Part iI: "Dear Samuel," 

...continuation from last week

You have a call from an inmate at the Kern Valley State Prison, Delano, California. This call and your telephone number will be monitored and recorded. You have a prepaid call. You will not be charged. To accept this call, please dial 5 now. Thank you for using global Tel link. *Beep*

Magida:  Hey, I was kinda relieved that you never called back last week. I've been overthinking this conversation, and almost just wanted to end the project... 

*Pause*

Samuel: You still there?

Magida: Ya ya, Sorry. I don't like talking about myself, I hate it. I'm trying to decide if I want to talk about this anymore.

Samuel: I know, I know, I know.  But I think it's time, I think it's time. 

Magida: Okay. So, that was just the surface level of what was going on at that time in my life. When I wrote to you, I had just lost my father. I mean, it had been about two years since he passed away, but I hadn’t actually dealt with the loss yet. You know, my father was murdered and where I come from, murder is a rare occurrence. It's just something that people voluntarily listen to stories about on podcasts for entertainment. At the time, it was the headlining story in every local and citywide newspaper, and it was just embarrassing. My life was on display for everyone to see. I felt like a freak show. Strangers would bluntly ask the most personal questions, or they'd show up to my work asking for an interview. I couldn't trust anyone, and I felt like no one actually cared about what I was going through. I started to pull away from my friends. I just felt like I needed to tackle this on my own. I attempted to go to therapy, but it was set up by the lawyers, so it didn’t feel genuine. It felt like I was either being manipulated, or people felt sorry for me. I felt like I didn't have anybody to really talk to, and I didn't have anybody to relate to. My sisters and I were all dealing with this in our own ways, but we mainly pretended that it didn't happen. I didn't tell people what was going on, because I felt like I scared people. My life scares people, and that's just the truth. And the more my life became public, the more I just felt like a victim. Still to this day, if someone asks me how my dad passed away, I just lie. I've gotten used to lying and hoping that people just won't look me up. But, I felt like I was going through this insane thing. An event that changes the course of one’s life, and among all the chaos, I needed to feel human again. That's when I really started getting into listening to true-crime podcasts, and as I was listening to these stories of the worst day of someone’s life, I found that it brought me a sense of comfort. For once, I wasn’t alone anymore. 

…“This call and your telephone number will be monitored and recorded”

Samuel: You're seeing that it’s a bit more common than you thought. You're hearing stories about families and how they're dealing with loss, or how they're putting shit back together. It’s giving you ideas of how to kind of heal a little bit, if that's even a thing. 

Magida: Yeah, exactly. So, I feel like I selfishly wrote to you, because I was hurting, and I just needed to connect with somebody who maybe would understand what I was going through. I kind of assumed that you knew what this kind of loss felt like. So, when I reached out, and you wrote back, you started to help me understand and started to help me begin my healing process. It may have been unconventional, but it was what I needed, and I thank you for your help with that. For making me feel not so different. I think that while you were helping me work through my shit, I may have caught you at an important pivotal moment in your life too, and maybe we found each other at exactly the right time.

Samuel: It was really hard for me to adjust in solitary. It wasn’t until the third year that realization set in, that this was going to be the rest of my life. So, I knew I had to deal with it. I started to reflect on my past, and what I did to my family, what I did to other people’s families. This isn't just me that I’m affecting. I’m affecting a lot of people. I’m getting letters from my family saying how devastated they are, and that they miss me. And I’m like, Fuck, what am I doing? I don't wanna live like this anymore. I know I'm inherently good. I know I’m not a bad person. I needed to feel a sense of purpose. So, when I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I started teaching myself how to read and write better. I started writing and noticed I was pretty good at it. I started reading these stories of travel and hardship and realizing I have compassion. I noticed myself starting to cry when I’m watching these specials on children in other countries struggling. I’m seeing that for the first time ever, I'm hurting for people, and that was new to me. I started reading National Geographic, and reading about Third World problems and climate change. I started feeling angry, and I think I finally realized I was human. That there's way more to life than my immediate surroundings. I thought that maybe I could start doing things differently with myself. I started reflecting on why I was doing the things I was doing, and when I opened up the opportunity to meet someone different, that's when you came along.

…“This call and your telephone number will be monitored and recorded”

We were as different as two friends can be, but we found similar interests, and our conversations were intriguing. That first letter pulled me out of this mental dark, cold, ugly hole and I couldn't wait to write back and hear from you again. You helped me open my mind, wanting to educate myself and read everything I could, so I could have things to share with you. You always challenged me with questions and I kind of felt human again. It was almost unbelievable. Your kindness made me want to be a better man, and that wasn’t too hard to do because I was as low and worthless as they come. So any growth was an improvement. I started reaching out to family and friends again, with this new found positivity. You were helping me in a way that no one ever has. 

Final part to be continued next week...