The Cost of a Bullet
Latif Lamonte, in prison for more than twenty-seven years, shares his experiences in “the game,” which led him to drug use and drug dealing, gun violence and murder. The story covers Lamonte’s pre-trial detention, prosecution, and time in prison, all in graphic detail. Lamonte further addresses his victims and the impact of his incarceration on relationships with friends and family, especially the daughter he left unprotected. Lamonte’s message to at-risk youth heading down the same path is clear: beware, the costs of firing a fatal bullet are many – foreseen and unforeseen.
From the book:
“How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”
I should be happy, but thinking of what lies ahead, I must admit that I am afraid. I will be a stranger in a strange land. Just about everyone I knew is either dead or have long since moved away. Who will be in this land? Where will I go? Will I make it? These are the questions that plague my thoughts and those of the long-term prisoner.
The Leaf
Originally published in Exchange #1, Columbia University, 2019
After being sentenced to thirty years in prison and banished from society, I was assigned to the New Jersey State Prison in Trenton, New Jersey (formerly Trenton State Prison).
One day in 1992, while I was walking the big yard alone, something occurred which provoked thought and spiritual reflection. As I enjoyed the crisp air of fall, a leaf, traveling the stream of air which had been its carpet, was carried into the recreation yard. The leaf landed at my feet; I picked it up and continued to the yard’s corner. There I sat down and reflected upon what this leaf meant to me. As I held it and enjoyed its aroma, I began to feel my eyes water and tears stream down my face. Quickly, so that no one might know what I was experiencing, I wiped my eyes, put the leaf in my pocket, and continued to walk.
Returning to my cell, I placed the leaf inside a photo album and put it away. Lying back on my bunk, I began to reflect upon the emotion produced by something as simple as a fallen tree leaf. For in the confines of my soul, that very leaf 35 represented my life and a freedom that I could no longer have. It symbolized the tree that I could not see, whose shade could offer me shelter from the sun’s rays. It served as a memento through its very separation from the tree—its ultimate lifeline—of my disconnect from my family, community, and society, the sources of human belonging.
Via the leaf’s scent, I remembered. I remembered the days raking leaves from the lawn of the home I no longer had, their numerous shapes and colors, each introspectively evidencing the cultural diversity of humanity. I remembered jumping in the many piles while wrestling with the kids. I remembered the fall foliage in Maine where the leaves, while still connected with their source, displayed the beauty of creation.
Throughout the years, I saw life amazedly through the discovery of that single leaf. 1 saw in my understanding the sun shine upon its green form, the rain quench its thirst, and life begin to consume its youth. I saw its inability to reconnect with its source, regain its vigor, or maintain its beauty. I cried that day because I saw myself and my existence from a far greater perspective. Even more persuasive and comforting, I saw my connection and relationship with nature and its creation.
Now, after having served 30 years in prison, I am slated for release in just four months. I still have that leaf. I have the photo album containing the remainder of its existence, its encouragement and its tragedy. At my home, the very leaf awaits me and I endeavor to again see it. Considering all, the most beautifully awakening photo contained therein will not be the people or the memories they invoke, but the connection, vision, and influence of that withered leaf and all that it symbolized during the most trying times of my life. How incredibly amazing!
