I got married for all the wrong reasons. I know a lot of people say that; in my case, it’s a pretty accurate statement. I was attending a small, private Bible college, and had been told by the dean that I would have to be married in order for me to be ordained in that denomination. In the first place, I had no business even thinking about an ordination. My religious life was pretty much just a “front”. In real life, I was a crook and a con-man.
In addition, because I’d spent so much time with my best friend, Diana, my very conservative pastor had warned me about “avoiding the appearance of evil.” He’d hinted that, if we were engaged, it would be better. So, I talked to Diana, and asked if she’d be amenable to marriage. She readily agreed. Being partly paralyzed on her left side, her dating prospects had been limited, and she wanted a family. We instantly became engaged.
Then, my life took an odd turn. I’d been paying for school by being a telemarketer. I was good at conning people out of money for things they didn’t really need. Working at a company that sold coupon books, I rapidly advanced to assistant manager. One of my duties was training new employees. That’s how I met John and Tammy – two incredibly adept con artists. They weren’t even there to make money… they were there to recruit. They found me. Over the next six months, John and Tammy helped me set up a completely new identity, using the technology of the time: old documents; White-Out; a fancy typewriter; and a copy machine.
I so fully immersed myself into their “training” that I even moved into their mobile home with them. Finally, it was time to carry out their elaborate scheme. I opened a checking account under the phony identity. Once the pack of checks arrived (I’d ordered extra), the next part of the plan was implemented…
After removing anything valuable, and adding a lot of junk furnishings, we spread newspapers throughout the mobile home. Then, we took sprayers filled with gasoline and sprayed everything in the trailer. Then, John set up a birthday candle; lit it and we left. At a truck stop across the freeway, we ate a leisurely dinner. Before too long, we saw a plume of smoke, and heard the sound of fire trucks. We waited a bit longer, and then headed “home”.
We arrived in time to see the final wall of the mobile home collapse. As planned, everything was destroyed. We were all interviewed by the local media about the “tragic loss” we had incurred. I, as I had been coached, made sure to give my phony name.
It was time for the next phase. John and Tammy collected the insurance money – and I went on a shopping spree. At the time, most stores used one check verification service. As instructed, I made sure to only make purchases from stores that had their logo in the window. After a couple purchases, a clerk informed me that a manager at the check
verification company wanted to speak with me on the phone. As I’d been trained, I told the manager about the fire, and that I was replacing all my belongings with the insurance money. After verifying that there had been such a fire (and that I had lived there, which was in the paper), I received cart blanche. I wrote well over $50,000 worth of checks. John and Tammy had taken out insurance… but had only received $34,000 (which they kept).
It was almost the perfect crime. Almost. John and Tammy disappeared – taking most of what I had bought – and I, scared, moved to California. I was arrested a few months later. In taking the driving test for my “new” driver’s license, I’d used my parent’s car. The tester had written down the license number. Even though I’d managed to conceal my thumbprint with superglue, they were able to track me through the plate number. My grandparents put up my bail, and my attorney assured me that, since I had been talked into the scam, I wouldn’t get any jail time.
Having no place to live, I moved in with Diana. I’d also “repented” of my ways, and got back into Bible school. However, I was now “living in sin.” To resolve that, Diana and I decided to go ahead and get married. Right away, Diana told me she wanted a child. I did, too, but I wasn’t really attracted to Diana in that way. Still, after some effort, she gave me the news that she was expecting. A couple months later, though, contrary to what my lawyer had told me, I was sentenced to three years in prison for the check fraud. I was devastated. The baby was due to be born in about three months, and I wouldn’t be there for the birth.
After a couple weeks, I was transferred to Buena Vista, Colorado. At first, things were very rough for me. I was doing all I could to get “right” with God. Eventually, due to the low severity of the crime, I was transferred to a minimum security camp. I don’t remember the real name… everyone called it “Camp Roubideux”.
Shortly after I moved to the camp, I got word that Diana had given birth to our son, “David Dale.” David almost didn’t survive his first day. He had been born with a three- chambered heart, and malformed arteries. The baby would undergo four surgeries in the first two weeks of his life.
For weeks, I lived in constant anguish over my son. At last, three months after his birth, I received a special visit from my wife – and David. It was the first time I saw him, and the first time I held him in my arms. The two of us developed an instant bond. In my arms, he was never fussy. In fact, over the next two years, whenever I was around, he would insist I be the one to hold him.
I was so upset when visiting time was over, I began to pray to God, to the angels, to whomever would listen. In my heart I knew I wouldn’t have a lot of time to spend with my son. Somebody was listening.
Putting in for a “hardship parole”, the parole board mistakenly thought it was I who had the heart problem, rather than my son. After only nine months in prison, I was released. Shortly before Christmas, I was transferred to a “halfway house” in Colorado Springs – over ten miles from where my wife and son were living. I had no transportation; no money; and there were blizzard conditions. Nevertheless, I walked in the snow, with one goal in mind: to hold David in my arms.
When Diana opened up the door, she was very happy to see me. Not because she missed me, but because she couldn’t handle David’s crying. I went to the playpen where he was. He saw me and instantly started to smile- reaching out his hands for me to pick him up. Before I had to return to the halfway house, Diana made me dinner. I had to eat with one hand, since my baby wouldn’t let me put him down. Fortunately, by the time I had to leave, David had fallen asleep.
My first job after I got out was as a sandwich truck delivery driver. The job didn’t pay that well but it gave me transportation. Though I had to stay at the halfway house, the days were mine. I worked about six hours, and spent the rest of the day with my son. taking him off her hands. Diana, never being the most patient person, appreciated me taking him off her hands.
After a couple months, I went from driving the sandwich truck to driving a taxi. I made more money and had a car to drive 24 hours a day. By that time, I only had to spend weekends at the halfway house. I earned enough money to rent a little house for the three of us. Things went pretty well for a few months.
Until one evening, when my world began to crumble.
As I pulled my cab into the parking area behind our house, I knew something was wrong. When I went inside, my feelings were confirmed.
Diana met me at the door and said, “please don’t be mad at me.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but knew it involved my son. “Where’s David?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” she said. “I gave him away.”
I went numb. “What do you mean gave him away?'”
“I couldn’t handle his crying all the time. I called Child Services. He’s in a foster home”.
For the first time in my life, I really wanted to hit a woman. I resisted the urge, but I did break a chair, and put my fist through a wall.
I spent the next week talking to every bureaucrat I could, trying to get custody of David. The challenge was that I was still on parole. Because of my son’s heart defect, and having been in an “unfit home environment,” they would not grant me custody. However, they did allow me to spend many hours each day with him. I developed a very good relationship with his foster parents, and elderly couple who’d been taking care of children for many years who were very loving and caring.
David was well over a year old before he said his first word. Diana had thought he was “slow”, but I knew he wasn’t. One day, when I was playing blocks with him, he smiled at me and said, “Daddy.” I was so happy, tears ran down my face.
My son taught me more about love and loyalty than I could have imagined. At a year old, of course, he didn’t know about all my “faults”. He didn’t know about all the bad things I’d done. All he knew was that I was his “Daddy”.
Every day, when I walked into his room, he would absolutely “light up”. Besides “daddy”, his next favorite word was “ride”. That meant one of two things: he either wanted me to carry him, or he wanted to go for a ride in the car. I’ve always loved driving. Whenever I’m depressed or upset, I’ll just get in my car and drive. The urge must have been genetic, as my boy was more at home in a car seat than in a stroller. For his one year birthday, I bought him a toy car that he could ride in. The only problem was it wasn’t fast enough for him. So, whenever I was around, Daddy was the “motor”. “Faster, Daddy, faster!” became almost a catch phrase.
For over a year, I was taught love, compassion, loyalty and responsibility. In other words, he helped me to grow up. Because of him I became a lot less selfish – able to love others, and feel compassion for them. Before David, “love” was something I used when I wanted something for myself. My boy taught me (as cliché as it might be) that “love is its own reward.”
Five days after David’s second birthday, tragedy struck. The doctors found out a shunt that had ben put in was failing. David was taken to the Children’s Hospital in Denver, Colorado. My mom flew out from California to be with us. The night before surgery, Diana also showed up. David would have nothing to do with her. He wasn’t happy unless I was holding him. He even would cry when the foster mother held him. Fortunately, when I
needed to go to the restroom, he allowed my mother to hold him… the only other person he was ever content with.
The next morning, he was prepped for surgery, and placed on the gurney to go to surgery. He’d been through a number of surgeries, and was pretty familiar with the routine. He held onto my hand all the way to the double doors of the operating room that I couldn’t enter. As I gave him a big hug and kiss, he smiled at me and said, “Bye, Daddy, I love you.”
As soon as David was out of sight, I needed to be alone. I found a tiny chapel in the hospital, and went in. A Bible was laying on one of the pews. I opened it randomly, and laid my eyes on a verse I’ll never forget: “They who sow in tears will reap with joy.” I didn’t know what that meant for the future, but I knew what it meant for the present… my son wouldn’t make it.
The surgery, we knew, would take hours. After I’d cried myself out, and regained my composure, I went back to the waiting room. My mother noticed I was having trouble being around Diana, who seemed to show little emotion. She was busy knitting little doilies that she sold to make extra money. Mom asked if I wanted to go with her to the cafeteria to get some coffee. I readily agreed.
Mom and I talked about various things – especially the fun I’d had with David. Suddenly, we both stopped talking, and just looked at each other. We both knew, at that instant, my little boy was gone. We walked back upstairs, arriving in the waiting room just as the doctor came in . The surgery had gone well, but David’s heart just wouldn’t start back up.
At his funeral, I found out just how many lives my son had touched in his two, short years. The funeral home was packed. Many people talked about how gentle and loving he had been. For over a year, my whole world had been just David and me. I hadn’t even noticed all the other people who’d been in his life.
Even after he was gone, he was able to help others. I’d agreed to donate his organs to others in need. A few months later, I received a little teddy bear with a note. The note was about a little girl who had been born blind. Thanks to David’s eyes, she was able to see.
Since that time, I’ve been through a lot of turmoil in my life – mostly of my own making. But, in those times when I want to just give up, I close my eyes and see my little boy telling me he loves me.
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