Below is an email I received from Jim nearly 10 years ago. Looking back, it was probably one of the most lucid and self-aware messages he’d ever written to me, and it provided some profound insight into how troubled he was then…
On Friday, April 29, 2016, at 1:18 AM, Big Jim <email@redacted.null> wrote:
Joe Jim,
I have two overwhelming fears in life, phobias, if you like. One you can probably recall from our previous talks: violent home invasion. I am deathly afraid of some shit bags kicking in my door and torturing my mother and myself. This fear has subsided since I left Gary, IN. I live in the country on the out skirts off a really small town where crime outside of drunken driving does not occur.
I have nothing to fear like I did before, or the guilt of thinking I did something wrong. I have told many people to get off my porch before, no matter what their story was. Maybe all those claims of needing to use a phone, or “I’m bleeding, please help,” were true. I have no idea, but I never lost sleep – or my life – over them.
My other fear is wrongful imprisonment and being railroaded through the system. I have no defense against this. No amount of security lights, guns, or dogs is going to help. I feel like I am dangling in the wind by the powers that be. I am honestly fucking terrified.
It is not always enough to know you are innocent. This whole situation has me stressed out to the extreme. I am not eating or sleeping well. For the past week, every time a car slows down in front of the house and my dogs start barking, I am thinking, “Great, here we go. I am going to get hauled off.”
I know this is an irrational fear. I am more likely to get run over by an Amish buggy, but my rational thinking side does nothing to help the butterflies in my stomach, sweaty palms, and deep-seated fear of becoming a statistic.
I am Tom from Boondocks.
Sadly, he managed to manifest his fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy, and all his worst nightmares came true…
On June 24th, 2019, Jim got into a verbal altercation with his mother. What followed is unclear, but the police were called, and Jim, who was outside with a rifle slung on his shoulder when they arrived, went back into the house, up to his room, and passed out.
SWAT went upstairs where Jim was passed out at his computer, and he awoke to the smell of blood (his) and gun powder. They shot him from behind, twice in the arm, and once in the leg. He almost died in prison when his wounds became infected, but he pulled through, though it left him with severe nerve damage – a sensation of constant pain and discomfort he described as agonizing pins and needles that never went away.
Arguably, it worked out for the best; It was the kick in the ass Jim needed to turn his life around, although perhaps too late… He moved to Mexico, lost 120 lbs, met a lovely woman, and got married. He lived a quiet life, managing his pain through pot and LSD, and once again, we gamed and we bullshitted about fitness and food. In life, there are no happy endings, but his was as close as one can hope for.
~~~
Footnote: The featured image is a picture of Jim’s dogs, sent to me on August 25, 2015. The doggo on the right is Darwin, I never knew the name of the other.