‘My Brother’s Keeper:’ One Ex-Prisoner’s Fight to Give Hope to His ‘Brother’ Behind Bars

In September 2008, Edwin Wolff stood on the cusp of freedom. After two decades under the watchful eye of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ), Edwin knew he wouldn't miss the poor diet, the minuscule wages or the numbing regimentation of everyday life behind bars. But he would miss his best friend Tom.

As Edwin headed to the transfer unit where prison administrators would finalize his release, Tom came out of the back gate of the kitchen and held out a paper sack.

"I made you something for the trip," he said.

Edwin remembers that inside the bag he found a couple of cartons of milk, some raisins and "the biggest peanut butter and jelly sandwich I have ever seen in my life."

"Don't forget me," Tom urged. "Don't come back. Go with God. And go for it."

Edwin "went for it" when he arrived back in his home state of Michigan. As detailed in a 2011 Prison Fellowship article, Edwin found a welcoming church, a stable job and a reliable vehicle. Last year, he started his own landscaping and general maintenance company. It hasn't all been easy, but he's made the most of his second chance at life.

Whenever he feels overwhelmed by the stressful realities of life in the free world, Edwin goes to his desk and reads a card that Tom gave him on his 44th birthday, just days before his release. "You are about to get your shot at long last," it reads in part. The card helps to remind Edwin of everything that he has been through, and how much he wants to make his second chance count for something. And it reminds him of Tom, still behind bars serving a life sentence for homicide that began when he was 17 years old.

Edwin met Tom when he was transferred to the TDCJ's Ramsay Unit in Rosharon, Texas, in May 2000, to enroll in one of few graduate-level programs then available to inmates. Shortly after arriving, Edwin encountered Tom at a chapel service where Tom was one of the musicians. When they joined the same work crew unloading trucks for the kitchen commissary, they formed a friendship that would endure through many years and trials.

"For the next seven years, we were just best buds," says Edwin. "It was one of those God things where the Lord just caused two people to come together in that terrible place, for iron sharpening iron."

Tom, an excellent student who has earned associate's, bachelor's and master's degrees from behind bars, encouraged Edwin in his studies. "He taught me to write," says Edwin, "and without him I would never have graduated with a 4.0." Their friendship also sustained Edwin through a tumultuous period in 2003 and 2004, when the death of his father – to whom he was very close – was followed by the news that he had been denied parole, and he would have to serve out the remainder of his sentence at Ramsay.

After that spate of devastating news, Edwin says that he "parked it in neutral spiritually." He didn't want to pray, read his Bible, or have fellowship with other Christians. But Tom wouldn't let him give in to discouragement. He wrote out verses of encouragement for him, and at a chapel service, he dedicated two songs – "Amazing Grace" and "Let the Circle Be Unbroken," to Tom and his grieving family.

Edwin was touched, but he continued to struggle spiritually. He told God, "You promised you would never give me more than I can handle. Well, Lord, I've had enough! I've done all this time the best way I know how. I'm going to have to hear from You."

Once again, God provided what Edwin needed through his friend and co-prisoner.

One day, Tom pulled Edwin aside and said, "You may think you're fooling everybody, but I know you. You need to get you your walk right and get back with the Lord. Turn to God."

That moment of truth spoken in love pulled Edwin back from the brink. Without it – and Tom's loving friendship – Edwin questions whether he would ever have made it through the long years of imprisonment.

Edwin and Tom remained close for the remainder of their shared incarceration. Only one thing threatened to separate them: Edwin had a definite "out date," but Tom had none. The knowledge weighed on them both before Edwin's 2008 release.

"One of the things that you go through in there is that [prisoners who leave] make a lot of promises," explains Edwin. 'They say, 'I'll keep in touch. I'll write.' But life happens, and people forget."

Edwin vowed that he would be different. He would maintain contact with the friend who had had such a profound impact on his life.

For the three years since his release, Edwin has kept in promise. He and Tom have kept in touch with letters and phone calls. But during a phone call more than a year ago, Edwin began to feel heightened concerned for his friend.

"I feel the four walls starting to cave in on me," shared Tom, who has spent his entire adult life behind bars. Though he had completed all the programs available to him to turn his life around, he felt no closer to parole – invisible among the thousands upon thousands of inmates in Texas.

Since that conversation, Edwin has felt compelled to become involved in Tom's parole process, doing what he can to help to secure the freedom of the friend without whose help he might never have succeeded. Wherever Edwin goes, he looks for people of influence who could help Tom find favor with the parole board, and he educates Tom's remaining family and friends about what they can do to help.

"I haven't forgotten what it's like to wake up [there] day after day after day," explains Edwin. "If someone doesn't speak on Tom's behalf, he'll be forgotten and he'll die there. I'd like to see him share the same freedoms I now share. He deserves the opportunity to live in society again."

Tom's situation underscores a difficult reality of the justice system. Even when the correctional system accomplishes exactly what it's supposed to – give an individual the time and opportunity to reflect on and repent of his crimes, make a fresh start, and gain skills that would make him a contributing member of society, the parole board can remain reluctant to grant clemency to men like Tom. Victims rights groups often point out that the victims of deadly offenses like Tom's will never get a second chance at life; furthermore, even one ex-prisoner who goes out and re-offends raises public ire, incentivizing a conservative approach to releases and damaging the chances of even the most reformed inmate. Unless a prisoner has a strong network on the outside advocating with the parole board for his chance at freedom, a prisoner may languish for years, no matter how many educational and reentry programs he completes.

Edwin – who spent 20 years among inmates – knows that not all of them deserve an opportunity to be out in society again, but he insists that Tom, who will come up for parole again in 2013, is an exception.

"I know this man," he says. "God has something else for him to do than do time in that place."

Edwin knows that many things – including the nature of Tom's crime, the testimony of friends and relatives, and public perception – will factor into the parole board's 2013 decision. Until then, he will encourage his fellow believer behind bars to place his hope in Christ and not lose heart. And he will keep praying for God to move a mountain.

"I am my brother's keeper," says Edwin simply. "And Tom is my brother."