Whenever I get mail at the newspaper, I place it in a big, black bowl on my desk. The bowl is a leftover from Halloween. In the center is a hideous, green hand that will reach out and grab you if you get too close.

"Want some candy?" the bowl asks in a sinister voice.

My colleagues don't go near it very often. Which is just fine because all of the recent mail is just where I left it. I'm digging into it now. Ah, here we go. A couple of pieces from the Maine Correctional Center. I don't know about you, but I get antsy if I don't hear from the boys in prison every now and then. Too much dwelling on the real world, and you start taking freedom for granted.

A couple of updates came in recently. One state prison inmate who'd previously lamented his sorry living conditions is now on top of the world.

His name is David and he's been sharing a cell with a child molester. Scary stuff living with a marked man. David has no sympathy for the sexual deviant but he also didn't like being in the line of fire at the big house.

All is well. As soon as a story about the situation hit the papers, prison officials yanked David from the cell.
"The sergeant came and moved me immediately," David wrote. "Not that he cared about my feelings, but because it made the system look bad. It made the public see the correction system for what it is - not a place for
corrections and rehabilitation, but a place where evil is nurtured, watered, fed and encouraged to grow."
Not my problem
Yes, David is happy as a prisoner can be with his new digs. Why, that three-year sentence will probably fly by.

Things aren't so fabulous for the convicted child molester. In the general population, he's the focus of angry men. They can condone thievery, assault and drug dealing, but they despise violence against kids.

"Don't worry about 'old gross sexual,'" David informed me. "He's still getting the treatment he's earned and deserves. It's just no longer my problem."

Another inmate from Windham wrote to help solve a mystery that surfaced in another column. This guy - Scott - said he knows exactly where notorious child murderer John Lane is spending his time these days. I had been told Lane was in prison in another state, as corrections officials attempted to hide him from the wrath of his peers.

"I guess they haven't hid him too well because he's here at M.C.C. in protected custody," Scott wrote. "They house him in what they call 'the pods.'"

Lane is the man who placed a young girl in an oven back in 1984. Not a real popular guy in the penal system. He's been moved to federal prisons under assumed names, but the horrible truth of his crime always catches up with him.

"Every time I see him, I make sure he knows just how much of a scumbag he is," wrote Scott. "I serve the food and I make sure he eats real well."

I won't speculate on what Scott means by that.

I like getting letters from prisoners. So far, no female inmates have written with offers of marriage but there's still time. In the meantime, I stay updated on what's happening behind prison walls, in places far darker than most of us have visited.

A master's touch
On New Year's Eve, I got a long letter - 11 handwritten pages - from a man who writes like a master. He's written me before but only signs the name "Bruno." An incredible, unknown talent, this guy. He should be writing for magazines.
In the latest missive, Bruno describes the Twin Cities from decades past as seen from the back seat of a police cruiser. This was before all the mills closed down, a time when a large segment of the population still spoke French as their primary language.

The writer is on his way to jail as he takes in the beer parlors long since torn down. He describes shopkeepers out on the streets, new awnings going up, familiar faces.

"We need a lengthier ride because we see now with new eyes. We drink in the scenery, And strangely, we suddenly have a new appreciation for our new surroundings. Our two little cities - my two little cities."

He remembers the old North Bridge connecting Lewiston and Auburn. He remembers an old fruit store with bananas hanging from racks and people drinking beer on bar stools. He remembers the Auburn Novelty Shop with its treasure of gadgets.

I love this guy's letters. They're rich with history and reflection. I hope more will come. I'll keep them safe in the bowl on my desk, along with the grim notes from the big house. Right there in the bowl protected by the gnarled, green hand.

Want some candy?

 Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter. Copyright ©2003 Lewiston Sun Journal