Dear Brandon Bernard (inmate #91908-080),
This morning, the sky is a crisp blue and wisps of clouds slowly move across the horizon. The clouds seem wrong, put there by an inpatient painter who wished she had used a different brush. This December morning, my mind has drifted to you. I hope this letter reaches you in time. I worry that I waited too long to write it. I have been hoping that I would learn some news that would change your fate and that I could write a congratulations letter. But not now, not today.
I learned about you from Sister Helen Prejean, who did a talk at University of California, Santa Barbara. I live and work as a psychologist in Santa Barbara. I am not from here, I grew up in New York, Chicago, Montana and Colorado, but my adult life has been in this state. Since I was a child, my curiosity and empathy has pulled me toward helping people like you – living out lives you would never choose for yourselves, because of one (or more) really bad choice. Because I am a psychologist, I like to look below, beneath that bad choice there are roots and a seedling that was planted and nurtured by the mistakes of others or society and that led to something deep and desperate. I know you have remorse and regret and would undo it all if you could.
I have never believed in the death penalty. Every time I get a chance to vote on it, I vote to end such a barbaric punishment. At our dinner table last night, I told my three young children that I was writing to you, because our government (one that I did not vote for) had suddenly decided it was your time, as if you haven’t paid enough by spending all of your adult life incarcerated. My children did not understand what the death penalty was and when explained to them, they were horrified and then so sad. Activism has only been something that lives like a small, useless organ inside of me. I am shy and don’t often put myself out there for the causes I believe in. I think that is beginning to change in me though, because I am tired of watching from the bench on the sidelines. I am never going to help make a difference if I don’t get in the game.
Your story has moved me and I want you to know that your life has made a difference in mine. You have 5 people in this home rooting for you and for others who will come after you. Even if this train keeps on rolling and the plan to take your life is fulfilled by the end of next week, I trust that you will be held in the arms of the universe.
From one crocheter to another, our lives, like yarn, interlock and loop and slip through one another’s creating one long chain. That chain is only the beginning.
Wishing you a painless journey to the great beyond, see you on the other side.
Brooke Sears