A Marriage Through Walls

[Editor's Note: Last week, federal prisoner Michael Santos wrote about forming a relationship with his wife Carole from behind bars. His post is here. Today, Carole Santos (above) writes about her reunion with Michael after 20 years and building a relationship with a husband in prison.]

I stared at the e-mail. "Is this the same Shorecrest High School that federal prisoner Michael Santos attended?” It was late February in 2002. As the coordinator for my high school's 20th class reunion, I had grown accustomed to receiving anonymous messages on my computer. I’ve known Michael since grade school. My memories of growing up in Lake Forest Park included him throughout those many years. Mike – he switched to Michael after high school – oozed confidence from the day he joined our community in 5th grade.

I read the stranger’s e-mail message again and thought of that balmy summer night when I had resisted tangling my fingers with Mike’s. It was 1981, and that evening I found myself walking with him on the community trail that wound through our neighborhood along the shores of Lake Washington. Our two friends were already a considerable distance ahead, so I fell into step beside him. He asked if he could hold my hand and I warily agreed, wondering why he wanted to walk with me. He was terribly handsome; fit and athletic, with thick, black hair and a pair of eyes the color of melted brown sugar. His good looks and smiling confidence made him popular, and he was accustomed to receiving attention from girls everywhere he went. As Mike reached for my hand I could tell that he wanted to lace his fingers through mine. Though we had grown up together and known each other for years, I was too self-conscious in his company to intertwine my fingers with his in such an intimate gesture. When we parted later that night, neither of us could have predicted the difficulties that lay ahead.

Mike and I chose different lives after high school. In our early 20s, we each made a series of bad decisions that led to life-altering consequences. I’d heard of his arrest, conviction, and long prison sentence for selling cocaine in 1987, but I had little knowledge of the details. The stranger’s email message mentioned a Web site about Michael. I typed in a search and found him. The story began, "I am a long-term prisoner..." I felt compelled to reconnect with him. I wanted to understand more about his transformation that had occurred behind prison walls. I began writing what would be the first of thousands of pages of correspondence between us.

He responded to me and signed his name "Michael". Those first years in prison, he said, had included thousands of hours of introspection. Even if he hadn't made choices that led him into the criminal justice system, the patterns of his life and the people with whom he had been choosing to share it up to that point suggested he was on a path to emptiness similar to mine. Some people in prison found religion to carry them through. Michael wrote of his determination to grow through adversity. He chose to spend his time in prison educating himself and preparing for a contributing life beyond his sentence.

This incredibly articulate, intelligent, repentant man took my breath away. I knew in an instant that he had faced and conquered an adversity that would bring any other man to his knees. I wanted to connect with him. My life was a vortex of chaos and I was starved for the peace with which he existed. I wanted to learn from him. I knew, instinctively, that from behind prison walls Michael understood me and my struggles better than anyone I’d ever known in my life. I reached out to him with my pen and paper, and he invited me to share my thoughts. I welcomed the chance, welcomed the feelings that came and opened my heart as I have never done before. I began to look inside of myself. I wanted to answer the questions he was asking me. I told him what I had settled for, and as he shared his heart with me, I knew that I wanted to be with him forever. From the moment Michael came into my life and wrapped me in his embrace, I've known a safe, loving place to explore every part of me and share who I am with him.

I was 38 years old when I fell in love with Michael Santos. My friends and family thought I’d gone crazy. People could not fathom how I could uproot my life to pursue a romance with a prisoner. But I knew I was leaving behind all the craziness that had consumed my life. I found this incredible treasure I had dreamed of, but never believed was possible, yet I had known him all my life. Michael had been in prison for more than 15 years and he expected to serve another ten years when our romance began. During that time, against unimaginable obstacles, he had earned an undergraduate degree from Mercer University and a graduate degree from Hofstra University, and he had just finished initial drafts of his first two books.

As I sat with Michael in the prison visiting in Fort Dix, New Jersey, I rattled off a brief inventory of my life. “No job, no car, no apartment,” I lamented. He took my hands in his, looked into my eyes, and said, “In five years, you will be a different woman.” He pointed to the sky and said, “Do you see that path? That is the path I’m on. It’s the path to success, and I want to bring you with me.” I trusted him, and in doing so I took my first steps toward real stability. It was December 31, 2002. In my entire life, I’d never met anyone who had the vision and discipline that Michael lived by. Not my parents, not my friends, not the men with whom I’d previously had relationships. None possessed Michael’s strength or his ability to think and thrive through adversity. With Michael, there was no time or tolerance for whining or self-pity or self-loathing. When I joined my life with his, it was with a complete commitment. We both went all in, and together we began building the magnificent marriage we wanted.

Michael and I worked together to create a plan that would allow me to relocate with every administrative transfer his prison sentence brought. At the same time, we needed to create the financial stability that would help my husband transition into society after nearly 25 years in prison. With his complete support, encouragement, and blessings, I returned to college to pursue nursing. With a nursing degree, I knew that I could find employment in an honorable profession wherever my husband was confined. That prospect encouraged us. With two years of prerequisites to complete before I could begin nursing school, I would need to invest several years in my education.

As a husband and wife team, Michael and I brought several of his books to market. Through our work, readers around the world learn about America’s prisons from the perspective of a long-term prisoner. Those books generated book reviews in The Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, The Seattle Times, and other national news sources. Our work generated earnings that enabled me to accompany Michael when administrators transferred him from New Jersey to Colorado, to California. Those book royalties sustained our family while I progressed through nursing school. While I studied through a formidable schedule to master algebra, chemistry, and anatomy, I also had to learn about publishing and marketing and Internet business. Yet this total commitment to our marriage kept both Michael and me growing closer.

In the spring of 2008, a little more than five years after that day in the visiting room at Fort Dix, I graduated at the top of my class and earned my nursing degree with honors. My husband was right; I am a different woman than I was on that wintry, cold New Jersey day in 2002. Today, I work full-time as a nurse while presiding over several Web sites that publish my husband’s work. I am financially independent, and I make monthly deposits to the account that will fund our future when Michael is released.

Before I began this long journey with Michael, I never would have believed that I could apply myself so completely. Yet in following his path I set clearly defined goals. I felt more empowered as I realized his was the strategy that proved itself best. I followed his guidance, evaluated the marketplace, and made the most from the blessings I had. I created opportunities to convert my husband’s unique experiences into an income stream. Then, I invested that income into an education that will assure stability for our family.

Without a doubt, the poor decisions I made when I was 18 and 19 years old led to the painful struggles I endured in my twenties and thirties. Yet those years, and the metamorphosis I’ve experienced as Michael’s wife, contributed to the woman I am today in my mid-forties. I exist in peace, with tremendous compassion and empathy for the human condition. I’ve felt the pain and fear that comes with hopelessness, and I know the joy and the thrill that comes with love and happiness and stability. It is precisely that depth and breadth of emotion and life experience that makes me a better wife, a better mother, a better nurse, a better person.

My story doesn’t have an ending. Michael and I cherish the love we share. He looks into my eyes and covers me with his heart. I wasn’t looking for him, but we found each other and I am in love with him. More than 22 years after that moonlit walk, our lives came full circle as our fingers intertwined together on our wedding day in a prison visiting room. Our matching white-gold bands symbolize a most amazing and enduring love.