my RELEASE DATE

My sentencing day January 7th, 2010, came fast. Each day leading up to it was like the rushing sands in an hour glass pouring non-stop reminders that soon it would be empty and reckoning day was near; time flew by from Thanksgiving spilling right into Christmas.  The holidays, with all their promise of hope and glad tidings, seemed mechanical and surreal. I felt detached; indifferent.  The warm and fuzzy reminders of past family gatherings only added to the strain of going through the motions, putting on a face of hope, when all real enchantment was gone.  In addition, this time of the year always brought to our remembrance the life of my brother who passed away ten days before Christmas, three years earlier.  His daughter would keep his spirit alive during those family times, shining her bright blue eyes through this season’s shadow of death.It felt as if  even all the good traditions associated with these holidays seem to magnify all of the bad that was right before me. The only view in my front windshield this Christmas season was my dismal future created by my past.Besides bearing the weight that was produced by my reckless action of taking an innocent man’s life, I was also emotionally drained from the two months of non-stop speaking engagements.  But I knew this draining was in fact a healthy release.  One that I did not deserve, but as I see clearly now, it was the catalyst necessary that set my trajectory in line toward My Release Date. And even though I knew I could be looking at up to ten years in state prison, I can honestly say that the unknown of my future release date was far from my mind.   While those days will always be lost in translation and there was plenty of anxiety to go around-- but none more paramount on my mind and heart than how the victim’s family would receive me in court that day. I truly didn’t fear the possible sentence the judge would mete out—I was resolute and settled that all was entirely in God’s hands. But I did ruminate on what the Kap family must of thought of me. I mean how do you apologize to a family for taking their father from them. The whole scene was incomprehensible.  The night before January 7, 2010, friends of our family were stopping by the house to say goodbye and to show us some moral support.  They brought food, flowers, candy, anything to alleviate the heaviness of the evening.  Since I come from a big family, we had asked many of my cousins to not come to court because we didn’t want our presence to be overwhelming to the Kap family.  And even my immediate family had to say their good-byes that evening because I would be out of the house early the next morning to have one final meeting with my attorney.  And we knew that after my hearing, there would be no allowance for a final good-bye.  My dad being in law enforcement for over 25 years knew the drill and made sure my mom was prepared for it.  The judge would rule, I would be handcuffed and whisked out of the courtroom.  So all hugs, kisses, and words of wisdom were dispensed that evening. As friends and family shuffled through my house, I appeared appreciative and cordial and truly did value their effort to encourage me on this last day.  But below the surface I just wanted everyone to leave.  I wanted to take this final time in the early evening to master my thoughts and emotions, so that I could present my heart to the Kap family with a controlled compassion.  Actually trying to visualize the encounter with the family was impossible, but being a trained athlete, I knew it would be beneficial to go through all of the possibilities in my mind.I had no idea what to expect at sentencing the next day, but I was certain it would be the hardest day of my life emotionally.  In hindsight,  I knew doing all of those assembly presentations bearing my heart and showing my deep remorse had steadied my emotions or otherwise I can honestly attest that I would have been an emotional time bomb in court that day.I woke up on January 7th strangely calm and oddly at peace for the unknown that loomed ahead of me that day.  I remember hitting my knees in prayer as soon as I got out of bed, and something in my spirit told me that the day’s roller coaster ride was going to be just fine no matter the ups and downs. I remember walking into my parent’s bedroom and my mom was also getting ready. I asked her how she slept.  She said, “I slept surprisingly well. How about you?”  I told her confidently, “I’m ready.  Everything is going to be fine.”My father and I got ready to leave to meet the lawyer and go over some last court day procedures and discoveries.  I rehearsed the words I had written on a piece of paper intended for the Kap family and paid no mind to the hour-long car ride. It would be my last one without cuffs on for several years.  And though we had arrived earlier than everyone else, the court doors did not open until 9 a.m. It was cold that January day and right before we exited the car for the court lobby my father said, “It’s always better to start a journey in the winter time because it will soon get warmer.”  I will never forget those simple words of wisdom because as I look back now, the cold of uncertainty was soon to be replaced by a warmth I did not deserve. And it was from that weather perspective that my father rained on me that allowed for me to see the sun at the end of each day from that moment on. The Atlantic County court parking lot began to fill up quickly.  I caught a glimpse of some of my friends pulling up and even some family members.  We quickly went inside and proceeded to the check-in area, through the metal detectors and out of sight to the general public.There were so many people waiting to get into court that day, and as I looked around, I wondered who was going to be doing ‘hard’ time or were most people there for fines and minor penalties?  It was an unexpected madhouse of people flooding through the security checkpoints; my anxiousness heightened.  My father and I proceeded to the elevator area and it was there we met my lawyer who instructed us to wait outside the courtroom on the 4th floor until he spoke with the prosecutor one last time. I already knew that media would be present, so I was instructed to be cognizant of my demeanor at all times as they will attempt to get the worse picture of me for ‘drama-sake.’  This advice was appreciated and in my best interest, but how can you keep anguish and sorrow from leaking to the surface when the loved ones of the person whose life you took would be present in the same room in a grieved state?  Nonetheless, I had recalled my pre-vision of this day and I was determined to channel my emotions in a manner worthy to honor the Kap family the best I could.We were instructed about seating arrangements, when to rise and sit and the logistics of procedure, but my mind was centered on what I would say to the family.  My lawyer told me about the possibility of what the judge could offer me in time, possibly having a release date from prison in 2020 or 2015, based on the judges discretion.  Again, those numbers meant absolutely nothing to me at that moment, not because I didn’t care about my punishment, but standing before the family was the only thing that warranted my attention.  How would I respond to this adequately in the midst of their great pain? Nothing else seemed important at that moment?  Nothing the prosecutor had to say. Nothing the judge had to say. Nothing.I always had faith, so it wasn’t this trial that birthed the hope that is within me today.  But it was actually the trial that redirected my faith back to where it should have been all along.  And hearing the different people from my side of the courtroom, paint a glowing caricature to the judge of the person I was, and then witnessing the polarized contrast that the Prosecutor painted of me, made me see the legal system in a whole different manner where slander was an acceptable tool for conviction.  But I had put myself in this position, so in an odd way, I felt I deserved the Prosecutor’s obvious animosity towards me. Everyone knew what I had done and why I was there, but having to listen to the Prosecutor’s precise outlaying of my reckless decision was enough shame for the moment. If the prosecutor only knew that my release date was only moments away, he would have realized he wasted his breath with baseless attacks that had nothing to do with the facts.  But, after all, it was his job to malign me. Gratefully, it was now time to hear from the victim’s family. And it truly was a release for me to finally witness them have a say in this courtroom.By far the hardest testimony was when Hort Kap’s daughter Linda shared about her father’s background and how he survived the Khmer Rouge killing fields in Cambodia and came to America for a better life.  He had six children and brought them all up with a strong work ethic.  I listened intently about the man whom I did not know, but I was the reason he was no longer living.  She said, “We’ve heard all about Mr. Maher’s resume and character, but let me tell you about my father’s achievements.”  She continued talking about his hard work and discipline, which enabled them to go to college and seek a better life.But the emotional jolt was intensified when Mr. Kap’s oldest son, Noun Ung, was given the opportunity to speak his heart.  He began with very heated emotions and talking loudly he said, “Do you know how I heard about how my father was killed!”  He proceeded to recap this tragic news, while my heart plummeted to my toes.  This was the very thing that I had feared happening on this day and it was everything that I deserved and more.  I had entered court with a sense of foreboding, but now my heart began to beat rapidly and my anxiety level heightened as Noun unleashed all his pain on me—and rightfully so. I was suffocating on the inside because of what I had done to cause his grievous words.  "This will never make sense" as I say this to myself exactly 6 years later.  “I took another man’s life” still seems surreal.  I deserved the cold front from Noun, I had ripped his father from him, but what was about to happen in his demeanor can never be properly explained.  Not then and not now.As Noun spoke passionately about his father and pointedly to me about the pain I had caused his family, my eyes welled up with tears to the point of a blur.  I could not see without squinting, but I did not want to wipe my eyes because of the media’s watching eyes.  I was looking directly at Noun with the utmost respect and with my lip quivering, my body sweating, I was praying in my heart, Please Lord, please don’t let this day end like this.  Soften his heart towards me Lord.  Please soften his heart.He was facing the Judges direction and still venting his anguished emotions about how he discovered the news of his father’s death.  With my eyes at full attention to his, he suddenly became calm in his composure and his disposition changed abruptly.  He then unexpectedly turned to me where I was sitting at the defendant’s table to his right and said, “But I forgive you,” and came over to embrace me with a hug.  The change-up of his countenance cannot be explained without knowing grace. I got up immediately and hugged Noun right back, while softly sobbing in his ear how sorry I was. The courtroom gave a collective sigh during this embrace and even the judge seemed to wipe his eyes.  As the cameras flashed and the media honed in on this unexpected gesture, it was evident that the entire courtroom had just witnessed forgiveness and mercy in its purest fashion.  I did not deserve his forgiveness, but that one embrace lifted the weight of the world from my shoulders.  I will never be able to explain the feelings aroused on this day and the peace that flooded my soul because of Noun’s hug.I sat back down to hear the Judge’s decision. This was the judicial reason for this day, January 7th 2010, to administer my prison sentence for the tragedy that I had caused on March 7, 2009.  The entire morning was a build up to hear from the judge, but it was not so in my eyes.  I was not even anxious awaiting the final moment of his judgment of conviction (JOC).  As far as I was concerned, I already had been given my release date and it came in the form of a hug.Nothing the judge could have said to me would have taken away my freedom as I felt it. I was released on that day before my imprisonment even began and as the Judge ruled saying, “I sentence you to 5 ½ years in the custody of a state prison facility,” I was not moved.  My mind did not calculate that it was only 2010 and with 5 years added to that, it would be 2015.  My mind had found its ease and though my journey was about to begin in the winter months of 2010, I had already begun to understand the importance of seasons and the inevitable changes that come with them.  Warmer weather was on its way outwardly, but I intended to bring the sun and calm setting of my heart along for the journey with me. And that was exactly what my father had meant before we even entered court that day, when he told me, “It’s always better to start a journey in the winter time because it will soon get warmer.”  Like a prophet, my father was speaking the heart of God, which reminded me that God always has our backs.  I had experienced my Release Date before I was even in custody to the Department of Corrections and it effectively and perfectly cleared out the rain clouds that had dampened my spirit from March 7, 2009—and I couldn’t be more grateful.