Meet Adam Bentley Clausen
My full name is Adam Bentley Clausen and I was born on a farm in southern Wisconsin. That's a fact I've been running from my entire life. My middle name is care of my Dad who was at one time a car enthusiast. Bentley was actually his second choice. "Buick" was the first, but my Mom (thankfully) vetoed that one and they settled on Bentley. When I was born, we were living in one of Poppa Leo's farmhouses out in Kenosha County, but it wasn't long before we moved into a nice little ranch home just inside the city limits.
My father was a civil engineer for the Kenosha Water Department and my mom was a secretary at Western Publishing Company. Unfortunately, their marriage didn't last and I ended up moving with my Mom into a tiny apartment just a few feet away (literally) from "Skatetown USA." Bright and early every Sat and Sun morning we were awakened by the disco hits of the 70's blasting out the back doors of the skating rink as workers got the rink ready for the day. It wasn't the best neighborhood and, thankfully we didn't stay there very long. When I started school, we moved into a little house across town, but only stayed there long enough for my Mom to finish graduate school. She received a job offer from a printing company out on the east coast so we picked up and moved again. Finally, we settled into a nice townhome in southern New Jersey, just outside of Philadelphia, and were able to start a whole new life.
Unfortunately, I was a very awkward kid so my new classmates and the kids in my neighborhood chose not to welcome me into their circles. Many of them were cruel verbally and a few were physically threatening. This of course eventually led to me "acting out" and getting into trouble, which in turn affected my Mom's career. She frequently received phone calls at work from my school administrators and from the local police department that required her to drop whatever she was doing in order to take custody of me. I can only imagine how stressful that must have been for her to endure as a parent. That may be why she confided to me one day shortly after my arrest that she was actually "relieved" to hear I was in prison.
As an only child, it always felt like it was "me against the world," but the more my natural athleticism began to emerge, the more everyone seemed to be attracted to me. At the start of my 7th grade season, I was introduced to my new basketball coach, Jay Liberti. Previously, he had been coaching at the collegiate level and had decided to move back to the area so that he could spend more time with his family. I can still vividly recall the speech he gave to all of us on our first day of practice. He told us a story about the struggles of his former players and how one of them had called him from prison to bail him out after his arrest. For some reason that story always stuck with me, and I try to imagine what he might say to me if I were to reach him on the phone today. Jay tried to keep me on the right track, but he had two young boys of his own and simply couldn't give me the time and attention I needed back then. He did, however, help me to establish a good relationship with my next coach, Bill Lange, at Bishop Eustace Preparatory High School.
My father was a civil engineer for the Kenosha Water Department and my mom was a secretary at Western Publishing Company. Unfortunately, their marriage didn't last and I ended up moving with my Mom into a tiny apartment just a few feet away (literally) from "Skatetown USA." Bright and early every Sat and Sun morning we were awakened by the disco hits of the 70's blasting out the back doors of the skating rink as workers got the rink ready for the day. It wasn't the best neighborhood and, thankfully we didn't stay there very long. When I started school, we moved into a little house across town, but only stayed there long enough for my Mom to finish graduate school. She received a job offer from a printing company out on the east coast so we picked up and moved again. Finally, we settled into a nice townhome in southern New Jersey, just outside of Philadelphia, and were able to start a whole new life.
Unfortunately, I was a very awkward kid so my new classmates and the kids in my neighborhood chose not to welcome me into their circles. Many of them were cruel verbally and a few were physically threatening. This of course eventually led to me "acting out" and getting into trouble, which in turn affected my Mom's career. She frequently received phone calls at work from my school administrators and from the local police department that required her to drop whatever she was doing in order to take custody of me. I can only imagine how stressful that must have been for her to endure as a parent. That may be why she confided to me one day shortly after my arrest that she was actually "relieved" to hear I was in prison.
As an only child, it always felt like it was "me against the world," but the more my natural athleticism began to emerge, the more everyone seemed to be attracted to me. At the start of my 7th grade season, I was introduced to my new basketball coach, Jay Liberti. Previously, he had been coaching at the collegiate level and had decided to move back to the area so that he could spend more time with his family. I can still vividly recall the speech he gave to all of us on our first day of practice. He told us a story about the struggles of his former players and how one of them had called him from prison to bail him out after his arrest. For some reason that story always stuck with me, and I try to imagine what he might say to me if I were to reach him on the phone today. Jay tried to keep me on the right track, but he had two young boys of his own and simply couldn't give me the time and attention I needed back then. He did, however, help me to establish a good relationship with my next coach, Bill Lange, at Bishop Eustace Preparatory High School.
Adam's troubled youth
Bishop Eustace exposed me to the best - and the worst - of the real world at a very young and impressionable age. Many of my classmates were affluent, super-achieving “brainiacs” (that went on to Ivy League colleges) who provided plenty of positive influence; but there were others from less reputable backgrounds that I tended to gravitate more toward. This made for quite an eclectic mix of cultures, customs and beliefs that were all new and enticing to me. One of my assistant basketball coaches, who was also the dean of students, took a special interest in my personal development and helped me to make the necessary adjustments to "prep-school life." The only problem with him acting as my mentor was that the influences he exposed me to were ultimately what lead me more toward a life of crime rather than toward a life of culture and higher education.
My coach, Bill Lange, at one point tried to intervene and get me back on track with school and basketball, but by that time it was already too late. I was committing burglaries and robberies in NJ and driving right across the bridge into South Philly to unload whatever I had scored. The most insane part of the story is that most everyone at BE Prep knew what I was doing and simply chose to look the other way. TWICE during my junior year FBI agents showed up and attempted to get an interview with me. Thankfully, school administrators protected me by asking them to leave the premises (both times) until they had a warrant. But, not surprisingly, at the end of the year, the dean told me that I could not return for my senior year. That's when things really began to spiral downward fast.
Just a few months into my senior year, (now at the local public high school), I found myself living in a motel room, subsisting on malt liquor and an occasional Big Mac. Most nights I would head out with a crew of guys who all felt like they didn't have anything to lose and we would rob and steal whatever was most convenient. It wasn't long before one of my own crew set me up for my first major arrest. While I was sitting there in the county jail, I found out that my high school sweetheart was pregnant with our child. As fate would have it, she miscarried and the doctor was kind enough to attribute that tragedy to the unnecessary "stress" caused by my incarceration. That's something she always held over my head thereafter and something that I had to learn to live with while I was serving the 12 year sentence I received for my first adult conviction.
My coach, Bill Lange, at one point tried to intervene and get me back on track with school and basketball, but by that time it was already too late. I was committing burglaries and robberies in NJ and driving right across the bridge into South Philly to unload whatever I had scored. The most insane part of the story is that most everyone at BE Prep knew what I was doing and simply chose to look the other way. TWICE during my junior year FBI agents showed up and attempted to get an interview with me. Thankfully, school administrators protected me by asking them to leave the premises (both times) until they had a warrant. But, not surprisingly, at the end of the year, the dean told me that I could not return for my senior year. That's when things really began to spiral downward fast.
Just a few months into my senior year, (now at the local public high school), I found myself living in a motel room, subsisting on malt liquor and an occasional Big Mac. Most nights I would head out with a crew of guys who all felt like they didn't have anything to lose and we would rob and steal whatever was most convenient. It wasn't long before one of my own crew set me up for my first major arrest. While I was sitting there in the county jail, I found out that my high school sweetheart was pregnant with our child. As fate would have it, she miscarried and the doctor was kind enough to attribute that tragedy to the unnecessary "stress" caused by my incarceration. That's something she always held over my head thereafter and something that I had to learn to live with while I was serving the 12 year sentence I received for my first adult conviction.
A different kind of education. Heading to state prison
My time inside state prison was not like what you see on TV. I was sent to a "youth correctional facility" where every possible program and educational opportunity was made available to me. After earning my GED, I became a part-time GED tutor, and then spent the rest of my time in the cabinetmaking shop. I quickly discovered that I loved working with my hands; but I just couldn't envision myself doing that type of work for the rest of my life. It was enjoyable, but not fulfilling, so I kept searching and exploring my options.
My trade skills and willingness to work eventually landed me a coveted prison job as a "Paraprofessional" working inside a juvenile facility teaching my trade. I underwent special classification which allowed me to transfer to Jamesburg Reformatory and become one of approximately 20 adult inmates serving their time helping young offenders. At 21, I was the youngest inmate ever admitted into the program, and probably not the best candidate due to my age and immaturity. As much as I wanted to be there, I definitely wasn't mature enough to make nearly the positive impact that most of the other men did during their daily interactions with the youth. Fortunately, my time there was brief and I was paroled less than a year after my arrival. So, after nearly 4 years in the custody of the NJ DOC (Department of Corrections), I walked back out into the world with no clear sense of life purpose, nor even a vague sense of direction. Thankfully, I had some family members and friends there to catch me before I fell again and they helped me get up on my feet and moving. Only it wasn't long before my feet where once again carrying me in the wrong direction.
Upon my release from state prison, I went immediately to work for a general contractor who was a good friend of the family. Working construction was merely a means to help me get on me feet until I found something more substantial and career oriented. Only a few months later, I landed a couple of interviews with companies that seemed eager to have me on board. The interviews went really well until they asked me, both times almost as an afterthought, why I had left the criminal conviction section blank on my application form. They were generally shocked to learn about my prior convictions, but admitted they could not afford the risk of hiring me. I quickly grew discouraged and, instead of heading back to school to rehabilitate my image and improve my job marketability, chose to reconnect with some old friends from high school whom I thought might be able to help me out.
I first reached out to my former Dean of Students from Bishop Eustace. This was the same guy who had asked me not to return for my senior year, but I was hoping he felt just a little guilty about that decision. What I didn't mention previously was that the FBI came to question me about him and his brother while I was in the county jail. The dean owned not one but TWO successful restaurants, AND was also the Entertainment Manager at the Sheraton Resort in Atlantic City. His brother was a well-known book maker in Philly. When I finally met up with him for dinner and drinks at one of his restaurants, he assured me that I could have a lucrative position at one of those establishments as soon as he figured out the best fit. However, after countless trips back and forth to Atlantic City at his request, I began to question whether or not it was ever actually going to happen. When I finally went to meet him for the very last time, there was an FBI agent sitting just ten feet away from us, at the bar, watching every move we made. I never even sat down, but instead walked right out the door, and never looked back.
My second attempt to reach out to another old friend from high school yielded a very different result. This guy was a little younger than me but was clearly doing quite well for himself. He sold himself as an entrepreneur of sorts and the very first night I met with him over in Philadelphia was literally life changing...but not in a good way. He had me sample all of his various "products" and then introduced me to his harem of more than a dozen beautiful women who never left his/our side. I had never previously tried any hard drugs and in that lone night I sampled cocaine, ecstasy and ketamine. The problem was that I liked all of them a little too much and was already tired of struggling just to get by from paycheck to paycheck. But more than anything, I craved the respect and admiration that was afforded me everywhere I went with my old friend. Literally overnight, I had burst out of the shadows and into the searing city spotlight. It was all so incredibly intoxicating and I felt somehow entitled to it all after spending those years isolated and forgotten in prison. Suddenly, I was someone who mattered again and I couldn't bring myself to step back out of the spotlight, even though I knew I should.
My trade skills and willingness to work eventually landed me a coveted prison job as a "Paraprofessional" working inside a juvenile facility teaching my trade. I underwent special classification which allowed me to transfer to Jamesburg Reformatory and become one of approximately 20 adult inmates serving their time helping young offenders. At 21, I was the youngest inmate ever admitted into the program, and probably not the best candidate due to my age and immaturity. As much as I wanted to be there, I definitely wasn't mature enough to make nearly the positive impact that most of the other men did during their daily interactions with the youth. Fortunately, my time there was brief and I was paroled less than a year after my arrival. So, after nearly 4 years in the custody of the NJ DOC (Department of Corrections), I walked back out into the world with no clear sense of life purpose, nor even a vague sense of direction. Thankfully, I had some family members and friends there to catch me before I fell again and they helped me get up on my feet and moving. Only it wasn't long before my feet where once again carrying me in the wrong direction.
Upon my release from state prison, I went immediately to work for a general contractor who was a good friend of the family. Working construction was merely a means to help me get on me feet until I found something more substantial and career oriented. Only a few months later, I landed a couple of interviews with companies that seemed eager to have me on board. The interviews went really well until they asked me, both times almost as an afterthought, why I had left the criminal conviction section blank on my application form. They were generally shocked to learn about my prior convictions, but admitted they could not afford the risk of hiring me. I quickly grew discouraged and, instead of heading back to school to rehabilitate my image and improve my job marketability, chose to reconnect with some old friends from high school whom I thought might be able to help me out.
I first reached out to my former Dean of Students from Bishop Eustace. This was the same guy who had asked me not to return for my senior year, but I was hoping he felt just a little guilty about that decision. What I didn't mention previously was that the FBI came to question me about him and his brother while I was in the county jail. The dean owned not one but TWO successful restaurants, AND was also the Entertainment Manager at the Sheraton Resort in Atlantic City. His brother was a well-known book maker in Philly. When I finally met up with him for dinner and drinks at one of his restaurants, he assured me that I could have a lucrative position at one of those establishments as soon as he figured out the best fit. However, after countless trips back and forth to Atlantic City at his request, I began to question whether or not it was ever actually going to happen. When I finally went to meet him for the very last time, there was an FBI agent sitting just ten feet away from us, at the bar, watching every move we made. I never even sat down, but instead walked right out the door, and never looked back.
My second attempt to reach out to another old friend from high school yielded a very different result. This guy was a little younger than me but was clearly doing quite well for himself. He sold himself as an entrepreneur of sorts and the very first night I met with him over in Philadelphia was literally life changing...but not in a good way. He had me sample all of his various "products" and then introduced me to his harem of more than a dozen beautiful women who never left his/our side. I had never previously tried any hard drugs and in that lone night I sampled cocaine, ecstasy and ketamine. The problem was that I liked all of them a little too much and was already tired of struggling just to get by from paycheck to paycheck. But more than anything, I craved the respect and admiration that was afforded me everywhere I went with my old friend. Literally overnight, I had burst out of the shadows and into the searing city spotlight. It was all so incredibly intoxicating and I felt somehow entitled to it all after spending those years isolated and forgotten in prison. Suddenly, I was someone who mattered again and I couldn't bring myself to step back out of the spotlight, even though I knew I should.
Freedom to federal prison
For two consecutive years, I managed to remain the life of the party. Aside from my poor mother who obviously knew something was amiss, no one ever complained about my lifestyle while they tagged along for the ride. I did drugs, and sold drugs and spent every single penny I ever made to finance the endless party everyone enjoyed. I never allowed any of my friends to get involved with the sales aspect because I knew at some point there was going to be a price to pay for those dealings. Since none of them had ever known the feeling of cold steel on their wrists, I figured that it might as well be me to take the fall, whenever that day of reckoning did finally arrive.
The party came crashing to a very abrupt halt when the police broke down the door to the main stash house in downtown Philadelphia. My high school friend and a few others who unlucky enough to be there that night, were all arrested. Thankfully, I wasn't there when it happened, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I got swept up in the same net. So I moved back out to the Jersey suburbs, determined to quietly finish out my state parole and somehow escape the fallout. For a short time, my life ALMOST felt normal and that was a welcome respite from what had become the "ordinary madness" of the hedonistic life I was leading. However, with no job, no source of income, and quickly accumulating bills, it wasn't long before those old familiar feelings of frustration and desperation began to take hold of me.
All of my codefendants were in a similar predicament by this time and one of them suggested we hold up a brothel he knew about. At the time, it really didn't sound like the bad idea it obviously was. Somehow, I managed to rationalize the crime by convincing myself that robbing other people engaged in criminal activity would be of little consequence or concern to anyone. My hope was that the robbery would sustain me until my state parole was completed a few weeks later. Then I could head down to Fort Lauderdale, FL and start over with a friend who was waiting for me down there. Unfortunately, that day never arrived.
Over the course of just a few weeks my codefendants and I robbed seven brothels and two other businesses. One of those businesses was owned by the very same dean who had promised me a job. The other was owned by the father of one of my codefendants, who himself had recently been released from federal prison. Ironically, we were all arrested right there in the shadow of City Hall, only a few steps away from Independence Mall and the famed Liberty Bell as we tried to walk out of one of the brothels. I was just one week shy of my state parole completion date.
Even before we made it down to the police station, one of my codefendants began cooperating with city detectives. He claimed to have vital information that he thought would grab the attention of local FBI Agents, and it worked. Before there was time for anyone to investigate his claims all of us were quietly transferred into federal custody, charged with the string of (state) robberies, and held without bail. We were all advised that if we did not fully cooperate with federal agents and prosecutors we would inevitably spend the rest of our lives inside a federal prison. Obviously, they weren't bluffing, but it all seemed so surreal at the time.
When my attorney finally met with me, he told me the authorities wanted me to testify that I had been dealing drugs and guns with members of Philadelphia's La Costa Nostra because that was the story my codefendant had told them. Most of these men were already in custody and awaiting trial on a pending RICO case that wasn't very solid and the government knew that a drug conspiracy could help seal their fate. The problem is that none of my codefendant's story was even remotely true. None of it. When I refused to corroborate the story, my attorney told me that there was nothing more he could do for me and he walked out the door.
Nine months later I was convicted and sentenced to a mandatory minimum 213 year sentence that the judge had absolutely no ability to reduce. He reluctantly imposed the absolute lowest sentence permissible by law and sent me off to a maximum security federal penitentiary. Of course there were appeals that needed to be filed but my first priority was self preservation. I was only 24 years old and couldn't fathom spending the next four, five or possibly six decades behind the wall, so I made a conscious decision never to give up hope, and I never have.
The party came crashing to a very abrupt halt when the police broke down the door to the main stash house in downtown Philadelphia. My high school friend and a few others who unlucky enough to be there that night, were all arrested. Thankfully, I wasn't there when it happened, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I got swept up in the same net. So I moved back out to the Jersey suburbs, determined to quietly finish out my state parole and somehow escape the fallout. For a short time, my life ALMOST felt normal and that was a welcome respite from what had become the "ordinary madness" of the hedonistic life I was leading. However, with no job, no source of income, and quickly accumulating bills, it wasn't long before those old familiar feelings of frustration and desperation began to take hold of me.
All of my codefendants were in a similar predicament by this time and one of them suggested we hold up a brothel he knew about. At the time, it really didn't sound like the bad idea it obviously was. Somehow, I managed to rationalize the crime by convincing myself that robbing other people engaged in criminal activity would be of little consequence or concern to anyone. My hope was that the robbery would sustain me until my state parole was completed a few weeks later. Then I could head down to Fort Lauderdale, FL and start over with a friend who was waiting for me down there. Unfortunately, that day never arrived.
Over the course of just a few weeks my codefendants and I robbed seven brothels and two other businesses. One of those businesses was owned by the very same dean who had promised me a job. The other was owned by the father of one of my codefendants, who himself had recently been released from federal prison. Ironically, we were all arrested right there in the shadow of City Hall, only a few steps away from Independence Mall and the famed Liberty Bell as we tried to walk out of one of the brothels. I was just one week shy of my state parole completion date.
Even before we made it down to the police station, one of my codefendants began cooperating with city detectives. He claimed to have vital information that he thought would grab the attention of local FBI Agents, and it worked. Before there was time for anyone to investigate his claims all of us were quietly transferred into federal custody, charged with the string of (state) robberies, and held without bail. We were all advised that if we did not fully cooperate with federal agents and prosecutors we would inevitably spend the rest of our lives inside a federal prison. Obviously, they weren't bluffing, but it all seemed so surreal at the time.
When my attorney finally met with me, he told me the authorities wanted me to testify that I had been dealing drugs and guns with members of Philadelphia's La Costa Nostra because that was the story my codefendant had told them. Most of these men were already in custody and awaiting trial on a pending RICO case that wasn't very solid and the government knew that a drug conspiracy could help seal their fate. The problem is that none of my codefendant's story was even remotely true. None of it. When I refused to corroborate the story, my attorney told me that there was nothing more he could do for me and he walked out the door.
Nine months later I was convicted and sentenced to a mandatory minimum 213 year sentence that the judge had absolutely no ability to reduce. He reluctantly imposed the absolute lowest sentence permissible by law and sent me off to a maximum security federal penitentiary. Of course there were appeals that needed to be filed but my first priority was self preservation. I was only 24 years old and couldn't fathom spending the next four, five or possibly six decades behind the wall, so I made a conscious decision never to give up hope, and I never have.
Learning to accept a life sentence. Growing up behind bars
As the bus pulled up to the back gate my stomach contracted into one giant knot. The gunmen up in the towers peered down at us as we surveyed the seemingly endless fence line covered in roll after roll of razor wire. It was a well-orchestrated scene that sent a very visceral message to anyone unlucky enough to witness it. Unfortunately, that show was aimed at me as I was one of only 3 men on that bus designated to United States Penitentiary Allenwood.
The admissions process was quick and painless. Each of us was strip searched, interviewed, and then issued clothing before we were sent out across the prison yard to our housing units. As soon as we stepped out the door and onto the yard there were inmates walking in step beside us, asking us questions like: "Where you from?" "What are your charges?" "How much time you got?" When I explained my charges and how much time I had they eased back a little, but clearly, I didn't look the part of whatever role they assumed I must have played in order to warrant such a sentence.
Once inside the housing unit, I was immediately offered a knife ("no thanks"), some cigarettes and a quart of homemade wine (both of which I did accept) before being introduced to all of the fellas. I probably should have been grateful for their "hospitality" because, as I would learn later, many of the men designated there never even make it to the housing unit. There I was, on my very first day, right in the mix of it all. Of course, this set me on a path that inevitably would lead to more trouble, but there were some lessons I needed to learn in order to find my own way. I was still young and didn't have a clue about who I really was or where my life might be headed. Back then, considering the time I had and lack of support, it all seemed fairly hopeless.
Six months passed in the blink of an eye. I simply awoke and repeated the routine of that very first day and it finally caught with me. One morning I awoke cold, alone and disoriented in a bare segregation cell. There I sat in silence, with only my thoughts for company, wondering how much farther I could possibly fall. The realization that I was locked inside a prison within a prison was incredibly demoralizing and I silently berated myself over and over. At some point during that first day in segregation another prisoner yelled through the ventilation system that there had been a terrorist attack in New York City. Of course I didn't know if it was actually true or not because I had no radio, TV or telephone to confirm it, but eventually the guards confirmed it when they came around for count. I can vividly recall the strong sense of patriotism that welled up inside me, and it surprised me because the government had just recently banished me to prison for the remainder of my life. Right then, my own plight seemed so small and insignificant compared to that of our country as a whole.
Eventually I was released back into general population and I tried to get myself into a more positive routine. A couple of the older guys steered me into the gym, and it was there that I was able to rediscover my passion for physical fitness. Finally, I had a constructive way to deal with all of the emotional turmoil I was experiencing. My passion evolved into a near obsession with all things health and wellness related, and the majority of each day was devoted to learning and practice. All of the men around me took notice of my transformation, and it wasn't long before some of them began asking me for advice. Eventually, the supervisor of the prison Recreation Department offered me a job. He asked me to create and instruct a new fitness class that would benefit the general population. My first creation was called the F.A.S.T. (Flexibility And Stability Techniques) Class, and even before it was completed I knew that I had discovered my calling.
My first class was so popular that it quickly led to the creation of others. Each class I instructed was another opportunity for me to pass on something positive to the men around me. It felt really good to be helping others, and the results my "students" achieved allowed me to see how I was actually making a difference in their lives. Inspired by their results, I decided to immerse myself in books about exercise, nutrition, meditation, massage, Eastern philosophy and medicine, anatomy, kinesiology, physiology, etc. Basically, anything that was even remotely related to health and wellness was on my list of "required reading." The best part was that I was able to put nearly everything I learned into practice with my students.
My classes covered everything from strength training, speed, agility, core stabilization, flexibility, meditation in motion, myo-fascia release techniques, cardio-endurance training, to proper hydration/nutrition. Six days a week for nearly eight straight years I was on the job full-time as the resident fitness guru. It's difficult to imagine any other circumstance that might have allowed me to acquire all the knowledge and experience during that same period of time. In retrospect, I'm really grateful to have had that opportunity.
Some of my greatest influences during that period were fitness gurus Paul Chek, Juan Carlos Santana, Mike Boyle, Martin Rooney, Jack Lallane and Bruce Lee and spiritual, philosophical, and self-help gurus like Deepak Chopra, Dr. Massarro Emoto, Lao Tzu, Stephen Covey, Mahatma Gandhi and the Dali Lama. However, by far THE most positive influence in my life was the beautiful former Ms. Fitness New Jersey who shared my passion for all things health and wellness related. She inspired me to spend more time on the deeper introspective work that ultimately led to me becoming a much better person. As a result, I was able to look beyond my tiny world on the inside and envision what the future might look like on the outside with the two of us together.
The admissions process was quick and painless. Each of us was strip searched, interviewed, and then issued clothing before we were sent out across the prison yard to our housing units. As soon as we stepped out the door and onto the yard there were inmates walking in step beside us, asking us questions like: "Where you from?" "What are your charges?" "How much time you got?" When I explained my charges and how much time I had they eased back a little, but clearly, I didn't look the part of whatever role they assumed I must have played in order to warrant such a sentence.
Once inside the housing unit, I was immediately offered a knife ("no thanks"), some cigarettes and a quart of homemade wine (both of which I did accept) before being introduced to all of the fellas. I probably should have been grateful for their "hospitality" because, as I would learn later, many of the men designated there never even make it to the housing unit. There I was, on my very first day, right in the mix of it all. Of course, this set me on a path that inevitably would lead to more trouble, but there were some lessons I needed to learn in order to find my own way. I was still young and didn't have a clue about who I really was or where my life might be headed. Back then, considering the time I had and lack of support, it all seemed fairly hopeless.
Six months passed in the blink of an eye. I simply awoke and repeated the routine of that very first day and it finally caught with me. One morning I awoke cold, alone and disoriented in a bare segregation cell. There I sat in silence, with only my thoughts for company, wondering how much farther I could possibly fall. The realization that I was locked inside a prison within a prison was incredibly demoralizing and I silently berated myself over and over. At some point during that first day in segregation another prisoner yelled through the ventilation system that there had been a terrorist attack in New York City. Of course I didn't know if it was actually true or not because I had no radio, TV or telephone to confirm it, but eventually the guards confirmed it when they came around for count. I can vividly recall the strong sense of patriotism that welled up inside me, and it surprised me because the government had just recently banished me to prison for the remainder of my life. Right then, my own plight seemed so small and insignificant compared to that of our country as a whole.
Eventually I was released back into general population and I tried to get myself into a more positive routine. A couple of the older guys steered me into the gym, and it was there that I was able to rediscover my passion for physical fitness. Finally, I had a constructive way to deal with all of the emotional turmoil I was experiencing. My passion evolved into a near obsession with all things health and wellness related, and the majority of each day was devoted to learning and practice. All of the men around me took notice of my transformation, and it wasn't long before some of them began asking me for advice. Eventually, the supervisor of the prison Recreation Department offered me a job. He asked me to create and instruct a new fitness class that would benefit the general population. My first creation was called the F.A.S.T. (Flexibility And Stability Techniques) Class, and even before it was completed I knew that I had discovered my calling.
My first class was so popular that it quickly led to the creation of others. Each class I instructed was another opportunity for me to pass on something positive to the men around me. It felt really good to be helping others, and the results my "students" achieved allowed me to see how I was actually making a difference in their lives. Inspired by their results, I decided to immerse myself in books about exercise, nutrition, meditation, massage, Eastern philosophy and medicine, anatomy, kinesiology, physiology, etc. Basically, anything that was even remotely related to health and wellness was on my list of "required reading." The best part was that I was able to put nearly everything I learned into practice with my students.
My classes covered everything from strength training, speed, agility, core stabilization, flexibility, meditation in motion, myo-fascia release techniques, cardio-endurance training, to proper hydration/nutrition. Six days a week for nearly eight straight years I was on the job full-time as the resident fitness guru. It's difficult to imagine any other circumstance that might have allowed me to acquire all the knowledge and experience during that same period of time. In retrospect, I'm really grateful to have had that opportunity.
Some of my greatest influences during that period were fitness gurus Paul Chek, Juan Carlos Santana, Mike Boyle, Martin Rooney, Jack Lallane and Bruce Lee and spiritual, philosophical, and self-help gurus like Deepak Chopra, Dr. Massarro Emoto, Lao Tzu, Stephen Covey, Mahatma Gandhi and the Dali Lama. However, by far THE most positive influence in my life was the beautiful former Ms. Fitness New Jersey who shared my passion for all things health and wellness related. She inspired me to spend more time on the deeper introspective work that ultimately led to me becoming a much better person. As a result, I was able to look beyond my tiny world on the inside and envision what the future might look like on the outside with the two of us together.
Awarded a transfer and new responsibilities
Quite unexpectedly, in 2010 there were a number of systemic changes made within the Federal Bureau Of Prisons classification system. Those sudden changes led to my (surprise) submission for "special classification" (due to the length of my sentence) that would allow me to subsequently be transferred to a less secure facility. The FBOP (Federal Bureau of Prisons) needed to create some bed space inside the penitentiaries and I happened to be one of the lucky men who benefitted from that situation. Once my paperwork was eventually approved 6 months later, I was packed onto a bus and transferred out to a medium security facility in northwestern Pennsylvania, FCI McKean, high atop a mountain.
The trip across the state took me nearly 30 days to complete, and I was incredibly grateful to have an old friend waiting for me when I finally touched down. Somewhat ironically, (or rather, serendipitously) the friend waiting for me was the same one who helped me establish my very first fitness class in the penitentiary. Thankfully, he was there waiting to help me make the transition, because it proved to be much more difficult than I anticipated.
Here's how I would best describe the transition from a maximum security facility down to a medium security facility. Imagine living in an apartment right next to the high speed line in the city. Every hour or so another train buzzes past your place and rattles everything and everyone inside it. After a while, you become so accustomed to the vibrations that you barely notice them, except when there's a visitor there to comment on the disturbance. That's what it's like living inside a United States Penitentiary. Regularly, your world gets rattled, and you have to learn how to deal with it. Now, imagine moving outside the city into the suburbs where the loudest commotion you regularly encounter is the sound of crickets singing each night. That's an incredibly dramatic change to experience, and it takes some time to acclimate to the new environment. Sometimes, you can still hear the rattle of that train buzzing by, even though you know it's not really there. Those experiences are difficult to leave behind. It took me between 12 to 18 months to fully adjust to a much more relaxed environment. After that, things went from being fairly good to great in relatively quick succession.
During my first eighteen months at FCI McKean, I mostly kept to myself and tried to get acclimated to the new environment. I only associated with those individuals I already knew from elsewhere and fell into a routine that allowed me to avoid regularly having to interact with the masses. My plan had been to get established in the Recreation Department and continue teaching fitness classes as I had done for so many years previously at Alllenwood. However, the Recreation Supervisor showed little interest in offering structured classes, and instead was content to simply offer a bare minimum of activities for the inmate population. Thankfully, I had another plan to fall back on.
Earning a degree at some point during my incarceration had always been a personal goal, and I seemed to have arrived at the perfect time and place to accomplish that. What I didn't anticipate was the difficultly I would encounter trying to raise the funds to pay for those courses. Admittedly, college correspondence courses were a great deal more expensive than I had anticipated, but regardless of the cost, I still couldn't convince anyone that it was a wise investment for me to earn a degree. Their rationale made sense. What good would an expensive college degree be to someone serving a life sentence in prison? So, I decided to put that goal on the backburner, at least until I could come up with a more economically feasible means of attaining that goal.
Eventually, a few men who I had grown close to since arriving at FCI McKean, convinced me to begin training them out on the yard each day. It felt great to be expressing my passion for fitness once again, and I decided to share my "work" with the outside world. My girlfriend (Miss NJ Fitness) created a website called PrisonBodyFitness.com where she posted the workouts I designed and instructed each week. We invested an incredible amount of time and energy into the project and I was extremely proud of what we were able to accomplish. It felt like what I was posting on the internet might be able to have a positive impact on the outside world, and it was that realization that inspired me to begin dreaming outside the box in which I was living.
After countless requests from my peers, I decided that it was finally time to work on creating a new fitness class for the population. The Rec. Supervisor reluctantly gave me an opportunity to implement my H.I.I.T. (High Intensity Interval Training) Class but was soon won over by overwhelming positive response he received from inmates and prison administrators alike. The class became so popular that I often ran out of space and had to create extra stations for all the men who snuck in each week.
Once the weather relented I moved my class out onto the recreation yard where space was not an issue. However, as demand continued to increase, I decided to create another class called the Get Fit Camp. It too quickly filled up. And there I was, right back in my comfort zone, effortlessly interacting with a multitude of individuals whom I normally wouldn't have encountered otherwise. Both classes forced me to put my interpersonal skills back into practice and that was something I desperately needed, whether I cared to admit it or not.
One of the men who joined my HIIT Class outdoors was a rather intriguing individual, who I enjoyed spending time with after each class. Our conversations reminded me of the intellectual exchanges I had enjoyed back in Allenwood, which I now greatly missed. After each class I made it a point to seek him out, and before long we were meeting up outside the class on a fairly regular basis. Those conversations made me realize I could be spending my time much more productively. My new friend, Talib, invited me to step further outside my comfort zone and begin interacting with other intellectuals like him on a regular basis. Once that door was thrust open, a number of great things began to take shape for me.
The trip across the state took me nearly 30 days to complete, and I was incredibly grateful to have an old friend waiting for me when I finally touched down. Somewhat ironically, (or rather, serendipitously) the friend waiting for me was the same one who helped me establish my very first fitness class in the penitentiary. Thankfully, he was there waiting to help me make the transition, because it proved to be much more difficult than I anticipated.
Here's how I would best describe the transition from a maximum security facility down to a medium security facility. Imagine living in an apartment right next to the high speed line in the city. Every hour or so another train buzzes past your place and rattles everything and everyone inside it. After a while, you become so accustomed to the vibrations that you barely notice them, except when there's a visitor there to comment on the disturbance. That's what it's like living inside a United States Penitentiary. Regularly, your world gets rattled, and you have to learn how to deal with it. Now, imagine moving outside the city into the suburbs where the loudest commotion you regularly encounter is the sound of crickets singing each night. That's an incredibly dramatic change to experience, and it takes some time to acclimate to the new environment. Sometimes, you can still hear the rattle of that train buzzing by, even though you know it's not really there. Those experiences are difficult to leave behind. It took me between 12 to 18 months to fully adjust to a much more relaxed environment. After that, things went from being fairly good to great in relatively quick succession.
During my first eighteen months at FCI McKean, I mostly kept to myself and tried to get acclimated to the new environment. I only associated with those individuals I already knew from elsewhere and fell into a routine that allowed me to avoid regularly having to interact with the masses. My plan had been to get established in the Recreation Department and continue teaching fitness classes as I had done for so many years previously at Alllenwood. However, the Recreation Supervisor showed little interest in offering structured classes, and instead was content to simply offer a bare minimum of activities for the inmate population. Thankfully, I had another plan to fall back on.
Earning a degree at some point during my incarceration had always been a personal goal, and I seemed to have arrived at the perfect time and place to accomplish that. What I didn't anticipate was the difficultly I would encounter trying to raise the funds to pay for those courses. Admittedly, college correspondence courses were a great deal more expensive than I had anticipated, but regardless of the cost, I still couldn't convince anyone that it was a wise investment for me to earn a degree. Their rationale made sense. What good would an expensive college degree be to someone serving a life sentence in prison? So, I decided to put that goal on the backburner, at least until I could come up with a more economically feasible means of attaining that goal.
Eventually, a few men who I had grown close to since arriving at FCI McKean, convinced me to begin training them out on the yard each day. It felt great to be expressing my passion for fitness once again, and I decided to share my "work" with the outside world. My girlfriend (Miss NJ Fitness) created a website called PrisonBodyFitness.com where she posted the workouts I designed and instructed each week. We invested an incredible amount of time and energy into the project and I was extremely proud of what we were able to accomplish. It felt like what I was posting on the internet might be able to have a positive impact on the outside world, and it was that realization that inspired me to begin dreaming outside the box in which I was living.
After countless requests from my peers, I decided that it was finally time to work on creating a new fitness class for the population. The Rec. Supervisor reluctantly gave me an opportunity to implement my H.I.I.T. (High Intensity Interval Training) Class but was soon won over by overwhelming positive response he received from inmates and prison administrators alike. The class became so popular that I often ran out of space and had to create extra stations for all the men who snuck in each week.
Once the weather relented I moved my class out onto the recreation yard where space was not an issue. However, as demand continued to increase, I decided to create another class called the Get Fit Camp. It too quickly filled up. And there I was, right back in my comfort zone, effortlessly interacting with a multitude of individuals whom I normally wouldn't have encountered otherwise. Both classes forced me to put my interpersonal skills back into practice and that was something I desperately needed, whether I cared to admit it or not.
One of the men who joined my HIIT Class outdoors was a rather intriguing individual, who I enjoyed spending time with after each class. Our conversations reminded me of the intellectual exchanges I had enjoyed back in Allenwood, which I now greatly missed. After each class I made it a point to seek him out, and before long we were meeting up outside the class on a fairly regular basis. Those conversations made me realize I could be spending my time much more productively. My new friend, Talib, invited me to step further outside my comfort zone and begin interacting with other intellectuals like him on a regular basis. Once that door was thrust open, a number of great things began to take shape for me.
Life coach, student, teacher. Discovering life purpose in prison
The term "life coaching" had been mentioned a number of times in articles and during news reports and there was something about the term that struck my curiosity. So, I asked my girlfriend to Google it and see what came up. While she was preoccupied sifting through all the information, I decided to be proactive and asked one of our Associate Wardens here at the facility, whom I had heard was a practicing life coach, if she could give me a brief explanation. As soon as I mentioned the term, her entire face lit up and she became quite animated. Clearly, it was something she was very passionate about, and our conversation lasted much longer than I had anticipated. I walked away from her feeling a bit apprehensive about the commitment I had just made, but also a little excited.
About 3 weeks later, a group of ten inmates including myself, met with the Associate Warden to make preparations for what was likely the first ever life coaching course held inside a prison. The AW issued us our text books and then we spent a few minutes trying to determine when might be the best time for us all to meet up each week. Most of the men present were already committed to a multitude of projects already taking place, and through those knew each other quite well. Conversely, I was a bit reluctant to meet with a group of guys I barely knew, but the AW's enthusiasm quickly won me over. I decided to fully commit myself to the course, and whatever else came along with it, right there that very first day. And that's when my journey officially began.
Before that first meeting could be adjourned, Talib nominated me to fill a vacant spot in the "Inside Out Program" that had been created by an unexpected transfer the day before. The class consisted of 15 McKean "inside students" who met with 15 University Of Pittsburgh at Bradford "outside students" in the prison visiting room for 3 hours each week, and now they were one student short. I had heard rumors about the program from other men on the compound and was curious enough to want to learn more. However, before I even had a chance to contemplate the offer my nomination was accepted by the AW and the Supervisor of Education. Two days later, I attended my first class and got to meet University of Pittsburgh Criminal Justice Professor Dr. Tony Gaskew and the rest of my classmates. Somehow, in a matter of just a few short days, I had leaped outside my comfort zone and landed right into the mix of everything good that was happening at FCI McKean.
Life Coaching and the Inside Out Program both proved to be a great success for everyone involved, including the institution itself. For those of us who participated in both programs it was a bonding experience that only intensified over time. As a group, we continually challenged and inspired one another to become better at everything we did. Many of us went on to collaborate on other projects that benefitted the rest of the prison population. At one point, Talib had the great idea to contact Dr. Pat Williams, one of the authors of our life coaching text book, and he explained to him how we were utilizing his textbook. Dr. Williams was so impressed with Talib and the focus of our group that he offered to assist us with additional training. Each of our 10 coaches received a "scholarship" for the Institute for Life Coach Training's "Foundation Course" thanks to the generosity of Dr. Williams and Dr. Ellen Ritter, the owner of the ILCT (Institute For Live Coach Training). We were all extremely grateful and excited to be granted such an amazing opportunity. Not one of us hesitated to accept the six month commitment that was required for the course, and we made plans to start almost immediately.
At the same time that our Foundation Course training was taking place, I was in the process of creating what would eventually become "The Hope Coaching Project." My goal was to create a peer coaching program that would assist incarcerated men in developing a realistic life plan, while they were still in prison, so that they would be much less likely to recidivate. I had no difficulty finding a group of men who were willing to try and positively influence the prison culture by becoming peer coaches. And it didn't take long before the other men on the compound began inquiring about how they too could get involved with the program, either as a Hope Coach or coachee.
In addition to The Hope Coaching Project and our Foundation Course classes, our group also began meeting with an intuitive life coach named Jacquelyn Dunkle on a regular basis. She was quite eager to share with us her knowledge of the Enneagram personality type assessment that she uses within her own coaching practice. While the Foundation Course was teaching us how to become "professional coaches," Jackie was teaching us how to become more attuned to our intuition. She always brought an incredible energy into our group and inspired us to look more deeply within ourselves. Her involvement with our coaching program added an entirely new dimension to our training that we never would have experienced otherwise.
Life coaching wasn't the only noteworthy event taking place at FCI McKean during this time. Dr. Tony Gaskew, our professor from the Inside Out Program, invited a few of us to co-facilitate his Victim Impact Course with him. It was a great honor for me to be asked to co-facilitate, and I viewed it as an ideal opportunity for me to finally conquer my phobia of public speaking. The idea of me sharing my personal story with a group of 70 men I barely knew was an incredibly frightening proposition. Thankfully, it proved to be a very liberating experience that only increased my credibility amongst my peers. The men taking the course already knew about my sentence (no one else has 213 years) but they had never heard me speak candidly about aspects of my troubled youth, the commission of my crimes, and the great remorse I carry for all those who were harmed by my actions. I know that my words must have struck some of those men deeply, because a number of them approached me after the 13 week course had concluded and thanked me for my candor.
The experience co-facilitating Victim Impact was precisely what I needed to prepare me for the next incredible opportunity coming my way. Talib and I were invited to give presentations explaining the projects each of us were developing during the 2013 ReThink Prisons Symposium at Vanderbilt University. I was invited to discuss "The Hope Coaching Project" and Talib was prepared to talk about his "Reconstruction Project." The plan was for us to give our presentations during a scheduled "live" video conference link, but it was cancelled at the last minute due to some unforeseen security concerns. Thankfully, our families were still able to give the presentations on our behalf. It was the first time that anything like that had ever been attempted, and although it didn't go quite as we had planned, it undoubtedly opened the door to future opportunities for us to promote the positive things already happening inside the federal prison system.
NONE of my previous experiences could have prepared me for our Institute for Life Coach Training Foundation Course graduation ceremony. Dr. Williams, Dr. Ritter, Intuitive Coach Jacquelyn Dunkle, Dr. Webber, the entire McKean Executive Staff, all of the coaching program's supporting staff members, our coaches in training, and a few choice guests joined us to celebrate our accomplishment. The atmosphere was absolutely electric. It was like nothing I had ever previously experienced during all my years in prison. Each of our graduating coaches shared a few words relating to what they had personally learned and experienced over the course of the previous 7 months. I was the last to speak, and I used my words to paint a vivid picture of the future I envisioned for ALL who were present. Everyone seemed to be deeply moved by what they heard and experienced during the ceremony, and I'm certain the event helped to ensure the longevity of our coaching program at FCI McKean. My only regret is that my girlfriend, family, and close friends were not able to share that experience with me.
Shortly after our graduation, Dr. Gaskew invited my colleagues and I to co-facilitate another Victim Impact Course alongside him. This time around there was an even greater demand than the last, so we all agreed to accept as many participants as the space could accommodate. The course roster contained well over 100 names and even more showed up on the first day but had to be turned away. We got off to a great start and by the third week I was ready for my big solo presentation. Unfortunately, Dr. Gaskew was not able to make it in that day so I had the floor all to myself for 90 consecutive minutes...and I felt completely at ease the entire time. It was a huge step toward me one day accomplishing my ultimate public speaking goal of standing before Congress and advocating for meaningful criminal justice system reforms.
Over the years I've participated in a number of Basic Spanish classes, mainly because I wanted to better understand the Spanish speaking men I have to interact with each day. However, I never really committed myself to retaining what I had learned and later forgot most of it. I didn't realize how valuable those language skills might someday become until recently when I learned some surprising statistics during one of the Victim Impact Course presentations. By the year 2025 Hispanics will have become the predominant ethnicity in this country. That means in order for me to become a more effective facilitator, coach, and leader, both on the inside as well as on the outside, I need to become fluent in Spanish. Thankfully, I found an extremely gifted Espanola teacher in my dear friend Talib, and he was willing to help get me back on track.
About 3 weeks later, a group of ten inmates including myself, met with the Associate Warden to make preparations for what was likely the first ever life coaching course held inside a prison. The AW issued us our text books and then we spent a few minutes trying to determine when might be the best time for us all to meet up each week. Most of the men present were already committed to a multitude of projects already taking place, and through those knew each other quite well. Conversely, I was a bit reluctant to meet with a group of guys I barely knew, but the AW's enthusiasm quickly won me over. I decided to fully commit myself to the course, and whatever else came along with it, right there that very first day. And that's when my journey officially began.
Before that first meeting could be adjourned, Talib nominated me to fill a vacant spot in the "Inside Out Program" that had been created by an unexpected transfer the day before. The class consisted of 15 McKean "inside students" who met with 15 University Of Pittsburgh at Bradford "outside students" in the prison visiting room for 3 hours each week, and now they were one student short. I had heard rumors about the program from other men on the compound and was curious enough to want to learn more. However, before I even had a chance to contemplate the offer my nomination was accepted by the AW and the Supervisor of Education. Two days later, I attended my first class and got to meet University of Pittsburgh Criminal Justice Professor Dr. Tony Gaskew and the rest of my classmates. Somehow, in a matter of just a few short days, I had leaped outside my comfort zone and landed right into the mix of everything good that was happening at FCI McKean.
Life Coaching and the Inside Out Program both proved to be a great success for everyone involved, including the institution itself. For those of us who participated in both programs it was a bonding experience that only intensified over time. As a group, we continually challenged and inspired one another to become better at everything we did. Many of us went on to collaborate on other projects that benefitted the rest of the prison population. At one point, Talib had the great idea to contact Dr. Pat Williams, one of the authors of our life coaching text book, and he explained to him how we were utilizing his textbook. Dr. Williams was so impressed with Talib and the focus of our group that he offered to assist us with additional training. Each of our 10 coaches received a "scholarship" for the Institute for Life Coach Training's "Foundation Course" thanks to the generosity of Dr. Williams and Dr. Ellen Ritter, the owner of the ILCT (Institute For Live Coach Training). We were all extremely grateful and excited to be granted such an amazing opportunity. Not one of us hesitated to accept the six month commitment that was required for the course, and we made plans to start almost immediately.
At the same time that our Foundation Course training was taking place, I was in the process of creating what would eventually become "The Hope Coaching Project." My goal was to create a peer coaching program that would assist incarcerated men in developing a realistic life plan, while they were still in prison, so that they would be much less likely to recidivate. I had no difficulty finding a group of men who were willing to try and positively influence the prison culture by becoming peer coaches. And it didn't take long before the other men on the compound began inquiring about how they too could get involved with the program, either as a Hope Coach or coachee.
In addition to The Hope Coaching Project and our Foundation Course classes, our group also began meeting with an intuitive life coach named Jacquelyn Dunkle on a regular basis. She was quite eager to share with us her knowledge of the Enneagram personality type assessment that she uses within her own coaching practice. While the Foundation Course was teaching us how to become "professional coaches," Jackie was teaching us how to become more attuned to our intuition. She always brought an incredible energy into our group and inspired us to look more deeply within ourselves. Her involvement with our coaching program added an entirely new dimension to our training that we never would have experienced otherwise.
Life coaching wasn't the only noteworthy event taking place at FCI McKean during this time. Dr. Tony Gaskew, our professor from the Inside Out Program, invited a few of us to co-facilitate his Victim Impact Course with him. It was a great honor for me to be asked to co-facilitate, and I viewed it as an ideal opportunity for me to finally conquer my phobia of public speaking. The idea of me sharing my personal story with a group of 70 men I barely knew was an incredibly frightening proposition. Thankfully, it proved to be a very liberating experience that only increased my credibility amongst my peers. The men taking the course already knew about my sentence (no one else has 213 years) but they had never heard me speak candidly about aspects of my troubled youth, the commission of my crimes, and the great remorse I carry for all those who were harmed by my actions. I know that my words must have struck some of those men deeply, because a number of them approached me after the 13 week course had concluded and thanked me for my candor.
The experience co-facilitating Victim Impact was precisely what I needed to prepare me for the next incredible opportunity coming my way. Talib and I were invited to give presentations explaining the projects each of us were developing during the 2013 ReThink Prisons Symposium at Vanderbilt University. I was invited to discuss "The Hope Coaching Project" and Talib was prepared to talk about his "Reconstruction Project." The plan was for us to give our presentations during a scheduled "live" video conference link, but it was cancelled at the last minute due to some unforeseen security concerns. Thankfully, our families were still able to give the presentations on our behalf. It was the first time that anything like that had ever been attempted, and although it didn't go quite as we had planned, it undoubtedly opened the door to future opportunities for us to promote the positive things already happening inside the federal prison system.
NONE of my previous experiences could have prepared me for our Institute for Life Coach Training Foundation Course graduation ceremony. Dr. Williams, Dr. Ritter, Intuitive Coach Jacquelyn Dunkle, Dr. Webber, the entire McKean Executive Staff, all of the coaching program's supporting staff members, our coaches in training, and a few choice guests joined us to celebrate our accomplishment. The atmosphere was absolutely electric. It was like nothing I had ever previously experienced during all my years in prison. Each of our graduating coaches shared a few words relating to what they had personally learned and experienced over the course of the previous 7 months. I was the last to speak, and I used my words to paint a vivid picture of the future I envisioned for ALL who were present. Everyone seemed to be deeply moved by what they heard and experienced during the ceremony, and I'm certain the event helped to ensure the longevity of our coaching program at FCI McKean. My only regret is that my girlfriend, family, and close friends were not able to share that experience with me.
Shortly after our graduation, Dr. Gaskew invited my colleagues and I to co-facilitate another Victim Impact Course alongside him. This time around there was an even greater demand than the last, so we all agreed to accept as many participants as the space could accommodate. The course roster contained well over 100 names and even more showed up on the first day but had to be turned away. We got off to a great start and by the third week I was ready for my big solo presentation. Unfortunately, Dr. Gaskew was not able to make it in that day so I had the floor all to myself for 90 consecutive minutes...and I felt completely at ease the entire time. It was a huge step toward me one day accomplishing my ultimate public speaking goal of standing before Congress and advocating for meaningful criminal justice system reforms.
Over the years I've participated in a number of Basic Spanish classes, mainly because I wanted to better understand the Spanish speaking men I have to interact with each day. However, I never really committed myself to retaining what I had learned and later forgot most of it. I didn't realize how valuable those language skills might someday become until recently when I learned some surprising statistics during one of the Victim Impact Course presentations. By the year 2025 Hispanics will have become the predominant ethnicity in this country. That means in order for me to become a more effective facilitator, coach, and leader, both on the inside as well as on the outside, I need to become fluent in Spanish. Thankfully, I found an extremely gifted Espanola teacher in my dear friend Talib, and he was willing to help get me back on track.
Hope from the inside
Throughout the term of my incarceration, continuing education has always remained a priority. Most of the knowledge I've acquired over the years has been through diligent self-study, but some of it has also been gleaned from conversations with highly intelligent and experienced individuals who possessed a great deal of knowledge in a specific field of study. I've still always aspired to earn an accredited 4 year degree, despite the fact that there are no formal post-secondary education programs operating inside the federal prison system. The least expensive college "correspondence course program" costs over thirty thousand dollars for a BA degree in "general studies," and since there are no federal grants or student loans available to federal inmates we must rely upon the generosity of our family members and friends. (Note: federal inmates earn on average five dollars PER MONTH). In reality, college is simply too cost prohibitive to most prisoners. It's incredibly difficult to convince someone on the outside to invest in your future while you're still in the process of paying for the mistakes of your past, especially when you happen to be serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole.
I began seriously contemplating how to create a post-secondary education program at FCI McKean while I was listening to Dr. Gaskew speak during the Inside Out Program. He was talking about our ability to transform the facility into a "virtual college campus," although I don't think he meant it literally. But the more I focused on envisioning the facility as a college campus the more convinced I became there was a way to bring that vision to life. After a good deal of research and a number of inquiring emails, I finally connected with someone who was willing to help. A professor at Hamilton College in upstate New York named Doran Larson had already created an NON-TUITION post-secondary education model that had been successfully implemented in the New York State Prison system. He was willing to tour our facility and meet with a group of individuals dedicated to discerning the most feasible way to implement his model inside a federal facility. (NOTE: There are a number of major differences between state and federal prison facilities that must be taken into account.) The tour and meeting went well and tentative plans were made to launch a pilot program to test the model in the Fall of 2014 if the grant funding was approved. My hope is that the "pilot program" proves to be a successful model, which can be quickly and easily adopted by most federal facilities nationwide.
Since arriving at FCI McKean I've had some phenomenal experiences that I never would have imagined occurring under these circumstances. Probably the most inconceivable was a weekend Reiki Training workshop made available to our core group of coaches. Reiki is a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that also promotes healing...kind of like when Mr. Miagi worked his magic on Daniel Son, only not quite that dramatic. This restorative and energizing technique was especially appealing to me because I am always searching for ways to effectively bridge the mind/body gap that exists in most of my health and wellness coaching clients. Reiki is a complimentary modality that I can use not only on my clients but also on myself. I'm incredibly grateful to have been blessed with the knowledge and the experience that I gained while attaining it.
My recent experiences have truly been life altering in so many ways. When I arrived at FCI McKean I was certain that I knew what my calling was in life and how I could use it to help others. What I came to discover was that I had an even greater purpose still awaiting me. Becoming a coach and leader within the facility has allowed me to positively influence more lives, in a much more profound way than I ever believed possible under these conditions. I owe the core group of men who helped me to discover my true purpose for all the personal success I've enjoyed since. I have no doubt we will continue to support each other in future endeavors, both inside as well as outside of prison. We managed to help create a more positive and productive prison culture than any of us had ever known before, and I'm eager to see what each of us will accomplish next.
Adam Bentley Clausen, 1/6/14
Life is very different for me now in comparison to how it was just a few years ago. Back then, I didn't have nearly as many people in my corner and I certainly didn't have as many opportunities. There was little talk about federal sentencing reform and even less mentioned about how we might effectively reduce the rate of recidivism. Now, I'm actively engaged in both movements and finding ways to personally contribute and make a difference. Thankfully, the people who support me finally have a cause to rally behind (actually, there are a few) and the relationships I now share with those closest to me are stronger than ever before. It's amazing how things have changed.
The sense of Hope and Optimism I have for my future is genuine and pragmatic. I plan to continue helping others, and for now it doesn't matter whether I'm doing that "in here" or "out there," because I'm living intentionally and fulfilling my life purpose. Honestly, how many people can claim to be doing the same? I'm confident that this is merely the beginning of my story...and the "happy ending" is still being written a few lines at a time, each passing day.
I began seriously contemplating how to create a post-secondary education program at FCI McKean while I was listening to Dr. Gaskew speak during the Inside Out Program. He was talking about our ability to transform the facility into a "virtual college campus," although I don't think he meant it literally. But the more I focused on envisioning the facility as a college campus the more convinced I became there was a way to bring that vision to life. After a good deal of research and a number of inquiring emails, I finally connected with someone who was willing to help. A professor at Hamilton College in upstate New York named Doran Larson had already created an NON-TUITION post-secondary education model that had been successfully implemented in the New York State Prison system. He was willing to tour our facility and meet with a group of individuals dedicated to discerning the most feasible way to implement his model inside a federal facility. (NOTE: There are a number of major differences between state and federal prison facilities that must be taken into account.) The tour and meeting went well and tentative plans were made to launch a pilot program to test the model in the Fall of 2014 if the grant funding was approved. My hope is that the "pilot program" proves to be a successful model, which can be quickly and easily adopted by most federal facilities nationwide.
Since arriving at FCI McKean I've had some phenomenal experiences that I never would have imagined occurring under these circumstances. Probably the most inconceivable was a weekend Reiki Training workshop made available to our core group of coaches. Reiki is a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that also promotes healing...kind of like when Mr. Miagi worked his magic on Daniel Son, only not quite that dramatic. This restorative and energizing technique was especially appealing to me because I am always searching for ways to effectively bridge the mind/body gap that exists in most of my health and wellness coaching clients. Reiki is a complimentary modality that I can use not only on my clients but also on myself. I'm incredibly grateful to have been blessed with the knowledge and the experience that I gained while attaining it.
My recent experiences have truly been life altering in so many ways. When I arrived at FCI McKean I was certain that I knew what my calling was in life and how I could use it to help others. What I came to discover was that I had an even greater purpose still awaiting me. Becoming a coach and leader within the facility has allowed me to positively influence more lives, in a much more profound way than I ever believed possible under these conditions. I owe the core group of men who helped me to discover my true purpose for all the personal success I've enjoyed since. I have no doubt we will continue to support each other in future endeavors, both inside as well as outside of prison. We managed to help create a more positive and productive prison culture than any of us had ever known before, and I'm eager to see what each of us will accomplish next.
Adam Bentley Clausen, 1/6/14
Life is very different for me now in comparison to how it was just a few years ago. Back then, I didn't have nearly as many people in my corner and I certainly didn't have as many opportunities. There was little talk about federal sentencing reform and even less mentioned about how we might effectively reduce the rate of recidivism. Now, I'm actively engaged in both movements and finding ways to personally contribute and make a difference. Thankfully, the people who support me finally have a cause to rally behind (actually, there are a few) and the relationships I now share with those closest to me are stronger than ever before. It's amazing how things have changed.
The sense of Hope and Optimism I have for my future is genuine and pragmatic. I plan to continue helping others, and for now it doesn't matter whether I'm doing that "in here" or "out there," because I'm living intentionally and fulfilling my life purpose. Honestly, how many people can claim to be doing the same? I'm confident that this is merely the beginning of my story...and the "happy ending" is still being written a few lines at a time, each passing day.
2014 Adam Bentley Clausen