by Armando Gonzalez, San Quentin State Prison, CA
In the middle of quick purposeful strides towards the young man I intend to beat on I am stopped by, “He has a gun!”
Literally arm’s length away, I pause to ask him, “What’s up, you strapped or what?”
Thinking that as he pulls the gun out, I can take it away from him. Instead, I see the barrel point up at me from inside the pocket of the heavy jacket he had on. I couldn’t think to do anything else but twist and basically try to hide behind my own arm. I took a bullet which spun me and I continued to run as he continued to fire.
Amazingly, I was not hit again. However he did shoot my friend Andy’s fifteen year old cousin, Miguel, in the stomach and in the back. Half way across the street, I remembered that I’d left him behind and ran back to, honestly I don’t know what I thought I was going to do.
Nevertheless, as I headed back a car was fleeing the scene and my friend was leaning against my van holding his stomach.
While in the hospital, the doctor came in and poked at my upper arm, which had been broken and was blown up like a balloon full of blood due to a ruptured artery. He returned a while later and told me that he had some bad news for me.
Thinking that he was going to tell me that my friend died, I said, “Just tell me.”
What he said was, “It looks like we’re going to have to cut off your arm.”
What followed was a barrage of insults from me. It was my belief that his lack of motivation to save my arm was due to the fact that I had no money and no insurance. Among other things, I yelled that he hadn’t even tried anything.
He then claimed, “There’s something we can try, but even if it works, you’ll probably still lose the use of your arm.”
I said, “Try that shhh, then!”
The procedure that followed consisted of splicing the vein from my leg with the severed artery on my arm. The surgery was successful. In addition Miguel survived, though he had to make use of a colostomy bag and suffered other side effects throughout the subsequent years. Ultimately, he came to suffer from testicular cancer and was confined to a wheel chair.
On one of the days during which Miguel and I were still recovering in the hospital he and Andy were visiting with me in my room. I asked them who it was that had yelled the night of the shooting warning me that the guy I was about to attack had a gun, and how it was that they knew.
They looked at each other, and then looked back at me and both asked, “What are you talking about?”
I said, “Ya, somebody yelled at me that he had a gun, otherwise I would’ve just taken off on him and took all those shots to my body. Whoever it was saved my life.”
Again, they looked at each other like I was crazy.
Miguel said, “Dude, I was standing right next to you. Nobody said anything about a gun but you when you asked him about it.” Andy, who had been there as well, agreed with him.
This was twenty-three years ago, and to this day (by the grace of God) my arm is fully functioning with no side effects to speak of. I was eighteen years old at the time of this experience. Initially it did not meaningfully hit me that I was extremely blessed not to have lost my arm or my life. However during the last fifteen years in prison, I have seen many men here missing limbs or in wheel chairs. Moreover, I am here for robbing a young man of his own life, depriving him and his loved ones of the rightful gift of his presence, love, and potential.
I have no right, based upon my own merit, to be alive and in one whole healthy piece. It has long been my belief that whomever the voice of wanting came through that night, it was yet another example among so many others of the LORD saving me from myself. It is a sad truth that even after having been so richly blessed, I continued to use my life to interject the pain, fears, and resulting anger that were in my heart into the lives of others.
It has taken me many years and in the mean time I have left a wake of violence, heartache, and destruction, but I am finally living a life of gratitude for the LORD’s undeserved grace and mercy. Enduring the conditions of prison for these last fifteen years, I have often been susceptible to falling into the habit of complaining and entitlement. However, the scars I bear and the air I breathe serve to remind me to shut my mouth unless I am opening it to express praise and thankfulness.
It is in the spirit and frame of mind that I close, in theme of Jesus, to thank the Lord for everyday of my life and for all the favor that you continue to bestow upon and entrust me with. Lord you showed me true love in that you loved me first even as I was your enemy.
You have faith even in the face of my own faithlessness, for you cannot deny yourself. Thank you Lord. You are absolutely amazing. Amen.