Years ago, while in county lockup, I came across a Dylan Thomas poem I didn’t fully understand. It read: “Do not go gentle into that good night… Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”I liked the rhythm and the urgency of it. But I didn’t yet know what it meant to rage from within the belly of the beast.I would learn soon enough.When education isn’t enoughI began studying law while in solitary confinement at the Hudson County Correctional Center in Kearny, New Jersey. At 25, I was educated, street-smart, well-travelled, well-read, and owned and ran a successful business selling phones and laptops. And still, I couldn’t follow the jargon in court. It sounded like a strange language that everyone else spoke fluently. I asked my lawyers some questions, but I didn’t press. I was new. I trusted them.It’s a mistake that still haunts me. If I’d known what I now know, I would have insisted on different strategies in court to fight my case. Had I done so, I don’t believe I would have been handed two consecutive life sentences – 150 years in prison.You see, the system wants you to sit down, shut up, and comply. But every misstep is hung around your neck like a noose. And when your lawyer fails …
