What Happens When Compassion Dies?(by Kathy Kelly writing from prison)

[Robbien]

I've always liked the restful quiet of an empty classroom. Maybe this is why the large room where we wait to start mealtime duties, here at Pekin Federal Prison, feels comfortably familiar. During breaks, in the dining area, I've spent many hours reading, writing, studying Arabic, and staring out the window.

Today, looking out the window, I watched Kim LaGore crossing the compound, flanked by Ruth and Malika.

Yesterday, when I left the dish room, I sensed something was radically wrong. Clusters of women were gathered, many already puffy-eyed and tearful. "It's Kim," I was told. "Her other son just died."

On March 21st, 2004, Kim Lagore's younger son, Dustin, was killed in Iraq. He was a 19-year-old US soldier who had tried his best to stay out of combat. 72 days later, Sean, Kim's older son, age 29, died from complications following back surgery. Ruth and Malika, who also lost children while in prison, have been like guardian angels for Kim, holding and helping her through this wretched grief.

Every person in the prison camp yearns to spin a protective cocoon around her. The authorities couldn't do much. The system traps their compassion too. They allowed Kim extra phone calls and submitted a furlough request. I feel sure that they each wished for swift procedures to re-sentence Kim to home confinement during the remaining three months of her sentence. Who wouldn't want to respond humanely to a woman who has lost both of her children within three months time while forcibly separated from her relatives and her hometown community? But the system's wheels turn slowly, very slowly.

http://www.counterpunch.org/kelly06142004.html