As the date descended I fought back tears daily as I thought of visiting Mr.

Troy
Anthony Davis. I was nervous. I was excited. I was…a bundle of emotions. I kept
asking myself the question, “what do you say to someone on Death Row? I will only
have 6 hours. Will it be enough time? Will it be too much?” So many questions,
too many nerves, not enough answers.

Looking back, in some ways it seemed so silly to be nervous. I’d been writing Troy
for 6 months now. I could drop a 5 page, double sided, hand written letter to him in
the mail wishing I had time to write more, wondering if it would fit in the 42 cent
range: no problem. Troy is a good, really good friend whom I absolutely love and
adore. He knows things about me my mom doesn’t even know, so why the
trepidation? Some other questions also crossed my mind like, “how did I get here?”
“What am I doing in Georgia visiting this man?” “What am I expecting?”

I didn’t know. I mean, it wasn’t like I was falling for Troy. However, I did need to
meet the person who could correct and counsel me, be cordial and caring, comical
and Christian BUT has been in prison for over 18 years of his life for a murder he
says he didn’t commit and still be so NICE. I just know that I have a love for people
and if I could leave Hawaii to go to Africa to meet someone, since I was staying in
Virginia and sooooo very close to Georgia I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet
Troy, regardless of the expense or sacrifice.

I was privileged to have accommodations made for me to have a place to stay while
I was in Georgia, “thank you Troy.” One night as I was working on my plans, I
talked to one of the women I would be staying with basically asking questions that I
hoped would dispel my fears. “What happens?” “What should I expect?” “Is it OK
to be nervous?” Thankfully in answer to the nervousness question I was told “yes.”
And I was filled in with details about the rest of the ordeal as well.

Of course when something means so much to you, that’s when the most challenges
will surface to thwart you from your path. The bus I was planning on taking to
Atlanta on Friday morning I missed. The bus I took to get me there early Saturday
morning was late…2 hours late. By the time I got to Atlanta Saturday morning it
was 7:00. I basically was picked up from the bus station, taken to the house where I
showered and changed and drove an hour to Jackson, GA with VERY little sleep. I
prayed before I left and just expected the Lord to take care of the rest.

The first thing that was intriguing to me is how beautiful the road is that leads up to
this maximum security prison. There are lakes and lots of land with trees, green
grass, and geese crossing the road. It is oxymoronishly beautiful. The next thing
that struck me as odd was the size of the visitor’s parking lot: maybe four rows of
parking spaces, about 1/3 of it taken up by D.O.C. cars it seemed. Apparently there
are not many visitors for the nearly 2,000 prisoners inside. Hard to imagine there
were so many people inside with so little support. I pulled in and parked, took a
deep breath, stepped out of the car, and headed for the entrance. Here I am!!
Finally. It was shortly after 9, already my visit would be less than 6 hours, I had
wanted to get here earlier. There was a small group of people standing there,
maybe 10-12. I thought, even though there were not a lot of cars, maybe this was
the second wave of visitors waiting to go in. I had hoped to be among the first.

There were several really nice people who directed me to fill out the paperwork and
keep it so I could turn it in when a guard came. I was just in time because shortly
after I was done, a guard came and collected everyone’s paperwork. I still believed
I was a part of the “next” wave of visitors going in and they were still processing the
“first batch.” I stepped away from the porch area in the front there and enjoyed the
feeling of the sun. I avoided the lawn because there was a sign requesting you to
but sat on the steps at the base of one of the concrete watchtowers, waiting for the
doors to open. As I sat there, a butterfly passed by and I knew that despite all,
today was going to be an amazing day. For the last two years, almost three years
now, I have taken butterflies to mean something special in its way. It’s like my sign
that God has something in store for me. I took a deep breath and walked back to
the car for a moment to call Lynn and let her know I had arrived safely. It was after
9:30. My less than six hours were reduced to less than five and a half.

Finally, the doors opened and people began to go in. I spoke cordially with some of
the people who waited and somehow learned that this was the “first” group. I
managed to get into the door and pass the security test. It was less treacherous
than going through airport security, the lady even made eye contact and smiled.
Something that might seem so mundane to people but I wonder if they realize most
people never do it. I’ve missed that the most since leaving Hawaii, people smiling
at you for no apparent reason, just to be nice. I signed in shortly after 10. My five
and a half hours were now below five.

I went through the “underground railroad” but there was not freedom on the other
side. I did, however, learn about the “rush” for the vending machines Lynn had told
me about. I took my stance at the machines and microwave, and filled my arms
and pockets. Actually I wasn’t quite sure if I’d be able to carry it all but I ended up
not having to worry about that. Little did I know, I was about to meet Troy’s family.

I was sitting there pockets, hands and a little space on table, full of food for Troy
(and I, I’m not gonna lie). It might have been a little space on the table but that’s
only because I had stacked the food. I watched in amazement as people milled
around and talked with one another. How they interacted with one another and
helped one another. I had obviously entered a different realm. Then I noticed the
men in white jump suits with blue trim: inmates, prisoners, sons, husbands,
boyfriends, lovers, fathers, uncles, friends, men. Some of the prisoners interacted
with the other inmates’ families just as easily as they interacted with their own. It
was pretty cool. I just sat there watching and waiting. It was approaching 11:00,
my less than five hours looked like it was going to be less than four. Surely, there
was not going to be enough time…
At this point, I sat back and prayed and waited and breathed. That’s when this
woman, who I noticed had been circling the room, talking story with the both
visitors and prisoners, comes up to me and asks, “Are you Kai?” I was only slightly
taken aback as my mind suggests this might be Martina, Troy’s sister. I said, “yes,”
as she introduced herself as Martina and I put my available arm around her to give
her a hug, in MY traditional greeting. I was then introduced to one of Troy’s other
sisters, Kim and his mom, Ms. Virginia, giving hugs to each one. I’d meet DeJaun
close up later, in the meantime a wave from across the room would suffice.

Martina expressed her frustration as they were taking so long to bring up inmates.
We exchanged a little small talk here and there but mostly Martina was working the
room. It was like this was her domain to insure everyone’s needs were being met
from the faulty vending machines to the long wait for visits to get started. It was
interesting watching as she filled a position that either no one wanted or no one
knew how to attain, a position of respect laced with power.

I have to admit, it was more intimidating meeting Troy’s family than Troy himself,
who I did not know was going to be there. They were all dressed really nicely,
almost professional. I came in my “Somebody in Tonga Loves Me” t-shirt, jeans and
sandals: typical island girl style. My hair was braided with my big Chinese character
beads dangling at the end. I had pulled my braids up into two pig tails on the upper
sides of my head and one in the back. To top it off, my only other accessories were
a small pair of silver studs. Can you imagine? No dangles, nothing big or loud or
bold. I had deliberated for days on the outfit I would wear. I guess I could have felt
a little underdressed next to Troy’s family but I was comfortable because I was me.
And it’s not like they cared, if they did, they didn’t let on.

I was speaking with Kim a little bit when finally Troy’s name was called. We
gathered up our goodies and headed in. I had an armful of stuff and was grateful
when Kim and Ms. Virginia gathered the other stuff. I was surprised by how much
$18-19 bought at those vending machines.

As we entered this room, I was greeted by a big smile. I laid down my goodies and
was given one of the most enveloping hugs I had gotten in a loooooong time. I
could see Troy had been practicing “MY hug”, I taught him, to use on me. I was
honored to so wrapped up. Lynn had told me that Troy would make me feel
instantly at home and he did. Since I’m a hugger, the caliber of a hug is extremely
important to me. It was Troy’s hug that put me at ease instantly. He’s tall and his
hug was…deliberate. It rated high on my scale of best hugs. I wish I could explain
it. It was enveloping but not invasive, it was firm but not possessive, it was warm
but not provocative. It was enough to want me ask for another one but I didn’t. I
think I was tired and not on my game. It’s ok, I DID get more at the end of the visit.

That hug was a life changing moment in and of itself because everything happened
so fast I didn’t even have a chance to really think. His name was called, we were
moving and bam! There I was in his arms and encircled by his family as we all sat
down. It was rather comical because everyone had bought food so the counter had
about two or three feet worth of space taken up by food. Even as I sat down, after a
few minutes I stood back up to take out the wares in my back pockets too.

Now this is where it gets interesting…

You know how they tell you to expect the unexpected. Well, THAT is almost
impossible. I figured I would just kick back and listen and watch as their family
interacted with one another. Really, truly, honestly, I was just honored to be there.
I didn’t know what to expect, so I expected nothing. It was just good to be there. It
just felt good to be there. Odd to say, being locked in a long room with other
inmates and their visitors because you’re with those who are considered the most
dangerous, heinous criminals. But everyone looked like people. Go figure.

To describe the room in more detail, there was a long counter down the length of
the room with stools at 24 inch intervals maybe, kind of like a soda fountain type
counter with stools, just not so fancy. Troy and DeJaun were sitting on the stools
facing Martina, me, Kim, and Ms. Virginia, in that order. Now DeJaun was sitting
much closer to Ms. Virginia than to me but before I could even get situated good, I
(all three of us: me, myself, AND I) were under interrogation. To top it off, it wasn’t
by Troy or his sisters or his mom, it was by his 13 year old nephew. If it weren’t for
the tone of voice I might have thought it was just ordinary run of the mill get to
know you questions, but the “sooooo…” gave an awfully different impression. I
think he even rubbed his chin as if he had a goatee. YIKES!!!

That was the beginning of one of the most unexpectedly fun times I’ve ever had.
Not that I didn’t expect to have a good time, but it was as though we were not in a
prison. It didn’t strike me til later that there was no source of natural light in the
room we were in. And it wasn’t as though there were less than 4 hours to go til the
visit would be over. I tell you, we might as well have been sitting on the front porch
of Ms. Virginia’s house sipping lemonade, the way we laughed and joked and
played.

I think I earned some brownie points early on when DeJaun asked me where I’m
from and I said “heaven.” He looked at me like I was crazy or something and then,
whether prompted by Troy or not I do not know, he asked “where?” Obviously he
doesn’t know me because anyone who does KNOWS I already have my mansion
picked out. So I gave him directions. “From the East Side entrance of the Pearly
Gates, take your first left. Go allllllllll the way down to the end, don’t turn down any
side streets. There’s a cul de sac at the end of that road, my mansion’s down
there.”

I think Troy told him I was messing with him, but I made it clear that I was only
partially joking. That may not be EXACTLY where my mansion will be but it helps
me to stay focused. I said I have to have a vision of where I’m trying to go in order
to get there. I was asked about my taste in music. Troy was brave enough to admit
he liked Orange Juice Jones. That surely dated him. Although, I DID remember who
he was AFTER he “sang” a few bars. I quickly caught on because he couldn’t
singing like Orange Juice Jones that’s for sure. Troy asked me if I could dance. And
when I said, “yes” he had the nerve to verbally challenge whether I could or not.
THEN DeJaun was bold enough to offer to verify my claims when we all left, out at
the car. I guess he planned on turning up the radio and apparently allowing me to
prove myself. I think I had to shut my mouth in case a fly made it in. They
obviously didn’t know I was in the BYU Hawaii Hip Hop Club for two whole semesters
and an honorary member til it ended, so THERE!!!

I truly believe time stood still for several moments because, at least for me, those
four hours passed slowly by. I think it was interesting because we were really all
talking amongst ourselves, the other inmates, and visitors; Troy’s family and I. In
this room though, Martina and Troy both held and exercised a power and respect
that was evident. It was apparent who was in control of bringing any situation to
pass that would help out another.

As for me, I just sat in amazement, watched, and listened. I also enjoyed giving and
receiving attention. AND I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. I
watched DeJaun do his James Brown routine. We talked about health and hygiene
and DeJaun’s project that he won competitions with. I’ll never leave my toothbrush
in the bathroom again, not after what he shared. Kim asked me how I met Troy and
I told her. We took pictures and I’m so glad I got to keep them. My eyes look so
beady. I was sooooooo tired. Troy wants copies and I’ll honor that but there’s only
going to be that one copy hanging around, that’s for sure.

I listened as Troy shared stories from inside the prison and stop abruptly to talk
about the miracle his sister Kim is. It was during those stories that the foundation
of his faith became exposed. At first I think I was a little shocked by Troy’s easy
going nature, but it’s obvious where that comes from. Besides knowing he is
innocent, it is very apparent that God and his family are the source of his strength
and comfort. There is no guile amongst them and it is obvious they would go to the
ends of the earth for each other. His family visits every other weekend, driving 3 ½
hours one way to see him. Can you imagine what kind of strain that puts on the
average family’s wallet with gas as high as it is? But this is no average family. This
is obviously a family anointed, consecrated and sustained by the goodness of God
through the Savior, Jesus Christ, being ministered by angels and divine
companionship. I felt so at ease around them. I felt welcomed and accepted and
loved.

As the remaining time began to come to a close, about 30 minutes before Troy’s
family left, he directed his attention to telling me about his life before the murder
charges. He talked about the love of his life-loving her and pushing her away to
prove how much he loved her. He talked about the events of the night of the
murder. He talked about things they’ve found out in investigating the case. He
talked about the night he was to be executed. As I listened to him talk, I tried to
hold back tears. Especially as he talked about loving the woman he proposed to
and being so connected to her he could feel her presence whenever she was in
town. Eventually some tears fell and I wiped them away. At some point, Troy asked
about the tears but I just told him not to worry about it. Those tears were because
it bothered me that here was this amazingly incredible and genuinely loving person
who had found a true love and didn’t have the opportunity to realize it because of
really unfortunate circumstances. It bothered me that one more good Black man
had been held back for a season. The difference between other Black men and Troy
is Troy doesn’t expect to be held forever, even as uncertain as the future seems.
These are the men who we need to have procreating, not the ones who are.

That was nothing though, as Troy talked about the night before his execution, the
tears rolled freely and I just picked up a paper towel to dry them as they fell. These
tears were for me though. I felt so humbled. They were tears of gratitude for being
able to be considered privileged enough to hear this information first hand. I
listened and my spirit was ministered to as I heard Troy talk about his responsibility
for being in jail; about answering his mom’s question on being able to forgive, not
just Red but himself; about how even though he has weaknesses-three in particular,
he believes that God has a work for him to do and that’s why he is still here. He
KNOWS who God is and reverences Him and expects much of Him. He reminded
me, and I know this to be true because I rely on this promise, that whatever you
pray for believing you shall receive in righteousness, you shall receive. I’m not sure
how I got into the market for gathering strong Black men but I have them in such
abundance in my life and Troy is surely one of them.

I’m glad he kept on talking and didn’t worry about the tears. I didn’t even try to
explain the tears. I didn’t realize it until he told me later that a woman crying is
something that is really hard on him. I felt bad but honestly that’s just how
sensitive my spirit is. As the call came for visiting hours to come to an end, I
hugged him 2 full times and then there was a quick kiss, which I think was almost
by accident and then a half hug. He said he would call Lynn and Caroline’s that
night. My heart was so full when I left.

When I got to the parking lot, the lady who was sitting next to our group, visiting
one of her classmates, pulled up beside where I was and asked me about how I
knew Troy. I began to tell her and started crying even more. I apologized, as she
told me not to cry, that it was going to be alright. I explained to her that the tears
were not tears of sorrow but that I was blessed by the experience I just had and
tears were how I was showing it. I really was humbled. I wish I could have
remembered her name. I think it was Roxanne or something like that. She was one
of the people who helped me out when I first got to the “porch” and was kind the
each time we interacted.
I eventually made it back to Decatur and all I wanted to do was sleep. I prayed I
wouldn’t sleep through his call. I didn’t. When I got a chance to talk to him, he
updated me on his family’s thoughts of me. Apparently I passed and DeJaun gave
his approval. For what? He wouldn’t clarify apparently, but I managed to score big
in the eyes of his teenage nephew. He apologized for not asking me about my life
and I told him things went exactly as they should have. I apologized for the tears
and explained that I was very honored to have been there. I made sure I let him
know my tears weren’t tears of sorrow but of joy. I told him I felt ministered to.

I knew my life would forever be the changed when I went and visited Troy. I knew
that before I went even though I didn’t know how. I think the thing that Heavenly
Father blessed me with the most from my association with Troy is Love. Now you
see the “L” is capitalized in Love because it’s a divine, capital L type of Love: a Love
that embraces the power of God through forgiveness and faith and fortitude. It’s a
Love I’m VERY familiar with. But even being familiar with it, I know that I become
complacent and take that Love for granted. I won’t any more. I can’t afford to. Not
when other’s lives are so precariously held in the hands of others and I live freely
and unfettered by the complications of the world. NOPE!!! Can’t do that!

I need to live in Love and rise up to the challenge of staying in Love. You see, that’s
the thing. Loving is easy enough if it is fleeting. It is sustaining a life in that Love
that can be challenging because much is required of you. Well I guess since I’m one
unto whom much has been given, then I better be willing to have much required of
me. Especially when the freedom of feeling the sun upon my face I enjoy daily is
restricted to one, maybe two times a week by so many others. Naw, it’s time to rise
up and utilize that Love. Give that Love a voice of power unto the thrashing of
nations of unrighteous to the utter glory, honor and praise of the Almighty God. In
Jesus’ name, Amen.