These men are not, by anyone's standards, good fathers. One is serving time for theft, another for drugs and a third for culpable negligence. They don't pretend to be role models. Two haven't seen their kids in months. One doesn't know where two of his children are. But they want their children to know that when they get out, they intend to do better. We spoke with three men in the county jail on their own failures and successes as parents, and their advice to fathers on the outside.
By MEGAN SCOTT
Published June 20, 2004
LEONARD WRIGHT JR., 48, of St. Petersburg has been incarcerated six times since 1975. This time, he is adamant about changing his life. And he wants his three adult children to know that, too.
[Times photos: Kinfay Moroti]
"Time is the most precious thing you can give a person," said Leonard Wright Jr., 48, of St. Petersburg. He has been in jail and out of jail several times since he turned 18.
My children have watched me go in and out of jail.
A lot of birthdays I missed because of incarceration.
I have told them before I am going to change. It's up to me to convince them. As soon as I find them.
See, one of my sons lives here, but the other two have moved around so much ... I know they were living in Rochester, N.Y. I don't have numbers or addresses. I will have to call their mothers.
I know there might be a lot of hurt and resentment from my children. It's going to take time to build that trust. But I have to ask for forgiveness.
I would like to be their friend. I want to tell them to be careful about the choices they make. Choices have consequences.
The last time I was in here, I noticed that so many African-American men were here because of bad choices. We get so caught up in power, excitement and bad thinking. You have to unlearn what you have learned so you can go out and be a productive member of society.
I'm preparing plans for when I get out, a place to live and employment. I don't plan to be back.
Many fathers take for granted that they can give their children presents and toys. Time is the most precious thing you can give a person.
To the fathers out there, talk to your children, take them to the park, talk with their teachers, try to explain the things they don't understand.
I'm regretful that I can't be with my children today. I haven't been the best father for them. In a way, I failed them.
But I want them to know that I'm obtaining knowledge and information to make the necessary changes in my life to become a good father.
* * *
James Andrews' two girls don't know he's in jail. "The think I am in school," he said.
JAMES ANDREWS, 33, of St. Petersburg writes his two girls, ages 6 and 7, every week. He has spoken to them only once in the past six months. He longs to walk outside and stand in the sunshine.
I do have some good news. My dad has come to visit me twice since I have been in here.
But the sad part is I won't be with my girls on Father's Day. They don't know that I am here. They think I am in school.
So I write them once a week and let them know how I am doing in school. I reinforce that I love them. I tell them that I'll be a better father when I am finished.
The one thing that upsets me is I haven't received a letter from them.
My oldest is 7. If you could make a female version of me, that would be her. She's extremely intelligent, has a joy for writing, a creative mind. She is very serious, very in touch with her feelings.
My youngest is a lot like her mother - happy-go-lucky, maybe a little bit goofy. She's humorous. She's a bright spot in your day. If you're sad, she can make you smile.
There's nothing like it in the world to look at a child and say, "I know that's the best part of me.'
In a way, I feel like I have done them a disservice. It's like you wake up from a dream and realize, "I can't believe I treated my relationship with them so carelessly.'
I think about what my children will say about me when they get my age. Will they be angry with me? I have made promises to them that I didn't keep. I have had a lot of consequences for my actions that would have made the average person change in an instant.
But now I have the opportunity to change my life at a time when it can still benefit me and them. I have a lot of sadness for the things that have happened. But I have a lot of hope.
When I get out, I will tell my kids where I have been as a learning tool. The very most basic ingredient you need to have for a good life is honesty. The very most important thing for me to do the rest of my life is be a father to them.
Every minute you share with your child is a gift to yourself. To waste any minute of it is a crime. Go out and play with them, ask them how they feel, talk to them, read them a book. You're what they have to form their life.
* * *
Marc Baker, 34, of Pinellas Park hasn't spoken to his two daughters in six months. He has no pictures of them, but cherishes memories of toy cars and Barbies.
MARC BAKER, 34, of Pinellas Park misses playing Barbie dolls with his girls, ages 8 and 5. Their mom returns letters he writes to them. His wife has divorced him and taken the girls to Indiana.
I was sentenced on my 5-year-old's birthday.
I spent my 34th birthday in here. And now I am in here on Father's Day.
You know, I believe I was a great father. My kids would run me over when I came home. We played computer, Hot Wheels, Barbies. We went to the beach. I had just bought them a remote control car.
My wife doesn't want my kids to know that I am in jail, so I don't hear from them. I'm mad at her. She could at least say that I'm working on myself - because I am.
Our marriage had problems - not physical, but the verbal abuse between my wife and I was enough that my kids had starting picking up on it.
Growing up, I was physically and mentally abused. My dad punished me severely if chores weren't done. When my father came home, we would run. I wanted to make sure that if I ever had children, they would run to me.
I don't have any pictures of my girls in here, but I have photos right here (points to his head).
Talking about my girls always makes me smile. They are the two most beautiful individuals that I have ever seen.
I remember the day my baby was born. I was so happy. I remember my oldest bouncing along like a horse and kissing boys on their cheeks.
I miss them. I miss them dearly. I would love to hold them. I took them for granted. It's been six months since I talked to them.
And there are a lot of days I'm not going to be able to make up. Right now, I'm grieving over things I have done and things I haven't done.
I would recommend to any father to spend as much time with their children as they can, because you don't know when the last time is going to be when you're going to hold them in your arms.
I know I have changed in here. And when I get out, I will be a changed person.
