For Bobby.......

Story ID:	894
Written by:	jim rambo
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Anytown USA
Year:	2006
Person:	Bobby

For Bobby.....

The offer was eleven years
But he was 22, hard-headed and rejected our pleas
His co-defendant, Massey, had shot and killed
A wonderful woman; a wife and mother
In '77, a burglary gone bad but not just another.

Appointed counsel for the hard-headed guy,
I was young and new to the system myself
So I left it to co-counsel, Joe, the more experienced lawyer
To arm wrestle our client into accepting the offer.
He wouldn't take it anyway.

An accomplice is just as guilty as the killer.
It's first year law school stuff that even
Criminals on the street know is tough.
Why chance a life in prison without probation or parole, man?
Don't give up your life. Take eleven "in the can."

"He's like a brother so I can't do it"
Our client dug his heels in deep.
It was his decision. Should I have lost sleep?
No, and I didn't but, at the same time, I took no more cases.
The trial was, predictably, a drop kick in our asses.

So they both got life, no probation, no parole and
They were damn lucky the jurors had to be whole
On the imposition of death back in those times.
The mode was hanging and we knew, as would any dope
That there'd be no future in that; no hope with the rope.

It's now going on thirty years.
He's kept in touch all this time
And I have seen him age, caged, the tears
Flowing from those immature choices.
Bad friends and, even worse, later wrong voices.

Now there are other tears too.
Of anguish, regret and profound sorrow
Over his role in a good family's horror.
It's another sign of his mental amends
And there's good to be made of the message it sends.

I switched roles later, put on the white hat with brim
As a prosecutor, I did the same to others like him
Who just wouldn't listen to attempts at justice
Made on their behalf and, more often than not
Over objections. New victimized families were hot.

He kept in touch anyway.
He'd charge one call per month, his choice and
I heard the bitterness slowly exit his voice.
A new awareness that couldn't be taught:
"I didn't kill her but I am still at fault."

Before my own exit from the practice of law
He asked me a favor...a rare occasion.
I knew there must've been a damn good reason.
"Will you represent me again?," he inquired.
"My case before the Board has been mired."

My own life had been filled with the horror
Of photos and visits to crime scenes, those murders.
I concluded quite early that I never
Would take up the cause of a killer.
Reputation, too important for foolishness..ever.

But he wasn't a killer.
He was an accomplice to murder.
A thief and not a cold-blooded
Executioner of anyone but still closely guarded
Behind bars but improving himself as a person.

So I said yes and we worked together
I, in retirement, and he inside still
To make a strong case had become our joint will.
The Board asked hard questions. It's their job, their signature.
They then recommended commutation to the Governor.

Thirty years later we await her decision.
Unable to sustain joy in what the Board has wrought
For without her agreement, all is for naught.
Will she do the right thing and judge his cause well?
Fact really is, only time will tell.

When he went to jail today's stars were just babies
I'm still frightened for him but don't you think maybe
A Governor would know when enough is enough?
Thirty years "in" ain't no waltz; it's damn tough.

Maybe you've read this far 'cause you care.
If so, please let me know where
You can be advised by phone
Of the good news we bear when justice is done,

Finally, for Bobby.