01/01/2019
Stephen Arrington with his inmate fire crew
THE SCREAM
A woman’s scream shatters the night. I hear a body slam against a wall as the woman struggles against an attacker. The violent sounds are coming from a dimly lit corridor not far from my bunk. I leap from the upper bunk to the floor ready to race to the woman’s aid.
Abruptly, a strong hand grabs my arm and pulls me back hard. The man who sleeps on the bunk below mine won’t let go. “Get back on your bunk, fool,” he whispered fiercely. “She already hit her radio’s panic alarm.” He peers past me, “Hurry, the man is coming…they will think you are a part of it.”
Locks clank loudly as steel doors slam open. The woman guard is choking and gasping as heavy boots pound down the corridor. Men are yelling—I quickly climb back onto my bunk. More guards pour into the dormitory. An inmate is thrown down just outside the corridor in a shadowed pool of light. Guards leap on him, nightsticks pound his head and body. The stout woman guard, the victim, elbows her way in and begins kicking the man on the floor.
Other guards race amongst the bunks jamming flashlights into men’s faces as they do a rapid head count. They are looking for other accomplices, but all of the remaining 59 inmates of A-Unit, aka, Animal House, are all on their bunks. No one looks suspiciously out of breath. The guards prowl amongst the bunks prodding the inmates with wooden batons, pulling back blankets, checking for clothing or shoes.
The attempted ra**st is cuffed and dragged away.
When the lights turn off, a few whispered words comes to me softly from the bunk below, “You, idiot.”
On my bunk, I am conflicted. It was completely against my character not to rush to the woman’s aid. I was a highly trained naval special operator, a combat frog. Coming out of the darkness I could have dropped the attacker hard—but I didn’t. Felons in inmate coveralls wear their sins on the outside, we are first viewed with acute suspicion and rightly so.
When I was arrested for smuggling co***ne, I surrendered any sense of honor. I had gotten only a five year sentence because my involvement was coerced. Yet, I was now a felon. My 14-years of military service as a war vet didn’t matter. Even my becoming a Christian in prison didn’t carry much weight with the guards. They contemptuously call it a “Jail House Conversion.” A commitment of convenience. In any case, a felon at a crime scene always loses.
Several nights later a winter thunder storm beats against the dormitory’s barred windows. It is cold and breezy, many of the six-inch window panes have been broken out. I am in a despondent mood as I pace about Animal House’s dark corridors. It’s been a long, stress-filled year at Terminal Island Federal Prison. I am silently raging, “God, let me out. I am a Christian now. What good could it possibly do to keep me incarcerated any longer?”
The morning finds me sitting on the grass at the South Yard. I am watching American Indian inmates heating rocks in a bonfire. Later, they will shovel them into a sweat lodge for a body cleansing ceremony. I’m just here for the fire. Smelling the smoke drifting from the burning wood pallets is a sensory trip back to happier times. I try to remember my Boy Scout Oath: On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to help other people at all times. To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.
I wanted to cry.
I open my Bible and glance at the words beneath my fingers—abruptly, the stability of my world shifts.
When I sat down, my thoughts were speculative about my life in prison. I wondered how serving any more time in such a callous institution was going to make me a better person.
I stare in amazement at Romans 5:3-5, “But we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance, and perseverance, proven character and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint.”
Prison is my tribulation! If my incarceration is an ordeal in which to temper my moral fiber, then the tribulation that is my daily companion is leading me to growth in spirit and in character. I realize that as I reach for greater comprehension of who I am as a new Christian, that adversity aids me in that quest. Romans 5:3-5 became my rock to get me through prison.
A year later, I was the chief engineer of Inmate Engine Company #52 at Boron Prison Camp. When the 1st B1-A Supersonic Bomber to crash went down in the Mojave Desert six miles from our camp, I lead the emergency response. We saved two crew members, the pilot unfortunately died on impact. For 20 minutes, I was in-charge of that top-secret crash site. As Air Force rescue personal arrived at the scene they automatically deferred to me because my fire helmet had a chief's badge on its front.
Before prison, I had been the chief of Naval Explosive Ordnance Disposal Team 11. Our specialty was aircraft carriers and military aircraft. Though an inmate, I was well qualified to lead that emergency response. It was the perfect gift, tailored for an inmate by our loving Holy Father.
My question of a year ago was answered. What good would come of my incarceration? God had been working on my character all along. I left the prison 17 times driving a fire truck with red lights flashing and sirens wailing to save lives. Leading a ragtag group of inmates in life saving incidents was the best gift God could have had given me. It was far better than a much less important “Get out of jail, early card.”
To don firefighter turns, was in a sense, like putting on garments of salivation. One cannot wear a firefighter’s uniform and not become a person of purpose and duty. It even fulfilled my Boy Scott Oath.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)
If you liked this story, please share it. My New Year’s pledge is to write short stories weekly to help others particularly youth and families. To learn more about my work with youth visit www.drugsbite.com. For more of my story check out my book, “In DeLorean’s Shadow,” on Amazon.
