It is usually when you delete someone from your phone that you realise that they are really gone.
As usual, there is an exception to this rule. I still have not found the courage to delete David from my contacts, although I should have done so almost a year ago, on 18 June 2021. This is the day he passed away, after spending 22 years and 2 months in detention. I have not deleted him because I don’t want him to be gone just yet. I feel he still deserves my attention.
And also the world’s.
An ordinary man
David was born in Dallas, TX, on 25 August 1967. He had a typical childhood in a modest family. But as a hyperactive child, he was unable to concentrate and stopped going to school early to work full time and help his parents. He used to hang out with a group of teenagers who carried out petty offences, for which he spent some time in prison. In 1991, when he was released, he met a woman. They had two children and later separated.
David L. Carpenter – © freedavidlynncarpenter.jimdofree.com
1991 is also the year when a significant event happened, which would impact the rest of his life. In Dallas, TX, a person burglarised the home of a 52-year-old woman. Her door was kicked in and her throat was cut. The local police did not find the murderer. 6 years went by and in 1997, the police received an anonymous phone call accusing David of the murder. In 1999, David was convicted of capital murder and sentenced to death for a crime that he has always denied committing, and of which he never ceased to proclaim his innocence.
I will not delve into the details of the investigation; everyone should do their own due diligence and decide whether or not the case makes sense or gives rise to doubts as regards to his conviction. What I do want is to pay tribute to his resilience and his positive outlook on life, which has inspired me over the years.
When words heal
It was in the early 2000s when my high school best friend – she knew a thing or two about my passions for writing and justice – came up to me one day with this unusual idea: to support a death row inmate through written correspondence. We did our research and decided to jointly start writing letters to David to support him during what we thought would be a couple of years until his retrial and subsequent release.
I remember waiting for these handwritten letters from the United States with impatience, they would come every month and a half if we were prompt to respond. We would and could write about anything: it is fascinating to see how easy it was to write to a “stranger” and how he would connect and sympathise with our teenager preoccupations.
Years went by, my friend and I moved to different cities to study and later work. I pursued the correspondence, at my own pace. David would occasionally typewrite his letters, and I would sometimes print mine to save time – but I would always look forward to see some handwriting. It conveys so much more about a person’s state of mind, personality, energy. I heard about the difficult conditions of his detention, his health problems, but they would never take over his positive statements on life and his hope for the future. He was genuine, considerate and he would also lift me up in difficult times. He became a friend.
Freedom at last
David’s life was not taken away by a human hand in the end, it was serious health issues that put a halt to his life. Would these illnesses have been avoided or overcome in a different environment? Food for thought. Despite many sustained efforts by his supportive family, lawyers and NGOs over the course of two decades, he did not have the opportunity to experience a retrial, a release, and ultimately, freedom.
We do not realise the privilege of being “free” both geographically and psychologically. We get used to our comfort, our peace, the ability to choose, to move. We moan about the slightest inconvenience on the road, at work, with friends. But how inconceivable and unbelievably painful is it to have a human-generated arbitrary expiry date on your life? To have every aspect of your life restricted, monitored and controlled?
David’s last letter to me.
Dear David, it took me longer than the time it takes to carry a child to come to terms with your departure. This is my last letter to you. I hope that wherever you are right now is a better place where you feel only bliss, happiness and love. And above all freedom. Thank you for all the light you brought and the care you shared. You are dearly missed. Always.
Find out more: https://freedavidlynncarpenter.jimdofree.com/
Penfriend a prisoner: https://writeaprisoner.com/ and https://www.prisonerspenfriends.org/
Support the abolition of death penalty: https://worldcoalition.org/support-us/