For many years while fighting to prove my innocence, my family and I have used the phrase, “One Day Closer….”  We’ve used it to support each other when times got tough and as encouragement when spirits were low. It became our battle cry.

Understandably, this has led to questions such as, where did the phrase come from and what does it mean? With all of the recent progress in my case as well as some upcoming events, I thought it might be the right time to tell the story.

In 1997, right after my trial and conviction, I was sent to the infamous and notorious MCI Walpole Cedar Junction–at the time, the state’s only maximum-security prison. I was a young man then and very much a new jack to the prison system. Flanked by 2 prison guards, I was escorted into an 80-man cellblock at the max end of the prison. I distinctly remember the yells of the many men who were locked in tier stacked upon tier of barred cells. The pungent smell of urine and sweat filled the thick air. A cold chill went up my spine as I climbed the metal stairs and was placed in a single man cell on the third tier with only my bedroll and change of underclothes. The steel bars slammed closed behind me.

In the cell next to mine was an old timer with over 30 years in. He was an old man who looked beaten down and aged by the many years of his incarceration. That very first night, right after the last count of the day, I remember hearing the old timer say, “One day closer to wrapping-up! ” The cellblock then went dim as the tier lights clicked off and the yells dulled to eerie murmurs.

As the days went by and I struggled to adjust to the regimented routine of prison life, every night I began to look forward to final count and hearing the old timer say, “One day closer to wrapping-up.” It very much became as much a part of my routine as it was his. It meant I had survived one more day.

I had come to learn that the term “wrapping-up” was a term that meant finishing your sentence and going home. I had imagined that the old man must have had a quickly approaching wrap-up date and he was marking the days until he would be released and once again be a free man.

After many weeks I built up the courage to speak to the old timer and casually asked him when he was going home. He glared at me for a moment with distain and confusion. He then spoke, exclaiming, “I’m a lifer; I’m never going home!”

I paused. It was my turn to be confused. “Then why do I always hear you say ‘one day closer to wrapping-up’?, “ I asked.

He went on to explain: “I’m a lifer; I’m never going home. When you’re a lifer your only chance at being free comes with death. Every day that goes by is one day closer to death and my freedom.”

I was silenced by his explanation. There was nothing to be said.

I spent the following days contemplating what the old timer told me. After all, I was a lifer. But I still had hope. Right? The old timer’s way of thinking was only for someone without hope. Right? I resolved myself in defiance and decided that I would never give up hope. Never! I would never stop fighting to prove my innocence. Never!!!

It was not long after that that I was moved from that cellblock and ultimately sent to a different prison. As the years passed memories of the old timer faded. Unfortunately, like memories, hope also fades.

Fast forward to 2010. I was housed at MCI Norfolk State Prison and had been incarcerated for 14 years.  My family and I had endured many years of fighting.  We met with numerous lawyers, filed appeal after appeal, and received devastating denial after denial. We were exhausted, dejected and losing hope. I decided to step away from the legal struggles for a little while and concentrate on my education rather than continue to put my family through the emotional rollercoaster of hope and disappointment. I enrolled in the Boston University Prison Education Program to work toward earning my college degree.

The College Behind Bars program was freeing and allowed me to mentally leave the confines of the concrete walls and barbed wire. Soon then after I learned about some MIT graduate students who were creating an experimental inmate blog. I decided to submit a weekly blog about my struggles as a wrongfully convicted man and my participation in the prison college program.  As an afterthought, I decided to end my blog with a catchphrase. Impulsively, and with very little thought, I vaguely remembered the old prisoner I met many years earlier, and ended my blog with the phrase: “One Day Closer….”

The blog was very popular and soon got the attention of professors and prison school department staff. Lisa, the school counselor, commented one day that she, like some other staff, had read my blog. After reading a few of my blogs Lisa asked me, “What does ‘One Day Closer’ mean?”  Surprised and off guard by her question, I avoided answering and quickly changed the subject.

Afterward, in quiet contemplation, I was surprised at how the innocent question had invoked such a troubling and uncomfortable feeling in me. I started to think about and remember the man who, so many years earlier, had first uttered the phrase and what it truly meant. I wondered why I so impulsively chose the phase, with such little thought as to what it was, I was subconsciously feeling. Had I lost hope? As I wondered if that old timer from so many years ago was finally free, I decided I wanted to tell his story. I began to write. 

Once I finished writing I decided I wanted to share the story with Lisa since it was her question that inspired the story’s creation. I left it for her to read at her convenience. I was unsure of what her reaction would be. I expected it would be similar to my feeling as I wrote it: Sadness, hopelessness, and despair.

The next day I returned to the school and Lisa came down the hall carrying a stack of stapled packets. I was trying to read her expression and felt a bit uneasy. She smiled and said, “One Day Closer,” as she handed me one of the stapled packets from her arms. I was more confused than ever. Did she not read my essay? Did she not understand what it meant? I looked down at the packet in my hands. It was a CPCS Innocence Program application. She said to me, “Fill it out. Submit it. It’s time you and your family take back that phrase and turn it into a phrase for hope instead of despair.”  We did.

Now, in 2022, it has been over 26 years that I have been incarcerated as an innocent man. But most importantly, I am represented by the CPCS Innocence Program and my hope is stronger than ever. The love of my family and friends keeps me positive and the outpouring of kindness and support from so many continues to keep us strong. We are very optimistic that good things will be happening soon!! Thanks to so many, we truly are, One Day Closer…