Families Cope With Life as Their Convict Patriarchs Do the Same

Jesse Parks’ love for his father has remained strong for all of his 20 years, even though the elder Parks has spent the past 16 years in prison and may spend the rest of his life there.

“I was 4 years old when the police came and took my dad away for killing a man, and I know that he may never get out of prison,” Parks said. “I’ve had to accept it, but it has been hard not to be able to do things with my dad like other kids. It’s like I have had to serve a sentence too.”

Family members of those sentenced to spend most or all of their life in prison often feel they also are being punished.

Some lose contact. Some struggle to stay in touch and hope their loved one will eventually return home, even given the daunting prospect of caring for an aged ex-convict with little or no state assistance.

“When someone is imprisoned for decades, it is so difficult for families to maintain contact,” said Julie Stewart, founder of the Washington-based Families Against Mandatory Minimums.

Families struggle financially just to survive. They often can’t afford to visit prisons that may be hundreds of miles away.

The families of murder victims are also left to grieve, often for a lifetime.

“We always say the victims die once, but the families die a thousand times,” said Nancy Ruhe-Munch, executive director of the Cincinnati-based national advocacy group Parents of Murdered Children.

Ruhe-Munch counsels parents of murdered children. Some of them suffer stress-related illnesses, she said. Some die years before what should be a natural life span.

She believes that repressed rage, guilt or grief can take a toll on those victims.

“It’s horrible,” she said. “It’s a hopeless feeling. They want some justice, and they don’t always get it.”

Arthur Parks was convicted in 1985 of first-degree murder for shooting to death a park ranger, who authorities say was responding to a report of gunshots at a campground in Duncan, Okla.

Parks said his father was drunk and cannot remember what happened, but prosecutors had suggested he may have shot the ranger to avoid arrest. He was not allowed to have a gun because he previously was convicted of selling marijuana.

He is serving a sentence of 15 years to life at the Diamondback Correctional Facility in Watonga, Okla. He was denied parole in 2000 and will not be eligible again until next year.

Jesse Parks and his mother, 55-year-old Jennifer Thomas, moved to Cincinnati 14 years ago to be near her family. He spends summers and Christmas vacations with his paternal grandparents so he can visit his father.

“I was kept away from the trial because I was so young, but my mother was up front with me,” he said. “She made it clear that my dad had gotten into trouble and we were going to have a life without him. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t have any choice.”

Thomas said she had considered telling her son that his father had died or had simply walked away from his family.

“[But] I decided it was best for Jesse to know that his father didn’t leave him voluntarily,” said Thomas, who remained married to Arthur Parks for 10 years after he was imprisoned. “I told him that his father’s alcoholism had led him to make some bad mistakes, but I also knew that Arthur was not a career criminal who would lead Jesse into a life of crime.”

Thomas, who has remarried, said she taught her son to lie about his father’s situation when he was a child.

“I was afraid he would be hurt, but I let him make his own decision when he got older and now he is open about it,” she said.

At age 52, Arthur Parks has had a minor stroke, heart problems and he has a crippled leg.

“Health care in prison is not much,” his son said. “I hope that he can stay healthy and get out someday, but whatever happens, I’m in it for the long haul. He’s my dad.”

Alison Coleman, the wife of a man sentenced in 1980 to 25 years to life, says she and her children have similar concerns as her husband ages in prison.

Coleman, 51, of Albany, N.Y., remains married to her 52-year-old husband, who is at the Washington Correctional Facility in Comstock, N.Y. He was sentenced as a persistent felony offender after a robbery conviction. His wife has formed a support group for other New York families in the same situation.

Coleman, who doesn’t want her husband’s name publicized because she feels prison inmates are safer keeping a low profile, said her goal is for him to stay healthy.

“He can’t be paroled for at least four more years, and it may never happen,” she said. “He is very fit for his age, but it is scary. The bottom line for prisoners and their families is the fear that they may die there among strangers.”

Coleman said the stress of the past 21 years has taken a toll. For the first few years her husband was in prison, they were allowed a family reunion, and their second child, Andre, was conceived.

“I really loved my husband and I decided to do my best to stay with him,” she said. “But I finally couldn’t handle it anymore and I separated from him emotionally and physically for about 10 years.”

She said her children, 19-year-old Andre and 22-year-old Cecily, love their father very much, and she made sure they were able to visit him. About five years ago, she reconnected with her husband.

“He is now putting his family first,” she said, “and is trying to stay healthy so that we can have some good years if he does get out.”