Dear Rich, Episode #1

         March 20, 2023 

My dearest Rich,

  I  don't even know where or how to begin this letter.  I  started feeling extremely hopeless and emotional and decided that the only way to conquer it, was to pretend that I  was talking to you.  YOU.  Since the day that I met you, you have always been such a strong rock for me.  You've sustained me, held me up, and done nothing but always look out for me and our future; even if you didn't agree with me.  I  don't know that I've actually said it out loud, and i guess I'm still not, but I'm writing it down....for now.  Thank you. Thank you.  Thank you.  I  don't deserve you and I'm so lucky that you chose and continue to choose me to be your person.  I  want you to know that you, in return, no matter how big the storm, regardless of whatever hardship, through every high and most certainly every low, will always be MY person. For life.  Never in my entire life, have I experienced a love like I  have for you.  I  know that I  don't show it or act like it most days, but please know that even in my darkest hour, no love will ever be greater than the love I  have in my mind, body and soul for you.

  Now, about my time here.  Obviously, it's not the ideal situation but I  know that I  need to, and want to do whatever it takes to ensure we have an amazing future together.  When I  was first transferred to Murrieta, I  was put in dayroom 1 in C-Pod.  This is a large room with 32, two man cells.  We were able to go out for 35-40 minutes every hour and do whatever; tv, eat, exercise, mingle, phone, etc. Give or take a few hours here and there for sleep, shift-change, or sometimes...lockdown.  Everyone was immediately kind and helpful to ensure I  had a smooth transition into this alternative lifestyle.  I  felt safe and weirdly, socially accepted into the odd social class that jail has.  My fellow inmates taught me the acceptable do's and don'ts of proper jail etiquette, how to make, or "cook" as they like to say, things like "wet burritos" "sweet and sour pork noodles" and "orange chicken"  ( I used all of the terms in quotations very loosely) LOL. But nevertheless, we were doing something with our time here and it was actually fun.  Someone at one point asked me if I  knew how to braid hair, and I  of course said yes,  So I  started doing all different kinds of braids for people.  I  finally felt like I  was able to contribute something and felt needed again.  I  loved it and I  was thriving again.  On top of the braiding and the "cooking", I  even got the honor of receiving a jail nickname!! POP TART! LOL I  truly dont know why or even where it came from, but I  obviously love it.  I  think maybe because I'm "fruity" or maybe because I  was simply eating a pop tart one day.  I  can't really be sure, but I  wasn't going to ask questions.  I'm not quite sure what world I've come to live in that I  get so happy to hear "Hey Pop Tart? Do you want to use the phone?' or "Pop Tart- wanna do a braid for me?" or even "Hey Pop Tart... what are we cooking tonight?", but given the traumatizing circumstances, I've loved it and actually needed it.  

  Let's take a break from my daily routines so we can talk about my visits, the letters I've received from some of our amazing friends and family and what they've been doing and continue to do for me; for US.  My mother has been nothing short of extraordinary.  She is, without a doubt, the strongest and most amazing woman i  have ever seen. When we talk on the phone (pretty much daily), or when she comes to visit me (at least once a week), she keeps me lifted, strong and stable.  I'm the one that always starts to lose it first, and even though I  know she wants to cry with me, SHE'S the one that says "NO" and "Stop-Sean, you have to be strong." And as much as I  always hate to admit it, she is ALWAYS right.  She has been organizing all of the letters that have been coming in, she communicates with the attorney for me, she is a part of God knows how many text message and facebook message groups with God knows how many different circles of family and friends, keeping everyone updated, informed and is constantly relaying messages back and forth for me.  Next to you, she has become the other side of the rock that continues to hold me up and keeps me from falling down.  She has given me, us, support that can only be repaid with unconditional love.  Don't forget her birthday is coming up, April 7th,  She'll never forgive you if you forget and I  will make sure she at least recognizes your's on the 2nd, even if it is in the same month as hers. :) 

  Jule has also been a miracle worker.  I  get to talk to her almost as often as I  talk to my mom.  I  thank all of my lucky stars for her.  I  know she knows that deep down, every time I  talk to her, I'm struggling and on the verge of a hysterical breakdown and she somehow finds a way to make me laugh, smiles and forget why I  was sad in the first place.  She helps take care of anything and everything that is ever even mentioned and within one phone call, its magically taken care of.  I  hope to be even a fraction of the person Jule is when I  grow up.  She has also been helping so much in caring for our babies. That subject.  Our babies.  This is going to be hard for me to write about, but I need to get it out.

  I  feel like a piece of me has been brutally ripped out from my body.  There isn't a moment of any day, that I  don't think about them.  My sweet Stoli-Boli and my Brandy Bean.  Even writing their names down makes me feel like i'm drowning and can't breath unless I  see them.  But with that being said, I  can't write about all of our amazing friends and family without a dedication to Scottie and Matthew.  They have really stepped up to the plate and in my book, are hitting home-runs every day.  They have been caring for the most special creatures that have ever come into my life.  Aside from Whiskey of course.  To hear that they've incorporated them into their everyday lives, giving them the love that I  only wish I  could be giving them, makes my heart feel so warm and settled.  The gratitude and thankfulness that I  have for them is unmatched.  My feelings are those of a parent, who's been taken away from their children without warning.  I  would give Scottie and Matthew my life for the favor they are doing for us.  I  literally can't think of any other words because there simply are none.  

  

That brings me to the letters.  Another task my amazing Mom took into her hands was organizing some of my friends to write letters to me, to which they wrote, sent to her, and she then sent them to me.  It always makes me feel so special to get mail.  So far, I've received letters from Ange (my dance coach from High School), Erica, Andrea, Siri, Raymond and Kylie.  KYLIE.  That girl has been gathering letters, spreading word, helping update and also doing anything possible to help me.  I  truly dont know what I  did to deserve a friend like her.  Her letter consisted of such sweet words and a collage of pictures of me and so many amazing faces.  She was even thoughtful enough to include pictures of Brandy, Stoli AND Whiskey-even the ones that Jule took of all of us together before Whiskey died.  That photo collage has been such a gift.  I  look at it and kiss it every night before I  go to bed and imagine i'm saying goodnight to you and the girls as if you were all here next to me. 

  So far, I've had visits from my mom of course, Jule, Kylie, Ange, Tracey Jordan, Tori and my Aunt Angelic- who has also been checking in with my mom everyday, asking if I  need anything and continually adding money to my books.  I  can't forget to go back to the start of this craziness few weeks ago and think about Marisa.  I  made one phone call to her when Jule and I  were driving to the courthouse in Riverside for the very first day of this mess.  I  told her I  was going to trial and with only hearing the fear in my voice that I  was trying to mask, she booked a flight and was literally back in California within days.  She was there every single step of the way for the most detrimental part of all of this.  Putting every concern or stress she had in her own life aside, to help me get through mine.  She is more than a best friend.  She is my sister, my family.  Our family.  I  will forever be eternally grateful for the poise and control she had to get me through each day of trial which came with daily breakdowns, hysterics, and extreme mood swings.  That poor girl.  I  wouldn't want to have dealt with me- I  don't even know if I  would have known HOW to deal with me- but she did it like it was nothing.

  Since I can't call you, I've been teter-tottering calling my Mom, Jule, Marisa and Kylie.  The four of them have been my daily godsends with their encouragement and uplifting words to help me get through each day.

  Back to the daily grinds.  Yesterday (March 19th) was kind of weird.  It started off like every other day here, but as we progressed into the evening, things started to change.  I  went to check on my commissary order and it wouldn't let me log in to the kiosk.  I tried over and over again but it kept saying that my pin number wasn't authorized to be used at that kiosk location.  I  asked a few people about it and they said either, "oh-you're being moved to a different location", or "oh- maybe you're going home..." I  had a mixture of feelings because 1) I  didn't want to get relocated.  The people here were my new friends.  they had helped me so much and I  had already developed personal relationships with these people- but then 2) Home? Was that even an option? I  had to be at court the next day, to which I  already knew we were asking for a continuance since I  hadn't met with the probation officer yet.  I  felt like I  was suffocating again because I  had gotten my hopes up so many times before, I  didn't even want the slightest thought of going home if it wasn't an option.  But the other option was I  was getting relocated?  I  didn't want that either.  But sure enough, at around 11:15pm, the call came to pack up my stuff and move out.  They kept me in C-Pod but first sent me to dayroom 2 (which is prison lifers) so that was wrong and then they sent me to dayroom 4, which is set up like a "dorm", as they call it and actually has more freedom.

  I  walked in with my foam mattress, sheets, blanket, and my one box filled with my commissary items.  Immediately the inmates in dayroom 4 screamed at me "take off my shoes!!" over and over again.  I  had not been taught this etiquette, since everyone in the dayroom 1 always wore shoes, so faster than a lightening bolt, I  dropped all of my things, removed my shoes, and put them on top of my box, which was on top of my folded, half made foam mattress and I  hurried up the stairs to the top tier to my designated bunk.  Bunk 53.  Top Bunk.  I  was secretly humiliated about the shoe removal incident, but tried to appear unbothered of course, so I  wouldn't seem weak.  I  later learned that this was a joke played on every new person that came into this dayroom. I  "laughed" it off, met a couple new people, read my letters, kissed you and the girls goodnight and bawled as I  stared at the wall.  I  wasn't sire why I  was so sad about leaving a two man jail cell for an open dayroom dormitory.  I  supposed it was the initial greeting I  got after trying to deal with all of the emotions of not knowing where I  was going next.

  I  was woken up at 2am and told to be ready to leave for court by 2:30a. Me, along with other inmates, were placed in a holding cell and asked to be stripped down to our boxers.  We waited there probably until 3:30a and then did a fully body and cavity search to ensure we weren't trying to smuggle anything onto the bus and/or into court.  We went from holding cell, to holding cell, to holding cell.  Then came the shackles, which I  was expecting.  Chains around my ankles, around my waist which attached to more chains around my wrists.  And tight.  Just awful.  We got to Riverside around 6:30a.  My court time was 9:30a so I  waited in that holding cell until about 9:15a.   I  was brought up to the courtroom and saw John.  He told me exactly what we had discussed in our previous visit and was asking for a continuance to come back after I  had a chance to meet with the probation officer.  He also said that he had seen my mom and that she had 5 people with her.  I  asked the deputy if I  was allowed to turn and look at them when they entered the room and he said yes, however, no communication whatsoever.  At 9:30a, when they were allowed to come in, I  turned and looked and couldn't hold ack my tears.  In walked my mom, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Angelic, cousin Jojo, Jule, my brother, Ahnie, Tracey Jordan, Kalia, Ange, Kylie and sweet Erica.  I  wanted so badly to jump out of the chair and hug each one of them for as long as I  could.  I  couldn't believe that many people showed up in support, knowing nothing would happen, and we were just asking for come back on a later date. I  was overwhelmed and definitely felt the love but at the same time, felt so much sadness that I  couldn't even whisper or mouth so much as an "I  love you" to each of them.  But I suppose rules are rules.  After some deliberation on a date, the judge is having us re-conveine on April 21st at 9:30a to issue sentencing then, so theres enough time for the probation officer to come and interview me and make her assessment.  Same process going back.  Cell to cell, shackles, a bus ride back to Murrieta, another cell and then finally back to my dayroom at about 3:00p.  13 hours of holding cells, traveling, chains and court.  I'm exhausted and need a nap.

  Let's switch gears again for a minute.  I  haven't even talked to you about the salon.  My Mom has been talking to everyone there and relaying messages and keeping them updated.  They ALL have proven to be the most beautiful and completely supportive tribe of people I  could have ever imagined.  They ALL wrote character letters to the judge.  Not just them, but also their spouses, family members and significant others.  I  was so used to working with people in the entertainment industry where everyone was dispensable and people were nice to your face and pretended to be caring and concerned and helpful.  The problem was that I  truly did care about everyone that I  worked with and came into contact with, and then for most of them to dump me out on the curb as if I  were last weeks trash when things got hard or complicated... The salon is filled with people that are the exact opposite.  They are now MY people and I feel as i f I  do not deserve the love and support they have given me.  Melissa has been helping with letters and even offered to help with our precious babies  Sweet Keith continues to ask about me and shows nothing but compassion and concerns of my well-being.  I've heard that Sarah has asked about me and my braiding and wonders if I  have the other inmates singing and dancing on the tables yet.  I've been told that even convene, who doesn't even work there anymore, wrote a letter and has sent word that she will always stand by me and never turn her back. And then Tori. Sweet Tori. She came and visited me last Thursday (the 16th) and was nothing short of strong, and hopeful and promising.  She assured me that I  would always have a place there and that they were telling my clients that I  had to take an emergency trip out of the country to see you. God, if that were only the truth.  Her and Tariq even sent me a bag of goodies through the commissary website.  They will forever be a part of me and in our lives.  

  I  don't even know how to start talking about Laura and Richard.  They gave me a fresh start.  A new reason to wake up in the mornings and be happy.  Every time I  went to court, without fail, I  would have an inspiring and uplifting message from Laura to make sure that I  knew she was praying for me and always thinking about me.  I  would not be the man that I  have become and am proud of today without her and Richard; and they too are considered part of my extended new family.  Needless to say, to sum this up, I  love my salon family.  They have taught and shown me what it means to have real and true people in my life and I  don't think I  would be as strong or as resilient as i  am today without them.

  Back to the ending of my evening.  I  returned to my new dayroom around 3:00p.   I  was so exhausted I  ate my dinner around 3:30 and then passed out until around 7:00p. I  woke up, showered and started to walk around in hopes that I  would make some new friends, as I  had just left all of the ones I  just made.  After all, I'm going to be here for at least another 32 days- lets make the most of it.  I  mingled for a bit, made my introductions to a few people and received little response.  I  made a soup, had some chips and sat down at a table by myself and pretended to understand and be interested in the Spanish soap opera that was playing.  I  felt alone, sad and scated that I  was going to spend the next month without a friend.  Literally 24 hours earlier I  was in the "A" group and everyone knew me and wanted to be around me.  To now knowing no-on  and sitting at a table alone.  I started to cry and quickly got up and went up to my bunk, read my letters, looked at my picture collage and fought to hold back my tears.  So I  started writing this. Once again, without even knowing it, YOU saved me from a sad, lonely, self-pitied night.  Not just you, but being able to talk about you, my mom, an all of our friends and family made me feel like the most loved person in the world and no longer sad and alone. So again, I  say thank you.  Funnily enough, as I  was sitting here writing this, there was a multitude of people that stopped by my bunk, introduced themselves, and we have been exchanging stories.  One guy was even quoting "Mean Girls" and the "Devil wears Prada" with me! You pulled me out of a slump and Im back to meeting new people and socializing again. 

  I  know the next month is going to be hard, but since I can't call you, i'm going to try to write a letter every few dats and send it to either my mom or Jule and have them copy and send it to you.  We can get through this.  I  know we can.  I'm still staying hopeful for a positive outcome on the 21st of April and looking forward to once again moving forward and continuing our lives together.  I  cannot wait to see what the future holds.  I  go to bed every night dreaming about it and wake up every morning wanting to make the dreams a reality.

  If you're not Rich, and reading this, it means that you were meant to.  I  want to make sure that everyone knows how much I  love and appreciate them.  You all truly mean the world to me, and that world wouldn't exist without you in it.  From the very bottom of my heart, Thank you for everything you do and continue to do for me, for Rich, my mom, my dogs and so on...

  Rich- I  love you so much.  You are my everything and even though we can't talk to each other, I hear your voice and see your face all day, everyday.  I  send you a hundred kisses. XOXO Sorry this letter was a novel, but I  had a lot to get out I  guess.  I'll try to not make the next one as lengthy.  A hundred kisses...xoxo

Matthew & Scottie- Thank you for the care you're giving to my babies.  Hold them close and hug them tight for me.  Keep telling them that I'll be home soon.

My salon family- Extensean will be back! She's working on her braids at the moment and can't wait to see all of you in the hopeful, very near future.

I  love you, Mom. You are keeping me strong.  You stay strong too! Thank you again for always believing in me.

All of my friends that are helping and staying concerned- I  wouldn't be who I  was without you. You all know exactly who you are.

My forever and undying love,

Sean  a.k.a. "Pop Tart"