He’d describe a fight he’d witnessed and poker games with his new cellmate.
For the first time, I allowed myself to admit I had no idea what I was doing.
That’s when Justin’s letters began finding me with increasing regularity.
I had pushed myself to get through my final year at Georgetown.
For various reasons I felt utterly disconnected from my family and friends back home, who were struggling with their own problems.
I never really had to figure out how he would treat me after a bad day at work, or whether we would fight over money or our in-laws.
How much can you ever really know about another person, anyway?
A pen pal can project all of her hopes and dreams on an inmate who wants nothing more than to be a repository of those desires, Conner explains.
My attraction to an inmate mate is not so unusual, either. With seven people out of every 1,000 incarcerated, the U. has the highest number of inmates in the world—even though crime has steadily fallen in the United States since the ’60s.
But I couldn’t quite find a way to fit in at school either, where one relationship after another imploded. I drank too much, drove too fast, worked too hard, and dated men even worse off emotionally than me.
The summer after I graduated from college in 2007, I moved back to Delaware and drifted along the couches and floors of family and friends.
In the months before the trial, Justin had a lot of time to think. We wrote about books and family and mutual friends.