We were living in a small town in Colorado working with young inmates in a nearby prison.
At that time, it was a privilege to make a phone call to the outside. Often, prisoners would ask the volunteer chaplains to help them get a call to their family. They realized that if the call was urgent, it was more likely to be granted.
We had become close to Randy and his wife Sarah. Sarah often came three hours on the bus, sometimes with her two young boys, to visit her husband. She was a smart woman and we sometimes wondered why the two had ever married. We enjoyed vistis with both of them and went to see Sarah at her apartment when we were travelling in her area.
Randy was a pleasant person. He wanted us to be godparents at his younger son's baptism when he got out.
One day, he asked Tom for a phone call, saying that the younger boy Christian had died.
When Tom came home, I was deeply saddened to hear the news. We had company that evening but the news of Christian's death was on the forefront of my mind.
Later that evening, I decided to call Sarah. When she picked up the phone and answered with a light, friendly "Hi" to me, I stumbled for words. I was speechless.
Finally, she asked me what was wrong and I mentioned Christian's name. "What about Christian? He is right here in the crib."
Needless to say (see above story to surmise my temperament), I had Tom call the facility and have a guard get him out of bed to let him know how inappropriate his behavior had been.
After Sarah waited faithfully for him to be released, he got a job at a gas station. One day he drove off with one of the customer's cars.
That is sad =(
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