll be the terrible parent. The terrible person.

I can’t ask anyone to help anymore. They just won’t. It’s on me.

Tim and his sisters. Sharon says, “My family the way i wish it could be.”

WANT TO JOIN TEAM TRAVIS? by Dede Ranahan

On Saturday (January 18, 2020), I drove to Ione, California to visit Travis Christian at Mule Creek State Prison. I’d been sick for three weeks and was glad I was feeling well enough to make the hour-and-half drive. I didn’t want to let Travis down and miss our regular monthly visit.

When I checked into the visiting center, the guard said, “Your visit will be delayed 20 minutes or so. We had a fog check this morning. Everything was locked down. It took us an hour to complete the prisoner check so we’re running a little behind.”

The guard pointed me toward a table. After a few minutes, a prisoner with a dust cloth stopped and asked, “Would you like me to straighten your table? Would you like me to clean it off for you?” This prisoner spoke with a pleasant smile on his face. He wore glasses and bore tattoos on every exposed feature — arms and neck. I thanked him. He said, “Have a good day.”

In a half hour, the guard directed me to one of four visiting cubicles reserved for prisoners in solitary. Travis was already coming through the door on his side of the glass. I picked up the phone. “Hi Travis.” “Hi Dede.” Already the clock was ticking on our one-hour visiting time. Because I’d been sick, I hadn’t written to Travis since our December visit. He’d learned I was sick from my neighbor who writes to him. “Are you okay? I was so worried about you, Dede.” In an hour, Travis would be all over the emotional map. Glad to see me. Sad and missing his family. Afraid for his future. Anxious because he’s received no information about how long he’ll be in solitary, when he’ll face trial, what the charges will be. Frustrated with his weekly therapy sessions. “I wish I could sit on a sofa when I talk with the clinician.”

I asked, “What do you sit on?”

“I’m in a cage.”

Travis spends too much time in cages. He paces in a cage during his three-hour yard times. “Do you have something to sit on if you want to stop pacing?” “A toilet.” “Does the toilet at least have a lid on it?” “No".

(I think I need to get a job at this prison. I’d make a few changes.)

I told Travis that Kelli Buttler, a Sacramento woman who writes to him on a regular basis, reached out to me and said she’d like to visit him, too. I told Kelli about the paperwork involved to become an approved visitor. Travis’s eyes lit up. “I like her letters. I’d love to meet her.”

I posited another idea. “Travis, how would you feel if we could set up a Team Travis so you’d have a visitor every weekend? Would you like that? Would it feel intrusive? What do you think?”

Travis’s eyes got teary. “That would be amazing. I’d love that. No, it wouldn’t be intrusive. If someone cares enough about me to come visit, I’d want to be open with them.”

I didn’t promise anything. “I’ll see what I can do.” (If I were younger, I’d take this ball and run with it. Maybe an organization of volunteers to visit prisoners in solitary all over the country. A quiet stampede to call attention to the inhumanity in our criminal justice system. Sometimes I get carried away :-)

As usual, our hour flew by. Travis mentioned Pat, Joan, Sue, Christy, and Kelli (I’m not remembering all the names) who are writing to him on a regular basis. “Joan writes me everyday. I told her she doesn’t have to write that often. She has her own life to lead.” Someone sent him a copy of the book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions On Writing and Life by Anne Lamott. It came from Amazon and he didn’t know who sent it. He loved the book and read it in three days. “Please tell them ‘Thank you.’ I’m writing. Some stories. Some journaling. I’m writing for my family. I love them so much. I miss them.” Teary eyes.

I drove home thinking about Team Travis. Could we get volunteers to visit once a month or every other month or three times a year? We’d prioritize Kathy’s visits with her son and work around her schedule. She lives in southern California and tries to visit once a month. Kelli had asked me, “Is it scary visiting the prison?” I said, “No. It’s not scary. It’s depressing but so rewarding. You make a huge impact on someone’s life — offering a lifeline to the outside world. Letting them know they’ve not been forgotten.”

I hope to hear from some of you. Let’s see where this goes. Team Travis. It has a nice ring don’t you think?

Travis’s mailing address:
Travis Christian BB8099
C-12-242
Mule Creek State Prison
P.O. Box 409060
Ione, CA 95640

On the way home from Mule Creek State Prison
Photo credit: Dede Ranahan