Inmate 1133147.  To the corrections department of Iowa he was just another number.  At the age of 19 he was given a 30 year sentence, immediately wiping out any chance of a normal life with one fell swoop.  The case was rushed, his court appointed lawyer didn't do the research and judge wanted to make an example of him.  In addition, reacting mainly out of shock and anger I helped testify against him; wrongly thinking that prison was right for him.   He didn't last very long, but long enough to wallow in solitary confinement for almost five years straight. 

On August 24th 2004 he committed suicide by overdosing on his anti depressants.  I still remember the call in the morning shortly after the guards discovered him.  I was half asleep and let it ring the first few times thinking it was a bill collector.  When I finally picked it up it was my mom and she was hysterical, just shouting "Alan's dead" over and over again.  I've wished I could take back that morning more times than I can remember, and wonder about what I was dreaming about as my brother lay dying in his prison bed.  I've dealt with so much guilt, felt as if I should have been the one who died and so have developed a social anxiety disorder; partially out of feeling I should imprison myself for what happened to him.  In addition, I dealt with the guilt of testifying against him and wondering in vain if I hadn't and instead told them about his previous suicide attempts and general mental instability; if he would have had a different outcome. 

For the first few weeks I would wake up thinking he was still alive and then for a year or two I'd see his face in a crowd thinking he had escaped and fooled everyone.  We were very close, and so when he was incarcerated it was like he died.  I wasn't able to visit most of the time and when he was out in general population for short periods of time he'd get put back in by the time I got around to visiting.  The whole time I was thinking I would get him out somehow, get enough money or attention to get him a lawyer and put in a mental hospital where he belonged.  If anyone deserved a second glance at his sentence, it was him.  He had been on all kind of heavy prescriptions since he was a child.  It started with Ritalin and that's where I think started his problems.  He had attempted suicide many times before twice which I thwarted previously.

One occasion and the one I think about the most was with a gun, I had to wrestle the gun away from him and pin him to the ground for several minutes while I waited for police to arrive. 

When Alan died I became a member of what I like to call "The Suicide club".  I noticed the way people reacted when I tried to bring him up, and the complete silence by family members and friends immediately after his death.  I can't remember many people that contacted me afterwards or even after mentioning it various times on my myspace or facebook.  Inmate suicides seem to get the least attention, mainly because the majority of the public believe you are there for a reason and killing yourself is probably the best course of action.  Suicide is just one of those taboo topics, people don't like to talk about death in general let alone suicide.

It's been six years and I'm still emotionally raw as ever at times, but slowly coming to terms with the fact I'm never going to see him again.  I'm one of those people that believes when a door is closed another one is opened though and since he died I've had two sons.  My first son I named after him, he was born less than a year after he passed, on September 2nd; and then another son on August 1st 2007.  At times it's hard because I know how much he would have loved his nephews, and I know he never got the chance to really ever fall in love or have kids himself.  He loved cooking and was aspiring to be a sous chef after a stint working in the kitchen of a local country club.  Growing up in a low income family he never had the opportunity to travel very often, he didn't get to see much of the US let alone the world sadly. I've decided when and if I am able to travel out of the country myself I plan on scattering a bit of his ashes every place I go. 

RIP Alan Marshall L.