Part 12 (1/2)

On a Wednesday afternoon, after days of crippling despair, I climbed out of my bed I stood under the shower untilthe hot water would wash away the pain Back in my prison room, torapped around my waist, I leaned on the sink and looked into the ht of my own reflection I needed help, but I didn't knohere to turn

I dressed and went to the Wednesday night Catholic church service The stained-glass s of the church, so brilliant in the sunlight, were dark The altar was gently illuht The service was s with Sister Margie Five or six leprosy patients, theRosary beads in hand, the patients chanted Hail Mary and Ave Maria interreat Christianfroin the ritual again For nearly one hundred years, the leprosy patients at Carville had turned to the Catholic church for co to passages about the unclean, and praying that they too would be healed

I sat between two Mexican inlish, but I watched the leprosy patients to my left In medieval times leprosy patients had been banished from traditional churches Sanctuaries were built with a ”leper's squint,” a narrow opening carved into the side of the church building where the afflicted could get a gliation

Father Reynolds stood before us He began in his quiet, unassu voice: ”We are told to believe in ourselves,” he said ”But I'm not sure that's e areto talk about pride-the foundation from which all other sins arose Pride, he said, was as an excessive belief in our own abilities Lost in our own pride, he explained, we are unable to recognize grace

I felt as if he were speaking directly to me

Early in my career, when I launched ood story, serve the town's need for a legiti the way, good motives took a second chair to ambition and the accolades that ca justified bending the rules And I never seemed to suffer any serious consequences My pride spread like a cancer

I wrote editorials proclai for the townspeople of Oxford I reported on crime, corruption, and conflicts of interest Then on some days, I would write myself a bad check and deposit it in my corporate account to create a temporary balance

When my scheme was exposed, I convinced honest h it Even the threat of an FBI investigation and the shame of bankruptcy did not curtail my ambition Instead, I abandoned ned to azine, Coast Magazine, I was careful to feature only the beautiful people, places, and things in my hometown We published positive stories about those in power Huge ah the business But I was not satisfied When I e eazine incooals, I sold my invoices to third parties, a technique called I was careful to feature only the beautiful people, places, and things in my hometown We published positive stories about those in power Huge ah the business But I was not satisfied When I e eazine incooals, I soldfactoring that enhanced cash flow And I convinced small investors to place their trust in me that enhanced cash flow And I convinced small investors to place their trust in me

And when that didn't cover expenses, I fell back on y pill It set me apart I succeeded where others failed CEOs slapped me on the back Restaurateurs refused to let uers scraazines My syste created access to cash and an ireat business acumen It worked-and made me look successful

To transfer hundreds of thousands of dollars between two banks across the street from each other depended on perception The perception that e checks written toto hide

I didn't save e had beco checks afforded me the freedo everyone else along for the ride And I never had to wait

I consciously acted in a manner to appear trustworthy I looked and dressed the part I went to church I volunteered my time with charities I proclaimed to be the journalist ould watch over criminals and politicians and casino owners People believed I was honorable

By the ti force in e Privately, I envisioned the figure I would becoazines, editor of a daily paper, holder of innumerable civic awards, owner of a fabulous yacht, and, of course, philanthropist With these iet there

But the prospect of losing my children had stripped away every pretense It did what bankruptcy, public huer stomach my own lies and delusions For the first tiht of my crimes

I had cost bankers who trusted me more than a million dollars I left thirty loyal employees without any income I put small-business owners in a deep hole I lost most of my mother's retirement fund, money she had invested in my business I had disappointed my friends and family I had put my uncle Knox, Hancock Bank's lawyer, in a terrible spot And I had allowed a wole mother who couldn't afford to lose her investment, to put her money into my company A year later, she and her two children were evicted from their home I betrayed Linda and left her in debt, dependent on others, drowning in the shaie, the most important people in my life, without a father in their home

Even incarcerated, when I should have been ht to my vanity I wanted ood; and I i a press club award before I'd done a rasped on to the ied sos I had done, I had never taken an objective look at the person I had become

Finally, in a sanctuary for outcasts, I understood the truth Surrounded by urement, I could see my own

PART IV

Winter

My mother and me (in kilt) in Scotland, 1969

CHAPTER 41

I stood behind the barricade and waited for a guard to escortfor me She had made the trip alone and, as usual, arrived forty-five h, er siblings My mother, perhaps to counteract any ill effects of divorce, reminded me almost daily that I had been chosen for an extraordinary path I started to believe her Not just that I could make a difference, but that I was special and had been called to share ifts with the world She believed her children's skills should be showcased at every opportunity She registered me, as the eldest son, for races and contests and tournaofwith me my own destiny, ”Neil means means champion” I believed what my mother told me And I was certain ould make the world a better place champion” I believed what my mother told me And I was certain ould make the world a better place

Mom started an alternative school for juvenile delinquents in Gulfport She spent her days giving thes they had missed in their homes She lauded their talents, whether those caraffiti art, or a knack for breaking into locked cars to retrieve keys

To soraduate degrees; she had lived in twenty-seven different houses during the last three decades and had held no fewer than seventeen jobs She had launched two azines, founded three schools, self-published five books, served on the boards of four corporations She had started a restaurant, a dress shop, a riding stable, a caed kids, a nonprofit education co project She had a house in Gulfport, an apartment in New Orleans, and a husband in Oxford She took risks She relished the unknown She loved the lie and approached her own life as if it were a thrill ride And I had alanted to e rooed, and she said, ”How are you, baby?” But she didn't need to ask She kneas in trouble again That's why she was here

The last time I was alone with my mother was April 9, 1992, about an hour after the banks had closed my accounts When I arrived at her house, she tried to hide her dread, but she knew so I wouldn't have been at her house, on her back porch, in the ood Moenerations of her farandmother Floy's home Floy was a teacher and missionary In 1903, she moved to the Philippines She educated the islanders about math and literature and God Floy had retired by the time Mom was born, so Mom became Floy's student She instilled in my mother a sense of service and selflessness In the 1930s, Floy invited people of color to sit and eat at her dining table when integration of any sort in Mississippi was taboo She fed hoboes who jumped off the train between New Orleans and Mobile And she passed along lessons to my ive fifty cents to someone who needs it more than you-with the re were passed along to my mother on the very spot where we sat on that cool Thursday ently rocking her porch swing, I told my mother I was over 2 million in debt I told her I had no idea hoould repay the 200,000 she had invested into determine if I had violated any laws My edas long as we stuck together I left her sitting in a chair on the porch She put her head in her hands and let the tears flow She was the strongest woman I knew, but this was too ie She cried for ht face prison She cried because she had no ive me She cried for all that ere about to lose

Mo room table and heldwoenerous She never oncein s she told , she still believed in s

”I talked to Linda,” she said ”I' the kids to visit assuit, but no one was better in a crisis From Oxford to Carville was a twelve-hour round-trip But Mo them to Carville, and then return hole weekend

Mom took a deep breath and rubbed her hands over the linoleu away crumbs ”Baby,” she said, ”what are your plans?”

”I have no idea,” I said My postprison career plan had disappeared Linda and I had discussed launching a s venture She would be the front person, we had decided, and I would work behind the scenes But noith an i divorce, I didn't have a plan

”Do you knohere you'll live?” she asked

Meest city near Oxford I would live less than an hour away froie Surely I could find a job there

Mom looked away like she was disappointed ”You need to think long and hard about that,” she said She put her hands together and leaned on her elbows ”If you live in Oxford,” she said, ”you could see them every day”

I could list a thousand reasons to not ood jobs existed in that small town, especially for me-an ex-convict who, five years earlier, had alienated so raced Not toher