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National Catholic Reporter January 18-31, 2013

April 1, 2013
Brian Cahill

Cops, Cons and Grace

by Brian Cahill

In my retirement I spend most of my time writing. I have written a few pieces about the failed leadership of our Church, but most of my writing is about my oldest son, a police officer who took his life four years ago. I have learned about cops and suicide, and I have learned about pain and grace. I try to write four days a week, but on Tuesdays I don’t write. I volunteer.

I spend part of each Tuesday at the San Francisco Police Department doing suicide prevention training. For the last year I have been speaking to 25 cops every week who are required to go through 40 hours of advanced officer training every 2 years. Two hours are devoted to behavioral health issues including alcoholism, substance abuse, marital issues, depression and suicide. I am given 30 minutes to tell these officers about my son and how he lost his way, about the high rate of police suicide, and about current research in this area. I tell them that if this can happen to my son, it can happen to any officer. I remind them that the very things that make them effective and safe on the street can destroy them in their personal life, and that asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength. I think they are listening, first because they respect me for doing this, and second because SFPD lost three officers to suicide in 2010. A number of officers have told me that I have helped them.

When I finish the training and I am back in my car, I usually fall apart because I have not been giving an academic lecture, but rather talking about the suicide of my son, my first born, my rock. I sit in my car revisiting the horror of four years ago. And yet at the same time, because I do this training to honor my son and hopefully to help other cops, I feel God’s grace working in me, not eliminating the pain, but allowing me to feel some satisfaction and a sense that life is still worth living. I am always amazed at the intimate, symbiotic and still for me, mysterious relationship between pain and grace.

When I leave the police department I drive over the Golden Gate Bridge to San Quentin Prison in Marin County. Every Tuesday night for two hours I co-lead a spirituality group with 18 inmates. I have been coming into San Quentin for over 7 years as a volunteer, going to Mass with the men on Sundays and being with a group of them on Tuesdays. I have never been in a place where God’s presence is more tangible.

Most of the men I have come to know have been convicted of second degree murder and were sentenced to 15 years to life. They have not received a sentence of life without the possibility of parole. On the contrary, their sentences specifically include the possibility of parole. Many of them were convicted in their teens or early 20s. According to the sentencing guidelines, if they fulfilled all the criteria for rehabilitation, they could be paroled in 12 to 15 years.

Most of the men I know in this situation have served over 20 years, and in some cases over 30 years, because parole boards and governors have been politically reluctant to release them. Unlike fixed term prisoners where the recidivism rate is 70%, the recidivism rate for these inmates when they are released is 1%.

The men I have come to know, these “lifers”, are men of deep spirituality, full of insight and remorse for the crimes they have committed and the great harm and pain they brought to others. They are completely rehabilitated and qualified and capable of returning to the free community.  In many cases when they get out, they will serve others.

Should they have been held accountable and punished for their crime? Absolutely, but they have done their time and then some. They are not the same men they were when they did their crime. We need to see them and know them for who they are now, not who they were 20 or 30 years ago. We need to see them as living witnesses to the transforming power of faith. If we are followers of Jesus Christ, then we believe in forgiveness and redemption, and we need to live that belief.

During our Tuesday night sessions, based on the topic selected, we start with a brief scripture reading. Topics have included forgiveness, perseverance, empathy, spiritual dry spells and how grace manifests itself in prison. The guys know about my son and they pray for him each year at Mass on the anniversary of his death. One night after the concluding prayer, one of the newer members of the group who had only just  learned about my son, came up to me, gave me a hug and said, “You know, he is with God.”

For a few weeks we covered those psalms where God is referred as our “rock”. A very thoughtful lifer who has been in prison a long time, recounted the years he spent in the special housing unit at Pelican Bay, and told us that reading those psalms and holding on to the thought that God was his “rock”, allowed him to survive that terrible time.

For another few sessions we discussed Mathew 25, “What you did for the least of my brothers you did for me…” Each inmate shared his thoughts on the meaning of the passage and how it would apply in prison. At the end of the last session, one very tough, but very wise lifer said, “I think it means if you screw over your brother, you are screwing over God.”

Usually when I come into San Quentin on Tuesday, I am tired, depressed from thinking about my son, and feeling sorry for myself. Almost always when I leave at the end of the session, I’m grateful that I get to walk out of that place and I realize that I should stop whining. I am in awe at the faith, insight and spiritual journey of these men, who in their pain, isolation and suffering are closer to God than most people I know on the outside. And I know that God’s grace, not always obvious, is flowing inside those walls, and it also touches those of us who are privileged to come in there once in a while. 

 

When I first started coming into San Quentin, I would talk about it with my son who wasn’t sure he approved. I agreed with him that there are some individuals in prison who need to be there, but when I told him who these men were and how they were unjustly serving time far beyond their intended sentence, he gave me his blessing. Now when I get home late each Tuesday evening, I can say that I have honored my son, covered both ends of the criminal justice system, and experienced tangible signs of God’s grace in both those worlds.

The secret of volunteer work is that it is a very selfish and rewarding activity. I do this for others, but if I’m honest, I do it so I can keep breathing,  I do it so I can keep believing. I do it so I can experience God’s grace.

Brian Cahill is the former executive director of San Francisco Catholic Charities.