Come, Walk with Me: It's a Gift from God to Love a Man on the Row

By Elaine Ruth Pope

"The author asks as you read this 'prison reform' book interlaced with small parts of her own personal involvement, that you overlook the grammar, punctuation and, sentence structure errors because she did not and, does not consider herself a writer. But she felt this story had to be told to inform society there is another view of prison life on the inside, rather than only the stories reported by the media and the justice system itself.

Therefore, what you are about to read will take you on a journey into the chilling hellhole of prison and, you will find it is not at all what you expected it to be. Quite the contrary, it is a house of dreams for souls who are victims themselves: Victims of abuse while living on the outside in society and, victims of abuse by the penal system during incarceration. In addition, they are victims of drug and alcohol related incidents, or bad judgment and, in more cases than we can imagine, of wrongful conviction."

"Elaine was almost oblivious to the insane walk; two sets of remote controlled steel gates, a search room, a 70-foot fenced walkway topped with rolls of ice-steel razor wire, another set of barred gates, but this time, she was conducted straight to the hospital. Every time she made this trip she was appalled at the madness behind the disproportionate security. It appeared to her the perimeter towers, rifles, steel topped clubs, pepper spray and stun guns strapped to the hips of every guard were security enough against men who were shackled behind these cement walls." (p. 17)

"Elaine was alone in Starke, Florida. She had driven from Michigan alone to meet Horace and to help him with his appeals and also, when the time was right to become his wife. During the five months since her arrival from Michigan, she had made a few acquaintances, but hadnt had sufficient time to make a good friend. Horace had been her only friend. She had neither friends nor family to stand by her side to give comfort and solace as Horace slowly died a suffering death. But why? Why would a woman, who was considered an average societal wife and mother, leave family and home, even divorcing, to marry a man on death row? Why enter into an environment where personal diminishment is the daily experience? And especially perplexing, why enter into a relationship with a man whose impending death was possibly the only future? Why did Elaine do this? Did She have a choice? It seemed, somehow, her whole life had prepared her in a special way to follow this course, as if a plot had been written. Did she feel a martyr? Did she feel a fool? Did she feel courageous? Elaine truly doesn't have answers to any of these questions, yet one thing she knows about herself," (p. 21)

"Even though Horace worked hard in the orange groves all day and led a Honky Tonk band at night in several Lounges in Bartow and Eloise, it didn't matter what he could have been. His reality was, he was marked...His being part Japanese at that prejudicial time and Native American as well, he was prejudged and condemned by an absurd record of poverty and ethnicity. Whether he was laboring in the groves or strumming his guitar playing in lounges at night, Horace was a wandering man with a wandering heart in search of fulfillment. And for this honky-tonk heartbreaker, unfortunately, the worst was about to come for he was one more person who would not be touched by the American Dream but was about to become part of Americas nightmare. (page 29)

"The Court: If I can assure you that I would makewell, I will assure you that in the event you are sentenced to life or death

The Defendant: Yes, maam.

The Court:that I would do everything within my power to have them protect you, but in protecting you, not isolate you from sight and hearing of other inmates.

The Defendant: Yes, maam, I understand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 20, 2007
• ISBN: 9781465315878

Elaine Ruth Pope

Although her degree is in medicine Elaine Pope’s first love was music. She is an accomplished musician and a very talented singer with an incredible voice. Elaine was married, had three wonderful children and led a rich, full life in the eastern “thumb” region of Michigan. During her marriage to Florida Death Row inmate Mel Pope she moved to Starke, Florida, but has since returned to her homeland. Here she is active in church and volunteer work as she contemplates her future. She is an excellent speaker and will likely become more and more in demand as a public speaker as her Death Row projects materialize. Elaine devotes much of her time and energy to wrongful Death Row convictions and the execution of innocents as the Governor of Florida seeks to shorten the time between incarceration and execution for these unfortunate souls.

Book preview

Copyright © 2007 by Elaine Ruth Pope.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is an activist work based on a true story. Some names have been changed and dates have been altered for the protection of those involved in this writing. Any similarities of names, dates, or incidents are purely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

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Contents

Prologue

Acknowledgements

Foreword

A Photo of Me Without You

Citrus Heaven

Tattooed Invitation

Testilying

Slavery In Punkdom

Freed From Slavery Into A Homophobic World

After Shock

The Trial

Who Killed Edith McCurdy?

I Was There

Rock & Row

Beautiful Stitches

County Line Girl

Letter By Letter

Imaginary Trips

Straight As An Arrow

We Built a Fire

Entering Neverland

The Prison Catacomb

Angelic Mantra

Visitors from the Netherlands

Just Us Two

Suffering

My Stallion Died

The Medical Records

Appendix A

Appendix B

Appendix C

Appendix D

Epilogue

Law of the Talon

Endnotes

DEDICATION

Dedicated to my husband, Horace Pope,

a victim of Florida’s justice and penal system.

Prologue

Robert A. Pauley

F lorida appears to be doing everything just right because it hires lawyers to

represent death row inmates. The lawyers it hires, however, are political cronies, former prosecutors, perverts, hacks and novices. Their agenda is not in the interests of the prisoners they represent. This is not a careless statement because Sociologist Michael Radelet et al has documented 25 innocent men who have been executed behind the isolated walls of this nation’s death rows.

When someone is found to be innocent on death rows of America it is rarely because public defenders are dong their job. It is because the press, the news media, college students, concerned investigative reporters, DNA crusaders or caring churches have uncovered evidence that was hidden by a state prosecutor manipulating an unsuspecting jury.

Since 1976 there have been 25 inmates released due to innocence in Florida. Nationwide I can give you the names of more than 100 innocent souls who have served more than 1000 years on this nation’s death rows in absolute innocence. Judges clean their firearms, public defenders sleep, witnesses lie and arrogant prosecutors deceive while innocent indigents and minorities are sentenced to their deaths. Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor said just recently If statistics are any indication, the system may well be allowing innocent defendants to be executed. This is a travesty in a country known as the Home of the Free and the Brave.

Death row inmates are never wealthy; they are indigent, borderline retarded, and more often than not of minority status such as Hispanic, Black and Native American. George W. Bush says no one innocent has ever been executed in the state of Texas but former Chief Justice of Florida’s Supreme Court Gerald Kogan says the system is flawed, it doesn’t work and it is very likely that innocent people have been executed. The American Bar Association calls the system haphazard, erratic and unpredictable. This is a very dangerous situation for our country. Following is an example of what goes on inside the walls of Florida State Prison:

Horace Pope was given an extra seven years for protecting himself from sodomy and then placed in the hole for seven years to be protected from further victimization. The prison insisted he come out and work in the kitchen where six black men sodomized him. Mr. Pope cried out for prison protection but the system turned away. For his own survival he was forced to live as a ‘punk’—the white slave of four much larger black masters in a homosexual nightmare. Horace was a man of small stature, very handsome and he was compelled to live this nightmare not only by these inmates but also by the guards who were supposed to be his protectors.

Sadistic prison guards not only tolerated the barbaric practice, they participated in it and encouraged it. Why? Because it created a sort of population self control for them in a world the public never sees. If inmate Pope complained, he was stretched out on a wheel of torture and allowed to be beaten by larger inmates or placed into the the hole for extended periods. Does it matter that the state of Florida not only permits but also encourages slavemaster relationships and homosexual activity to control its prison population? This world of punkdom exists today. Horace Pope is free from this nightmare; he died of cancer July 7, 1999 on death row.

And what about the guilty? Are we to assume they are worthless scum only to be dehumanized and put to death at the earliest opportunity? Does it matter at all that they come from dysfunctional homes, abused as children, drugged, prostituted, sodomized, beaten and worse?

What about rehabilitation of inmates based on the possibility of actually making better people of them? And what about concerning ourselves with prevention? How about an honest effort to determine what causes prisoners to go to prison in the first place? What programs are in place to help children learn about conflict resolution and alternatives to violence? What is being done to strengthen family values in a society that supports the killing of its own people? That puts us way down there with Communist China, Iraq and the Congo. Is that where we really want to be or are we being led around by politicians whose only concern is getting reelected?

More than ten percent of the black race in America is incarcerated. Is that crime control or population control? Hispanics face that same lopsided mistreatment in America. Because rehabilitation is denied in Florida its fancy new prisons become a training ground for crime. Because Florida builds more new prisons than schools, bigger and better prisons, there is an eagerness to arrest for the dubious crime of being Black or Hispanic just to fill its many new cells. Horace Pope was easily suspect for the crime of too many tattoos according to one public defender. He was an innocent who chose to live the remainder of his years before execution on death row refusing a verdict that would have put him in Population to face punkdom slavery.

When you have an alcoholic prostitute for a mother, an incestuous and abusive drug-addicted father and you live in a neighborhood where criminal activity is the norm, what will the future hold for you? What possible future lies in store for the children of this family? And what are you, the Florida politician, going to do about it? Build more prisons? Make possible the manufacture of more Uzis? One hundred of our children die each week to gunfire and what do our politicians propose? More guns! What about some serious steps to educate and eliminate this shame upon our America?

They won’t, you know, because it is too profitable for them. They have perpetrated a system that tolerates a hate-filled ugly America that kills its citizens, innocence be damned, because it puts money into their pocket. Big money! It pays their golfing fees and their country club dues. It buys their BMW’s and yachts and keeps their children in private schools. The unsuspecting taxpayer who won’t or cannot take the time to investigate this massive deception only assures its continuation.

What about applying that word correction to our Department of Corrections? Correction. Counseling. Compassion. Caring. A system of independent checks and balances. Education. Rehabilitation. Reaching out. Qualified correctional officers in place of perverted uneducated guards. Professional overseers instead of political hacks. Hiring on merit instead of collusion or conspiracy. Putting public defenders on an equal playing field with prosecutors, giving them a similar budget to work with. Removing politics from the appellate system. Demanding qualified counsel to an indigent, mentally challenged inmate. In Florida prisons correction will only come when we as citizens demand it. Florida lawmakers make too much money off of their perverted system to change it on their own. So it is left up to you and to me, ladies and gentlemen, to do something about it.

Author%20photo%202.jpg

Bob Pauley, a former USAF fighter pilot, is a songwriter, author and frequent visitor to Florida’s Death Row. His songwriting credits include A Brandy Alexander (recorded by Mel Tillis), A Prisoner’s Lament and Christmastime in Heaven (recorded by several artists globally). He has completed and self-published a book called A circle of Blood and has written another book entitled Murder on Death Row (unpublished). These books have international acclaim while exposing injustices prevalent in our U.S. criminal courtrooms. He has also completed the screenplay for Story of Paul William Scott that has captured the attention of several movie producers. This story is set to be featured by a major U.S. television network.

His recent short story Deathwatch appears in the 2000 publication Chicken Soup for the Prisoner’s Soul that points to major flaws within the criminal justice system. From his computer desk in West Palm Beach, Florida, Bob travels the globe daily seeking truth and justice as he wraps up a CIS-IT degree at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton.

Acknowledgements

I am thankful for Linda McCray, and Anne Goodman for being there when I was

most needy, their advice and support will never be forgotten. The compassion of Rick Oblinger who stood by my side as I mentally moved around the clock with Horace as he waited for his next dose of Morphine.

A special thanks to Gloria Gore who guided and instructed me in the registration process allowing me to pass through the many barred gates of Union Correctional Institution for my first visit with Horace.

I will never forget and will always carry a heart full of gratitude for Susan Carey, Attorney at Law, and Hospice Volunteer, who stayed with me for hours during Horace’s demise as well her legal assistance to prevent an autopsy by the prison after Horace’s death. Through her I was able to obtain Horace’s Medical Records from 1993, the date of his incarceration to July 7, 1999, the day of his death.

To my friend and clinical psychologist, Barbara Smith, who advised me on how to cope with the reactions of my family before I moved to Florida and also for her compassionate listening ear and advice on how to manage my grief in a healthy manner after Horace’s death.

To my children and grandchildren, who may not have understood my embarking to a State that seemed a light-year’s journey away from their safe environment into the Netherworld of Florida’s Death Row to be with a man I had never seen or met? I’m saddened this seemingly inappropriate venture brought so much worry and distress into your lives. On the other hand, I am grateful to myself for the courage it took to drive to Florida by myself and the strength it took to stand by Horace’s side as he slowly died in excruciating pain from cancer.

Thank you Mom for giving me a safe haven where I could begin my recovery from Horace’s unexpected death. Mom has died since the writing of this book.

And finally, to my friends I say… If at first you don’t understand, just let it be, for passing time might help you to see?

Elaine Ruth Pope

Foreword

C ome Walk With Me is based on a true story. Actual dates and some personal

life events have been freely written as they might have happened if time would have allowed. Personal stories are from Horace’s family and friends.

Legal documentation is from trial files and medical records provided by Union Correctional Institution. Come, Walk With Me is a story that exposes true life injustices that will trouble, entertain and educate.

In it, Elaine Pope describes her incredible love for Horace as a gift. What makes her story unique is the fact that her man was locked away on Death Row behind the foreboding walls of Union Correctional Institution, Raiford, Florida. You will learn from her story, you don’t necessarily have to be guilty to be in the bizarre world of steel gates, razor-sharp barbed wire fences and concrete walls. And one horrific contraption they call Old Sparky, which Elaine knew would one day bring her hopes, her dreams and wishes, to an abrupt end.

The lights grow dim, they test the chair, the smell of death now fills the air

. . . But I’m innocent . . . And that’s what’s killing me!

(From A Prisoner’s Lament by Bob Pauley)

What you are about to read will take you on a journey into this chilling hellhole of prison Population and Death Row. And you will find it is not at all what you expected it to be. Quite the contrary, it is a house of dreams for souls who are victims themselves: Victims of abuse, of drug and alcohol related incidents, or bad judgment and, in more cases than we can imagine, of wrongful conviction.

But what about their victims, you might ask? Didn’t they leave some mother’s son or daughter lying dead in the wake of their senseless brutality? Haven’t they committed an act so horrendous they deserve every tormented moment they spend for the rest of their lives as they wait their own murder by the state?

Please read this powerful story before you condemn their souls to nothingness; there are aspects of this decadent system you may not have considered. The average person cannot imagine and would never accept the collusion, the manipulation, the deception and lies that go on behind the scenes in our courtrooms. This outrageous practice is possible because of politically motivated prosecutors who make deals, witnesses who make mistakes or who lie, and so-called experts—who will, for an exorbitant price, provide any outcome a prosecutor wishes them to provide.

We are confronted with more violence, fear, and discrimination than ever before since we entered this brand new millennium! How can we, as citizens of the world, bring about change? Fight against Capital Punishment as a start.

Inundate your state representatives with your demands for a moratorium on the death penalty because the criminal justice system is too flawed to risk one more execution. But more than that, the death penalty is an old out-dated barbaric system of laws that needs to be eradicated from our American justice system.

Robert A. Pauley

A Photo of Me Without You

"I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy."

—Louise Bogan

E laine was almost oblivious to the insane walk; two sets of remote controlled

steel gates, a search room, a 70-foot fenced walkway topped with rolls of ice-steel razor wire, another set of barred gates, but this time, she was conducted straight to the hospital. Every time she made this trip she was appalled at the madness behind the disproportionate security. It appeared to her the perimeter towers, rifles, steel topped clubs, pepper spray and stun guns strapped to the hips of every guard were security enough against men who were shackled behind these cement walls.

It was less than a half-hour ago that Chaplain Mesner phoned to tell Elaine that she must hurry. She had been expecting this call for weeks. Horace had been diagnosed with terminal cancer six weeks ago and she was told he had only a few weeks to live. Doctors said chemotherapy would only make him sicker for the few weeks he had left.

Upon her arrival at the gate, two guards escorted her to the prison hospital, an old musty building standing behind 20-foot high wire-mesh fences. On entering his cell, Elaine was alarmed to see Horace’s body; it appeared to be in spasm. His left hand was in a clawed position indicating he was feeling severe pain either from a microbial infection or from an injected lethal chemical they use for execution.

"The state’s victim is strapped onto a gurney-style table; their arms outstretched appearing like Jesus Christ on the cross who was the ultimate victim of capital punishment. A wiggle of the intravenous line containing sodium pentothal flows into the vein inducting an alleged sleep state."¹,²

His back was arched in the manner of a patient whose muscles are in spasm from Clostridium, a pathogen that causes lockjaw or botulism. Having been in the medical field for years, Elaine couldn’t help knowing by all appearances he had been given something other than Morphine, not a drug to ease his suffering but a chemical used to hasten his death.

Slowly she moved towards his bed, remembering all the times she had asked the Department of Corrections to let her take him to her apartment just nine miles down Highway 16 from the prison to care for him in the last weeks of his life, but penal law dictated his ebbing life was to end in this wretched place.

She wanted to be by his bedside on the hour to make sure he was as comfortable as possible but when a person is a prisoner, you don’t own them, they don’t own themselves. They are the property of the State, and the State can do what they want with them, and just that thought was terrifying. Looking at Horace’s condition Elaine knew she was witnessing their license to do anything they deemed their right, and with Horace having been on death row, it was unimaginable what they would have determined fitting.³

A paunchy, bald, and unshaven guard closed and locked the heavy steel door. He leaned a chair against the hallway wall to watch Horace and Elaine through the door window. What did he think they might do? Where did he think they could go? Was she able to pick Horace up with the whole bed since he was shackled to it and break through the steel door to bolt down the stairs and out the front door past countless armed guards? If she hadn’t been so distraught, she would have laughed at the absurdity of the prison’s security so ridiculously overdone in this situation.

Her stomach sickened to see Horace lying in the grimy cell they called a hospital room. Gray-stained sheets covered his body and his head lay on a dirty pillow covered in old yellowed plastic. His tray was covered with trash and old used paper cups, water had been spilled and not wiped up. Dirt hung from the ceiling in strings; dust had rolled into the corners of the room showing it had not been cleaned in months. Elaine knew from her hospital experience, this place was a health hazard and Horace was ending his life shackled to this filth under surveillance.

Sitting alongside him, she scanned his face and body more with her memories than with her eyes recalling his letter after their long-awaited first meeting in the visiting park of Union Correction Institution.

Baby, I just want to say this has been a beautiful day. I didn’t know you’d come in such a beautiful package. You looked so good and, I was in heaven when I wrapped my arms around you today, I was on cloud 9, and still am. I’ll see you in the morning, Oh, ain’t it great to be able to say, I’ll see you in the morning?

Since Elaine had driven from Michigan to Florida, she and Horace had three visitation days, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. They walked the length of the Visiting Park talking and quietly humming songs, Horace’s fingertips tucked inside the waistband of her skirt relishing the sensuality of their bodies touching as they walked.

"Honey words can’t even start to explain how much I enjoyed just being able to walk with my arm around you, and words can’t even start to explain what a wonderful time I had with you these past three beautiful days. And you are the first person I’ve ever sung to without music, but I was so proud of you singing to me. I truly love your voice and play it back over and over in my heart and head as I