#28 - Boyd Goes to Prison

Lucky Little

#28 - Boyd Goes to Prison

Boyd always had a giant heart. He still does. It's almost a case for- you can have a giant heart and be an underdog and have all the love in the world and still ... that may not necessarily get you through an easy life. Boyd had always been wanting to fit in, which I could totally understand. Being adopted we lack the feeling of true permanence I think. Not complaining. We were torn apart and never to be returned to that heartbeat and voice that was with us for nine months. Gotta be tough on a newborn. On the other hand we were free from any family pre-dispositions. We would never be like someone in our family due to bloodline or DNA. Invited guests to the family by all means but strangers too. Everybody goes through different things. Everybody's got different things going on in them as a child, but I know just at an early age I was already seeing Boyd hang with the wrong people for the wrong reasons, and people I could tell that would use him; that would eventually have him stealing stuff for them, helping them get a hold of drugs. The people you hang out with at an early age can certainly have such a great effect on the rest of your life.

The hostages were in Iran, so it's 1979. Boyd had a rough time through high school, played a little football, didn't graduate. Actually, as I look back on it now and see how fast he was able to build his friend list on Facebook, it amazes me knowing his current situation and his situation over these last 50 years but it's because he's got a giant heart. He drops out of high school. Before that, he's joined the ROTC. Next thing, he's in the Civil Air Patrol. The next thing you know he's in the Air Force. Now, my big brother I love so much, quirks and all, is traveling Europe, Switzerland and Germany and Italy, sending back just the coolest of clothes, clothes I didn't even know how to appreciate yet. They were so, so, so cool; jackets without collars, fancy shirts and pants. Fashion like we had never seen in our house. These clothes were not even available in the states yet. I was styling at school with my European clothes sent to me by my big brother. Besides those cool clothes he sent me, I was wearing the poor boy no name jeans from Weiners. It felt good to be a little fancy for a change.

Next thing you know he's stationed in Turkey. Turkey? I knew Italy, Germany, Europe, but Turkey? Wha? All you see on TV and in the newspaper is the unrest in the Middle East, the hostage situation in Iran and the nearby American troops on stand by and he's right there in the midst of it. I didn't like it but it felt good telling people about my big brother prepared and ready to fight for American lives. All was well at the house as far as I knew. I made all As and played sports so I wasn't much to have to stay on top of, or so it seemed. Then things started to change. I could tell just by my parent's vibe that something was going on with Boyd. As I was so apt to do, I'd sneak around my parent's stuff and find some paperwork my parents had from the government. I never stopped sneaking around looking for clues. Always trying to find all the information I could about any and every thing. I watched enough Perry Mason and read enough Encyclopedia Brown that I knew I could go a long way on just a little clue. Oh I'd find my birth parents one day. Just a matter of the next clue. I knew the more information I had about something, the more successful I'd be at getting to the bottom of it. Usually the only thing that keeps you from getting what you want is more information to gain more knowledge. The letter said something about detox. I gathered it was like an alcohol cold turkey quit and suffer thing. Abruptly stop drinking, have withdrawals, take medication to ease the withdrawals. The alcohol in some people’s system is just different than it is in others’. Boyd was the type, is the type, that can drink a little and it can spiral way out of control real fast.

He gets through that, next thing I hear from my dad is that Boyd was caught dealing drugs. What?! He's dealing drugs while he's in the Air Force, in freaking Turkey?! This just happens to be about the same time there's a movie that's coming out or has come out about this American college kid, Billy Hayes who gets busted trying to smuggle some drugs out of Turkey, of all places right! This guy gets stuck in a Turkish prison, and it's brutal. You gotta see the movie, Midnight Express. Fortunately, by the hand of God, my brother was able to come home, back to the states, and spend his time in Fort Leavenworth Penitentiary. Dumb kid selling drugs caged up with murderers.

Now to the present, 2015, it had been a few months since I heard from Boyd. My phone number is etched on his brain, or like I choose to believe, he has it tattooed like on the bottom of his foot or something. It's been a while since he has asked for any cash, but he'll call just to tell me he loves me and Sonya and the kids. He'll let me know how long he's been sober or off the streets. So it had been a few months. Time to go online and do an inmate search. I'm always hopeful I'll find him locked up. At least I know he is getting fed, he's most likely sober, and he has great medical attention if necessary. Sure enough, I found him, over in an East Texas facility. Boom boom, I send him a letter, send a money order to put a little cash in his commissary, let him know I know where he's at. My address is another story. He has a P.O. box to reach me with any mail or to receive mail if and when he's living on the streets. A few days later I get a collect call from the facility. As expected, he's fed, healthy, clean and back to doing what he knows so well, serving time. It's good to hear him sober. Actually a very bright man. Giant heart, smart, funny...just got in with the wrong crowd and jacked up his rational thinking with drugs and alcohol. I asked him to recollect that time in Turkey regarding his bust.

Boyd's Story

My first assignment after my European travels was Adana, Turkey about 30 kilometers north of Tarsus. Boyd of Taursus right! A few months in country I hooked up with some people that were selling blue jeans and cigs on the black market to the people of Incirlik, a village where the airbase was located. The money was real good. It beat the hell out of what I was making busting my ass at Church's chicken or Del Taco. I should have stuck to sales but went with the legal stuff. I was hanging with some high rollers that had the world at their feet. Money, girls, and all the stuff to party on. I was soon introduced to hashish. I was 17 Bobby. I was young and stupid. The way it made me feel was awesome plus selling it on base was even more profitable than the black market jeans and cigs. I was rolling in cash Bobby. I was drinking real heavy too. I see now that I was trying everything that I could to mask the pain because although I thought I was a man I was nothing but a scared and lonely boy. Even the money became irrelevant. Soon my emptiness got the best of me. Drinking Vodka and smoking hash just weren't easing the pain. Then in just a disgusting part of town, in the back room of an abandoned store, that stank like piss and crap, it had trash and fluid all over on the floor, toilets stopped up and full, drunk on Vodka and high on hash, I took my first snort of heroin. A snort that would lead to an 18 year dependency. It is pure evil Bobby and I thank God that you never ...I thank God. Amazing how I could keep it all together and still go about my day to day obligations as a servicemen. I was a insult to our country. I was an insult to you and mom and dad. I was out of control. It soon caught up with me. I sold some hash to an undercover agent, tried to run, was tackled and slammed to the ground, arrested, court martialed by the Air Force, and sent to Ft. Leavenworth Penitentiary. My dreams of becoming a police officer like dad were smashed. I still see the hurt in his eyes. I still feel the pain. You know mom and dad didn't have any money so I had no defense. I should have learned my lesson. It was what happened that weekend when I came home on leave that set me up for my next bad move. That would put me on the books as a convicted kidnapper, that wouldn't be good. Especially since it was all a lie! I'll tell you about it in my next letter. I love you Bobby. Tell Sonya and the kids I love them too.