In a separate ruling, he also found that the deaths of Keith Hammond and Captain Bostich were a matter of self-defense under California law.
With a few strokes of the pen, Danny became a free man, seven weeks less one day after I broke into prison to save him. For four of those weeks I waited in limbo, afraid that I would go to prison for breaking in. In the end I was absolved, primarily due to the extenuating circumstances and the department’s desire to keep the matter quiet.
Basal was no more. The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation transferred all of its inmates to other facilities and shut down the prison pending a full review.
Warden Marshall Pape was awaiting trial and would likely spend many years, if not the rest of his life, behind bars.
That left Danny and me free to embrace life together, two lovers bound together by the kind of profound affection and loyalty that can only really be forged by a lifetime of harsh reality. We were free, yes, but in our own ways we were each in our own kind of prison—I still caged by my obsessive-compulsive mind, and Danny by a history that will probably haunt him to his grave.
On the eve of his release, we walked hand in hand down Santa Monica State Beach, carrying our flip-flops as dusk settled over California’s coastline. We hadn’t talked about what had gone through Danny’s mind in the last moment before he snapped and saved me. I thought the topic was too personal to broach before we knew exactly where fate would land us. But now we were free, and I was doing backflips inside.
Danny had saved me. I had saved Danny. Nothing could separate us now.
Nothing.
I looked at the bare sand smoothed by receding waves. It was like a clean slate, a fresh start. “Freedom is a beautiful thing,” I said.
He frowned and stared at the shoreline. “It is. And yet so few really are free. Nearly all people live in prisons of their own making, regardless of their faith, creed, sex, or race.”
“That’s my Danny.”
“Pape called Basil his sanctuary. In truth we all exist in our own sanctuaries—but I don’t mean cathedrals or prisons. I’m talking about our hearts and minds, which imprison us in anxiety, fear, insecurity, anger, and other forms of misery. The walls and bars that keep most in a constant state of suffering are thoughts and emotions, not concrete and steel. It’s a disease. Insanity. Most are afflicted by it, regardless of which side of the law they find themselves on or where they lay their heads at night. To be free of this, Renee, is to be free indeed.”
“Still, I’d rather sleep in my own bed at night,” I said.
He grinned. “And so would I. So would I.”
“Danny?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you a question about that day?”
He hesitated, but his voice was strong when he answered. “Of course.”
I’d rehearsed the phrasing of the thoughts that plagued me for weeks.
“You were once a priest who used violence to protect the innocent.”
“That is true.”
“And you then took a vow of nonviolence, because violence isn’t consistent with your understanding of love.”
“That is also true.”
“You endured terrible pain in the prison, standing by that principle.”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “So are you still committed to nonviolence?”
He spoke without a moment’s pause. “Of course.”
I looked up at him as we walked, and he turned his face to smile at me.
“But you snapped in the prison. You saved me. What was your reason?”
Danny looked ahead, smile fading.
“I had no reason,” he said. “I surrendered all of it in a moment of clarity. I didn’t snap; I became fully aware for the first time.”
Danny is a man who lives by reason. His logic is impeccable. Knowledge and certainty guide every aspect of his life. And yet he had surrendered his reason? I had to know more.
“Then why did you kill Keith, and those other men? What did you see?”
“That I had to save you. That’s all. I could argue that Keith had already given up his right to life and stepped into death when he took you…that I was only finishing what he’d committed himself to, but that’s not what went through my mind. Or through my emotions, for that matter. I simply did what I knew I must for your sake.”
Keith gave up his right to life. I’d heard the argument before.
“Then your love for me was stronger than your logic,” I said. “Because your own logic rejects violence in any case.”
“True. Love has its own logic that sometimes defies the mind. I didn’t act out of my mind or my emotions, but from a deeper place of light and perfect peace. Perhaps for the first time in my life I truly found God. I have no other way to understand what happened to me in that moment.”
“But you still don’t believe in violence.”
“I would never hurt another human being. It’s inconsistent with my understanding of love.”
“And if someone came to kill me?”
“I would stop him,” Danny said. “By any means necessary.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
I can’t say I was disappointed. In fact, I found his conviction exhilarating, all reason aside. My heart was pounding as we walked through the soft sand.
“So you would never hurt another man, for any reason.”
“That’s right.”
“But if a man came to kill me…”
“I would stop him.” He gave me a gentle look, wearing a whimsical smile. “And, my love, if you loved yourself as much as I love you, you might find yourself free of the prisons that hold you. In the meantime, I will love us both.”
“Spoken like a good priest.”
“Spoken by one whose mind has been broken. Thank God.”
We were both silent for a few seconds. What would Danny do? He would lay down even his sound reasoning for me. And I for him. It was everything I could do not to throw myself into his arms and cling to him.
“It’s a paradox,” I said.
“It’s a mystery I doubt I’ll ever be able to explain. But we can smile at that mystery rather than try to understand what is by definition unknowable.”
“It defies the mind.”
“It’s not a matter of the mind or the emotions. The truth is, the only key that will unlock the prisons we all live in is love. Unconditional love, like God’s. And even that is a mystery.”
I loved him for his mysteries. They’d saved my life and brought me back into his arms.
“Danny?”
“Yes?”
“Will you always take care of me?”
“I live to take care of you.”
“Will you allow me to love you forever?”
“It will be my greatest honor.”
Everything in me was like warm water. I was drowning in a sea of beautiful, unreasonable love. My mind was telling me I should be saying something appropriate. That I should kiss him and tell him how proud I was of him. I should make sure he knew that I would die for him as quickly as he would for me.
Instead I spoke the only words that made it to my mouth.
“I adore you, Danny,” I said.
“I adore you,” he said.
And that was all we said for a while.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Although The Sanctuary is a work of fiction, many of the details concerning the state of the US prison system and the laws that lead so many citizens into its care are well established. I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to dozens of documentaries and books which held my rapt attention for many months. Among all of the professionals I spoke to in preparing this story, I want to single out one who worked with me through the entire process, from beginning to end. Eric Messick’s 29 years of experience at all levels within the California prison system, primarily as a corrections officer at the San Quentin State Prison, has given him a wealth of firsthand, inside knowledge which he generously shared for the benefit of this book. Thank you, Eric.