The Things We Do When We Do Them

His name escapes me. But not his face, especially the pools of sadness in his eyes. As if he had given up. I remember how he kept to himself. He mopped the hallway floors and cleaned the prison school bathrooms. One day he disappeared, only to be replaced by another porter. A few days later as I drank my morning coffee his face reappeared in my morning newspaper. He did eight years in prison because of accusations that he had molested his kid, accusations that came about through an ugly divorce. Apparently the molestation never happened—still, it was easy to lock him up and harder to get him out, even after his kid recanted.

He’s been a free man for about ten years now.

I’m sure he questioned the motives of those responsible for putting him behind bars … at least for awhile … then he probably let go of his anger, his sadness, and moved on with his life.

He’s in my thoughts due to last week’s Detroit Free Press article on David Lee Gavitt, a man who did twenty-six years in the Michigan prison system for killing his wife and children. Last week, thanks to the University of Michigan Law School’s Innocence Clinic and the advancements in fire science, he walked out of Carson City Correctional Facility a free man. Retired Michigan State Police Sgt. John Fatchett still questions Gavitt’s motives, as if there’s a specific procedure one should follow when a house is on fire. From what I gather, Gavitt’s crucial mistake was having his wife round up the toddlers while he busted the glass out of a bedroom window. What was he thinking? What were his intentions? How long should he have waited for his wife to return with the toddlers before saving himself?

The answers to “the things we do when we do them” can’t always be explained logically, but there will always be those who rush to judgment with absolute certainty that an obvious choice should’ve been made.