Chris Dankovich Responds to One of His Readers

This is a comment left on Chris’s story about school shooter Ethan Crumbley’s life in prison. His response is below:

Chris, you are an exceptional writer, and wise beyond your years.
From this, I infer that you’ve been inside most of your life, and in there, your emotional development and maturity usually stop exactly where they are when you go in, which isn’t necessarily even your chronological age.

You’ve somehow managed to grow into an intelligent, insightful, mature man despite everything and nearly everyone around you designed to crush your soul, your hope and your heart.

If anyone could take on entering the free, (somewhat) civilized world with responsibilities and expectations after so long in that environment, it would be you.

Having just discovered this site, I haven’t a clue what led up to what you did.
But just this one article shows you so incredibly far evolved from that messed-up 15-year-old, it seems as unjust leaving you in there as letting you out, confusing as that sounds.

Best wishes to you, sir, and thank you for sharing your insight, trying to help others on your long, hellish path.
I look forward to reading more of your work.

_ _ _

I really appreciate your comment here. I don’t get to see most comments, but sometimes someone will forward one to me. This one meant a lot to me because it touched on the most important things that I want as part of who I am today, and PrisonWriters founder Loen gave me the opportunity to write something to respond:

My biggest fear for most of the past eighteen years, since I was “free,” is that my life would be nothing but an echo of the worst mistake I ever made. Before coming to prison, I was an ignorant and unhealthy youth… I didn’t know who I was, sometimes thought myself someone I wasn’t, and today I’m ashamed at the kind of person I chose to be. Because of my own choices, I didn’t have the chance to grow into someone different out there during my teenage years. But I knew even at that young age that I didn’t want to continue to be the same problematic person. I decided to be different, and I tried to find a better way to live and to be. Sometimes I failed at this goal, and have made a fool of myself before, but I’ve kept trying. I’ve made the most improvements in life and have done best when I accept that I don’t have all the answers and open myself up to [kind and intelligent] others.

I write about my life in here because, after over half of the years I’ve been alive in the same prison, my life has primarily occurred and developed here. I greatly appreciate the opportunity to tell these stories and often enjoy doing so because it helps give some meaning to what I’ve experienced and because I genuinely hope that something I say may change someone’s mind in a positive way or help someone heal or overcome something hard or painful in their life. Even the worst situations can be made better or worse by how we choose to be and perceive in this moment today. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can even inspire a beautiful thought or action with something I say.

(I sometimes enjoy also just writing on less serious or aspirational subjects. I try to have a good sense of humor, and it’s one of the things that helps me interact with those around me, prisoner or civilian. There are so many other aspects of me that most others don’t see which I discovered after my incarceration. I wasn’t exactly “worldly” growing up, and I’ve just had more experiences in prison than on the outside. I’m just a “convict,” but I’ve also spent half of my waking hours, five days a week, for most of my two decades, working as an educator, a facilitator, or a tutor. Something I love and am quite good at is cooking, and for a third of my life I’ve helped teach others how to cook as part of a prison vocational class. I’ve written music, had a garden, and have trained dogs.)

It’s hard to grow up in here because there’s few healthy role models and very little guidance. You grow up quickly in some ways because you have to functionally handle the constant, very real threat of violence that always exists either overtly or at least in the undertone. But there’s few real responsibilities, and very little incentive for discipline that isn’t forced. There is no trust, and understandably so… we all, through our actions, lost the right to be trusted (recently I’ve come to appreciate how that specifically is one of the most important things to live a better life and have a better society). But without trust, growth is difficult, just as trees need sun and enough room to mature. All of this creates a very toxic culture, and contributes to very toxic perceptions, that is separate from, and in addition to, the nature of incarceration as punishment. I’ve been jumped, beaten, mocked, threatened, and have had hits put out on me — not because of the crime I committed almost twenty years ago, but because of how I look.

Instead of making me resentful, I am reminded that people in all walks of life have been through similar things, if for different reasons or in a different environment, and this makes me more compassionate, particularly for those who suffer abuse and who are unable to get themselves out of the situation.

* * *

I do think about getting out of prison. After all this time, I don’t long so much for excitement and adventure or even what people regularly think of as freedom: I look forward to being able to separate from the unhealthiness and toxicity that I’ve been surrounded by for so long. I’d like to live a simple life, maybe someday owning a farm of my own, and spending time with family and friends [with whom I’ve been blessed to still have relationships].

I have a dream of doing one more thing: I’d like to create a safe place where people who’ve been through hardships can stay, if needed, and learn important life skills like cooking and communication, how to take care of oneself, and how to create something beautiful (whether by gardening, or art, or other means). These are things that I’ve had the responsibility and privilege to teach for years, and are personal to me: I probably wouldn’t have made the mistakes I’ve made or come to prison had I truly understood a healthier way to structure and live my life.

A few years ago, I very nearly died in the prison I’ve lived in for longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere else. Coming back from that experience made me start really thinking about who I am, and who I want to be. I know who I’ve been, and I just don’t want to be that person anymore or ever again.

My deepest wish for myself, moving forward, is that I can be someone who leaves behind something beautiful in this world… and not just a prisoner, a criminal, or a child who immensely messed up and caused harm. If I get out of prison, this is what the focus of my life will be on, and if I had to stay in prison forever, this will still be what the focus of my life will be on.

Chris Dankovich #595904

Thumb Corr Facility

3225 John Conley Dr

Lapeer, MI 48446