Creative Retirement Institute

In Prison, You Don't Just "Talk It Over"
By John Nadeau

"About three years ago, when I left a prison in eastern Washington, my son drove me back to the Seattle area," Marty recalls.

When they arrived at the Cascades, he asked his son to stop the car by the side of the road.

"I got out and walked maybe 30 or 40 yards into the woods," he says. "I was all alone. You can't imagine how that felt. In prison there is always someone watching you."

Adapting to prison life is a challenge, but adapting to life after prison is even more so. That will be the central idea of Behind Bars: Prison Life from the Inside Out, a course to be taught by Marty, who served 27 years of a life sentence for first-degree murder.

Marty - not his real name - will discuss his experiences and show a video he produced.

Sponsored by the Creative Retirement Institute at Edmonds Community College, the classes will meet three Wednesday afternoons, Feb. 21 through March 7 from 2:30 to 4 p.m.

Marty, who is now 57 years old, grew up in Seattle. He says he was a street kid at an early age and had his first prison experience in a juvenile detention center at age 10.

"By the time I began that life sentence, prison was a fairly easy transition," he says. "It's a world upside down. You think you're doing the right thing , like helping the authorities, but that kind of behavior can cost you your life. You learn fast that you mind your own business, nobody else's."

How about the stories of prison gangs and bosses?

"They're true," Marty says. "These prison cliques, or 'tips' in prison slang, enable you to surround yourself with people you trust. You watch each other's backs. It's not an easy life."

He notes that in prison resolving conflict is different. Marty explains, "If someone insults you, you must take strong, physical action or you will have no respect. Respect is essential in prison. Of course, outside you're expected to solve problems verbally. Some ex-cons forget that."

Are there programs to help convicts make the transition?

"For whatever reason, there are fewer and fewer," Marty says. "We used to have programs, frequently sponsored by religious groups, to bring in people from the outside. They were supportive and, often, good contacts when we left prison. Today, there aren't even many educational programs. I think some computer classes and G.E.D. preparation are about it."

In his own case, Marty praises Carol Martin, his parole officer, for helping him adjust.

"She's been very, very supportive," he says. "Frankly, not all parole officers are. Too often, they're cynical and suspicious."

He quickly concedes, however, that many ex-convicts' attitudes and behavior are responsible for the jaundiced attitude.

"Initially, you think everybody knows you just got out of prison. You have to get over that. You have to realize you don't have 'convict' stamped on your forehead."

Marty will teach the CRI class because he's passionate about prison reform. He wants people to realize we just don't have the programs convicts need to return to society.

Barbara Shotwell, a CRI volunteer who arranged Marty's course, thinks achieving "prisoner empathy" will also be an experience for class participants. They will see Marty as someone they can relate to and like.

For more information about this and other CRI courses, phone 425-640-1243 or access the web site . Courses are open to all adults over age 50, regardless of educational background.