Douglas Lynn

By Terrance Tucker

“Some stories you just can’t make up.”

Writing has changed my view of life and heightened my observation of people. I see the world and those around me with a more focused lens. I notice people use different facial expressions when describing or relating certain emotions or events, their tones change when they get excited or frustrated, worry lines appear on foreheads and eyelids twitch and flutter when foul words spill and spew out of mouths. Then you have those people who cannot continue a conversation once they get upset. Recognizing these things has come in handy while honing my craft.

Characters are created and developed in the mind of the artist. Sometimes characters are based and developed from the inspiration of real people. Living in prison for almost two decades, I have come across many people who should have had their own reality show, sitcom or movie. I started to use their catch phrases, cunning remarks and witty responses. My friends started serving as my muses. I would take one personality and toss it in the pot with another person’s physical attributes to make the perfect character capable of carrying a story. This recipe took my character development to another level. Then I started using the names of my friends and family who had passed on to keep their names and memories alive. Some got cameo appearances, others starring roles. I was not a fan of using real people because people are never satisfied with the way you portray them on paper. This one time I went against my better judgement and wrote about a guy I met in Graterford State Prison. Today I felt like that was a huge mistake.

I came across Doug in the prison’s barbershop where I used to cut hair. I noticed he was a laidback guy who got excited when talking about the Golden State Warriors – referring to them as “Team Light Skin” because of Steph Curry and Klay Thompson’s complexions (this was during the NBA Finals of 2016). I was a die­hard LeBron James fan and thought this guy who looked like Apollo from the Housewives of Atlanta was being biased when it came to “Team Light Skin’s” chance of beating the “King”, LeBron. Doug was in fact a light skinned guy himself, and was extra hyped that Steph and Klay were dominating basketball. During this time, Doug and I never engaged in any one-on-one conversations, I only interjected my sports comments during his well-thought-out and delivered game breakdowns, like everyone else in the barbershop. This was a major topic. In prison you don’t just meet people and become friends – politics are involved – you have to be reluctant to embrace and get close to men you know nothing about, and who do not know anything about you. The last thing you want is to be attached to someone and then realize they are not someone you want to be associated with, and you have to sever ties, now it’s awkward when you pass him in the chow line.

One day, Doug moved onto my unit after a short stint in the hole. We were familiar with one another due to our oblique interactions in the barbershop – we kept it cordial and acknowledged each other in passing, or gave the head-nod. Back then I lived directly in front of the phone and constantly had a bunch of guys who stood outside my cell. Doug was one of them. One day, we had a one-on-one conversation and discovered we were from the same area, and had a lot of things in common in respect to our studies and desire for success. He was a parole violator awaiting re-parole, and I was awaiting a new trial on a 30-60 year sentence. I let Doug borrow books and we started having discussions about Napoleon Hill and Robert Kiyosaki.

Doug was different. He wasn’t claiming to be a gangster, a pimp, or a superstar drug dealer, like most dudes you come across in prison. He was positive and genuine, and I needed all positive energy around me since I was fighting for my life. After a few months of us bonding and bidding, Doug was granted parole. He left with the same I-want-to-keep-in-touch enthusiastic vigor that most guys leave with when they don’t know how to part ways – most of these guys never respond to your letters or give out numbers that are not in service. After so many years in prison, you become accustomed to walking and talking with guys for five, ten or fifteen years, and never hearing from them again once they leave.

These false friendships leave you jaded and scarred from unfulfilled promises of holding you down or keeping in touch. I have been blessed with a great support system, so I never looked forward to dudes going home to hold me down. I took Doug’s number and didn’t think much of it.

One day, one of the guys from Doug’s block told me Doug wanted me to call. I did and we continued building on those same topics. Doug was getting his credit right so he could get into buying and flipping houses like we’d discussed. I told him I was still writing and that I used his idea and made him a character in a story. Doug did not have a problem with it.

In my story, Doug was a love interest of a main character. Doug’s character was similar to his real life character – I portrayed him as a smart and genuine dude. Again, you never know how a person will react when they read about themselves. Doug was trying to intervene and save this woman in my story. To sum it up, Doug ended up dying as a result. I started this story in 2017, but just finished over the summer during this Coronavirus pandemic that forced me to stay in the cell without any distractions and finish my book. I always wondered how Doug would react once he read how I killed his character in my story. This morning I found out that he would never read my book. Doug was killed over a woman.

The news of Doug’s death hit me hard. I sat in my cell and replayed the last conversation we had, where he told me he was struggling with alcoholism and that he may have been bipolar. This blew me away and I sat there silently holding the receiver as he went into detail about self-medicating with alcohol and how it ruined his relationship with this woman he had been raving about for the last few months. I never noticed anything “off” with Doug, so the news of his mental struggle was shocking. Sadly, we measure mental strength by how well a person holds up during times of adversity, and I’d seen Doug in prison where you witness the best and worst of people, and he remained firm. I wanted to help him, but felt helpless. I couldn’t even truly let him vent to me because I only had 15-minutes, and this COVID quarantine had me locked down 23 and one. The pain in my friend’s voice kept circling in my head, though. I had to check on him. The next time I called his phone it was busy, which was weird, so I called right back, same thing. I thought nothing of it, and planned to try again when I was able to use the phone. This morning a guy from our area came and hollered up at the cell and delivered the message that Doug had been killed. At first the name did not register, it was the last thought in my mind that somebody would kill that Doug – he was really a good, non-violent dude. Then he said Doug from Lambert Street, who was over at Graterford with me, and my heart dropped. The story is Doug broke into his old girl’s house and her new boyfriend was there, and things went left.

Immediately I thought about the scene in my story where Doug was murdered trying to protect his girl – I thought about speaking things into existence and jinxing people; two things I don’t believe in.

“Art imitates life.” It is a famous statement, some may even say it is a cliché statement. When I started writing, I learned that true stories gave me the best inspiration, they motivated and got my creative juices flowing. This is why I watch true crime re-enactments like Fatal Attraction, For My Man, and all the reality shows where the drama is fresh. I love the saying: “Some stories you just can’t make up.” However, for a brief moment, I felt like I made it up. Doug’s death, the way he died, made me think about Tupac, Biggie, and other great artist who spoke their fate into existence. Did I speak Doug’s death into existence? To believe that is to believe I have some sort of power only possessed by the creator.

Doug was someone I considered a friend, and that’s a strong statement. I’m deeply saddened by his death, and wish his family the best. I know that I should not feel bad about writing about his death – Doug’s fate was already written and preordained long before I ever picked up a pen.

Dedicated to the memory of Douglas Lynn AKA Fresh

Terrance Tucker