I have lived the past three days in the calm before our team’s storm of activity here in Uganda.  But I haven’t been idle.  I arrived late Tuesday night after a relatively uneventful 24-hour journey, LAX to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Entebbe.  I have now made this journey seventeen times since 2010, but it doesn’t get any less tiresome on my aging body.

The first wave of the team will arrive this evening.  I went ahead of the rest so I could prepare a place and ensure that as many logistical details were nailed down as possible.  It was great to catch up on Wednesday with our nine students who are spending the summer here interning for various judicial officials – two in the Court of Appeals, two in the Family Division of the High Court, two in the Commercial Division, one in the Criminal Division, one in the Anti-Corruption Division, and one in the Department of Public Prosecutions.  In addition to the judges for whom they work, the students are loosely supervised by our two Nootbaar Fellows, both of whom are serving as court-annexed mediators – Jory Canfield in the Commercial Division and Megan Callaway in the Family Division.  They are 2014 Pepperdine Law graduates serving one-year terms.

After a full day of running errands and nailing things down, I had dinner with the Pepperdine interns and fellows on Wednesday evening, along with Court of Appeals Justice Kiryabwire (who is the Ugandan liaison under Pepperdine’s Memorandum of Understanding with the Ugandan Judiciary).  We were also joined by Judge Clifford Wallace of the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.  Judge Wallace, who is 86 years old and going strong, is here in Uganda for a week assisting the Ugandan Court of Appeals in evaluating whether appellate mediation should be implemented here, an idea hatched during an earlier visit to Pepperdine by various Ugandan Justices.

Thursday was another day of preparations, but was highlighted by an opportunity to see my youngest two kids, Joshua and Jennifer, who are here for two weeks with a group from their school – Oaks Christian High School.  The group is led by American doctors and nurses, who are partnering with Ugandan doctors and nurses on a mobile medical tour of schools and villages.  The kids are getting to help with registration and filling prescriptions, as well as providing spiritual care for those receiving treatment.  Joshua has been in the pharmacy the entire trip, while Jennifer has been registering patients and praying with them.

Joline and I have done plenty of things wrong in raising our kids, but we have succeeded in providing them opportunities to flourish in unfamiliar surroundings and to have confidence in God’s presence in their lives.  All three have risen to the occasion.

We briefly Skyped with Joline so she could see them, but Joshua and Jennifer felt guilty about getting to see their parents, while the others haven’t had the chance, so we snuck away from the others for the Skype call.

Before I went to bed on Thursday evening, some dark clouds began forming on our logistical planning.  The flight carrying two members of our team – Jenna Anderson, who works with me at Pepperdine in the Global Justice Program, and Eleanor deGolian, Atlanta-based lawyer – was delayed for one hour and forty minutes out of Atlanta, putting their two-hour connection in Amsterdam in serious jeopardy.  When I awoke this morning, the situation hadn’t changed.  They were in transit and weren’t sure if they would make the connection to join five other members of the team whom they were supposed to meet in Amsterdam for the final leg into Uganda.  These team members are Alan Jackson, former high-profile prosecutor in Los Angeles, Melissa Mertens, LA public defender, Emily Smith, Nashville prosecutor, Alan Brown, Midland lawyer, and Allison Brown, Alan’s daughter who attends my alma mater Abilene Christian University.

Via e-mail from the landing runway, Jenna notified me that she and Eleanor landed in Amsterdam about thirty minutes before the connecting flight, but their plane was unable to pull in because another was at their arrival gate.  Fiddlesticks! (as one of my former bosses used to say in situations where others would say something stronger).

I sent Jenna the flight information for the only other flight out of Amsterdam that would get her to Uganda in the next 24 hours (leaving forty minutes later) and prayed for their success in making the connection.  The plane finally pulled into the gate about ten minutes before takeoff of the original connecting flight.  As of the time I am writing this (two hours later), I haven’t heard anything more, which I am hoping is a good sign.

More tomorrow after our first meeting with a high-powered task force, which is creating guidelines for the introduction of video appearances in Ugandan court and video conferencing between lawyers and clients.  Adopting these new procedures promises to save lots of money and time, reduce security risks associated with bringing busloads (and sometimes cattle-truckloads) of prisoners to court, not to mention drastically increasing the communications between prisoners and their lawyers (who often don’t drive out to prison to meet with their clients in advance of trial).

There are no coincidences.  That’s the theme running through one of my favorite movies of all time, and the reason the M. Night Shyamalan/Mel Gibson film “Signs” is so high on my list.  I, too, look for God’s hand in events that others may chalk up to chance.  When unexpected events converge in my life, I see a divine collision.

When the Yates and Yates law firm/literary agency agreed to take me on as a client about six months ago, they made clear that the working title of my book, “Throwing Starfish,” wouldn’t  make the cut.  While I had grown fond of the title because of what it represented, I trusted their judgment more than my feelings.  So when we were finalizing the book proposal – the document sent to potential publishers from which they make book contract decisions – we had to come up with something new.

Over the course of a few weeks, we batted around numerous ideas and concepts.  We were looking for something that captured the combination of my story and Henry’s, that recognized God’s hand in the story told in the book, and (importantly) was unique in order to avoid confusion and any copyright issues.  Nothing seemed perfect, but since there absolutely had to be a title, and since they assured me the publisher would later play a significant role in selecting a final title, we settled on something that none of us believed would ultimately stick: “Wrongfully Accused.”  I didn’t like it because it reflected only a piece of Henry’s story, and didn’t reflect much of mine.  It also sounded like a book everyone has already read – innocent person charged with a crime he didn’t commit and struggles to get free.  That narrative is certainly part of my book, but is really only a backdrop of a much larger story.

Over the course of about two months, my agents had numerous conversations with a wide variety of publishers about the book.  Quick aside – for amateur writers to get serious consideration from established publishers without an agent is a steep climb, one I am confident I would not have been able to make.  As the time for making a decision among publishers approached, my agents provided me a status report and some guidance.  They told me that we wanted to go with a publisher who was passionate about telling the story, rather than simply comparing the terms of the offers and choosing what facially appears to be the “best” offer.  Among the important terms are (i) the advance against royalties, (ii) the percentage of the book price paid to the author, (iii) the publication date, (iv) the marketing budget allocated by the publisher to promoting the book, and (v) the number of complimentary copies the author receives.

Most consider the advance against royalties to be the most important number because it represents the minimum payment the author will receive for the book.  Here is how it works: the advance is paid to the author in three installments – 1/3 upon signing the contract, 1/3 upon final delivery of the manuscript by the author to the publisher, and 1/3 upon publication of the book.  The author will get no additional money from the publisher until the publisher recoups the advance through sales.  For example, a typical contract will involve the author getting paid 12% of the retail price of each book sold.  So if the retail price is $20, then the author gets $2.40 for each book sold.  If the advance against royalties is $24,000, then the publisher recoups the advance once sales reach 10,000 copies.  From sale 10,001 forward, the author receives $2.40 per book sold.  But, if sales never reach 10,000, the author still keeps the full $24,000.  Accordingly, the higher the advance, the higher the guaranteed payment the author receives.  But equally important, the advance becomes almost entirely irrelevant (save for the time value of money) if the author sells more books than necessary to recoup – the total royalties end up being the same.

This is why my agents strongly counseled me to go with a publisher who is passionate about telling the story – “total book sales” is ultimately a much more important number than the size of the advance.  And “total book sales” is highly dependent upon the efforts of the publisher – the more passionate the publishing team is about the book, the more books will be sold.

As chance (or something else) would have it, Jeana Ledbetter, an editor at Nashville-based Worthy Publishing, reviewed the book proposal on Worthy’s behalf.  She had previously worked with Yates and Yates at their agency in Southern California.  Fortunately, she was quite moved by it and took it to her publication board with a recommendation that they make an offer.  She later told me that she got emotional during her presentation and had a hard time making it through.

Once again, one might be tempted to chalk up to coincidence the fact that Worthy’s President, Byron Williamson, recognized my name from the several years his son and daughter-in-law had spent at Pepperdine.  Ryan and Sarah Williamson had become dear friends of ours in the late 1990s/early 2000s, and have since moved back to Nashville.  Shortly after the editorial meeting, Worthy made an offer.

A couple weeks later, when I met with my agents to discuss next steps, they suggested that we start by scheduling a phone call with Jeana at Worthy and then move forward from there.  But rather than talking via phone, Jeana asked if she could fly out to Los Angeles to meet in person instead.  That was, of course, a good sign.  Over lunch, Jeana exuded passion and commitment to the book project.  Curtis and Karen Yates peppered her with questions, and Jeana gave all the right answers.  By the end of the lunch, we had decided we were done with the selection process before it really even started.  A couple days later, we had reached a deal on all of the relevant terms.  I am not at liberty to discuss most of them, but I can say that we settled on a publication date of February, 2016, which will coincide with Henry’s three-week break from medical school so he can be out here in the United States for some launch events.

I don’t think it was coincidental that when the contract terms were finalized, I was in Angola State Prison with a delegation of Ugandans.  The staff at Angola was kind enough to print out a copy for me to sign, scan, and then send back.

Because I wanted to do something symbolic in the prison to commemorate the signing of the contract at Angola, I decided to get a tattoo that reflected the miles of razor wire all around me.  The prison tattoo shop was quite accommodating, though they almost ran out of ink due to the girth of my bicep.

I should probably confess to making this part up before my mom has a heart attack.  This is the tattoo I actually got (at least as far as you know):

Over the next few weeks, we continued to bat around book titles.  For a while, we were on Graceful Collision, then we moved to Beautiful Collision, before ultimately settling on Divine Collision.  I am pretty sure that will be the final title.  Like most books, there will also be a subtitle – something like An African Boy, an American Lawyer, and their [adjective] Battle for Freedom.

I am honored that Bob Goff (author of NYT Best-Selling Love Does) will be writing the Forward.  We are now in the process of finalizing all of the details (cover, endorsements, etc.).  I don’t yet know when it will pop up on Amazon for pre-ordering, but I suspect that will be in November or December.  For now, the only way to pre-order the book is to contribute toward the completion of the documentary we are filming about Pepperdine’s work in Ugandan prisons.  Any donation toward the filming completion next month of at least $25 gets a free copy of the book.  A film teaser and several other clips are available at the crowd-funding site.

In other news, Henry continues to excel in medical school, though the family dispute regarding land ownership and occupancy of his family’s home has heated up and is potentially turning south.  I have hired a lawyer in an effort to prevent Henry’s mom and siblings from being forcefully removed from the land they rightfully occupy.  Prayers are welcomed for this situation to stay calm until I get back to Uganda – I am leaving one week from today for trip number 17.

Wednesday, our second day at Louisiana’s Angola State Prison, started off with breakfast with the larger-than-life Burl Cain – Angola’s charismatic and transformative warden.  Thereafter, we visited the prison’s vocational training centers that are set up to help the prisoners acquire a skill while incarcerated.  These include auto mechanics, auto collision repair, small engine repair (lawnmowers, engines, power tools, etc.), horticulture, eye glass manufacturing, and HVAC (heating, ventilation, and air conditioning).  The instructors are lifers with no possibility of parole.  Their students, however, include many serving shorter sentences who have been relocated to Angola so they can be trained by the lifers, most of whom have graduated from the theological seminary.  The training is so comprehensive and effective that there are more certified auto mechanics trained at Angola each year (98% passage rate) than anywhere else in Louisiana.

These lifer/teachers derive tremendous satisfaction knowing that despite their exceptionally poor choices that earned them life in prison, they have the opportunity to shape and equip others to enable them to avoid making the same bad choices after they get out.  The motto for the moral rehabilitation program is “No More Victims.”

I had to get out my hanky more than once as the head teacher in the small engine shop (who is also a Baptist minister leading his own congregation inside Angola) explained that while they cannot change their past, they do control their future.  “We help shape the men here into the kinds of fathers, brothers, sons, and husbands that we should have been.  Nothing gives us more joy than when we hear back from former students who are now living productive lives on the outside.”

In the HVAC class, the students had all kinds of questions for our Ugandan guests about life in Uganda, both inside and outside prison.  We also had a chance to visit the school where students are catching up on the basic education many of them missed out on before they were convicted.  We also stopped at the hospice care facility in the hospital/dentistry area.  Because “life means life” in Louisiana, there is a steady flow of inmates dying in prison.  The vast majority of care takers are fellow prisoners.  As the end approaches, six prisoner volunteers attach themselves to each dying inmate and serve round-the-clock, four-hour shifts, taking turns sitting, reading, and praying with the patient until he passes – “No one dies alone.”

A few days later, the inmates, guards, family, and friends are treated to a dignified service run by the inmate pastors.  The patient is buried in a beautiful, prisoner-made coffin that is brought to the outdoor funeral grounds in an ornate horse-drawn carriage.

 

And these aren’t just any horses.  The prison has more than a dozen war horses (Percherons) – the biggest I have ever seen.  They are groomed and maintained by several highly trained inmates for this very purpose.

The inmate carriage driver wears a tuxedo.

I can imagine right about now how one might question why so much effort and resources go toward giving the worst of the worst offenders many opportunities that those outside don’t have.  I will confess to coming into Angola with these questions.  I left Angola with none of them.

I am not a softy on crime, by any stretch, but if we truly believe in redemption (and I certainly do), then simply giving up on someone can’t be the right answer.  Moreover, the results achieved by Warden Cain and his innovative and dedicated staff simply can’t be refuted.  Incidentally, Angola receives a constant flow of prison officials from around the country (and around the world, including us Ugandans) who are starting to adopt some of the practices in other prisons.

The other important response to the resource question is that the prison raises vast amounts of money to pay for many of its programs through its semi-annual rodeo events.  Every Sunday in October and one weekend in April, the prison puts on a rodeo.  All participants are prisoners and the 6,000-seat arena is sold out every day.

Outside the arena in the carnival area, the prisoners are allowed to sell the arts and crafts they make year-round, using their own money for the supplies.  The proceeds of the rodeo allow much of what is innovative about Angola to be paid for by non-taxpayer dollars.  Accordingly, the Angola budget is not proportionately larger than other similar prisons.

Before we left Angola, we visited the rodeo and carnival grounds, and even did a little bareback horse riding ourselves.  I was able to stay on my mount for almost fifteen seconds.

Because Wednesday was employee-appreciation day, and because crawfish are now in season (who knew there was a crawfish season?), we were invited to sample Louisiana’s fifth food group at the Crawfish Boil.  I have never seen so many crawfish, and I have never seen human beings eat so many of them.

Most of our Ugandan friends developed a case of the heebee geebies at the thought of eating such ugly and unfamiliar creatures.  This, from folks who devour fried grasshoppers like they are McDonald’s fries.  Go figure.

I felt bad that my research assistant Luke (Pepperdine ambassador and host extraordinaire) had to miss out on the second half of the day, but he had important retrieval work to do.  The night before, he and I had trekked forty minutes to the Baton Rouge airport to pick up another rental car so I could stay with the group at Angola on Wednesday while Luke drove the three hours back to New Orleans to pick up the three whose visas had been tardily issued back in Uganda.  But when the flight landed, there were only two.  The third had been turned away at the ticket counter at the Entebbe Airport before takeoff due to a ticketing snafu.  After some frantic searching and tracking, Luke was able to ascertain the lost sheep would be landing at just before midnight on a different airline.  She was quite relieved to find someone there waiting for her.

The next morning, I checked out of the wonderful and charming Bed and Breakfast where I and two of my Ugandan colleagues had stayed in neighboring St. Francisville.  The owners of The Barrow House Inn, Shirley and Chris, took such good care of us.  And the night before I left, I was humbled to learn that after reading online about the connection between Pepperdine and the Uganda justice system, they were moved to contribute a portion of what we spent on lodging toward the completion of the documentary.  Incidentally, there are new clips of the film-in-progress up on the crowdfunding site.

Later Thursday morning, our group of seven (I retrieved the other five from Angola) met up with Luke’s group of three at Louisiana’s main women’s prison, which houses 900, 140 of which are lifers.  I had no pre-conceived notions about what it would be like at a women’s prison because I don’t watch the wildly popular Netflix show “Orange is the New Black” – at least as far as you know.  Being at Angola and at the women’s prison raised up an impulse in me to buy stock in razor wire manufacturers.

While they certainly do good and important work there, we had been spoiled by what we had seen at Angola.  The warden of the women’s prison in our group left with many ideas about how to better manage her population of approximately 100 female inmates, though she lamented the relative lack of resources she had at her disposal.

In the afternoon, we met with the Governor-appointed Secretary of Corrections for the State of Louisiana, thanks to Judge Bob Downing’s good efforts.

This meeting was quite informative and interesting – who knew Louisiana has the highest incarceration rate of any jurisdiction in the world?  Not I.  Incidentally, Louisiana laments, rather than celebrates, this statistic.

Before turning in on Thursday evening, we returned for nearly two hours of Wal-Mart shopping.  It was supposed to be one hour, but the oft-repeated Ugandan saying rings true – “In America, you have all the watches.  In Uganda, we have all the time.”

My next post will describe a highly informative day at Louisiana State Court and at the Federal Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals.

A caterpillar escapes its cocoon in San Diego, causing a butterfly to flap its wings in Baton Rouge, which changes the passenger list of a plane departing Uganda.  Two Bobs changed the lives of two Harriets.

Why?  Because both Bobs understand that Love Does, and both Harriets want to transform their country.

One of my heroes is San Diego lawyer Bob Goff.  He is primarily responsible for my life taking a sharp turn five years ago into the southern hemisphere.  Bob wrote a book called Love Does in which he tells lots of funny, interesting, and incredible stories of love in action.  About a year ago, another Bob read Love Does in his men’s group and was less than convinced Bob Goff was for real.  Retired Louisiana State Court Judge Bob Downing was more than a little skeptical about some of the stories he read, particularly those having to do with Bob’s work in Uganda.

After discovering a connection between the Ugandan work described in Love Does and Pepperdine Law School, Judge Bob called Pepperdine and was transferred to me.

“I wanted to let you know that Bob Goff appears to be taking credit in his Love Does book for the work you are doing in Uganda,” he said.

“Not as much as he should be,” I responded.

Over the next forty-five minutes, Judge Bob and I chatted about Bob Goff, Uganda, and the practice of law.  We became fast friends.  At the end of the call, he said, “Well, I know what I am eating for lunch tomorrow at the men’s Bible study.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s that?”

“Crow.  I will be admitting I was wrong about Bob Goff.”

Over the next few months, Judge Bob and I e-mailed and chatted periodically.  After my return from Uganda last July when I spent a bunch of time in a Ugandan maximum security prison, Judge Bob asked whether I’d ever thought about bringing prison officials out to the United States for training and idea exchanges, like we do with the Ugandan judges. “I have spent some time working with the folks at what used to be the bloodiest and most awful prison in American – Angola State Penitentiary just north of Baton Rouge.  The warden there, Burl Cain, is doing some phenomenal things and it is one of the best prisons in America now.”

“I haven’t actually ever thought about it,” I confessed.  “That sounds like a great idea, but I wouldn’t know where to start arranging it or raising funds to make it happen.”

“If you think it is a good idea and if you think you can get the Ugandans to come, I’ll work on the other aspects,” he replied.  “In the meantime, I am going to send you the book written about Warden Cain and Angola.  Read it and let me know what you think.”

A couple days later, “Cain’s Redemption: A Story of Hope and Transformation in America’s Bloodiest Prison” arrived.  I was blown away by the work the warden had done.

A couple months later, Judge Bob had secured a grant from his church (First Presbyterian of Baton Rouge) to pay for five prison officials to come, and had secured permission from Angola for a group of Ugandans to spend a couple days there.

A couple days ago, I flew to Louisiana to greet this group of Ugandans at the New Orleans airport as they stepped off the plane.

Two of them are named Harriet.

More tomorrow on what promises to be a life-changing trip for all of us.