My Brothers’ Keeper

As I look back on the years, I want to take a moment to honor my two brothers, D****** and M*****. They are my only and older siblings, and sadly, they have each spent nearly 19 years caught up in the prison system. This post is for them, a way to express my love and support for both of them. They remain in my heart always.

The Impact of Family: Lessons from Heartbreak and Hope

In 2007, when I was just 12 years old, I can still remember the moment that changed everything for me. I hadn’t seen my brothers in weeks, and the worry was eating away at me. I turned to my dad and asked, “Where are my brothers? Can I see them?” He lowered his head, and with a heavy heart, he told me, “Your brothers have gotten into some trouble; they’re in jail right now.”

My heart sank as I asked, “Can we go get them? Will they be out soon?” Tears streamed down my father’s face as he replied, “Not this time, Candace.” That was the moment I lost it, I burst into tears. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, trying to comfort me, and said, “We’re going to be okay. We’ll get through this together.” After a moment, I wiped my tears and looked up at him, asking, “Can you take me to see them?” He silently shook his head yes.

A Visit Behind A Glass

I approached the county jail, a heavy weight settled in my stomach. It was my first time going anywhere like this, and the thought of walking through metal detectors and getting searched made me anxious. Surrounded by officers, worry consumed my thoughts. After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it through security and began the long, cold walk down dark hallways to the room where my brothers were housed.

When we entered, I was met with a stark room filled with glass separating us and phones mounted on the walls. Minutes felt like hours as I waited, and then I saw my youngest brother appear in his orange jumpsuit. The moment he picked up the phone, I couldn’t hold back my tears. His face was wet with tears as he looked at me, saying, “I’m so sorry I did this. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” You stay strong not for us but for Mama and daddy, when you’re down we’re all down he said. In that moment, I realized it would be a long time before I saw my brothers on the outside again.

After leaving one brother, we had to check in once more and make that long walk down the hallway again. Then, my oldest brother D***** appeared at the glass. He tried to hold it together, but I could see the pain in his eyes as he echoed the same words: “I’m sorry you have to go through this.” At that moment, a part of me felt like it was lost forever.

The Weight of a Sentence: Lost in the System

A few weeks later, I got the news that the trial for my brothers had started. My parents decided it was best for me not to go, wanting to protect me from witnessing any more pain. After the final day of the trial, my mother, Sabrina, called me into her room. I could feel a mix of hope and anxiety as I approached her.

“Candace, I need to talk to you about your brothers,” she said, her voice heavy. I felt a surge of excitement and asked, “Are they coming home?” But then I saw the tears streaming down her face, and my heart sank. “No, baby,” she said softly. “They’ve been sentenced for a long time.”

The question slipped out before I could stop it. “How long?” Her response felt like a punch to my gut: “The judge gave them 30 years.” Those words stayed in my mind, leaving me feeling lost and helpless.

I flopped down on my bed, feeling completely lost. “Why? How could this happen?” I couldn’t wrap my head around it, especially since my brothers had never been in trouble before. My mom looked at me, tears in her eyes, and said, “That’s just how messed up the justice system is.” I sat there for hours, crying as I thought about everything we had been through together. All those memories of growing up felt like they were washing away, and with them, the happy girl I used to be seemed to vanish.

When I went back to school, it was like a fog had settled over me, and my grades started to drop. I remember one of my teachers pulling me aside, with concern she asked me softly, “Is everything okay at home?”. I shook my head and replied, “My brothers are gone.” Confused, she asked, “What do you mean, gone?” I said, “They’re in jail.”

Not long after that, my dad got a call and rushed to the school to be with me again. But no matter how much love and support I had, the weight of everything felt almost too much for me to handle.

When the Visits End… Reality Begins

After they were transferred from county jail, we had to make a three-hour drive to see them under new visitation rules. This time, security was much tighter, but the biggest change was that I could finally see them face to face. When I visited my oldest brother, all I could do was wrap my arms around him, overwhelmed with joy after not being able to hug them for over a year. We held hands, sat down together, sang songs reminiscing and shared snacks and our favorite sodas. For those moments, it felt like things were a little better.

But when the visitation ended and we had to walk away, leaving them behind while they watched us go, it felt like our hearts were being ripped apart all over again. The drive home was always filled with a heavy silence, each of us lost in our thoughts, dealing with the reality of their absence.

Beyond the Anger

At 16, I had a brief moment of clarity when I started to understand what my brothers had done. As a child, I hadn’t fully grasped the gravity of their actions, but now, as I learned more about their mistakes, my depression shifted into anger and resentment. I found myself questioning everything: Why would they even do this? Why did they leave me? Did they ever think about me? Did they even care? The joy I once felt when I heard from them faded, and I became a different person…rebellious and distant, wanting nothing to do with them.

Looking back now, I realize how foolish and ignorant I was. They made a terrible mistake, and while it was their choice, the consequences were unfortunate for all of us. I wish I could have seen things more clearly back then, instead of letting anger cloud my heart.
Fast forward to a few years ago, and I found myself grappling with an emptiness in my heart. As a family, we had lost so much, the most significant loss being our mother. The absence of her love made me miss my brothers terribly. I started to shift my focus away from their mistakes and began to see the goodness in their hearts. I realized it was a mistake. A terrible mistake but the hearts and love they carry never changed. With that shift came a release of the depression and anger that had consumed me, making way for love and understanding, along with a newfound perspective.

Instead of dwelling on what had happened to me, I began to place myself in their shoes. What must it be like for them to watch me grow up from a distance? How does it feel to lose our mother while being trapped behind those walls? I pondered how they were treated and what their everyday lives were like while I was out here, living my life. The main question I continuously ask myself to this day is, “How are they getting through all of this?” And the answer that brings me comfort is simple: Jesus Christ.

Through all the emotions I’ve experienced on this journey, I give all the glory to God for keeping my brothers safe for nearly 20 years. I’ve learned to be grateful that they are alive and imprisoned rather than dead. I hold on to the hope that one day I will witness their return home.