March 9,2012

Dear Dr.Alia-Klein,
                               Throughout my years of imprisonment,more so in the past,I have written about my experiences growing up,using drugs/alcohol,and the ugliness of prison.I always believed I had a story to tell that may help someone else for I know there are many that mirror my own life.
                               In 2004,I wrote about my drug/alcohol use and I asked professor Thieben(the contact I gave you)if he knew any directors of any A.A./N.A.s for he knows so many people.I was impressed to learn that he was good friends with the late author Mario Puzo and being that prof.Thieben played in the N.B.A. in the '50s his affiliations are widespread.I was already in the process of writing "What Hope Means To The Imprisoned",but I really wanted to write about drugs/alcohol.
                               On August 28,2004,prof.Thieben visited me and he told me to write it and he'd make sure it got into the right hands.When prof.Thieben says anything,I've always been able to say "POSITIVELY" it would be done!
                                After a few months had passed,on October 14,2004,I received a letter from a woman in Florida who told me she had the honor of reading my story at her A.A./N.A. group.She was a 42 yr. old divorced mother of two and she has had a problem with drugs and alcohol since her teens.Her name was Lise(the German spelling for Lisa)and her father was my former teacher,friend,father figure,and the most amazing man I've ever known-professor Thieben.She only told me her dad was Bill Thieben,I added the rest to tell you.
                                  We began a correspondence sharing one another's stories about the paths we took in life.Even though Lise used alcohol and heroin,she never dipped into the criminal aspect(beyond using)because her father always financed her needs for money.He was afraid of saying "NO" to her requests for he was afraid to lose the relationship with his daughter.Lise made good money when she did work,but she chose not to more often than not.
                                    I remember her first letter to me,stating,"if my father didn't think so highly of you I'd never write to a convicted murderer..."It only bothered me in the sense that this was the professor's daughter saying it and I wanted to feel human to any member of his family.
                                     Our correspondence became a drug in itself where we both became addicted to one another's letters,where each awaited the mailman to give that letter with the familiar return address.On December 31,2004,while in New York(Patchogue) for the holidays she visited me and it was very special.
                                      That visit also caused us to become closer where we shared our dreams,goals,aspirations,and desires which included the both of us together in Florida.It was truly a love story that tragically ended on January 11,2009,when Lise took her own life with sleeping pills.
                                      She had just returned to Florida after the holidays in New York and when I called on January 5,she seemed distant.I knew her well enough to recognize these subtle changes and when I asked her she remained silent for a few moments adding to my beliefs that something was wrong.When she finally did speak she made me promise not to repeat what she said to her dad for he was afraid of the way I'd react so close to my parole hearing(it was in March of that year).
                                      I assured Lise that I wouldn't tell her dad and she went on to tell me that an inmate in Wende Corr.Fac.(it was where I was at the time)wrote her a letter trying to woo her away from me.She made me promise her that I wouldn't react in any violent way b efore she told me his name and who had the audacity to write the woman I loved.
                                      I found out this inmate was my neighbor and he was mistakenly given my mail(it's the only way he could had gotten her address).I went back to my cell and and through that quarter inch piece of steel that separated us,he sat.For a few hours I contemplated addressing him and of course when I finally did he denied it in a boisterous manner.I informed him that he should hold off on all his aggressions until our cell doors opened the following day.
                                      I did not sleep that night,instead I broke a piece of metal off of my locker and all through the night I sharpened it to a sharp point.I ran so many scenarios through my head,but it was impossible not to be him for he sent her a picture as well.
                                      All night I ran through my head the way I would approach this once our gates opened the next morning.There was no exact science to it for I'd just come out and start to stab him,but it wouldn't be the case for his bark was worse than his bite and he never came out.
                                      For the next few days I called Lise I could tell this was wearing on her where she was now worried that another convict had her address.She let her mind wander to believing her children could be in danger and it wore on me because this guy was still my neighbor.
                                      The ONLY way I could get you to envision it in your head is for you to imagine if someone harmed a member of your family and they continued to live across the street from you.Maybe you can'y envision it for you have a citizen's heart,but I was not going to allow this inmate to remain next to me.
                                      He wouldn't come out of his cell and I was boiling with anger wanting to hurt him in the worst way!!The night of January 5,2009,I came out of my cell to call the professor and by this time I had told him I knew what happened for I was concerned for Lise.He brushed it off telling me that her mind wanders,but after I got off the phone I went in front of this guy's cell and said,"you really think you're going to remain next store to me?"I reached in my pocket and pulled out a razor blade and sliced my own face open!I screamed,"he cut me!The piece of shit cut!"I was taken to the outside hospital to have my face stitched up and he was taken to solitary confinement.
                                      You couldn't understand my reasoning and I'm not sure I was able to reason while angry,but I could not let this man remain next to me.Lise took a handful of sleeping pills 6 days later and died.I believe this was the only woman I ever loved and though the professor never blamed me,I knew if she NEVER met me she'd more than likely be alive today.
                                      I only told the professor what I did and I always wanted to tell someone else.I didn't exactly tell you because it was a violent incident,I wanted to tell you for someone else to know how  beautiful,considerate,and loving Lise was.I've always enjoyed drawing and I would draw her and her children pictures all the time and it's as if my drawing ended with her death.It's as if no one else deserves a drawing.I can't really say I'm a religious man,but I'd never denounce religion.The best picture I ever drew was Jesus Christ and I'd always draw Jesus for it is a picture that most could relate to.I wanted to show you just two simple drawings,the one was for Jolie(Lise's 10 yr. old daughter)and it was a nameplate for her door with a rose and the other for my niece who liked Minnie Mouse at the time.I only met her through a picture for my sister didn'y feel comfortable having her children meet their uncle who is in prison.
                                       Anger harbors within my heart.I do not release it and when I do I am persistent with it!What do I mean?In 2006,I was angry over a decision the prison administration made and I stopped eating for 33 days.Yes,the state got a court order to force feed me and they did,but that's not the issue.
                                        I know I have a lot to offer in life(society)to others,but I don't feel I value my life anymore.I'm not afraid to die,I'm just afraid to fail at ending my life.I'm very rational Dr.Alia-Klein,I am not suicidal,but when you no longer have much in life to value,life does not seem as important any longer.It is as if I live now just to mark off another day,week,month,or year of imprisonment.
                                         I've read 1000s of books in prison(sometimes 5 a week)and it's so ironic that the only book(I could Remember)I read in society was called "IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST"by Norman Mailer about Jack Henry Abbott who was my neighbor here in Clinton in 1987'He hung himself in Wende Corr.Fac> in March/2002.
                                         I was in Kings Park Psychiatric Center 11 days before my crime and while there my mother wrote the director and pleaded,asking them not to release me because she fely"I'd kill myself or someone else".I was in this hospital after going into a bar in Sound Beach after having a fight.
                                         The hospital released me to the care of my probation officer because I did not report to probation.I couldn't report because I was in a psychiatric hospital.That is crazy,but 11 days later I'm arrested for killing someone else as my mother feared.I pleaded guilty right away because my parents wanted it over with because my stepfather didn't want family matters drug out in the media.
                                           In 1986,a lawyer sued the hospital for the adoptive parents of my victim,but I wouldn't cooperate with the lawyers for the parents didn't pay for his burial(my good friend Father Francis Pizzarelli paid for it)but they wanted to profit off of his death.My lawyer then sued and it was agreed that I'd receive treatment whenever I requested it.Prison doesn't offer such treatment for they are quick to medicate,but I'm not with the whole medication thing.
                                           You should be in receipt of my previous two letters and I assure you of this Dr.Alia-Klein,I'm far from crazy.
                                            Have you ever heard Sagamore Children's Center in Melville?My treatment coordinator there ended up becoming my girlfriend from 1982-1986 and in 1998 the Internal Affairs came to question me about it.Of course I denied it ,but she was fired 16 years after I left the hospital.It seems like I taint every relationship/relations I have with people.I believe that.
                                             Until next time,take very good care.
                                                       
                                                               James Morgan