Supernatural-The Newspaper Series

A person holding his head with a clock face

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The Revisionist

The clang of the metal door echoed through the hallway. After ten years of appeals and failed parole board hearings, Jamie’s heart sank lower with each footfall of the retreating guards and the squeaky wheels of the wheelchair that they had used to bring him from the medical center. The dead silence that followed weighed heavy on his chest and suffocated him. He eased his discomfort from his claustrophobia by turning on his side to face the cell wall with his back to the door. He closed his eyes and hugged his knees. For the thousandth time, he chuckled at his predicament and reflected on his short journey through a life of wrong turns and bad choices. A tear rolled out of each eyelid. He was tried and convicted on the opinions of the press and their readers before he had stepped one foot into the courtroom. The legal aid lawyer showed little or no interest in defending him. After all, he was an impoverished kid raised by a single mother from the poorer part of town, who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. It worried him that the perpetrator was still free to walk among society, emboldened by escape from justice and likely to tempt fate by repeating his murderous act on another unsuspecting victim.

His mom’s tearful heartwrenching pleadings to God throughout the trial did not rescue him from the prejudice he endured at the hands of overzealous police who sought a conviction at all costs, including planting evidence to frame the seventeen-year-old. Jamie was not without his fair share of legal troubles during his teens. As a minor, he and his friends got into frequent trouble with the law for petty crimes and gang memberships. He was tried as an adult for the capital crime of murder. The trial focused on his criminal record to show that he was an undesirable illegal alien who preyed on honest hardworking people. The prosecutor presented a rap sheet to the court that was twice Jamie’s height with convictions that were more than his age. By the age of seventeen, he was a veteran of juvenile halls.

Jamie’s crimes belied his heart. He was not mean or vengeful. Half of his thefts were for the benefit of others. The proceeds from the other half went to his mother who had suffered a work injury that paralyzed her lower body. As an illegal alien working in a factory for less than minimum wage, she was not entitled to compensation or social assistance. Jaimie stole a wheelchair to make her mobile. Her pain medications came from the small margin of profits Jamie made from selling drugs at night to prostitutes in the red-light district.

To supplement his illegal drug income, Jaimie did odd jobs during the day in the commercial district but unscrupulous businessmen exploited him. Most of his arrests occurred when he got caught stealing from them to make up for the shortfall in their payments for his labor. Bribes from the owners of the businesses caused the police to look the other way while the laws against child labor and truancy were blatantly disregarded. Jamie lived precariously between the ruthless underhanded practices of proprietors and the corrupt cops

The justice system used the poor and underrepresented minorities to bolster their image in the mainstream media. Courts scoffed at Jamie without listening to his pleas about abandoning his mother. They told him that he should have thought about his mother before committing the illegal acts. They did not care that his mom was the major reason he stole and sold drugs. His mom never gave up on him. Whenever Jamie was incarcerated, his mother would visit him every Sunday to hold his hand while she closed her eyes and pleaded to the supreme being to release her child from the tragedy that had befallen him. The wrongfully accused Jaimie humored her by mirroring her actions. He did not want to hurt his mother with his skepticism of her faith in some unseen benefactor that always seemed to place the odds against them. He did not tell her that he was in the later stages of congestive heart failure which he believed that he had inherited from his father’s side of the family since his mother, in her mid-forties, had never been diagnosed with the disease.

Jamie’s mom told him that they had to escape his abusive father who threatened to kill them if he ever tracked them down. He was three years old at the time his mother was rescued by other families who had entered the country unlawfully. Jamie was unable to attend school because of his illegal status. With no education or skills, Jaimie was caught in a vicious cycle of the underprivileged. In his desperation for survival, he was condemned to live a life of crime. Even though it was a little too late for him to become a productive member of society through education, death row did not diminish his determination to feel better about himself. He used the prison’s library to earn his high school diploma. Knowing that his life was at an end, the non-religious Jaimie read every religious book in the library to find spiritual comfort. He started to pray from deep within his soul for the first time in his life.

Jamie’s appointment with death arrived. He was wheeled to the electric chair in preparation for his final moment. To everyone’s dismay, five minutes before they strapped him in and pulled the switch, Jaimie suffered a heart attack and died.

Since Jaimie only stole for the sake of others, The Revisionist grabbed his soul and reversed his life to the point of conception. He was born to doting parents who showered him with love and affection. He had no recollection of his previous human existence but he followed in his parents’ footsteps to share their wealth with the less fortunate. They were a match made in heaven.

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