Jared’s story

“Our son, Jared, was diagnosed with  Attention Deficit Disorder and Obsessive Compulsiveness,” Karen Miller (not her real name) wrote in her diary.

“While we exhausted every means of help available, nothing seemed to make any significant difference in the problems he was experiencing.  School was like torture to him.  Though our house rules were simple and clear, they were a major challenge for our son.  By his teen years we were seeing disturbing changes in his choice of friends and behavior.

“Jared often pushed the limits and got into trouble.  He saw us as trying to control him.  In what would have been his high school years he spent time in a juvenile detention facility where he earned a G.E.D.  We loved our son, but nothing seemed to get his life back on track.

“In the spring of 1998 Jared had moved out of our home to live with Mary.  They had met at a local nightclub.  We had only seen her two or three times.  She was tall, thin, a striking young girl with dark hair and eyes and lovely features.  She told us she was a “dancer” but had plans to go to college.  She was 18 years old.

“After a few months, they had an argument and she asked him to leave.  Drunk (or drugged), he walked several miles in the pouring rain to our doorstep wearing only jeans.  No shirt.  No shoes.   There he was at 3:00 A.M., shivering, crying, and promising to change.  The once beautiful blue eyes where a dull gray; he also looked thinner.

“He slept almost all the next day.  Mary called to tell him she wanted his things out of the apartment.  When my husband went to pick them up, he found that several things of ours were there.  Things we thought had been taken in a robbery the month before.  When we confronted our son he said he’d needed money and had intended to sell our things.

“We pleaded with our son to give up the lifestyle he was living.  The effects were painfully obvious.  Every confrontation seemed to end with his denial and anger, and our frustration.  This time was no different.  I told our son that we could no longer help him.  He could not stay with us.  He needed to check himself in to a hospital and get help.

“Within minutes some of his friends arrived.  His dad followed him out the door asking him to remember Jeremiah 29:11.  “God has a plan for you son, to do you good, not harm, to give you hope and a future.”  Jared answered as he got into the car, “I’ve got plans of my own.”  That was the last time our son was in our home.

“In September of ’98, Mary called. I was surprised when she told me who she was.  We had never talked at any length, but this conversation lasted almost an hour.  She told me she was considering getting back together with our son, and I discouraged it. I really wished I could say yes, but I said, “No, you do not need to be with our son, not until he makes some real changes in his life.”

“I told her if he was still drinking and using drugs she should not go back into that situation, nothing good could come out of it.  I tried to stress to her that he could never have a right relationship with anyone until he had a relationship with God.  That she needed Christ in her life, too.  I wanted her to know that he loved her and would fulfill her life far above anyone else.  As the conversation ended she said, ‘I don’t think I’m ready for that, but I’ll think about what you’ve said.’  I hoped she did.

“On the night of December 15th, I sat folding clothes on the sofa, waiting for the news to come on.  Our youngest son came in to tell me goodnight.  A news flash came on about a missing person’s case, as we both walked closer to the screen.  There was Jared with his arms pulled behind his back in handcuffs; two men were taking him out of a police car.

“I strained to recognize him.  He looked older than his twenty years with hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes.  His face reminded me of the Holocaust survivors, so bone thin with a look of hopeless fear. The police had found Mary’s body in a wooded area at the edge of the city.  She had been shot in the head.  Jared was being arrested for her murder.

“My son and I collapsed into each others arms screaming, ‘Oh God, No, No!’  He fell to the floor beating his fist into his chest.  I sank to the floor beside him.  It was so hard to breathe.  This couldn’t be real.  I prayed, ‘God please not this.’  The pain was suffocating.

“After awhile I left our youngest son crying himself to sleep on his bed.  I called our older son, hoping he had not seen the news.  He was out.  I then called my husband.  He was flying in that night from out of town.  I don’t remember how I told him.  He sounded so far away.  He told me he was trying his best to get home.  The flight he’d had was cancelled.  The sadness in his voice told me he would be home as soon as it was humanly possible.

“When I hung up the phone I went out into the garage. As I sat on a weight bench I remember thinking, God I should be going insane now. At some point I became aware of not being cold, and not being alone.  I sensed the presence of God all around me like a blanket.  He was most literally holding me up, for every bit of strength I might have had was gone.

“Over the next days, weeks and months we prayed for our son and visited him, and we saw God at work in his life.  He began reading his Bible daily.  During those months he had plenty of time to think.  Jared would tell you drugs and alcohol had stripped his mind of rational thinking.

“Jared spent over a year in the county jail awaiting trial.  Visits were behind three-inch-thick safety glass and we talked through a wire screen at the bottom of the glass.  We were not allowed physical contact.  How I longed to hug and hold my son.

“The morning of January 18, 2000, was the first day of our son’s trial, and I awoke very early.  With coffee in hand I made my way in the dark to the sofa where I left my Bible the night before. I turned on the table lamp and my eyes fell on the scripture reading.  It was 2 Corinthians 2: 14 which begins, “Thanks be to God, who always leads us in His triumph in Christ.” It was difficult to understand at the time, but I knew God loved us and we could trust Him.

“The next day, January 19th, we heard testimony and a confession that our son had given to police during the arrest.  He admitted he and Mary had argued about their relationship and his drug buying trips.  She threatened to tell police, and he shot her.  He told them he had started using alcohol and drugs at age 12.  He admitted to dealing drugs, using marijuana, cocaine, and hallucinogenic mushrooms.

“Jared, 21, was convicted of capital murder and sentenced to life in prison without parole. At the time of her death, authorities found methamphetamines in Mary’s body.  She was only 18 years old.

“Jared has been incarcerated for over 15 years now.  Many unimaginable things happen behind the walls of prison.  It can be a sad place, a depressing place, a fearful place.  But it can also be a place where you see God.  A place where people can change.

“I am reminded of a quote at the end of the devotional that first day of the trial.  It was from Life of Praise. “Defeat may serve as well as victory to shake the soul and let the glory out.”

Editor’s note: I visited Jared in prison six years ago in the warden’s office. He was in manacles and leg irons when we spoke, and he showed me some pencil drawings he had done that were astonishingly good. It was also apparent that he needed psychiatric care which didn’t seem likely he would get in prison. I join with his mother and father in praying for his recovery and ultimate release. To protect the privacy of family members we have not used real names in this article.