In 1983, 19-year-old Renaldo Hudson disguised himself as a repairman and talked his way into the South Side apartment of retired carpenter Folke Petersen. He tortured Petersen, stabbing him 60 times, then set his bed on fire and left him to die.
Hudson was caught, admitted his guilt, was sentenced to death and sent to prison.
There, he says, he experienced a religious conversion in 1994; and, judging by subsequent attempts to redeem others, it seems he has. Bill Ryan, a director of the Illinois Coalition Against the Death Penalty, called Hudson, “the most spiritual person I’ve ever met.”
Last year, as part of a blanket clemency for Death Row inmates, Gov. George Ryan commuted Hudson’s sentence to life without possibility of parole.
Early last summer, Hudson got the idea of having an essay contest for inmates. The subject was to be “Who am I and what can I do to become better.”
Although news of the contest was spread only by word of mouth, 41 essays came in from six institutions. There were four judges, including Tribune columnist Eric Zorn and Cornelia Grumman of the Tribune’s Editorial Board. Thanks to some donations, the winning essay got a $50 cash prize, although Bill Ryan noted, “They didn’t do it for money. They entered to express themselves and get some recognition for that.”
Hudson agreed. The essays will, in a month or so, be printed in book form, the proceeds from which will go to benefit crime victims. In the introduction to the book, he wrote, “It wasn’t about the money. I live here in the midst of these so-called monsters. [And yet] men came to me with smiles on their faces like little children look on Christmas morning as they open gifts. They were saying, `Thank you, man.’ Sometimes a brother just needs to be heard, made to feel human again.”
Below are excerpts from some of the essays.
`Who am I? Well, I was a boy with a man’s responsibilities, but now I’m a man that has lost his ability to be responsible. I’m serving a life sentence and am housed in a supermax (extreme high security) facility.
“I have two beautiful daughters whom I can no longer provide for, hold when they’re scared or take to the park. They are the sole factor that keeps me going and the main factor in my heart breaking continuously each day. . . .
“What can I do to better myself? I can continue to learn. An ignorant man cannot be a teacher. The more you learn the better you become. If I’m ever going to be able to be a positive impact on my children, I must first make a positive impact on myself.
“Who am I? I’m a father who loves his daughters.”
Joseph Dole is at Tamms Correctional Center in Tamms, Ill., serving a life sentence for murder. This was the winning essay.
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`The outside world seems light years away. A Big Mac seems as remote as a world without prejudices. And thoughts of laying with a woman are likened to my Mom’s homemade cookies. I know I’ve had some and I know it was good, but the flavor is difficult to remember.
“I am a man convicted of a double murder. . . . In a clocktick, my future was no longer a kingdom of possibility and wonder, but a yoke of obligation. . . .
“I thank you for your time and consideration. I wish you and yours love, health, wealth and the time in which to enjoy them. So with that thought, I’m in the wind.”
Jeffrey Boswell, 47, is serving a life sentence for murder in Stateville Correctional Center near Joliet.
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`To my parents, I’m the loving son that still can do anything if he puts his mind to it. Their beautiful baby boy who — ironically — can do no wrong, no matter how much wrong he does.
“To my children, I am the Daddy that has been away at work for 32 months and can’t come home for another 39. In their eyes I am the koolest, funniest and strongest man in the world. To their mother, I’m a man who told one too many lies, broke her heart one too many times and swears he’s changed, but just can’t be trusted.
“To my friends, I’m the life of the party, the `down for anything’ guy who always had a gun on him, one eye for trouble and wasn’t scared of the law.
“To the law, I’m a known gang member and criminal, a threat to the community. . . .
“To the Illinois Department of Corrections, I’m inmate #R03908, a ward of the state, a convicted felon currently placed in the Pinkneyville Correctional Center.
“I am a 23-year-old Hispanic man. What can I do to be better? Everything I failed to do before.”
Guadalupe Navarro is in Pinkeyville serving a sentence for armed robbery.
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`I tried to escape from Stateville in 1995, because my 23-year-old mind hadn’t accepted the 60-year prison sentence I’d been given. I immediately found myself classified as a level E, which is an extremely high escape risk. . . .
“The fact that I’m a level E overshadows my character and my deeds. The correctional officers are instructed to memorize my face. I often see the look of recognition in their expressions as I walk by. . . . Sometimes I am searched by three or four different officers before I make it from my cell to the dining room.
“The real retribution is unleashed when I receive a disciplinary report, file a grievance, or submit for good conduct credit. . . .
“The words, `Oh, He’s a level E?’ always let me know that I was about to receive the maximum penalties for whatever rule violation I was accused of….
“I am not allowed contact visits with my loved ones. I will probably never be able to hug my mother or grandmother again. They will probably be long dead before the Department of Corrections decides that I’ve learned my lesson.”
Daniel Parker, 32, is serving time at Menard Correctional Center in Menard, Ill., for murder. The escape attempt took place 10 days after his incarceration.
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`They say, `It takes a village to raise a child,’ but my village consisted of extreme physical and verbal abuse and was highlighted by gamblers, pimps, prostitutes, armed robbers, home invaders, alcoholics, drug abusers and dealers, gangs and death. . . .
“I’m the child who walked blindly through the teenage years with a sour soul, a diary full of tears and contempt for the world that refused to love, protect and foster my tender mind….
“I reciprocated by not having any compassion or sympathy for the pain and suffering of others or for myself. I was numbed to pain and emotionally dead. . . .
“Like the majority of my starry-eyed friends . . . who are either dead, murdered, incarcerated or strung out on despair, alcohol and drugs, I woke up one beautiful morning in 1987 and discovered . . . I was trapped on Illinois death row and facing America’s executioner for a crime I did not commit. Miraculously, the world I wanted to protect and had refused me protection was trying to murder me.”
Stanley Howard, 42, was on Death Row for murder but was pardoned of that crime in August last year. He has filed suit claiming police tortured him to confess. He remains in Stateville on convictions for the rapes of two elderly women.
