Pace e Bene

Franciscan priest and Pace e Bene staff member Friar Louis Vitale, 77, began serving a six-month prison sentence on Monday, January 25 for nonviolent, prayerful protest calling for closure of the School of the Americas at Ft. Benning, Georgia. On February 25 he was transferred from Crisp County Jail in Cordele, Georgia (where he spent his first  month after being processed briefly at Muscogee County Jail), to the US Penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia. He was then moved to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, and now has arrived at FCI Lompoc.  To see other letters from Fr. Louie, click here.  Here is his mailing address:

Louis Vitale #25803-048

FCI Lompoc

Federal Correctional Institution

3600 Guard Road

Lompoc, Ca  93436

March 12, 2010: A Way Station in Atlanta

Before I left my holding cell at the U.S. Courthouse in Columbus, I saw a map on the wall, and pointed out Cordele to the head Marshal.    I told him I went there “in transit” to California, in 2006, but finished my time there.  He commented that Cordele is on the transportation route and since I had 6 months to do instead of the 3 months left in 2006 I would probably be moved on to a Federal facility in a month. 

Now that I am being transferred, I have a sense of loss

As I have written previously, I adapted well there—a familiar place.  I particularly   recall the Lent I spent there in 2006; it felt right—penitential but adequate.  The cell I shared with 2 others was spare, but ample.  The discomfort, cold, noise, and constant awakenings all seemed conducive to Lent as did my access to time for prayer, some opportunity for fasting (“sharing bread with the hungry”), and mortifications (especially lack of privacy).

Best of all was my chaplain, Fr. Bob Cushing, pastor of the local parish, St. Theresa’s.  We were together in Hiroshima/Nagasaki this past August.  He is an activist also, and had been moved there after writing a letter to A-bomb victims in Japan.  We were there last summer on the anniversary of the bombing when he read it to them.  It was very well received there, but not at home in GA. 

He was a huge support in Cordele, with weekly visits, sacraments, books and even the mail.  We bonded well, and looked forward to six months journeying together.

My relationship with my cellmates went well.  All were in for probation violations, drugs, domestic violence, and even sexual abuse.  They were anxious and hopeful of getting out shortly; sentences ranged from 3 months to 14 years!  I shared their anxiety and prayers as they went to court. And even in the latter case was stunned to tears at the 14 years in prison!

We shared journeys, family relationships, scripture and, most satisfying, their ardent desire to get close to God and family.  All had children.  They were also fun, and treated me with care and affection.

Now that I am being transferred, I have a sense of loss as with early classmates, especially high school, military sojourners, novitiate friars, and other companions in life. 

My earlier cellmate in Cordele, 2006, has remained in prison but still writes.  He refers to me as his real Dad.  (He refers to his birth parent as “that sperm donor”.) I spoke with him on Father’s day via a phone patch.

We passed the state prison in Ellaville, GA on the way here, and I had a “heart pang” thinking of him still there.  He said he recently was married there to a former Deputy from Crisp County jail (Cordele).  I am not sure how he arranged this.

It had seemed so right at Cordele, especially during Lent, that I was expecting more and more to stay for my six months.  Usually those in transit go from Cordele to Atlanta early Thursday mornings, with no advanced warning (lest someone arrange a “Capone” type escape).

Nevertheless, I did have a strong premonition as February 25^th approached (one month from the prediction of my expected departure date by the marshal at Columbus).  It got stronger.  I found myself preparing to depart the night before. Finally fell asleep at 3:30 AM only to be awakened at 4 AM.  A guard and my companions were calling “roll ‘em up,” and in some panic I did, in minutes.

Prison transportation is laborious.  Hours are spent in holding cells at either end, and sometimes en route.  We go in shackles and cuffs.  I did not think I could make the 4 hour journey without a “pee break.” However, I was told by the marshal, when I asked to get off at a stop, “Check in the back.”  Those Feds think of everything! 

And so we arrived at our present home in the afternoon, and were paired up in our housing in the “hold over satellite,” at the very formidable U.S. Penitentiary in Atlanta. GA.  What a place to carry on my Lenten penitential pilgrimages!

My current cellmate, Rick Waters, is a Baptist, of the “Primitive Baptist” denomination.  We agree on being devout Christians, but are theologically and scripturally on opposite ends of the spectrum.  We do agree on the centrality of Jesus and Scripture.  He calls me on my vulgarities, “B.S.”  He says his Preacher brother will be shocked to hear his cellmate in prison is a Catholic priest who sometimes cusses!  But we have become friends and talk a lot and share a lot.  He helps me.

Richard Purcell inspires me, our Friar brother, who did great ministry among Native American “missions” in Arizona.  He later cared for his brother, a nurse who contracted AIDS, until he died.  Richard ended up with a program, Aurora Dawn, home for indigent people with AIDS/HIV. 

Even though he packed the large Victorian they had in San Francisco, he insists that we can only really minister to one person at a time.  This has become real to me as I spend time in the prison population, and especially with cellmates.

People keep saying to me how many more people I could relate to on the outside. Yes, but how would I “relate”?  To me, there is more than one way to relate: in some circumstances to many, and in other times only to one. 

In Richard’s case the tables are turned.  He has ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) and is almost totally immobilized.  Numerous people he has cared for now care for him in the most loving way.  Richard has taught me a lot.  I hope I can share something of his focus and attentiveness here.  I felt that happening in Cordele, GA, El Centro, AZ, Las Vegas, NV, and other such venues in the past.

Dorothy Day is founder of the Catholic Worker Movement.  Her co-founder, Peter Maurin, advocated “voluntary poverty as the key to being with the poor.”  He believed that voluntary poverty is liberating, and frees people to use their skills in the service of others.  Ken Butigan (Pace e Bene) has used this analogy, and said my way (at present) is voluntary captivity!

On the bus journey here, one of the marshals shared with me that my destination “in transit” is Lompoc, CA, F.C.I.  Federal Correction Institution, a security step above a camp, but still considered “minimum security”. Last Friday (February 5^th), I’d stopped in the “jail administrator’s office” and checked with him.  He looked me up on the computer, and said that my destination was definitely Lompoc, CA.  He even showed me a picture of it on his wall.

I have felt a great affinity for county jail, and the “folk” that are held there; as Bob Cushing told a parishioner who asked about me, “Isn’t that a good place for a Franciscan to be?”  Yet, to go to CA and be near family and friends is attractive, although it means more loss. 

Bob Phares, on of our legal team, sent me a “bombshell a few days ago, “We heard you were staying in Atlanta!”  So who has the right info? We shall see!  Yes, “Let go, and let God,” my Lenten motto.   We shall see—all of theses options are good, and within God’s Providence.  In many ways it is a great adventure.  As I read lives such as Paul’s or Francis, I realize, this is “The Way.”

Peace and all good to each of you—

Louie

Gratitude to Sherri Maurin for transcribing this letter.

 Click here to see Friar Louie’s other letters.