Offering a Second Chance

The prison guard directed Edgar into an interview room and asked him to take a seat. The room was sparsely furnished, with two metal chairs and a table with nothing on it. As he tried to pull a chair out and sit, he noticed it was bolted to the floor, but it didn't startle him; all the chairs, benches, and tables in the facility were bolted down. He obediently sat and stayed silent.

"The shrink will be here soon," the guard said, then left the room, locked it, and stood guard outside it.

After Edgar settled into the cold metal chair, he began examining his surroundings. The room was small, its walls bare and painted light gray. A large black glass security camera bulb was mounted on the ceiling in the corner opposite the entrance door, watching the entire room. "No one can hide behind the door without being seen by the camera," Edgar thought. As instructed, he stayed seated and waited. Though he had been incarcerated for about a year, it was his first session with the prison psychologist, and his mind wandered, wondering what they would talk about, though he knew it would be about his life. Edgar was not a fan of shrinks and their probing questions.

The room's claustrophobic, oppressive, and gloomy atmosphere weighed heavily on Edgar, making it hard to resist the urge to leave. To distract himself, he tried to recall happy memories, but his mind drifted to his childhood, especially the summers spent at his grandfather's farm—by far the happiest period of his life. He vividly recalled running freely across the vast farmland, laughing with his siblings and cousins, and eagerly chasing farm animals across the sprawling grounds, feeling the warm summer sun on his skin.

Lost in this nostalgic reverie, Edgar was suddenly jolted by the door's loud, echoing click as it swung open, yanking him back to the present. A tall, large-boned woman in her late thirties stood in the doorway. Her reddish-blonde hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, giving her a balanced look that was neither overly attractive nor unattractive. She wore casual, well-worn jeans and a blue-checkered shirt, partially covered by a crisp white lab coat that created a professional yet approachable appearance. She entered the room, greeted him with a warm, welcoming smile, and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Edgar replied, his gaze fixed on her.

"I am Dr. Siobhan O'Neil."

"An Irish shrink! But you lack the accent," Edgar said.

"My parents are Irish and still have their thick accents, but I was born after they immigrated here."

"So, you've never been to Ireland?"

"I've traveled there but never lived there."

Edgar nodded.

Siobhan looked at the file she'd brought and said, "Edgar Walker!"

"It's me."

"We have met before. Do you remember?"

"No," he said, rubbing his chin, which was covered in a day or two of stubble. He then asked, "When?"

"Not long ago, when you were in high school."

Edgar thought hard, trying to recall meeting the shrink, but his memory remained blank. He hesitated, then asked, "Are you completely certain about this? Could you have mistaken me for someone else with a similar name?"

"I'm certain about our meeting."

"But I don't recall seeing you."

"You have been at Eagleton High School, right?"

"Yes, but it's history."

Siobhan nodded and continued, "You were in eighth grade at Eagleton High School when you began spending time with the school bullies. That association affected your behavior and academic performance, raising concerns among your teachers and parents. As a result, I met with you several times to discuss these issues. I was the school psychologist then."

After a long moment of reflection, Edgar said, "It rings a bell."

"We had several counseling sessions at school, and throughout each one, you consistently kept your guard up, diligently defending your actions and keeping me at arm's length. Do you remember that time?"

"Yes, I remember now."

"Good," she said, then fell silent, reading the file she had. "Do you remember what I told you at our last session?"

"Not exactly!"

"Do you truly not remember anything at all?"

"I said I don't remember."

"May I take a moment to remind you of what I told you then?"

"Enlighten me."

She nodded, then glanced at the file before her. Looking up with a serious expression, she said, "I told you the path you chose would ruin your future. Do you remember?"

Though Edgar clearly remembered her and their conversation by then, he preferred to lie and said, "No, I don't recall."

"Let me refresh your memory. Before you joined the school bullies, you were a studious student with good grades, and all your teachers saw a bright future for you. But to become part of the school gang, you had to copy whatever they did, including smoking, drinking, fighting, and bullying."

Edgar silently frowned at her, as if her statement were a personal insult he could neither tolerate nor accept.

"Eventually, you were expelled from school by the end of the year, correct?"

Edgar held his gaze but said nothing.

"You later joined street gangs, struggled with drug addiction, and were arrested multiple times for drug offenses and theft. Ultimately, you were charged with attempted murder and causing bodily harm with intent to kill, using an unregistered firearm. You've been in prison for over a year and have nine more years to serve. Is this accurate?"

"So what?"

"Edgar, you have already been sentenced and are in prison for your crimes, and I'm not here to reprimand you. Instead, I'm here to help."

"So, what's the point of discussing my criminal charges?"

"I want to remind you, as I had predicted, that the wrong decision you made in high school has negatively affected your adulthood."

"I'm a free person and can choose my path."

"How about now? Are you free to walk out of this door on your own, or out of this facility?"

He couldn't answer the question, so he lowered his head and looked at his cheap cotton loafers, standard issue for prisoners. She was right, but accepting the blame was hard on his ego.

"Edgar, the path you chose in high school was like committing suicide."

Edgar lifted his head, looked at the shrink, and responded defensively, "What do you mean? If I had committed suicide, why am I still here talking to you? I should be six feet under in a coffin."

"In my opinion, suicide is not just about ending a person's life. It also means giving up all the future possibilities and opportunities that life could bring. When someone gives up on themselves, it can be seen as a kind of suicide because they are sacrificing their potential future."

"Nonsense."

"Do you know the average life span of a street gang member compared with that of an average citizen?"

"Tell me," he said, exasperated.

"According to data released by the Bureau of Statistics two years ago, the average lifespan of street gang members in this country is about 25 years. By contrast, the average lifespan of the general population is around 76.5 years. Doesn't this stark difference in longevity suggest something concerning about the lifestyles or risks associated with gang membership, almost akin to self-destructive behavior or a 'suicide' in a metaphorical sense?"

"So what?"

"How old are you now, Edgar?"

"You can find it in that file of yours," he said harshly.

"I can find it here, but I would like to hear it from you, Edgar."

"Twenty-four," he said after a long pause.

"So far, you have been fortunate. Statistically, if you hadn't been arrested, you wouldn't have had much of your life left. You would either die of an overdose or be shot by rival gang members, right, Edgar?"

"We all die."

"Yes, death is an inevitable part of life. However, wouldn't you prefer to live long enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor, build a family, watch your children grow, celebrate their graduations and weddings, and someday see your grandchildren?"

"I'm not a family person."

"Even if you don't consider yourself a family-oriented person, you surely take pride in your accomplishments in education, your career, and other areas of life. Wouldn't you prefer the freedom to live your life without the constant stress of interference by gang members and the police?"

Edgar stayed silent. This shrink's method was unconventional and harsh, but she was right. In the past year in prison, he had ample time to reflect on his life choices and actions. What she said resonated with him and was true.

"Edgar, I am not here to blame you for whatever has happened in the past. Neither am I here to hear your confession. I intend to plant a seed, the seed of reflection on your past, to help you find what led you to end up in this high-security prison."

Edgar nodded.

"You're only 24, with many years left to chase your dreams and shape the life you want. I urge you to make a firm decision now and change the course of your life to build a more promising future."

"Even after I am released, I will remain a convicted felon for life."

"Yes, what you say is true. Still, you can redeem yourself, but you have to work harder than others."

Edgar stayed silent, thinking about his options.

"The first step is to take responsibility."

"What do you mean?"

"We naturally blame others for any terrible events that happen to us rather than our own actions. Accepting responsibility is hard, and we instinctively avoid it."

Edgar nodded again.

"I have a proposal for you and would like you to consider it."

"What proposal?"

"To change your mindset and walk on a path toward a bright future."

"How?"

"This is our first session. I will see you once a week, and then we will create a roadmap to success together."

He nodded, then asked, "How can we do this?"

"First, I need your commitment. When you genuinely decide to change your life for the better, we will talk. For example, you can finish your high school education while in prison. Later, you can learn a skill or, if you're interested, continue your tertiary education."

Edgar nodded thoughtfully.

"It also may shorten your sentence."

"Shorten my sentence? How?" he asked, his curiosity piqued by the prospect of securing his freedom sooner than expected.

"When you sincerely make efforts to change your life, it will improve your chances of being released earlier by getting parole."

Edgar nodded thoughtfully. The prospect of being released earlier than expected seemed highly appealing to him.

"I should mention that I have no role in granting parole. The Prisoners Review Board, also known as the Parole Board, decides whether to grant parole."

"I know," Edgar said thoughtfully.

"But I can write a report to the Prisoner Review Board in your favor if I am convinced you are on the right path. Consider my proposal."

Edgar nodded.

"If you choose to accept my proposal and change the course of your future, I will stand by your side as both your psychologist and a friend every step of the way until you find stability and build confidence in yourself."

Edgar nodded again.

When the guard led him out of the room, Edgar turned to her and said, "Thank you, Doc."

Siobhan nodded and said, "See you next week. If you need to see me sooner for any reason, submit a request. You know the drill."

"Sure," he said with a slight nod, then calmly walked out of the room, his mind still on what the shrink had said. A flicker of hope stirred at the thought of possibly getting out earlier than expected, yet he remained composed, masking his true feelings.