As I sat at the JPay machine waiting for the video-visit to begin, my mind raced like a child released at a playground. Taking a few deep breaths, I ran my palms over my freshly cut hair. It had taken me nearly two months to prepare for this day. Either it would be the best birthday of my life or the worst.
For the incarcerated population, JPay is a communication lifeline. We use the machine for emails and 30-minute video visits scheduled by our loved ones. The moment my video-visit connected, tons of people on the other end of the screen shouted in unison, “Surprise! Happy birthday, Antoine!”
My close friend, Sandy, had successfully packed her apartment with friends and family. Faces I hadn’t seen in years bombarded the camera, energetically expressing how much they missed and loved me. In response to all the excitement, I laughed, smiled, and grinned hard enough to exhaust my cheekbones. At the same time, I scanned what little I could see of the apartment, looking for the woman I fell in love with.
“Hey mom, where’s Britteni?” I asked. “She’s over at the table helping with the food,” my mother responded. With the camera centered on the living room, I was able to see part of the dining area. A bunch of balloons and a Happy Birthday banner hung over the table covered with various dishes. My father stood next to the balcony, waving to let me know he was present. With little warning, my nieces and nephews invaded the screen to say hi before running off to play video games with the other kids. The apartment was vibrant and full of life, reminding me of what life was like before my incarceration.
Britteni emerged from behind the crowd, exaggerating her sashay as she made her way toward the computer screen. “Here I am, babe! Happy birthday,” she said flirtatiously.
At the sound of her voice my heart fluttered like a million butterflies trapped in a box. “Thank you,” I said. “You did this for me?”
“Yep,” she said. “Sandy called and asked if I wanted to throw you a surprise party for your birthday. She thought it would be nice to get all the family together to see you.” I placed my hand over my mouth and shook my head, trying to appear authentically surprised. The more she expressed her excitement, the more I was convinced my plan had worked.
Everyone at the apartment, with the exception of Britteni, was aware of the real occasion. She had absolutely no clue that I set up the entire party. I made the calls and arranged for friends and family to meet at Sandy’s. I had the video visits double-booked, giving us two hours worth of visiting time. I had saved two months’ worth of incarcerated wages to purchase the ring. Another prisoner, Timothy Kettlewell, had even volunteered to build a ring box from scratch. To top it off, Britteni’s mother had given me her blessing to ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage. Everything was in place. My only hope was to walk away from the night knowing I would spend the rest of my life with the woman who had my heart.
About midway through our video-visit, I gave my mom the hand signal to usher everyone into the living room. Britteni sat on the floor next to a glass table. When the room fell silent, I began thanking everyone for the party, expressing my love and appreciation for each of them. After going through the formalities, I shifted my focus onto Britteni.
The chemistry she and I shared was unlike anything I’d experienced before. We met each other after a party when we were 16 years old, but we’d been out of contact for nearly 11 years. An accidental Jpay message from me to her is what brought us back together, something we both still laugh about today. Our casual friendship turned into us dating for a year, learning things about one another we had never known. We were like a perfect balance between hydrogen and oxygen—something that watered the soul. Despite my feelings, I knew marriage was a tremendous step. If she refused my proposal, the embarrassment would be hard to bear. Neutralizing my anxiety, I pushed back every negative thought, reminding myself that if I truly loved her, I’d be willing to take the risk.
“Britteni, I have something I need to confess,” I said. “We all know that today’s my birthday, and it appears as if this party is for me. However, this party isn’t for me at all—it’s actually for you.” Britteni squinted and looked around, trying to make sense of what I had said.
“A few months ago,” I continued, “I began to realize how incredibly amazing you are as a person. Although many people find it hard to see me beyond my incarceration, you chose to see me for who I am. You saw me beyond my faults and failures, and loved me in a way I’ve never been loved before.”
I paused again, trying to compose myself, but I couldn’t hold back the tears. Britteni’s daughter, Ahlaysia, and close friends were all listening as I turned my heart upside down and poured out every ounce of admiration I held for her. At the same time, a number of prisoners stood in the window behind me, anxiously waiting for me to announce the verdict. My voice cracked as I proceeded.
“I threw this party because I wanted to convey, in the presence of everyone I care for, that I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” I said, pausing to let my words sink in before I asked her. “Will you, Britteni Johnson, be my wife, and the best birthday gift I could ever ask for?”
The room was silent enough to hear a needle drop on the carpet. All eyes were on Britteni. I watched the screen nervously, holding my breath like a deep-sea diver without an oxygen tank. Finally, I heard a word that lit up my insides like a thousand Christmas trees. “Yes!” she said.
At the word, the entire apartment erupted in celebration. I reached into my pocket and popped open the ring box in front of the camera. “Is that a ring box?” she asked. “Yeah, but I can’t find the ring!” I said in an exaggerated tone. Without missing a beat, Durron, Sandy’s eldest son, responded as we had practiced. “Here it is!” he yelled. He walked up to Britteni and placed the ring onto her finger, and everyone erupted once again in celebration.
Having been incarcerated since the age of 21, some days are a battle to see my life as having intrinsic value. Despite accumulating a college and seminary education while in prison, I remain restricted to a system that reduces me to a still photo attached to a prisoner’s identification number. My wife offered me something that altered the mannequin-like feeling of being incarcerated, something that gives an exhilarating meaning to the experience of what it means to be human—love.
Although I longed to reciprocate that love with flowers, gifts, and a candlelit dinner with the finest wine, these are things incarcerated individuals are unable to provide. Nevertheless, when love is genuine, it has a way of displaying itself in some of the most innovative ways—like transcending towering prison walls meant to hold everything in and let nothing out.
After nearly two decades of incarceration, I still have 48 years remaining on my sentence. But while we gracefully wait for a second chance at my freedom, I plan to navigate this relationship by being a safe place for Britteni to share her heart, an emotional supporter when life feels overwhelming, and the biggest encourager of her dreams and aspirations. And when these concrete walls no longer separate us, we’ll plan a wedding ceremony we’ll remember for eternity.
Obiously Mr. Davis did something egregious for a 68 year sentence.
However, Commenters
– who don’t or refuse to understand that the theme of this article is love and sex
– who have a cold, dead heart, and lead a loveless life, free from joy,
– who are bigots capable of projecting their worst case assumptions about somebody they know nothing of apart from the article because of their prejudices,
– who cannot see beyond the facade of the prison system, where someone has made true progress
– who are so partisan they read demands that only their minds made up but didn’t appear in the article,
– who presume to know better than the editors of the Slog about appropriate content for a Love and Sex issue,
Should just STFU, or go start your own blog/slog, or join your brethren on Nextdoor.
@2 You are the only one who assumed anything about anyone. Instead of imagining what you think my thoughts and motivations might be, try to follow my example in just sticking to the objective evidence available. It’s quite easy to find out what Mr. Davis did – first degree murder, and multiple other counts of attempted murder. This is simply the latest of several Slog posts, as I said, wherein an incarcerated murderer is permitted to whine about the restrictions of prison with nary a mention of their own victims.
@3 You’d undoubtedly consider the “victim” a “sociopath” and “unrepentant killer” (my, someone’s been watching a lot of true crime) too. Looks like you didn’t do enough reading before posting your smug ragebait, because the first degree murder in question was retaliatory. The press and prosecutor’s office stated that the victim, Spearman, had previously committed a murder in Seattle before being killed in SeaTac (Davis’ case). Is that enough “mention of the victims” for you, or does it actually weaken your point?
You seem to be a classic case of overestimating your own intelligence. Stuff a sock down your windpipe, you bootlicking bitch.
@4 I read the case – you’ll forgive me if I don’t consider a “retaliatory” gang ambush murder to be as reasonable and indicative of a normal psychology as you do. And yes, it’s quite possible Spearman was a bad person too, and he should have been locked up before Davis murdered him – and shot a woman and child in the backseat (a part you obviously didn’t read).
The “bootlicking” part is so funny – “If you think people who perform brutal murder, and also shoot women and kids, are best kept safely away from everyone else, you’re a fascist!”
To be clear (since evidently no one is going to bother reading the primary documents but me) he only shot AT the woman and her two year old and only managed to strike their seat, the front passenger and driver were the only ones struck in this particular act of psychopathic violence. –The Bootlicker
This is asinine.
He chose the life he has when he pulled the trigger.
@7 An impressive takedown. Wish I could say I was astonished when @4 seriously believed it “weakened my point” that the facts of the murder involved shooting into a packed car, but…
@10 To quote you: “…an incarcerated murderer is permitted to whine about the restrictions of prison with nary a mention of their own victims.”
I mentioned the victim – someone who had previously committed a gang murder. Having done so, your argument looks far sillier. Is your argument that his death, as part of the same gang conflict, indicates Davis is a unhinged “sociopath” instead of an unfortunate participant in one specific conflict? You strike me as the target audience of Jason Rantz – very easily fearmongered.
Also, do you believe incarcerated people shouldn’t have access to a platform of expression? How many years does someone have to spend in prison to deserve a harmless blog post about their relationship? What the fuck is wrong with you? You too, @8. Be happy you live such snug lives that you can deride this kind of situation with no ability to empathize.
@11 Again, as reasonable and sympathetic as you may feel it is to be an “unfortunate participant” (a funny euphemism for a person firing shots into a car with a woman and her kid) in a murder because you believed (he didn’t actually know, obviously Spearman never got a trial or conviction because he was murdered) they’d ordered (he didn’t even actually think Spearman was the one who killed him–will you PLEASE just read the primary documents like me before commenting?) someone killed, I do in fact believe it’s more reasonable to describe those actions as intensely abnormal and psychopathic. His victims extend far beyond just that – the family members of the person he killed, the passenger he shot, the woman and child he attempted to shoot. He gets fed & sheltered for free now – better than his victims got.
And yes, I don’t really think he should be writing articles attempting to garner sympathy about how uncomfortable prison is, writing incessant appeals, etc! I think as long as he’s writing articles about “How I Convinced a Woman to Marry a Convicted Murder, and Prison is Too Unpleasant”, rather than “Why I Should Spend the Rest of My Life in a Constant State of Shame and Terror” or “Why I Should Never Be Allowed in Society Again”, then it’s pretty clear he feels no guilt and it would be really reasonable for him to spend the rest of his life in silent contrition! This isn’t hard!
It was really cool to remove my top comment where I pointed out this wasn’t the first time the Slog has had a murderer write an article complaining about prison conditions, and then leave the goofy reply immediately afterward intact. As I recall, one of them was even convicted of ordering a murder from behind bars. Do you want me to find those articles and prove it, or…
Beautiful article. To the critics: If in discussions of history we (generally it’s us white dudes i hear it from) can constantly whip out “people are complicated and have good and bad in them at the same time and have to be understood in the context of their time and place” when it comes to Washington, Jefferson, Jackson, Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, why the heck can’t we apply the same logic to people such as the author?
The most interesting part of the comments here is when @7 says “Oh, as if that caveat [that the killing was retaliatory] makes a difference. Two murders make a right?” So now you’re finally admitting that what Israel is doing is wrong. I knew you’d come around…
@14 Perhaps because there is no “complicated context” that makes it acceptable to murder someone over a rumor, send bullets flying toward a child, and then spend the rest of your life conniving for release from prison.
I’m sorry, but even ignoring whatever he did to get put into prison, this is horrible! He got all their friends and family together to peer pressure her into marrying him – and by “marry” we mean “throw her entire life away on the chance of old age retirement with some guy.”
@16 Exactly – it’s a cynical maneuver meant to pad out his endless appeals and parole hearings (“Mr. Davis has published several articles, and is now married…”) which assuredly re-traumatize his victims’ families every time they come up.