Boxed Secrets

Sweat rushed down Anthony’s forehead as he waited nervously for the judge to render his verdict. He had been before this same judge five times this past year and he has been lenient thus far. The juvenile justice system typically is. From the corner of Anthony’s eyes, he watched his court appointed attorney rummage through a bunch of papers. He seemed unorganized and confused. Anthony still was upset at the fact that the attorney walked in to defend him not knowing his name or what he was even in court for.

“I hate public defenders”, Anthony murmured under his breath.

Immediately after that he heard the bailiff announce, “All rise for the honorable Judge Shaw presiding.”

As Anthony stood up he took a deep breath. The judge then asked everyone to be seated with the exception of Anthony. The judge remembered Anthony’s face and the many times he had been before him. This time Judge Shaw was not going to be so lenient. “YOU ARE A MENACE” the Judge said.

Robbery …

Possession of a deadly weapon…

Possession of drugs with an intent to sell …

Arrested five times…

“You are NEVER going to get straight!” You are to serve two years at the county youth detention center and not a day before that. Bailiff, get him out of my presence!

Anthony is sixteen. He resides in the projects in Salisbury, one of the roughest cities in North Carolina. Ever since the age of eleven he has been in trouble with the law.

Trouble …. that is the only thing he seemed to be good at.

Being abandoned at the age of nine by his mother who suffered with a drug addiction and a father he never knew landed him in the foster care system. After being bounced around to about six different homes he ended up with a couple who had four other foster children. At first, they appeared to be loving and caring but he quickly discovered the only love they had was for the money that came with fostering children. Several nights had gone by where they did not eat, did not have an adequate heating system during the winter, and worst they were ---Alone. It hurt Anthony to see the other children suffer in the manner that they did so he turned to the only place that had no age requirement to work, no experience needed, and you are your own responsibility, the streets. He did anything he had to in order to get money whether it being robbing someone, stealing cars and other items, and even selling drugs. It didn’t take long before his foster parents realized what Anthony’s newfound lifestyle was. The other children in the home suddenly became well kept and fed. They rendered an ultimatum to Anthony either he leaves their home or gives them all the money he made on the streets. Without hesitation he accepted the former and left. His foster parents did not even allow him to say goodbye to the other children. Yet in the back of his mind he vowed to come back and save them.

217…218..219.. These were the number of tally marks Anthony was counting on his wooden door. The previous student in room number 1502 had engraved his entire stay. Eight-hundred forty-three days to be exact. As he looked around his cell all he could see was filth. Filthy walls, spit balls covering the ceiling, scum inside and around the toilet, and mountains of dust in the crevices of every corner in the room. This was no place for a kid, let alone a human being.

Anthony kept to himself. While other students were playing card games, watching television and playing on the ping-pong table, he would sit quietly in a corner looking out the window. Staring out this window was peace for him. He would look out and imagine what life would look like if he were free. If life wouldn’t have dealt him the cards he was given. Anthony would often have dreams of his mother. He would picture her healthy and drug free. The visions would include her driving him to school, helping him with homework, preparing family dinners that included dessert, none other than his favorite: chocolate cake. He would picture the chocolate cake being so moist that it’ll melt in his mouth with one bite. She would tuck him in at night, kiss and tell him that she loved him. His father was in his visions too. He imagined his father playing one-on-one basketball with him, correcting his errors and teaching him to be the best man that he could be. He would tell him to stay out of the streets and show him how to make money the right way. Visions, that is all they were, however. His reality was in that facility. That cage. That trap.

One day Anthony was sitting in the corner of the classroom having one of his visions when his teacher Mrs. Jones interrupted him. “So, what is the answer Anthony?” she said. Anthony remained in silence because he did not hear anything she said preceding that question.

Mrs. Jones: Are you even paying attention?

Anthony: Silence continued

Mrs. Jones: Look, if you want to sit in my classroom and not your cell, you are going to have to participate.

Mrs. Jones handed him a math packet as busy work not expecting him to complete it and within minutes it was done. She’d thought he marked anything but to her surprise every answer was correct. She gave him another packet this time it was more challenging and once again he scored 100%. This kid who skipped school, had an extensive wrap sheet and was behind two grade levels was Acing college level assignments. Over the next few months, Mrs. Jones worked with him. She saw potential in him that no one else had been able to recognize so she challenged him and pushed him to be the very best that he could be. She had even went so far as going to the school board to have him placed in his right grade as a senior. Within two weeks it was done, and he was even offered an academic scholarship for college. Things were looking up for Anthony.

After meeting with Mrs. Jones one afternoon he was escorted back to the unit by the correctional officers. When he went to his room there was a suspicious package wrapped in brown paper sitting on his bed. Anthony was taken back at first because no one sends him anything from the outside. After a year and six months in the detention center he could not think of one person that had even attempted to reach out to him. He sat the box in the corner of his room and went on as if it didn’t exist.

Well he tried at least. This went on two days until anxiety kicked in and he obsessed over the contents inside. Without any further hesitation Anthony grabbed the box out of the corner and opened it. There was a letter on the inside of the wrapping. Anthony opened it and it read:

Dear Anthony,

We have searched your whereabouts for over a year now and finally have located you. Your foster family that you were living with before are no longer able to foster children. The other four children that lived in the home with you have all been adopted by a family that loves, cares, provides, and keeps them safe. They shared with us all that you have done for them and for that we are grateful. We apologize we had not caught this sooner. The children wish you the best and hope to see you when you’re released.

P.S. We found a stack of letters and journal entries hidden in the basement addressed to you. We thought you might want them.

Best Wishes,

True Family Foster Care Center

As Anthony looked through the letter’s tears began to flow from his eyes. He hadn’t cried since the Judge uttered those harsh words to him before his sentencing. With each letter he opened and read aloud weight began to lift from his shoulders. The letters were from his mother. When he was nine his mother was arrested for possession of narcotics. After serving a year in prison she was admitted into a drug treatment facility where she got clean. She explained that her single motivation was to get back to him and be the mother that he deserves.

For years his mother has been writing and mailing him letters. Letters that his foster family hid from him. She included her phone number and address in each letter so that when he was ready they could reconnect. Anthony was overwhelmed with joy. He did not know how to even hold it together. His thoughts went from his mother abandoning him, disappearing without a trace because she didn’t love him to now knowing that he was not forgotten.