Pornchai Moontri and the Long Road to Freedom

After 29 years in a U.S. prison, adjusting to the world is an immense challenge. Simultaneously adjusting to another country and culture is a task beyond measure.

A few years ago, I was invited to write a review of the now famous prison film, The Shawshank Redemption. It is the most replayed film in television history. I combined the review into a story about the prison I am in for going on 27 years. My account, published at LinkedIn, is “The Shawshank Redemption and its Real World Revision.” I hope you will read it.

There is a profoundly sad development in the film — which is a must-see, by the way. The elder prison inmate-librarian, a beloved character played by the great actor, James Whitmore, is paroled after serving many decades. The transition from life in prison to life as a free man in some unnamed Maine city is just too jarring. He is an alien in the strangest of worlds, the free one, and he is suddenly alone — isolated — for the first time in forty years. The alienation and isolation are just too much, and he takes his own life.

News of the character “Brooks”’ terrible end reaches the prison and casts a pall over an already darkened existence for the inmates of Shawshank. One of them — the wrongly convicted Andy Dufresne decides that he cannot have such an end. So he begins a plan for escape that will take 20 years to complete. He breaks through a cell wall and crawls through three miles of foul stench in a sewer pipe. Such an end is a sort of metaphor for leaving prison in the real world. You can free a man from decades in prison, but its residual stench can follow him for years to come.

America has a prison problem. This nation imprisons more of its citizens than all 28 countries of the European Union combined. The United States has five-percent of the world’s population but twenty-five percent of the world’s prisoners. The only nations that impose more, and longer prison sentences are Third World countries.

Pornchai Moontri lost his freedom at age 18 on March 21, 1992. He was set free — after ICE tacked another five grueling months onto his sentence — on February 8, 2021, just weeks short of 29 years. He is now 47. The most formative and defining years of his adult life have been spent as a prisoner. And if you have followed the published account of his life, then you know that his prison began at age 11 when he was removed from Thailand. You will find that account, also published as a LinkedIn article, in “Human Trafficking: Thailand to America and a Cold Case in Guam.”

Just two weeks ago, I wrote the story of Pornchai’s five month post-prison stay in ICE detention and his return to Thailand. It ended rather abruptly because his final arrival was just hours before that post was published. Pornchai literally went from 29 years in shackles of one sort or another to standing in the lobby alone at the Bangkok Holiday Inn Express for his mandatory 15 days in quarantine required by the Thai government. We were notified at the last minute that we would have to arrange and prepay the hotel expenses. A few good friends and BTSW readers quickly mobilized to make short work of that obstacle.

The scene at the hotel check-in was both poignant and comical. On the day I write this, I was talking with Pornchai about the topic of this post, and he said, “Make sure you write about my first night in the hotel.” “All of it?,” I asked. “Don’t leave anything out,” he said. So here goes:

It was just after midnight on Monday into Tuesday Bangkok time, on February 9th. After a nearly 24-hour flight, and a brief appearance in the Bangkok Airport security area, the two ICE agents escorting Pornchai wished him well and left. Someone then escorted him to a waiting hotel van. Upon arrival, the driver let him out and said, “The check-in counter is just inside.” Pornchai was frozen in place and the driver looked puzzled. After a moment Pornchai said, “You mean ... I just go in by myself?” It had been 29 years since Pornchai entered a building unescorted.

Free in the City of Angels

In Thailand, Bangkok is called “Krung Thep,” meaning, “City of Angels.” It is a city that never sleeps, a city of 9.3 million souls. Imagine this scene. Pornchai was standing at the main entrance of an urban hotel with its dazzling lights, having to will himself to take the first step of freedom. He walked toward the light, through the doors, and into the brightly lit lobby. It was now about 1:00 AM, and even at that hour two smiling clerks awaited him behind a large counter. Pornchai had no luggage. He had nothing but the clothes he had worn during a grueling 24-hour flight.

“Sawasdee, Khun Pornchai,” said the clerk. Pornchai repeated from long dormant memory the traditional Thai greeting. The check-in went smoothly and he was given a keycard. He had no idea what it was for. Then the clerk said, your stay is in Room 3-8. The elevator is over there. Again, he was frozen in place. The clerk asked him a question in Thai and Pornchai answered with some embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I do not fully understand Thai.” The clerk then asked in English, “Is there anything more you need, Khun Pornchai?” He answered as he did the driver out on the street. “You mean ... I go by myself?”

Pornchai made it into the elevator. As the door closed, this was the moment when he first knew he was free. He stood still for a full thirty seconds wondering what to do. He had no living memory of ever being in an elevator in which he is the one to decide where it goes. Both exhilarated and intimidated, he pushed the “3” button and the elevator moved beneath his feet. When he arrived at Room 3-8, the door was locked. He had no idea how to get in. Then he remembered the keycard. “Maybe it’s this thing,” he thought. He put it in a slot upside down and nothing happened. So he tried again, and this time the door clicked open. He was utterly amazed.

Once inside the dark room, Pornchai began to feel along the walls for a light switch, but there wasn’t one. So he opened the door to let in some light. No light switch anywhere. Then he saw a slot near the door. “Maybe it’s this keycard,” he thought. So he inserted it and the lights came on. Then, finally, after 24 hours in flight and two more hours getting to this point, he had to use the toilet. I would usually spare you this, but he wants me to include it. He reached repeatedly behind him for a lever for the nicety of prison etiquette called “a courtesy flush.” It dawned on him that there was no one else anywhere nearby, another first for him.

But that did not solve the problem of flushing the toilet. After washing his hands he meticulously searched the room for anything that looked like it might flush the toilet. He found nothing. “Surely,” he thought, “the keycard doesn’t flush the toilet too!” So he went to get the keycard out of the wall, thus turning off the lights. Searching again in the dark, he could find no place on or near the toilet to plug in the keycard. But he refused to give up. He restored the lights and searched again. Finally, he spotted what looked like a logo on top of the tank. Do toilets have logos? It did not appear to have a button, but he had nothing to lose. So he reached out and touched the logo, and lo and behold, the thing finally flushed. Pornchai debated with himself whether he should tell me this story.

Pornchai took a quick shower, then collapsed in exhaustion on the bed. Both the room and the bed were larger than anyplace he had ever slept before, and the bed was far softer. He recalled his promise to me that he would not sleep in the bathtub. Thus began a fitful, anxious night, his first in freedom and his first in his homeland after an anguish-filled absence of 36 years. He had never before felt so alone.

Samsung to the Rescue

But we have friends in Bangkok, and they have long awaited Pornchai’s arrival. Yela Smit, a Bangkok travel agent, and Father John Le, a member of the Missionary Society of the Divine Word, dropped off some items for Pornchai that we had sent over there ahead of time. We purchased a small backpack and a change of clothes and pair of sandals often worn in Bangkok. We intended that Pornchai would carry this travel bag in flight, but every time we shipped it to him ICE would move him somewhere else just as it arrived. Then they would just ship it back to us. So we had it sent ahead of time to Yela to bring it to him. I also put together a box of items that would give him a sense of the familiar. This included some of his favorite books, a prayer book, the Saint Maximilian Rosary that BTSW reader Kathleen Riney made for him, and some of his treasured correspondence. Yela and Father John dropped these at the hotel as he slept.

They also brought him a new Samsung Galaxy smartphone loaded with an internet package. Yela sent me his number the day before, so by the end of his first full day in Thailand, we were able to speak. One of our Thailand contacts, Viktor Weyand, also connected with him on his first day there and every day since. Pornchai had never before touched, or even seen, a smart phone, but to my amazement it proved less of a challenge to him than the toilet. (Please don’t tell him I said that!)

A call from me was one of his first on the Samsung phone. I thought he might be elated to hear my voice, but he said, “Actually, I have been listening to you all afternoon.” He left me astonished when he said that he found his way into Beyond These Stone Walls and spent the whole day reading posts about himself, about me, and about some of our weird politics. He read the BTSW “About” page and spent two hours listening to the documentary interviews with me there. He was clearly a newborn fan of the world of information technology.

During my call the next day, I walked him through getting into the Gmail, Facebook, and LinkedIn accounts that our friends had set up for him over time. He was surprised to learn that he has over 600 Facebook “friends” most of whom are BTSW readers. Then came the real bombshell. I had him go to Bing.com and put his own name into the Search bar. The results were page after page of eye-popping affirmations of the good man he has become.

I asked him to do this search using Bing because I have found that Google, especially recently, seems to suppress some Catholic and other content with a conservative tone. I have never seen either Bing or Google, but before mentioning this to Pornchai I had a friend search his name on both. Clearly, the Bing search was fairer and more inclusive. Try it for yourself. Search "Pornchai Moontri" on both Bing and Google.

Pornchai had never before seen social media sites. Some of the followers of his Facebook page, Pornchai Maximilian Moontri, are men who had been in prison with him in both Maine and New Hampshire and are now free. All of them have struggled, but have been inspired by how Pornchai’s faith has inspired his journey and helped him face obstacles. One young man, John, was in Maine’s notorious “Supermax” solitary confinement prison with Pornchai 20 years ago. It did much damage to them both. John has written to me of how following Pornchai’s story has informed his own survival. Many others have said the same.

A Road with Many a Winding Turn

In the eleventh hour, just a week before Pornchai’s liberation from ICE and his flight to Thailand, the longer term plan we had for Pornchai’s housing diminished due to illness. Immediately, Father John Le, SVD, contacted me with an invitation for Pornchai to live with him and two other priests from his order in the city of Nontha Buri about one hour’s drive from the center of Bangkok.

Father Le’s principal ministry is the resettlement of Vietnamese refugees in Thailand. Father John is no stranger to the world of displaced persons. At age 15, he was one of the Vietnamese “Boat People” rescued at sea after fleeing a communist regime when American forces vacated Vietnam in the early 1970s. He made his way to Thailand and eventually became a Catholic priest. After twenty years of ministry in Papua New Guinea, his Order assigned him to Thailand six years ago.

In a recent phone conversation, Father John told me that he will soon drive Pornchai up to the northern city of Khon Kaen, an eight-hour drive, where Pornchai’s birth records are located. While there, they will obtain his official Thai citizen ID which he would have received at age 16 had he been in Thailand at that time.

From there, Father John said, they will spend a few days at his Order’s residence north of there where they manage a home and clinic for Thai children suffering from HIV. It is in the village of Nong Bua Lamphu.

This left me awestruck and speechless. It was in that very village that Pornchai lived as a young child with his extended family. He has shadowy memories of water buffalo and a rice paddy there. It was also from that very place that Pornchai was taken at age 11 setting in motion a long and traumatic odyssey from which he now returns full circle 36 years later.

For my part, my place in this amazing story is the most important thing I have ever done as a man and as a priest. The challenges ahead are many for me and for Pornchai, but I am left with no lingering doubt that the light of Divine Mercy has been a beacon of hope and trust for us both.

Sawasdee, my friends. Thank you for being here with us at this turning of the tide.

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Note from Father Gordon MacRae: I am most grateful to Yela Smit, Father John Le, and Viktor Weyand for helping to prepare a path for my friend’s long awaited journey home. On the day this is posted, Father John will pick up Pornchai from his required quarantine and they will drive together to Nontha Buri on the eastern side of the Bay of Bangkok. There, Pornchai will be a guest of Father John Le and two other priests from the Missionary Society of the Divine Word. Father John’s community struggles to meet its needs so I have pledged to assist by providing some modest room and board for Pornchai’s stay there. If you are inclined to assist as well, I explain how on our Special Events page.

You may also like these related posts referenced herein:

The Shawshank Redemption and its Real World Revision

Human Trafficking: Thailand to America and a Cold Case in Guam

Some of our friends nearby, who have helped to bring about Pornchai's transition, gathered for a Christmas prison visit last year. Here are left to right: Pornchai Moontri, Judith Freda of Maine, Samantha McLaughlin of Maine, Claire Dion of Maine, Viktor and Alice Weyand of Traverse City, Michigan, Father Gordon MacRae, and Mike Fazzino of Connecticut.

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ICE Finally Cracks: Pornchai Moontri Arrives in Thailand

The most amazing account of survival and conversion in modern American Catholicism begins a new chapter as Pornchai Moontri is sent home to Thailand after 36 years.

I have read many riveting accounts of human survival and life changing conversion. In virtually all of them the most harrowing chapters are the last as the story turns down the road of some final test. This has been true in the story of Pornchai Moontri as well. If you are not yet familiar with all that preceded the most recent six months of his life, you should consider catching up. Many lives have been changed from this account of a soul ascending from the torment humans can inflict upon each other to the pinnacle of a life lived in the light of Divine Mercy. The best place to take that short journey is, “Pornchai Moontri: Mercy Inside Those Stone Walls,” by Felix Carroll.

But it is of the last six months that I now write. First, let me recap the previous 36 years. Most readers know that Pornchai was removed from his home in Thailand against his will in 1985. Taken by false pretense at age 11, he was brought to Bangor, Maine where he suffered years of sexual abuse and violence. Multiple attempts to flee resulted in police reports by local officers who did not understand his protests while he was handed back over to his tormentor. Finally, he escaped at age 14 and became homeless, and then a ward of the State, and then homeless again.

It was not until reading of Pornchai’s life of torment in these pages that law enforcement in the State of Maine took an interest, and opened an investigation into Pornchai’s life. Thirty-four years after the commission of his crimes, Richard Alan Bailey was convicted of forty felony counts of sexual abuse of Pornchai. The last person to confront Bailey about his crimes was Pornchai’s mother in the year 2000. As a proximate result, she was beaten to death in what remains today an unsolved “cold case” homicide on the Western Pacific U.S. Territorial Island of Guam.

Pornchai was in solitary confinement in the Maine State Prison when he learned of his mother’s death at the hands of the man who haunted his nightmares. He sank to the lowest bottom of life, a point from which he believed he could never return. There was no hope, no redemption, no future, and no God. All had been taken from him.

Five years later, Pornchai was moved to the New Hampshire State Prison. He could have ended up anywhere in the country, but Divine Providence had another plan. One year later, in 2006, he was living in a cell with me. Just imagine this. After all he had silently endured in life, he ended up in a prison cell with a Catholic priest falsely accused of the very things that destroyed him. Only God could have devised such a starting point for a relationship that would reshape lives and redirect the future.

Four years later, in 2010, Pornchai was received into the Catholic faith on Divine Mercy Sunday. He took the name, Maximilian, after the Saint of Auschwitz who gave his life to salvage the life of another prisoner. A new life had arisen from the wreckage of the past. Finding redemption in the most unlikely place, Pornchai’s new life gave voice to Saint Paul’s revelation in Romans (5:20):

“Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more. ”

— Romans (5:20)

Two years later in 2012, Pornchai delivered the Valedictorian address for his high school graduating class. From there he obtained a scholarship for Catholic Studies at Catholic Distance University from where he maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA. Then he completed two diploma programs in psychology and social work at the Stratford Career Institute, and a certificate in Culinary Arts at the NH Prison’s Career and Technical Education Center. I was an eager beneficiary of that particular new skill. He also completed hundreds of hours in programs like Restorative Justice, Interpersonal Violence Prevention, Alternatives to Violence (for which he became a mentor and facilitator), and Father Michael Gaitley’s entire Hearts Afire list of programs. Father Gaitley then invited both of us to official membership in the Marian Missionaries of Divine Mercy.

Part II: Thrust Back upon the Road to Perdition

Clare Farr, a trademarks attorney in Western Australia and part of a small Intellectual Property law firm, worked with me and together, from two continents, we brought Richard Alan Bailey to justice. Pornchai could never imagine this to be possible, but it happened. Clare also assisted me in negotiations with the Maine prison system that had jurisdiction over Pornchai's case. No one who came to know this story believed that his own offense would have ever happened had he not first been the victim of horrible crimes. We were successful, and Pornchai was granted substantial earned time off his sentence for his remarkable efforts at rehabilitation.

On September 8, 2020, Pornchai was handed back over to Maine officials for the final days of his sentence. He wrote of this moment in a most moving guest post, “Pornchai Moontri: Hope and Prayers for My Friend Left Behind.” Just three days later, on September 11, 2020, Pornchai was handed over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for removal from the United States. This became the final test that I mentioned at the beginning of this post.

September 11 was a Friday so Pornchai spent that weekend locked alone in a cell in the Cumberland County Jail in Portland, Maine. The fact that his sentence had already been served in full seemed completely lost on his keepers. He was told repeatedly that he is no longer a prisoner, but is now an ICE detainee. Alone in his cell, he had no contact with anyone, no access to a telephone, and no information. Clare Farr contacted ICE and was told that Pornchai would be moved to the Boston area on the following Monday to prepare for his travel to Thailand. When Monday and the ICE officers came, they told Pornchai the same thing, adding that he will be in Thailand by the end of September.

That night, he was taken to an air field in New Hampshire and flown along with dozens of Latino detainees on an ICE plane to Texas. Others detained at the Southern border were picked up there, and they were all flown to a private, for-profit GEO Group ICE detention facility in Pine Prairie, Western Louisiana. Meanwhile, ICE agents instructed the Royal Thai Consulate in New York to send Pornchai’s official travel documents to Boston — where they sat, lost, for weeks.

It took me a few days to find Pornchai. I had given him the number of his Godmother, Charlene Duline, and coached him to memorize it. I told him to call her collect from anywhere, and from there we could get funds onto a telephone account for him. He called, but did not understand that the system requires several minutes to process a collect call. Charlene, a former State Department Foreign Service Officer well acquainted with bureaucracy, was doing her best but Pornchai kept hanging up after waiting several minutes. Calls to the for-profit ICE facility for assistance were only met with rude refusals to assist.

I tell this story to convey the ridiculous nature of the one-size-fits-all treatment of ICE detainees. We had a team working on three continents to assist Pornchai, but we were challenged to our limit. What must some poor Mexican or Honduran family go through to navigate the nightmare of ICE? Not accepting defeat, and refusing to lose touch with Pornchai, I had to call Clare Farr in Australia who in turn called the ICE officer assigned to Pornchai’s case in Louisiana. He then had to call the GEO facility in Pine Prarie, LA, to tell a staff member to walk 20 feet to Pornchai’s cell and tell him to stay on the phone until his call can be processed.

It went like this day after day, week after week, month after month. ICE agents would show up once a week and Pornchai would ask them when he is leaving. “Maybe in a week or two,” he was always told. Inquiries from Clare Farr met with more cooperation, but no more honesty. She was told that ICE is actively working with the Thai Consulate to arrange travel. This was said on October 1. Two weeks later, Clare’s email to the Thai Consulate revealed that no contact from ICE had ever taken place.

Because Pornchai was originally under the jurisdiction of the State of Maine, we reached out to the office of Maine Senator Susan Collins for assistance. Her office declined to become involved. We then reached out to the office of Senator Angus King. His office made a determined effort to intercede with ICE, but received only a blunt refusal on the part of ICE to cooperate. It was made clear to us that ICE is accountable to no one.

Part III: Jena, Louisiana

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of all this is the exploitation of detainees and their loved ones, most of whom are already financially challenged. Food portions are scant, and then food is sold to detainees at astronomical rates. Phone calls to loved ones were charged at 11-cents per minute with big kickbacks to the facility. A tablet for messages and games was available for lease at the rate of $24 per 8-hour shift. On a weekly basis, we provided funds for food and phone so Pornchai could remain in touch. I insisted that he call daily. I knew only too well how easily someone could simply “disappear” in ICE detention.

In the first week of October, Pornchai was suddenly moved to a facility in Jena, Louisiana in the center of the state. It was another for-profit detention center owned by GEO Group. We inquired with ICE headquarters in Washington, DC and were told that if Pornchai was moved to Jena, it’s because he is “very close” to a flight to Thailand. In a noisy, chaotic environment with up to 70 detainees in a room with blaring lights on around the clock, I feared for Pornchai’s safety and sanity.

The census consisted mostly of Central Americans detained at the Southern border. Only three of the 70, including Pornchai, were Asian: one from Laos, and one — an 18-year-old who spoke no English — from Vietnam. The young Vietnamese man had been there in Jena for over a year and had no contact with anyone outside. Pornchai asked if he could buy some extra food for him. I was embarrassed that he asked. He very quickly moved into the bunk above Pornchai who managed to keep him out of the drama always raging around them.

We hoped and prayed that the stay in Jena would not be long, but October came and went. Pornchai said he protested one day that his prison sentence is over so why is he still in prison? He was told, : “If you don't like it, you shouldn't have come to this country.” That spoke volumes about the amount of background ICE bothers to gather about detainees in their custody.

Complicating matters somewhat, Thailand had closed its borders to travellers with the exception of the repatriation of its own citizens. We were able to obtain a monthly list of repatriation flights to keep Pornchai’s hopes up. Several of these flights were out of New Orleans where jurisdiction over Pornchai’s ICE file resided. We would pour over these lists of flights trying to determine which ones Pornchai might be on. This became a futile and frustrating effort as October turned to November with no progress in sight.

When Pornchai was moved to Louisiana, jurisdiction over his Thai citizenship was transferred from the Royal Thai Consulate General in New York to the Thai Embassy in Washington. The Embassy was more than cooperative with us, and highly professional — a real tribute to the government and people of Thailand. The travel documents issued by the Embassy were valid for ninety days and would expire on December 10. Surely, we thought, ICE would not simply let them expire without action leaving Pornchai stranded and having to start all over again.

But that is exactly what they did. It was at that time that Catholic League President Bill Donohue and I put together a petition to the White House to spark some action in this matter. We had no idea at the time just how mired in its own drama the White House would become. Hundreds of Catholic League members and our own readers took part in that petition, and I thank you all. We may never know what impact this had on the final outcome, but my respect for Bill Donohue and the Catholic League has become immense.

Starting in early November, one of our friends, nurse and prolife activist Claire Dion, developed a plan that would allow Pornchai and me to speak each day. She sacrificed a lot to bring this about. Seven nights a week, Claire would be available to facilitate a conference call between Pornchai and me. This great effort is demonstrated in the photo below. It depicts one of our conversations which, for my part, became a daily pep talk to give Pornchai hope that even being encased in ICE will one day come to an end. The photo is somewhat humorous as Claire placed two cell phones with microphones and speakers opposite each other, but it worked.

Part IV: Navigating through the Night

Navigating Pornchai’s pain and frustration in these nightly calls was equally frustrating for me, but the calls were very necessary. As 2020 turned to 2021, our entire team had become almost as despondent as Pornchai. Was there to be no hope? On December 30, at my request, Clare Farr in Australia filed a civil rights petition with the Department of Homeland Security in Washington. As the agency that oversees ICE, we asked DHS to review Pornchai’s case for removal. As with other efforts, we may never know what impact, if any, this had behind the scenes. Bill Donohue and the Catholic League doubled down on their effort to bring this story to the White House.

Then our contact in Thailand obtained from the Embassy a list of the repatriation flights for January. There were only seven, and all were flying out of JFK International in New York. On that same day, I received a message from Australia with news from ICE that Pornchai would soon be relocated to New York. We were so hopeful that I made the mistake of conveying both pieces of news to Pornchai. Just days later, my heart sank as I had to tell him the news that all the repatriation flights scheduled for JFK for the month were filled and he did not make the cut. We were both devastated.

In mid January we received word that Pornchai was scheduled for a non-repatriation flight on January 25 to Seoul, South Korea. From there, he would board another flight to Bangkok. Pornchai was elated beyond measure with this news, and so were we. However, three days before the flight I had to convey to him the bad news that ICE postponed it. I believe that the ICE bureaucracy arranged the flight from New York to Bangkok but neglected to arrange to get him from Louisiana to New York.

We then learned that the flight was rescheduled for February 8. This became even more hopeful when ICE flew Pornchai from Louisiana to New York on February 3. His last five days in ICE custody proved to be the worst of all. He was locked in solitary confinement with only 20 minutes per day out of his cell with a choice of either a shower or a phone call. He had plenty of time alone to let his anxieties run amok. He feared another postponement and an extension of that nightmare. But he prayed, and knew that I prayed as well.

I would be remiss to not add the most important paragraph of this post. I was at the end of my third attempt at a Novena to Mary, Undoer of Knots. By this third effort, I had transitioned from prayerful, to cautiously hopeful, to downright demanding. She had, after all, intervened for us many times to undo the inevitable knots of prison. Surely ICE would not defeat Her! And it did not.

At noon on February 8, ICE agents escorted Pornchai aboard a Korean Airlines flight to Seoul out of JFK Airport. Sixteen hours later he boarded another flight from Seoul to Bangkok arriving at 11:27pm (Bangkok time) on February 9. He was exhausted but ready to face a new challenge in his life, and adjustment to freedom and a country and culture he had not seen for 36 years.

The Thai government has taken many steps to confront the Covid-19 crisis including the closing of its borders to international flights. Returning Thai citizens are required to spend their first 15 days home in quarantine at a hotel assigned by the Thai government. Our friend and Thai contact, Viktor Weyand scrambled to raise funds for the hotel stay and the reservations were made. Pornchai was assigned to a spacious room at the Holiday Inn Express Bangkok near the center of the city. He arrives there early in the morning on the day this is posted.

After all these years living with me in a 60-square-foot cell, he may find his room at the Holiday Inn to be too daunting and the bed just a bit too soft. I have already made him promise not to sleep in the bathtub.

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Addendum: Unlike Pornchai’s entire five-month stay with ICE, the two ICE agents who escorted him to Bangkok had obviously done a bit of homework. He reports that they were both professional and kind. Yes, even in a government bureaucracy one can be both. I commend these agents and I thank them.

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Note from Father Gordon MacRae: Donors purchased an iPhone for Pornchai which was left in his Holiday Inn Express hotel room to figure out. He has never touched, or even seen, a smart phone. For that matter, neither have I. But we will be speaking as soon as he can take a call. That will hopefully happen on the day this is posted. I asked him what is the first thing he will do after his 5-month ordeal in ICE. He said he will take a 6-hour bath and then sleep. Pornchai lost 20 pounds during his stay with ICE, but Viktor Weyand sent me a copy of the hotel’s Thai menu. Those pounds are not lost for long!

I will keep you posted on progress — and maybe a few selfies taken with the iPhone. Pornchai has the challenge of his life ahead. He is now adjusting to freedom and a new country and culture all at once after 28 years in prison and a 36-year absence from his homeland. Please pray for him.

He said he can’t wait to see Beyond These Stone Walls, on his iPhone, and then tell me what it looks like.

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Here are the related links presented in this post:

Human Traffic: The ICE Deportation of Pornchai Moontri

Pornchai Moontri: Hope and Prayers for My Friend Left Behind

and one other that I recommend:

Saint Maximilian Kolbe Led Us into the Heart of Mary.

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Pandemic in Prison: When the Caged Bird Just Can’t Sing

When Covid-19 threatened to breach prison walls, the effort to repel it turned prison into a fortress of solitude to silence even a prolific writer — well, almost!

You may have noticed, or at least I hope you noticed, that we did not publish a post on our usual post day on December 30. I wrote one, and I even liked it which is somewhat rare for me. Because I must finish typing a post and mail it ten days in advance of its post date, I really struggled to finish it by the deadline. Due to restrictions of movement imposed by the pandemic, I could not bring it to the Library to purchase a copy of what I typed. So into the mail it went on the night of December 20. From there, it simply disappeared.

It was only mailed 200 miles away to New York, but it took 15 days to get there. So we published it on January 6, 2021 with the title, “A Year in the Grip of Earthly Powers.” The day it was finally published, as you know, was a hellish day in the U.S. as our politics erupted into violence in Washington, DC. I expected that no one would pay attention to that post at all given all that was happening, but it turned out to be one of our most read and shared posts of the year.

In a chapter in his great Divine Mercy book, Loved, Lost, Found, author Felix Carroll referred to me as “a prolific writer.” The chapter was not at all about me, however. It was about the powerful conversion story of Pornchai Moontri subtitled, “Mercy Inside Those Stone Walls.” Felix gave us permission to reprint it and I highly recommend both the chapter and the book.

To be called a prolific writer by a prolific writer made me a bit self-conscious. Felix is currently the Executive Director of Marian Helper magazine. He was twice awarded “Writer of the Year” by the New York Press Association and has received multiple awards from the Catholic Press Association. I, on the other hand, write blog posts on an old typewriter in a prison cell and use snail mail to get them published.

The only thing “prolific” about it is the amount of White-Out on the typed pages of the post before it goes into the mail for scanning. In a prison pandemic, even my supplies of White-Out, paper, and typing ribbons are not guaranteed commodities. The uncertainty of the future here conspires with the pandemic to create pandemonium.

It’s hard to believe that those two words — pandemic and pandemonium — are not at all related to each other. “Pandemic” comes from a combination of the Greek terms, “pan” and “demos” meaning, “across people.” “Pandemonium” comes from the Greek, “pan” and “daimon” which literally means “among demons.” It was first used in the Seventeenth Century epic poem, Paradise Lost by John Milton to describe the fallout from the Fall of Man.

In prison, however, these two words became interchangeable in the last year. Every passing day as the virus spreads brings an ever-tightening spiral of regulations designed to stop the inevitable. It was clear from the first signs of arrival of the virus in early 2020 that prisons would be especially hit hard without stringent precautions. So the first line of defense from prison officials was to curtail all physical contact with the outside world.

For nearly a year now, all prison visits with family and friends have been eliminated. All programs staffed by outside volunteers have been cancelled. Most religious gathering and programs came to a halt, and outside medical appointments and consults were curtailed. No one gets in, and no one gets out.

As much as prisoners and their families disliked these policies, I cannot deny that they were effective at keeping the virus at bay. For almost all of 2020, there was but a single case of a Covid infected prisoner who was kept isolated until he recovered. In that same time, eleven staff tested positive and were placed on leave. But as the year progressed, the number of staff exposed to the virus on the outside increased dramatically. First, all staff were required to wear masks at all times in our presence. By mid-summer, the mask requirement was imposed on prisoners as well. It began as a requirement to wear a mask at all work sites and medical visits. By September, it expanded to wearing a mask for whatever length of time prisoners leave their cells.

The Prison Unemployment Line

During the summer of 2020, many prisoner work sites were shut down leaving their prisoner-staffs idle. Both Pornchai Moontri and I were fortunate to have positions deemed “essential to prison operation.” Pornchai was the Safety Trainer in the Recreation Department training prisoners on the use of weight machines in the gym and woodworking machines in the Wood Shop. I was the Law Clerk in the prison Law Library which every U.S. prison is required to maintain.

I considered myself fortunate to have someplace to go beyond my cell for six hours a day. The job also gave me access to a photocopy machine so I could purchase a copy of my posts before they went into the mail for scanning. By later in the summer, even our jobs were cut to less than two hours per day as new rules for contact tracing were put in place. I was still required to wear a mask, but I was the sole person in the Law Library filling al requests sent through inter-office mail. No one else was allowed in.

Plexiglass barriers were built and installed to shield me from exposure on the day when we would all return to business as usual, but business as usual never returned. Then round two of the virus came in the fall, and with a vengeance. Absolute non-contact rules were adopted for the various prison units to stop the spread, but the virus had other plans. By November, dozens of staff were infected and placed on leave, and hundreds of prisoners were placed in quarantine. Some members of the New Hampshire National Guard were brought in to help staff the prison.

At the time Pornchai Moontri completed his sentence and left for ICE detention in September, bunks were being placed in unused dormitories and the gymnasium in case they were needed for medical quarantine. Over the next two months, one unit after another saw infected prisoners taken for isolation in an effort to control the contagion. The unit in which I live was unscathed and the last standing until early December. Then it came. One pod after another saw infected men taken away while the pods were then locked in for fourteen days of quarantine. By Christmas, eight of the twelve pods here were in quarantine status.

Going Viral Behind Prison Walls

The place where I live was still untouched until just hours ago. On Sunday morning (January 10) a prisoner in the cell next to mine was taken away for medical quarantine after testing positive. We then became the ninth pod here to be locked in for quarantine. Apparently the person taken was ill but tried to hide it. I am told that he will recover, but being in quarantine now severely limits my movements and possibly my ability to write for the next two weeks.

But the picture might be even worse than that. When someone on the pod next to us became ill, the entire pod was tested for Covid, and to our shock the entire pod — all 24 men — tested positive. It is likely to be no different here. For now, we are merely subjected to daily temperature checks. So far, no one has a spike in temperature. My daily temperature has been the same each day: 97.1 degrees. I am surprised to discover that I am one of the cool guys on the pod. Who would have known?

Ironically, just as this all occurred, I discovered that I am on a short list of prisoners considered most vulnerable to Covid and therefore scheduled to receive an early vaccine. Because I have an autoimmune disorder, it can cause what is known as a cytokine storm if I become infected. It is known to be far worse than the infection itself. So far, however, there is no sign of it.

I hope we will have a post next week. I hope I will not end in a Covid-infested dormitory. But if that happens, I just received a really great book sent to me by a friend. It is Volume One of the Prison Journal of George Cardinal Pell. If I am taken away I will take it with me, and it will give me lots to write about when I return.

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Note from Father Gordon MacRae: Well, so far 2021 has not exactly been the age of enlightenment that some came to expect. It can only get better. Before that happens, for an understanding of the science, including political science, behind the pandemic, please see my post: “The Chinese Communist Party & the True Origin of Covid-19.”

You may also like the related links that appear in this post:

A Year in the Grip of Earthly Powers

Pornchai Moontri: Mercy Inside Those Stone Walls by Felix Carroll

The Prison Journal of George Cardinal Pell, Volume One

Wuhan Institute of Virology in Wuhan in China’s central Hubei province

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From the Grip of Earthly Powers to the Gates of Hell

At the dawn of 2021, Covid-19 wreaks havoc in prison, Pornchai Moontri remains in unjust ICE detention, the free press and free world seem less so, and our politics exploded.

Many writers have expressed concern that this Christmas must have been especially painful for me given that it was my first in 15 years without my friend, Pornchai, present with me. I can only respond with the words of Red, Andy Dufresne’s friend in the great prison film, “The Shawshank Redemption,” “This empty place just seems all the more empty in his absence.”

But I am far more painfully troubled, not by Pornchai’s absence, but by the deeply unjust continuation of his imprisonment. I am not a person who tends to see all things in respect to myself.

A few years back, I was asked to write a review of Stephen King’s novella-turned-prison-classic (linked above). Its focus was on the highly unusual redemptive friendship between Andy and Red (portrayed in the film by Tim Robbins and the great Morgan Freeman). I reflected in the review that one day my own friend will depart from prison while I remain in its emptiness. Of that, I wrote, “Still, I revel in the very idea of my friend’s freedom.”

I stand solidly by that. I do revel in Pornchai’s freedom as it is very important to me. I worked long and hard to help bring it about. So the insult and injustice of Pornchai’s ongoing ICE detention months after his prison sentence has been fully served is as painful for me to bear as it is for Pornchai. I very much appreciate the selfless efforts made by Bill Donohue and others to call attention to this injustice (see our “Special Events” section) and we hope you will take part in this effort, but to date the hoped-for justice remains out of reach.

It was a central tenet of President Trump’s bold initiative for criminal justice reform — the First Step Act — that when a prison sentence is fully served and paid in full, it should not continue on in ways that are unjust such as unemployment, the denial of housing, or the restoration of a person’s freedom and good name. I respect and support President Trump in this. But now, after paying in full his debt to society, Pornchai is now entering a fifth month beyond his sentence in the worst prison conditions he has ever known. He is still an ICE detainee in a grossly overcrowded for-profit ICE facility in Jena, Louisiana.

The factors that contributed to this are a combination of Covid-19 (which has been more of an excuse, really), bureaucratic ineptness, greed and corruption, and no small dose of something that plagues too many public sector employees: abuses of power and a lack of transparency and accountability to the very public sector that pays the bills. That post must be written and it will be written. In the meantime, please support and pray for the rapid repatriation of Pornchai Moontri.

Our Crisis of Partisan Politics

One of the factors that made me feel the most bleak about the hopes for justice for either Pornchai or me came just after I wrote “Human Traffic: The ICE Deportation of Pornchai Moontri.” That was my first glimpse of the folly of hoping for justice in an election year. That post mentioned truthfully the pressure I had been receiving to present what was happening to Pornchai as President Trump’s fault. I pointed out with honesty and candor that this had nothing to do with Trump.

Pornchai was first ordered deported in 2007 during the last year of the administration of President George W. Bush. The State of Maine nonetheless felt it necessary to extract from Pornchai every day of the sentence imposed on him when he was 18 years old. He is now 47. That post went on to quote an article by the left-leaning Human Rights Defense Center which bestowed on President Barack Obama the title of “Deporter in Chief.” These are factual elements that were not contrived by me, but unless I became willing to publicly blame President Trump, there would be no help from anyone on the left.

That fact was driven home when I was contacted by a political activist in Pennsylvania who represented an endeavor to combat human trafficking. The person urged me to “take a giant step away” from helping Pornchai because “your name is already sullied in the public square” and “your posting on this cut the legs from democrats who might help him and you.” Needless to say, I did not take her up on the offer of “help.” It came with conditions reflecting a whole other layer of dishonesty.

I hope it is not lost on readers, on human rights activists, and, if he ever sees any of this, on the President himself, that I ask for no consideration at all for myself. What happened to Pornchai in America is a giant stain on America’s claim to be a mirror and champion of human rights for the the world. Thailand as a nation has been dragged before United Nations panels for the exploitation of children, but everything that happened to Pornchai happened in America, and now America only expels him.

As events of recent days made clear, there will be no political help for either me or Pornchai. It is not yet time for me to comment on everything that happened in Washington on January 6. The intransigence of all the players is still too heated for any comment of mine to do anything but erupt it again. Much more will be written of this, by me and others, but for now I just want to raise one point about the grave danger we are in as a society builds upon respectful human rights and civil liberties.

As a result of our political differences, Facebook and Twitter have permanently suspended the accounts of the current President and others of his mindset. Who will they come for next? What are we in for? As John Derbyshire wrote in a recent issue of Chronicles, “While low-level grumbling by persons of no importance may be tolerated, only opinions compliant with the state ideology will be allowed to air in the public forum.” This will be the most frightening outcome of the events of January 6, 2021.

A Catholic Parting of the Ways

Like so many people I know, as I look back over my investments of the last year, I come up feeling a little empty. I am not talking about financial investments for I don’t have any. I earn all of two dollars per day helping prisoners traverse the legal system. My “investments” refer to the places where I have invested my time, my energy, and most especially my mind and heart.

Being where I am, you might think that I am immune from the empty social media quest for “likes” and other signs of acceptability. It never sits well with me that my posts could be subjected to such artificial approval. I cannot even see Facebook or other social media, but I know without doubt that it blocks and distorts conservative political and religious viewpoints.

But social media is also where the world lives out its arena of civil discourse. It is not all evil, and some of it presents an under-utilized opportunity for evangelization. So, with the help of friends, I have a social media presence carefully presenting the Gospel in a minefield of otherwise twisted ideas. To garner some help in this effort, I have found dozens of faithful Catholic public and private Facebook groups that promote positive discourse about our faith. Many of these groups have welcomed me, and routinely post what I present.

Then I decided to risk digging a little deeper. I sought out a Facebook group for priests. My friends and I found only one, and it had several hundred members. So the first post I submitted was one I wrote in 2020 entitled, “Priesthood, the Signs of the Times and the Sins of the Times.”

It was only hours before I found myself faced with one of the sins of the times: hypocrisy. A message came from the unnamed moderator of the priests’ group: “Given your situation, we do not think it is prudent for us to post anything you write.” Like so many untreated wounds, this one festered. It started off as anger, then humiliation, then hurt, then anger again.

This presented me with a full frontal experience of a phenomenon I have encountered in so many others. All the positive regard in the world cannot match the power of one unjust rejection from someone whom I would otherwise have respected. I have challenged penitents and counseling clients on this question for decades. Why does the negative so outweigh all the good that is said of some of us? Why do our psyches empower the negative?

There are lots of answers to this almost universal phenomenon, but they are too many for a single blog post. One of the answers, and perhaps the most important one, is a long neglected New Year’s resolution to identify where my treasure lies. This inquiry comes from a single, haunting line in the Gospel: “Wherever your treasure lies, there will your heart be also.” (Matthew 6:21 & Luke 12:34) Saint Luke especially framed this in a way that requires insight:

“He began to say to his disciples, ‘Beware the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. Whatever you have said in the dark shall be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in private rooms shall be proclaimed upon the rooftops.’”

— Luke 12:1-3

That is what I walk away with in this story. My only response to the priest who passed such harsh judgment on me is to never be that priest. My only response to the priest who walks by the man left for dead in the famous parable (Luke 10:25-31) is to never be that priest.

Which brings me back to my friend, Pornchai Moontri. Catholicism in America is a vast apostolic network of faith in action. I am so very proud of all of you who have sent in Bill Donohue’s Petition to the White House on our “Special Events” page. And I am immensely proud of Bill Donohue for taking this up. The response from our ranks should be thunderous. If the leaven of the Pharisees is hypocrisy, then the leaven of the righteous is faith found in selfless action.

The Trials of a Year in a Global Pandemic

All of the trials of 2020 in prison were lived in the shadows of the global pandemic of Covid-19. Amazingly, as prison systems across America became giant super transmitters of the coronavirus, this one managed most of the year with but a single case among prisoners and only a manageable handful among prison staff. The price for such an almost Amish removal from the mainstream was costly. Prisoners here have had to surrender all contacts with loved ones as the facility embraced a massive lockdown last March.

All visits, chapel activities, volunteer programs, most education, and virtually anything from outside these walls was curtailed. The limits on our lives became more severe as the year progressed. Since September, starting just at the time Pornchai Moontri was taken away on September 8, we have been in a state of near-total lockdown and isolation. Even this could not halt the virus from spreading. In just the last few months, even with all the lockdown measures, 81 prison staff and hundreds of prisoners here have contracted the virus. Due to contact tracing, the numbers placed in quarantine have been vastly greater.

Present1y, I live in the only housing unit that is not yet fully engulfed in quarantine. Currently eight of the twelve units here are fully locked down in quarantine. Presently, three dormitories, the weight room and the gymnasium have all been cleared out to make room for quarantine bunks. The wave of fear that has moved through the prison seems worse than the wave of Covid cases. Presently, I cannot leave my cell without a mask.

The State of Louisiana, where Pornchai has been held unjustly for over four months awaiting transport, has the fourth highest rate of Covid infection in the country. Detainees by the hundreds from Central America, with just a few Asians mixed in among them, are housed 70 to a room with no testing, little screening, and no obvious preventive measures. America, on either side of the aisle, does not seem to have the political will to address this.

Those from Central American countries seem to be moved out in large numbers while Pornchai and other Asian detainees are kept in horrible conditions for much longer. I plan to write in much more depth about ICE in an upcoming post.

Until then, I can only say thank you for being here with us throughout the trials of the past year. Your prayers and your support and friendship have been priceless, and have made a very great difference. I especially thank Bill Donohue for the courage and sense of justice the Catholic League has stood for. If you are not yet a member, please join me in that important cause at www.CatholicLeague.org

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Note from Father Gordon MacRae:

Thank you for reading and sharing this post. You may also like the related posts referenced herein:

Human Traffic: The ICE Deportation of Pornchai Moontri

Priesthood, the Signs of the Times and the Sins of the Times

And BTSW has a Library! Unlike most blogs, our past and present posts are slowly being organized by topic in 28 categories of special interest. This is a work in progress, but check it out, and come back for updates.

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The Challenge of Thanksgiving in the Midst of the Fall

The Mayflower pilgrims arrived in America on November 21, 1620. Squanto, the real hero of our Thanksgiving, has a 400 year-old tale of survival in a pandemic.

Thanksgiving by Fr Gordon MacRae

Editor’s Note: The following post was written by Father Gordon MacRae in November 2020, a time when all Thanksgiving became a challenge under the weight of a global pandemic. Nonetheless, there is cause for Thanksgiving here.

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The autumnal equinox brought trial after trial to us behind these stone walls. My litany of woes will follow, but if you have been reading my posts you know I cannot let “autumnal equinox” pass by without comment. The equinox occurs twice each year when the Sun crosses the celestial equator resulting in equal day and night on Earth. In the Northern Hemisphere, this happened on September 22 marking the autumnal equinox. The term comes from the Latin, “aequinoctium” for “equal night.”

But for me, the equinox brought forth more night than day. I’ll get to the point in a moment. My friend, Father George David Byers often chides me for being too subtle when I write. He says that most people want to get right to the point without being led to it through the labyrinthine ways of one of my posts. That’s another really cool word. It refers to a maze. The word was first used in Greek mythology to refer to a maze built by Daedalus for Minos, King of Crete. In the Greek myth, Daedalus and his son, Icarus were imprisoned there, but escaped with wings made of wax. Icarus flew too close to the Sun and perished.

The word was also used by Francis Thompson in the first verses of one of my favorite epic poems, “The Hound of Heaven,”

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind;
And in the midst of tears, I hid from Him.
And under running laughter, up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated, adown Titanic glooms
Of chasmed fears, from those strong Feet.
That followed, followed after.

I never tire of reading these verses, but the rest seems a chore, a stark reminder of where I have spent the last 30 American Thanksgivings. The next verse reminds me too much of prison:

I stand amid dust of the mounded years —
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled, and gone up in smoke,
Have puffed and burst as sunstarts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even to dream.

But I have thwarted Francis Thompson on one point. I still dream, even when I wish I did not. Like what Fr. Byers says of my writing, my dreams are too subtle, and leave me pondering them for days to come. I shared a strange one with you a few years ago, a time that now seems far older. That post was, “Prison Journal: A Midsummer Night’s Midlife Crisis.” It was a haunting dream in which I returned to where I started religious life some 48 years ago as a Capuchin. Strangely, Pornchai Moontri, my friend of the present, was with me there. I realized only days later that the dream took place early in the morning of August 17, the day I professed first vows as a Capuchin.

And I realize only now that at the time I was professing my first vows, Pornchai was two years old and had just been abandoned by both his parents whose lives had fallen apart. Pornchai was left to find food in streets, and was treated for severe malnutrition. The echoes of our lives resonate through these dreams. That one ended when Pornchai and I left Mass to start down a long winding path. “Where are we going?” he asked.

I bring this up again because I more recently suffered through a sequel to that same dream. It was a continuation of it. Pornchai was gone and I walked alone on that same path. I was back in my Capuchin habit with the large wooden rosary we once wore hanging from my cincture. I was troubled that the rosary was too long. The crucifix at the end of it was dragging along the ground as I walked. When I bent down to pick it up, I was startled to see that the Body of Christ was gone. I had to go back to find Him, but I was frozen in place not knowing how far back I would have to go. I decided that I will just have to carry the cross for the rest of the way.

Trials That Came with the Fall

With the autumnal equinox, all the trials came at once. Father George David Byers wrote of some of them recently in his post, “Censoring the Already Censored: That Hurts Bad.” A BTSW reader kindly sent me a printed copy. I was grateful for the effort, but his title was not subtle enough. Nonetheless, it was all true, and even a little cryptic where it needed to be.

My writing over the years helped to develop a wonderful team from the United States, Thailand, and Australia that came together to assist my friend, Pornchai. His story is seen as one of the most amazing accounts of grace, conversion, and redemption ever to appear in print. Our team worked hard to prepare for his repatriation to Thailand. “Repatriation” is the nice word that we use to cover up the hard truth of it. He is being expelled from the United States as a criminal alien. “Send me your tired, and your poor, and your huddled masses yearning to be free,” and we will put them in cages until we can throw them out.

It was not long before the American disdain for the stranger and alien in our midst developed into a profitable business for some. “Profit” means that some private enterprise has taken over a task of government, and then stretched it out to strengthen the bottom line. After leaving me on this path on September 8, 2020, Pornchai was told by his ICE detention handlers that he would be in Thailand by the end of September. Then they misplaced his travel documents and he would leave by the end of October.

Then nothing — absolutely nothing — was done to arrange travel for him. He had seven different ICE handlers in seven weeks, each one starting from scratch, seemingly clueless about what came before or what comes next. The final one seemed at least professional and sympathetic, but the 90-day travel documents issued by his Consulate were left to expire on November 10, and we were left to start over. Meanwhile, Pornchai was living eight to a room, then forty to a room, and then eighty to a room. He was held in captivity a full five months after his prison sentence was served in full.

Funds I was saving for Pornchai’s future were rerouted to pay for his survival. Food is sold to detainees at hugely inflated prices. Telephone calls are eleven cents per minute. All the hopes Pornchai left here with began to fade. Our daily phone call, so necessary for his survival, became a daily pep talk while I struggled to really believe all that I was telling him, and he struggled to believe as well. ICE detention is a one-size-fits-all American horror story.

No nation can survive with open borders through which anyone can enter at will. Only the most clueless radical would advocate for such a thing. But ICE and the for-profit concentration camps that feed off it are not the American way. This is not a nightmare of four years in the making. This is a nightmare that has evolved since September 11, 2001. Justice Sonia Sotomayor, President Barack Obama’s appointee to the Supreme Court, went on record with a majority opinion that any foreign national who commits a crime on U.S. soil is subject to rapid removal. I hope that what happened to Pornchai is not what she meant by “rapid.”

But there is also cause for Thanksgiving here — at least for me, and for Pornchai as well. The grace of Divine Mercy gave us in advance both the helpers and the means necessary to get us through this. Pornchai has never starved, and we were able to help a few around him as well. And we have been able to walk with him, and encourage him in the belief that there is some meaning and purpose in this odyssey. I am most thankful for that.

The Cracks in These Stone Walls

All during the above, as Father Byers wrote with no subtlety at all, we were also facing the collapse of These Stone Walls after eleven years of writing. I was faced with a very difficult choice, and the outcome seemed dismal. Then someone else appeared on the scene with the willingness and ability to salvage everything, and maybe even improve on it a bit. There is cause for much Thanksgiving in that, and in all that now awaits us Beyond These Stone Walls.

And at the same time all of that was going on, Covid-19 renewed and tightened its squeeze on this prison resulting in heightened confinement, even fewer resources for writing, almost no access to a library, and the complete shutdown of any access to Catholic Mass or even a Catholic presence here. All the progress Divine Mercy made in this prison was then in a three-year hibernation. With help from the prison chaplain, a Catholic deacon, I have been able to obtain the elements necessary for Mass once per week.

With Pornchai gone after fifteen years as my roommate, I have had to change the opportunity for Mass. I now begin it on Sundays at 11:30 PM Eastern Time. This is after my new assigned roommate falls asleep and all the prison counts and other security measures end for the day. It is the only time I will not be interrupted. From ICE detention in Jena, Louisiana, it was at 10:30 PM and Pornchai used the Spiritual Communion prayers from his United States Grace Force Prayer Book to join me. There is cause for Thanksgiving in all of this.

And right on cue about three weeks before Pornchai was taken away, I tore the rotator cuff in my right shoulder making normal daily things like writing, even subtle writing, a painful ordeal. This prison has an excellent physical therapist, however, and three-times-weekly treatment over the previous three months had resulted in remarkable recovery without surgery. There is cause for thanksgiving in this, as well.

Enter Squanto of the Dawn Land

Back then, I wrote a post that was to become one of the most read and cited from behind these stone walls. It was the story of the real unsung hero behind the account of the first Thanksgiving that you thought you knew. It is a story that was kept hidden in plain sight for centuries while the story of the bravery and resourcefulness of the Mayflower Pilgrims of 1620 prevailed. Don’t miss, “The True Story of Thanksgiving: Squanto, the Pi1grims, and the Pope.”

This story became a Thanksgiving tradition for our readers over the last decade. It is a remarkable story of human crisis and redemption told in the odyssey of Squanto, a Native American who, like our friend, Pornchai, was stolen from his home, taken to a foreign land, rescued from slavery by a Catholic priest, and then, in the end, restored to his homeland only to find it nearly devastated from a global pandemic. He arrived just before the Mayflower pilgrims did 400 years ago this week. Squanto became one of history’s great emissaries of Divine Mercy. It will be our special Thanksgiving Week post this year.

My version of the story has appeared in numerous sources including a pair of history books. One of them is 1620: The True Story of Thanksgiving by Rick Gregory (2015) and an essay, “A Eucharistic Thanksgiving” by Adam N. Crawford.

I hope you will read and share that story anew to mark Thanksgiving 400 years later as the Pilgrims did, in uncertain times and surrounded in darkness. And please pray for us as we do for you. There is cause for Thanksgiving here!

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You may also like these related links: 

The True Story of Thanksgiving: Squanto, the Pilgrims, and the Pope

Prison Journal: A Midsummer Night’s Midlife Crisis