James did not hear the rest. In his mind he saw a blurry image of his son, running through the yard laughing to hug him and now it would be even longer until he got to see him again. If only for one day, he wanted so much to see that face again.
If he could have seen what was coming next, he might have felt better.
When James looked up, the parole board was gone. The guard stood patiently waiting to escort him back to his cell.
You may be heard somebody say that God works in mysterious ways. What happened next was definite proof that -even if those words never appeared in the Bible- they were true.
Right outside that little chapel in the parking lot in a rented Honda sat a man that had his destiny tied to James Casey since the moment they were both conceived. He was Pastor Todd Crawford, a prison chaplain, whose last service was to be that very afternoon. As he always did, just before entering the prison, Todd prayed a prayer that was about to turn his whole world on end.
“God I know there are things to do today that no one but me can do. Lead me to them, and give me the courage I need to get them done.” He opened his door, grabbed his briefcase and headed into the prison one last time. He never suspected that the things he needed to do that day would include being part of a jail break and ending up a prisoner himself.
Some people would call what happened next fate, or karma. I happen to know that it was the hand of almighty God intervening in the lives of these two men in a very powerful way.
When asked later what had happened to cause him to neglect protocol, the guard whose job it was to return James Casey to his cell that afternoon had no answer, but here is what happened.
As James was leaving the chapel from his parole hearing, Todd was entering the prison, and going through a routine cursory examination of his briefcase and person. The guard at the front of the hall let Todd in, just as James Casey, some one hundred yards down a hall to the right, realized that he had forgotten his most prized possession back in the chapel, a picture of his son.
“I left my picture on the table, back there. Can you get it for me, please?”
James requested.
Just at that moment, a fellow guard stopped
James' escort to ask a question, and knowing James to be a trustworthy inmate, the escort uttered these fateful words, “Why don't you go back and get it, the chapel is unlocked for the chaplain. I will wait here and take you back to your cell.”
Being a trustee, it was not that unusual for James to have slightly more freedom than the average prisoner, and being allowed into the chapel for a moment was nothing out of the ordinary. A prisoner in the hall with a civilian, unsupervised, however, was another matter altogether.
The guard watched James walk down the hall, unaware that Todd had just entered the chapel. The guard turned back to his conversation and promptly lost track of time.
James entered the chapel and walked to the table to retrieve his photo, paying no attention to the pastor, who was at the podium, arranging his notes for the upcoming service. “Hello” Todd said politely, “The service won't start for a few more minutes.”
James searched the table for his picture, then spotted it on the floor, near where his feet had been moments before. He bent over and retrieved the photo, and as he stood back to his feet, his eyes met Pastor Todd's, and the two men instantly recognized each other, because, minus his formerly wooly beard, James Casey was Todd Crawford's long lost identical twin, down to the small, round, mole they both had on their left cheek.
“What the hell?” James froze, dropping the picture from his hand. A look of sheer terror came over Todd's face, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he crumpled instantly to the ground. Later, the doctors in Todd's case would claim that there was no medical explanation for why a perfectly healthy, 32-year-old man would respond that way with no prior history of fainting, heart trouble, or seizure disorders, and I believe them.
James leaned over the table to look at the motionless pastor, removing his glasses, he checked his look in the reflection of a framed picture. There was no doubt, he looked exactly like this chaplain, but why?
At that moment, the same still small voice that had told him to shave his beard off that very morning planted a seed of an idea, an idea that seemed stupid. The idea was this: take this man's clothes and trade places with him, then just walk out. James says that he saw it, as if he were watching himself on a television screen, walking calmly out of the prison, dressed in the pastor's khaki slacks and golf shirt, then driving away.
He shook himself, and headed for the door, it was apparent this man needed medical attention, escaping now might cost him his life! On the other hand, he seemed to be breathing...
It took less than two minutes to make the switch, and soon, Todd Crawford lay in the floor of the chapel, looking every inch an inmate, and James Casey stood, briefcase in hand, trying to calm his own nerves. He checked his look in the mirror one more time, removing his glasses and placing them on the still form on the floor. He walked to the door, resting his hand on the knob for a brief second before it turned in his hand, and the escort from the hall wailed in.
“Oh, hi pastor, did you see an inmate come in here?” he asked.
“Yes, I was just going to ask for medical assistance, he seemed like he was looking for something, then he knelt down at the altar, as if he was praying and the next thing I knew, he was on the floor unconscious.”
“Oh, wow, that's not good, hey Herb!” the guard yelled down the hall, “Casey's collapsed in here! Get some help!
The front desk guard picked up his radio to do just that, but heard nothing but static. Frustrated, he tossed the hand held unit onto the desk and ran down the hall for help, leaving the front desk unmanned.
“Pastor, stand by, I need to get a statement from you.” the escorting guard said, rushing to James' still body.
Just at that moment, the cell phone in Todd's pocket buzzed. James flinched, then dug it out and said without hesitation, “I'll have to call it in, I have another medical emergency, one of my...er...flock has been in an accident.” He turned and walked down the hall, trying to remain calm.
When he reached the front gate of the hall, the guard on the other side buzzed him out with hardly a second glance and James Casey walked out of the building unhindered and into sunlight, unfiltered by chain-link fence, for the first time in seven years.
James stopped and looked up momentarily, before remembering that there were probably cameras recording his every move and anything out of the ordinary might give him away.
He felt in the pocket of the unfamiliar khakis for a key ring and came out with a plastic key fob with three keys. There was Honda emblem on the fob, but from where he stood there were at least three Hondas. Hoping for the best, James pressed the unlock button and watched for the flashing lights.
He saw them on the third try, a silver accord about halfway down the front row of cars. He walked towards it in what he hoped read as “casual” and not “fleeing felon”, climbed into the car, started it, and then sat, not sure where to go. He had often dreamed of this moment of freedom, to be able to make his own choices, on his own schedule, but it was not at all what he thought it would feel like. He felt scared, scared they would catch him and take him back before he got to see his son, and scared that he would not be welcomed as he hoped when he got to where he was going. The uncertainty was almost overwhelming after having everything decided for him for so long.
The one thought that got him going, the one thing he was sure of in this moment, was this, it was not whether they would catch and return him, it was how long it would take for them to figure out what he had done and he did not want to waste a single precious second. He backed out of his space, narrowly missing a guard walking in to start his shift, pulled out of the parking lot at a medium speed, then turned left onto the road, hoping that was the right direction to find the nearest town where he could get a map, and find his way onto the open road.
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