08/14/17
Since the two parole hearings, May 25, 2017, and July 19,
2017, much has happened. The parole investigator, Z.C. Rowan, a parole official
for over 40 years, met with me in April, reviewed my case, and recommended a
July 4, 2017, parole release date; however, with the political tampering and
conflicts of interest of corrupt politicians who have been fixated on a
personal vendetta against me for years, multiple false statements by assistant
state attorney Kimberly Hindman, negatively influenced the three parole
commissioners.
Ignoring volumes of mitigating factors and powerful
testimonials from responsible citizens who have known me for decades, the
commissioners refused to release me on a well-deserved parole. There is much to
share about these two hearings, which I will do in later filings to you. We
have transcripts of both hearings if you’d like to read everything.
Attorney Bill Sheppard presented a powerful summation of the
record in support of my parole, but as he said, the decision was predetermined.
Jack Murphy, my friend for almost 40 years, delivered an impassioned plea for
my release, but his dynamic words fell on deaf ears.
Much has happened in the past couple of weeks, on several
fronts, which I will summarize.
In November, 2016, the doctor discovered blood in a urine
sample for my physical. I made several “day trips” to the Lake Butler RMC
prison hospital for more tests. A new private medical provider, Centurion, goes
all out on testing and follow-up. Dr. Mark Abramson, a urologist from Jacksonville Memorial Hospital,
arranged for a CT scan, a cystoscopy,
and X-rays, which turned up two kidney stones. On Friday, August 11, 2017, I
was outfitted in handcuffs, a waist chain, and leg irons, then transported in a
prison van to Jacksonville
Memorial Hospital
for an ultrasound surgery. They call it surgery because they gave me general
anesthesia. One whiff from the mask, and I was gone. When I woke up, it was
over.
I was impressed by the kindness and professionalism of the
doctors, nurses and technicians at Jacksonville
Memorial Hospital.
After the ultrasound, three nurses kept me company for an hour, monitoring my
vitals, until I recovered. Another nurse, Mary, brought me a much-appreciated
hot meal of beef tips and gravy over rice and green beans, something
unavailable in prison “chow.”
The trip along Interstate 10 from the Columbia Annex C.I.
near Lake City,
to Jacksonville
and back, was harrowing for someone who has taken only a few fast rides in heavy
traffic in the past 39 years. It gave me a new appreciation for the effort and
sacrifices my dear wife, Libby, makes every weekend when she drives from Jacksonville to visit me.
I did a lot of rubbernecking when we got off I-95 onto University Boulevard,
still amazed at the traffic congestion, the dozens of fast food places, car
lots, stores, and other businesses. We got to the hospital late, all the
“corrections” parking spaces were filled, and we had to park a long distance
from the wing we were going to. Don’t try this at home — walking a couple
blocks wearing leg irons — large handcuffs with a longer chain — rubbing raw your
ankles and Achilles tendons. I realized I was only a mile or two from Libby’s
downtown office, which made me wistful, sad that I should have been out of
prison already, working at the “Prisoners of Christ” program, and seeing her
every day, rather than being chained up like a condemned man.
Dr. Abramson told me I might experience pain if and when the
(hopefully) broken up kidney stones tried to pass. He wasn’t kidding. I was all
right Friday and Saturday, but Sunday night, for hours, I experienced
excruciating pain from my right kidney. After finally dozing off, I woke up
Monday morning feeling much better.
The highlight of my week was Saturday, August 12, 2017, when
my dear friends, the Smigiel family, came to visit from South
Florida. Gary
has been a trusted friend and supporter for over 34 years. Marcela has done a
wonderful job of raising four children and bringing them to visit me since the
early 1990’s. Adrianna and Daniella, their youngest daughters, have grown up
visiting me in prison. It is amazing how quickly they’ve grown from darling
little girls to beautiful, special young women. I pray that before too much
longer we will no longer have to visit together inside these prison fences.
Out of the clear blue, my first cousin, Sue Jones, contacted
us by e-mail a couple of weeks ago. Her mother, mu Aunt Frankie Lee Hatchell,
was my father’s older sister. After my father’s death in 1985, Aunt
Frankie visited me in prison at
Zephyrhills C.I. She and her younger sister, my Aunt Eloise, burst into tears
when they saw me enter the visiting area. I had not seen them since my
childhood, but they rushed to me and hugged me.
“You’re the spitting image of our father as a young man,”
Aunt Frankie said, embracing me.
I’d spent little time with my Norman relatives growing up,
but after we reconnected, Frankie, Eloise and I became much closer. They are
all gone now, and to hear from my cousin, Sue, touched me.
One more incident of note that happened
Saturday afternoon at the Orange Park Mall,
south of Jacksonville: sixteen years ago when I was at the Columbia C.I. Main
Unit, Libby registered our first e-mail address —
freecharlie2001@yahoo.com. That was
followed by our web site,
www.freecharlienow.com,
and the blog charlienorman.blogspot.com
several years later. Thousands of people in over 100 countries have
visited those sites.
Saturday afternoon, Libby made a purchase at one of the
stores at the mall and got into a conversation with the sales clerk. She
suggested that Libby register her e-mail address to receive sales notices and
coupons, so Libby filled out the form with the freecharlie e-mail. The clerk
what the “freecharlie” meant, was it a certain name. Libby told her it did mean
something, but it was too much to explain. She asked if it referred to Charles
Norman. Flabbergasted, Libby said it did.
The clerk said, “I’ve been following Charles on the
Internet, and so have many of my friends. He has been in prison too long, and
should be released.”
After they talked some more, Libby left the store, elated, amazed
at what had just happened a totally random contact of familiarity and support. That’s the power of the Internet.
We have a hard battle before us, and need all the help and
support we can get. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please share them.
Meanwhile, we will continue to pray, have faith, and
persevere. Thanks for being on our side.
Charlie
Adrianna, Daniella, Charlie, Marcela, and Gary
