Prisoner Salvation

Chapter 1 Seven Year Relevation

Dear Sophie:

On this day, March 11, 2002, I have came to terms with the fact that I will never get out of this forsaken prison.

Yes, of course, I knew that I would never see the outside of these walls when I was sentenced to death in September 1995 for the murder of then Presidential hopeful and Senator Ruben Patton, but I had hopes. This was a murder I never committed my Sophie, please believe me.

I was wrongfully framed. ‘They’ needed to find a scapegoat for the crime and I was their target.

I am a former 10th Mountain Infantry Soldier, Harris County Police Officer and an Ohio FBI Field Agent I swore throughout my career to protect the people I serve, and to give back to community. You know Sophie, I have sacrificed my family in the pursuit of justice. Given my all and this is the thanks I get. Twenty plus years in Law Enforcement and this is it.

But maybe this is something that was years in the making?

I know we aren’t on the best of terms right now, but I vowed to hold no secrets from you.

So as this letter comes to a close, you remember that time right before our separation we got in that huge argument and I ordered you out the house? I did it because I realized I was not the person you married.  That night you moved out with the kids, I buried a secret.

I buried a now 10 year old secret.

That one major case I had for years kept getting colder and colder until one day it smacked me right in the face. That’s the day I buried it. Sooner or later you’ll find my secret and when you do my final wish is that you keep it remained as a secret.
I will love you now and always.

Jim

I folded the letter and proceeded to put it in the envelope.

Andrew Jim Pearson, A55512, Harris County Penitentiary , that’s what have became of me now.

I shakes my head as I proceed to finish writing the rest of the info on the envelope for it to be mailed. However not before going through the Warden and about three other people to verify that I am not writing anything illegal or trying to smuggle contraband out of the prison.  Though there should not be any here I have seen people get sent to the ‘hole’ over trying to get stuff to the outside world.

The ‘hole’ from recollections from others is a very dark, cold place. Some are in for 48 hours, others are sent there for thirty or more days. I have seen some go to the hole and become victims of their own sanity. Some become sensitive. Some become raged animals. Then there are those that never come back.

The food I heard was a meat and a side short of a meal. Bread and water was your only meal down there.

As I proceed to lay down, to take my afternoon nap,  I doze off just to be jolted by the sound of Brian’s baton tapping on the metal bars.

“Jim, you have a visitor.”

“Who,” I said in a rather confused tone.

I never had a visitor in the seven years of my incarceration. Not even my wife, or kids will come to see me. Deep down inside I know my family wants to believe my innocence but the media and the public has painted a pretty good picture in making me the responsible one for the murder. Then there’s the police, the government, the countless number of forensic scientists that is somehow managing to link my firearm and it’s bullets to the ones found in and around Ruben.  The judge and the jury were quick to deliberate and sentence me to death by lethal injection.  Took the jury just a few short hours to come back with a guilty verdict.

So I could not have thought of anyone who wanted to see me.

As I turned the corner to enter into the visitation room the sole C.O. guarding the room and the one inside the room were asked to leave by the man sitting in the room.
I never seen this man before.

He stood up and went to stare out the window. His look was as if he was star gazing. Hands tucked away in his pants. Shined up shoes. Blue tie. White shirt. Holster no weapon. He stood posed as if he commanded authority. He was definitely a field agent. However he was not someone I have seen in my jurisdiction before or any of the Ohio field offices.
I sit with caution.

“Who are you, and what do you want from me?”

My confused and analytic face turned into irritation and anger. Thoughts crept into my mind that he was out to bury me deeper in the ground. Every time I hear the buzz of my impeding death by injection I feel myself going further and further below the Earth’s surface.

“Agent Don Tully, FBI,”

His commanding voice reverberated and echoed across the empty room. He definitely commanded attention and authority, he definitely meant business.

“Look..look I just want to serve my time…..”

I was cut off mid sentence as he slid towards me a newspaper clipping taped to a piece of paper.

It had my mugshot on there and said the following:

$1,000,000
Head on a platter. We want him dead! You took something from us and now we take your life. 48 Hours.

“Don’t worry I intercepted this from an informant who is working a RICO case for me that has connections to those that want you dead. You ‘murdered’ someone who was more than just a politician and a family man. He had some powerful contributors and not all of them were legal. They lost their investments when he was killed and now they want to be repaid.  Repaid with your life.”

All I took from what he said was murdered. I seen the look in his eyes, the sound of voice, the posture.  That’s one thing we were taught in the academy is to spot when someone is lying, or when someone is trying to tell you something. Don however was very blatant about his words.

“Murdered?”

“You say that as if I’m ……..”

“Innocent? Framed?”

There he goes finishing my damn sentences again I thought to myself.

“ This goes beyond you being falsely accused and wrongly imprisoned. We are fishing for bigger catches then just what’s on the surface. You are part of a more bigger plan, Jim.”

As I sit and listen as Don keeps rambling and rambling I read further on the bounty letter.

“48 Hours, damn you sure know how to give me a heads up this was made 24 hours ago. I have a million dollar bounty on my head and whoever wants me dead already has a 24 hour headstart.”

I panic as I start to rub my hands through my hair.

“You were sent to Harris Penitentiary for a reason. Your particular set of skills allows you to improvise and get out if any situation. Your Superior Brad told me that. You want your freedom? You want protection from who is coming after you? Exoneration?

Listen closely, there’s a man currently in solitary confinement, Alex Bordin.

He let’s say wanted to be in prison and wanted to be in solitary. He is the final piece to our operation and without him we can’t complete our mission.

In exchange for this you’ll get everything you wanted. Your freedom, exoneration even your badge back. But know nothing will come without a price just as an added incentive if you decide to not want to do this not only will your life be on the line but so will your wife.

We have someone posted outside watching your wife and kids right this second. Just so you don’t think I’m bluffing..”

He slides me a picture of my wife outside watering the lawn and the kids playing in the front yard.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!, As I reached across the table to go for his throat two guards rushed in and tackled me to the ground and threw handcuffs on me. I squirm and struggle to free myself the whole time I just want to kill him. If he lays a hand on my wife I swear.

Incentive. Bordin out. You have one week.”