Home

Shortly before the sun peaked over the Rocky Mountains this morning, I packed up a few last items from my bachelors pad, loaded them in the back of my truck and started the journey home to Logan, Utah. In reality, I've been trying to get home for the past 582 days - obsessively. Dreaming, hoping and meticulously planning this exact moment. From the very second that the Weld County judge's heavy hammer fell and sentenced me to 5 years of incarceration - this is the only thought that ever mattered.

This past week has been full of endless amounts of reflection. One of my biggest fears is that I haven't learned everything that I needed to from this experience... Am I a better person because of this experience? Did I learn what I was supposed to learn? Did I help those that I was supposed to help? Did I recognize those that were sent to help me? Was I strong enough? What permanent damage have I caused? What did I handle correctly? What could I have handled better? What does the future hold? Will things ever go back to the way they were before? The more I try and think through the answers to my questions, the more I am reminded that life doesn't always manifest itself in a clear-cut, black and white manner. The truth is that there is only person who can answer all the questions - and by design, he keeps life mysterious, trying and unpredictable. 

There are parts of me that are forever changed. Training to become and eventually becoming a certified wildland firefighter (while incarcerated) was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Just the past week a fire broke out just a few miles from my house here in Denver. It was scarily close to some very good friends' homes and every part of me wanted to go up and fight on that fire. The brotherhood that was built with some of the guys that I fought fires with will last forever. There are relationships that I will always have that came out of my time in prison. I learned what great people there are in this world - who have been born into terrible circumstances that never allowed them escape. There are truly some inspiring people who reside behind bars of steel and walls of concrete - people who have made it further in life than many of us ever could have (given where they started). I am convinced that when we finally stand before our maker we will be judged not only on where we ended up - but on how far we came. 

While incarcerated I read about a Japanese philosophy known as "Mono No Aware". While its extremely difficult to translate, the easiest explanation of the concept is "the awareness of the impermanence of almost everything in this life". Life itself is impermanent and there is tremendous sadness in knowing that everything we touch, see and feel comes to an end. However, the Japanese looked at things in such a way that they appreciated things that were short-lived - grateful to having been witness to the dazzling miracle of life - knowing that none of it can last. The best description I read was-" The pre-eminent symbol of mono no aware is the cherry blossom, whose fragile efflorescence captivates our attention so briefly during the first bloom of spring. Crucially, our appreciation of its beauty is heightened  by our awareness of its transiency, in a way that would be missing if its delicate blossoms were a permanent feature of our landscape". Never have I been more aware of the fleeting nature of everything - incarceration has a way of teaching you about all you take for granted. I come out of this period of my life knowing that so many things are temporary. Our beautiful kids are growing up so fast, Sallie and I are starting feel the creep of age. Our parents and grandparents are approaching the ages of mortality. But instead of being overly saddened by this- I choose to be grateful that I get to enjoy to the transient beauty of  this life and everything in it.

The hero of this entire journey is my wife Sallie. I will never know anyone stronger, more supporting, loving or loyal than my amazing wife. The way that she stood by me, never played the victim, continued raising our kids, fought and fought and fought more...she is extraordinary. Whether she was lobbying the judge for mercy, calling various departments to understand the process, hand delivering my letters of support, or sweet-talking community boards on my behalf - she never backed down. I don't have enough command of the English language to properly capture in words how much she means to me. I was told by someone (whom I admire greatly) that Sallie would be the greatest blessing I would ever receive. In every way, shape and form this has manifest itself. While I was in prison, every weekend that I was not out fighting on a fire, Sallie was there to visit me. Sallie and I would have exactly 5 hours to sit and talk with each other. In so many ways, I feel like our relationship grew exponentially during those visits. There were no life distractions, no noise, just us...surrounded by mountains. Sallie's visits are a classic example of mono no aware. From the moment she arrived to see me I was already dreading her leaving...but the fact that our time with each other was so limited...made our time together that much more meaningful. I hope that she and I will still find time to sit and talk - reminiscing about the times that we would have given anything for one more precious moment together. 

As my truck crosses state lines, Colorado to Wyoming, Wyoming to Utah, I can't help but think to myself that the journey I'm now driving is not proverbially unlike the one I have just finished. Full of peaks, valleys, and long stretches of seemingly endless horizon...at times overwhelmingly hopeless and other times indescribably miraculous. The closer I get to my destination, the further the sun sets below the horizon -a physical manifestation, I hope, that this chapter of our life is also coming to a close.

As the sun does finally does disappear behind the majestic Wasatch Mountains, I'm so close to home that I can barely keep it all in. The moon takes its place in the night sky - albeit dimly; it's a dark moon night. The presence of the reflective rock in the sky floods my mind with memories of the many nights I spent this past year sleeping under the stars while I was out fighting forest fires. I'd lay awake for hours dreaming about what it would be like to be with Sallie and the kids...wondering on those nights if, just maybe, they were also looking up at those same celestial wonders - longing to be with me.

There is only one big canyon left before I reach my endgame. For so long I've imagined this moment. I'm so caught up in reflection that I have to slow my truck down just to take it all in. I turn the air conditioning off, silence my playlist, roll the windows down and let the cool night air travel across my face. Air, that until I was locked in a cell for endless days and nights... I'd never even considered appreciating. Air that smells, tastes and feels like only freedom can. Air that will never be taken for granted again.

The sudden movement of a doe and her fawn, just beyond my headlights ahead, reminds me that I am completely surrounded by wildlife. Encouraged by the protective twilight, the herds of deer and elk have started their nocturnal ritual out to find food. The knee-high grasses of the hills are as lush and green as I can ever remember them. It's still summer in the familiar canyon but somewhere inside of me, an instinct, learned from a childhood spent exploring these mountains, tells me there is a hint of autumn in the leaves of the trees - my favorite season approaches.  

As I steer my way down the serpentine canyon and around the last couple winding bends of the silent darkness, I am overcome with emotions of gratitude. I think back over the past 4 years and can't believe we actually survived. The weight of the world seemed to have fallen on our little family and although we bent...we did not break. So many people rallied around us, loved us, supported us...saved us. I bow my head slightly, and in reverence, turn my tear-filled eyes towards the heavens. There are a lot of things that I need to say, but the hint of salt from my uncontrolled tears has reached the corners of my mouth and the only words my emotions will allow are, "God, thank you".

By now the darkness of the canyon is starting to give way to the man-made glow of the secluded valley ahead. As I round the final corner, the brilliant, small-town lights of Cache Valley are suddenly before me. I pick a light, one that I know is somewhere close to where my new home is. Somewhere down there Sallie and the kids are waiting for this new chapter of our life to begin. So long I have dreamed of this moment and now it is here... 582 days have passed since I last felt the grace of freedom, heard my kids' footsteps dance across wood floors, slept in my own bed...my dream is finally a reality... and I can't help but whisper to myself, "It is over...I am HOME". 

Enduring to the End

The Colorado Department of Corrections is kind enough to post dates online that correspond with major milestones in your incarceration adventure. The date that I have been most interested in is my Parole Eligibility Date. That's the date that I'm eligible for parole - essentially the date that my incarceration period will end. Hypothetically, this date is supposed to move back 10 days per month due to the "good time" that you are able to earn in Colorado. But for some reason, my date has swung wildly over the past couple of months and has varied from August 17, 2019 to September 11, 2019. As it stands right now, it reads August 17, 2019 - but I have been given no notifications from the State of Colorado that this is when I can move back to Utah. The unknowns and lack of communication is something that I have come to accept as being a part of my sentence - maybe the worst part. Sallie has been amazing (as usual) at bird-dogging the entire process and this week I was officially approved to move back to Utah - we just don't know when. Endure to the end - whenever that end may be.

As my time here in Colorado appears to be coming to an end, I've had the opportunity to sit and visit with so many friends, both new and old, to discuss the journey that has been the last couple of years. It's been overwhelming at times to sit with so many different people and realize how much love has been given to our family through this ridiculously difficult time. Under normal circumstances it takes a village to raise a family but in extreme circumstances (like these have been) it has taken a mega-city. I'll never be able to properly communicate the gratitude that Sallie and I have for everything that so many of you have done for us. So many of you stepped up and filled gaps in our lives that otherwise could have had a deep and lasting impact on our family. Uncles, Aunts, Grandpas, Grandmas, Friends and Neighbors all took on a role of Father. Thank you so much - not just the big things but the small things too made a huge difference in our lives. 

As it turns out, this whole ordeal wasn't for everyone, there are those who will have nothing to do with us and for that we are heartbroken.  You never know what people are going through, the tough part about life is that you don't know what you don't know. I know that we did the best we could - that's all you can do in these life circumstances - self-inflicted or not. One thing that I do takeaway from this experience is that it takes exponentially more energy and effort to hold grudges and hate towards people, companies, etc... I spent the first couple months of incarceration mad at the world (mainly at myself).  Once that anger took hold of my soul, it was an all-consuming wildfire. It spilled into other parts of my life and made me more and more miserable. It wasn't until I was finally able to let that stuff go - in my case, by turning it over to the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ - that I was able to start the the healing process (albeit while surrounded by prison walls). As the great Martin Luther King Jr. said, “I have decided to stick to love...Hate is too great a burden to bear.” 

I'm hoping that my next post will be done from the confines of my own house, beside my family - maybe even from a laptop that I'm writing on while laying in my own bed. Dream a little dream...

The Anxiety of The System

This probably goes without saying, but being a prisoner is stressful - very stressful. When I was actually behind bars, there were the constant worries of wrongful encounters that ended up with me being shanked in the neck with a filed down toothbrush, the unknowns of when I would eventually be getting out, the sleepless nights wondering how your family was doing - wondering whether Sallie would stay true to her word and if Hugh Jackman showed up at my house was she really going to leave with him? And this past month, finding out just how stressful it can be to have a drug test go poorly.

As a requirement of my current situation, I have two major phone calls to make each day. One is a check-in of sorts with the Department of Corrections. It's an automated system called CWISE where I confirm that I am still employed, still at my current address and that I haven't been arrested. I am assigned a parole officer and if he ever has a message for me, he utilizes this system. The other call I have to make each morning is to see if I have been selected for a random drug test. I am on the lowest risk schedule and so I am only randomly selected once a month. These drug tests are extremely important because it is one of the ways that the Colorado Department of Corrections gauges your readiness for being out of prison - keeping in my mind that at any time, for any violation, I can be sent back to prison.

On this particular morning, I left my home and started to make my routine call-ins. One of my best friends Bevin was in town and we were headed to a golf tournament for work. I made my call to CWISE and instead of it going to the automated system, I was pushed through to an operator. As the system goes, you are only pushed through to operators for really good news OR really bad news. This particular morning I was pushed through to the operator for REALLY GOOD NEWS. She answered and said, Mr. Stephens, the parole board would like you to know that you have been approved for parole (without having to go before the board). I had been scheduled to go and see the board the following week so to get approved without having to go through that ordeal was a godsend. Bevin and I were both celebrating in my truck like we had just won the Superbowl - because we kind of had. I immediately started calling people to let them in on the good news - Sallie, the kids, more family, friends...I finally knew that I had a date for this whole adventure to come to a close! By the time I had finished making all of my announcement calls, we had arrived at the golf course and we spent an awesome day golfing.

Fast forward three days and I was once again making my routine morning call-ins. Once again, as I was working my way through the automated CWISE system, I was pushed to an operator. My heart rate always bumps up every time I'm connected with a live operator and so I braced myself for either really good news or really bad news. I figured it was more good news - I've got to be the most boring, compliant prisoner in the system. My days consist of working out, working, eating and sleeping - nothing more. But as I was connected to the operator, and I heard the message being passed on to me, my heart rate jumped to 170 beats a minute - it was REALLY BAD NEWS. "Inmate Stephens, you missed a scheduled drug test, you are currently non-compliant". My mind immediately began racing a million miles a second, racking my brain for how I could have possibly missed a drug test? And then she told me the date - last Friday - the same date that I had been told the great news about my parole date being approved. How could I have missed my drug test? And the more I thought through it, the more apparent it became that in the chaos of excitement of being told the good news, I had failed to call the drug test hotline, and as luck would have it, that was the one day in the month that I had been randomly selected drug test.

The mind games and stresses that ensue after a situation like this are nearly indescribable. I was sure that helicopters and the SWAT Team would be swooping in any second to haul me back to prison. It was an absolutely terrible feeling. I was immediately ordered by my parole officer to head straight to the nearest drug testing office - and rightfully so. From his perspective, any missed drug test probably needs to be viewed as someone purposely trying to skirt the test. I immediately drove to the nearest office, took care of the test and headed to work. Once I got to work, I sent my parole officer an email apologizing for the missed test. I didn't hear back from him but I was meeting with him 2 days later so I figured we would discuss it then.

The following morning I woke up with a huge pit in my stomach - I felt so stupid about having missed my test. And I was so worried about how it might affect my freedom. On my way to the gym I made my call-ins again. Imagine my surprise when instead of going through the automated system, I was once again sent to an operator. I wasn't terribly surprised because I had sent my parole officer the email and I thought he was simply responding to me through the system. However as the operator began to relay the message to me, my heart nearly started beating out of my chest - more REALLY BAD NEWS. "Inmate Stephens, you have tested positive for alcohol and are currently non-compliant". I was blown away - to the point where I talked back to the operator and said, "that's ridiculous, I've never drank alcohol in my entire life" - a line that I'm sure caused her to roll her eyes on the either side of the phone. As an parolee you are not allowed to consume ANY alcohol - something that I was obviously very aware of. I was absolutely devastated. Imagine my predicament. I had missed a drug test and then the subsequent drug test had come back positive for alcohol. I can imagine that in almost any other situation, you may have some credibility for arguing such a result but not as a prisoner - not as someone who has spent the last 18 months incarcerated. I was so confused. I immediately started retracing my last couple of days for ANYTHING that could have resulted in a false-positive. There was nothing. I considered my cologne, after-shave, ANYTHING that could have had an alcohol base in it that could have been on my hands. I did a quick online check for anything that I could have eaten or drank that could cause the false-positive. NOTHING. I was now certain I would be going back to prison. I immediately emailed my parole officer and told him that the drug test result had to be wrong. "I've never drank a drop of alcohol in my life",  I desperately wrote in the body of the email. No matter how well-written or desperate the email seemed, I knew that there was no hope - no way that he'd believe me. I'm sure he'd heard the exact story thousands of times. I was lost - after everything, for this to happen was inexcusable.

I never got a return email from my parole officer but I was meeting with him the following day so I figured that's where we'd discuss what the next steps were. The entire drive down to his office I kept going over in my head what may be in store for me - I was pretty much convinced they'd cuff me up and haul me back to prison as soon as I arrived at his office. After arriving at the office and exchanging formalities, he told me how concerned he was that I had not only missed a drug test but hand subsequently failed the next one. I desperately explained to him that I had indeed dropped the ball on the missed drug test but that the positive test for alcohol was simply wrong. I tried to deliver the message with power and conviction so that he'd believe me but as I watched his eyes and face I could tell he'd heard the same story before - he was not convinced and could not be convinced, no matter how long I continued to ramble. He told me that he'd had plenty of inmates have a casual beer for lunch - forgetting that they weren't allowed to. He said, "if that's what happened, just admit and it and we'll move on with a plan". I explained to him that that's not at all what happened - I haven't had ANYTHING to drink - not just since being incarcerated - but NEVER - in my entire life. At that point, I did see an opening is his eyes that made me think there was possibly a way out. He told me that he would have the sample tested more thoroughly - a 2nd test, but if they came back positive, his options would be pretty limited on a path forward. I told him that we had to get it retested - it was the only option we had.

The next 5 days of waiting were so filled with anxiety that there are not words adequate to describe how I felt. Every single minute of every one of those days was spent wondering what the outcome would be if the test came back positive again. I had no recourse, no proof, no credibility to fight the results once they came back a 2nd time. My parole officer told me that in his many years of law enforcement he had rarely seen a false-positive for alcohol - not reassuring by any stretch of the imagination.

They may have been the longest 5 days of my life but eventually the results did come back - NEGATIVE. No explanation for why the 1st test came back the way it did - but I had successfully been cleared of any suspicion of drinking while on parole.

So August 29 remains my release date back to my family in Utah...let us pray that the system has no more surprises for me.




Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Felon, 416 Fire, Silver Creek Fire, Spring Fire, Cabin Lake Fire, 

My Cup Runneth Over

I will never forget my first couple of days in prison. The sights, smells, sounds, faces...everything is permanently etched on my mind like it was inscribed there for me to  read and relive at any time. Those were dark days - endless hours of fear, despair, hopelessness and worry. I was locked in an 8'x12' cell for 23 hours a day. I was not allowed to use the phone, write letters...I had no way of communicating with the mortal people that meant everything to me. I felt that everything that I had built in my life was gone.  It's in situations like this where you've got to be grateful that you believe in a God - because for hours upon hours it was just him...and me. Admittedly, my monologue with my maker wasn't always respectful. There were a lot of questions that I felt like I needed answers to. I felt confused, let down, abandoned. And yet no matter how hard I pleaded, yelled, cried, whispered or demanded - it was clear, the time frame for answers wasn't controlled by my will - the time frames were all his - and that was unacceptable to me. One night, after days of frustration, I was completely ready to abandon all faith and accept the darkness of my cell. And just when I had reached the breaking point, small whispers from heaven started to trickle down - but from the unlikeliest of places.

Two cells down from me in Cell 301 was an old Hispanic man, covered from head to toe in tattoos, named Victor Ramirez. Every night, when the guards would turn the lights out, he would stand up in his cell and yell, "My name is Victor Ramirez, and the Lord  requires that I share Bible verses with you tonight." And then he would proceed to recite verses as loud as he could. Up until that night, I never paid attention to anything Victor was yelling - he just seemed like an old crazy man who'd been locked up for too long. But that night, the night that I was resigned to no longer believe, Victor's words found their mark.

In a loud, rhythmic chant his accented voice blurted out Psalms 23 -

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

King David's words, ones that I had heard thousands of times before, were finally significant to me. Finally, I was walking through the proverbial valley of the shadow of death and only a few short days into my journey, I was ready to give up. When Victor got to those words in Verse 5 "my cup runneth over", it all came flooding back to me. An idea - an idea that I had once been taught and had even taught to others - that my current circumstances had caused me to forget. I had been so focused on what I had lost - that I hadn't even considered what I still had. And as I laid there and listened to Victor recite more and more of David's words - my mental list of what I still had, began to dwarf the list of what I had lost - and for the first time since I had been locked away - my cold, dark cell was filled with the light of God - and I finally started to understand...

I'll always remember that night because it's the night that I knew that I had to start writing a blog - this blog. Ironically enough, a couple days later, when Sallie and I were able to talk on the phone, she'd had the same idea - I'm sure from the same source. In the beginning, we figured the blog was all about logistics. The sheer amount of letters and people that we needed to get the word out to was overwhelming. The blog would help minimize the unanswered questions that so many of our friends and family had. As months have turned to years, the blog has turned out to be an incredible journalistic reminder of the journey. Sallie and I will often go back and read posts to remind ourselves that all tough things do pass - no matter how hard they seem in the moment.

This blog has also brought something else into our lives - something completely unexpected. Believe it or not, there is very little information available to families whose loved ones are sentenced to prison - at least in Colorado. Prison just isn't a situation where there is some huge societal effort to develop outreach programs, brochures, etc. Bestsellers - What to Expect When You're Expecting - Yes, What to Expect When You're Going To Prison - not so much. Sallie and I know this first hand because the lack of information lead us to being very poorly prepared for me to go to prison.

I'm no web expert so I don't know how to explain it, but in Colorado, when people search for information about prison - Google's algorithms link many people to my blog. Keywords, page views...I'm not sure. But this has resulted in Sallie and I being contacted by family after family about helping them and their loved ones know what to expect. At least every week, sometimes every day, someone reaches out to us asking if we can help them. Help them understand, help them cope, help them regain hope. Sallie and I have shared countless phone calls, hundreds of texts and emails and some very special moments with many of these families. Each time we meet a new person or family, we are reminded of some of those dark times that we've had. But it has been one of the great privileges  blessings of our life to help and love these people - to shed tears with them - to add light back to their lives. In so many ways, it has made our experience that much more meaningful - it has been one of the most beautiful miracles of our life.

I think back to my friend Victor who yelled out Bible verses every single night.  As it turns out, Victor has had a lot of influence on a lot of people. I wish I could find him, thank him, hug him..I don't think that I'll ever see Victor again - at least not in this life. But let this be an open letter of gratitude to Victor - Thank You Victor. Thank you for helping me walk through the valley of the shadow of death that dark night in my cell...my cup runneth over.

Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Felon, 416 Fire, Silver Creek Fire, Spring Fire, Cabin Lake Fire, 

The Bachelor Life

As we approach fire season here again in Colorado, I find myself thinking back to all the crazy experiences that I had fighting fires as an inmate firefighter. Wildland Firefighters work extremely long and hard hours - with very little sleep. One thing that I will always be grateful for was the cold mountain nights where I was able to sleep out under the stars. I never fully appreciated the beauty of the night sky and all of its wonders until it was taken from me - admittedly through faults of my own.

But on those cold summer nights, high in the mountains, I'd lay on my back and dream. Dream about my family, dream about the future - dream about freedom. It was always hard to fall asleep after spending all day fighting fires. I don't know if it was the adrenaline wearing off or the feeling of being too exhausted to fall asleep, but I had plenty of time to dream deep into the night. Sometimes dreaming rewarded me with sleep - other times  it conjured up feelings of guilt and I was left fighting back tears of frustration and despair over being so far away from the life that I once knew. During the good dreams - I'd imagine the times when I'd be back living under the same roof as my beautiful wife Sallie and our kids. I imagined family dinners again, watching movies together and good old-fashioned date night. 

Never once, even when some of those dreams turned nightmarish, did I imagine that I would ever be living back in my old neighborhood, with all the familiar sights, sounds, smells and habits - in someone else's house - as a bachelor. I digress by using the word "bachelor" because I'm obviously still very happily married (and I believe Sallie is too) we just don't live together. There was a time in my life, many years ago, where the idea of living by myself in a house with my own bed, food, TV, room, etc... seemed like heaven. It is, in fact, Hell. 

I'm once again reminded that at every twist and turn in my whole prison experience there is something to be learned and appreciated. I miss everything about living with other humans - especially humans that you love. My "bachelors pad" is so quiet when I get home. To the point where I hate leaving work because I know that an empty house awaits. I miss the sounds of life - even the ones that I didn't think I liked. The kids fighting, the TV too loud, doors slamming, babies crying, feet stomping across a wooden floor, an attempted piano practice, balls bouncing - they are all sounds that I took for granted. Sounds that somewhere in my subconscious mind reassured me that I was a part of something greater than myself. The silence of a house devoid of life is deafening. And the things I'd love to see - homework projects strewn all over the tables and floors, dirty dishes, laundry, punk teenage boys stopping by to pick up my girls, bills stacked up on the counter - all tell-tale signs of LIFE - signs of GOOD LIFE. If you're reading this - take a minute and LIVE vicariously through me - don't just appreciate everything that is perfect in your life - appreciate the imperfection that is all around you, the little things that bug you - you'd be amazed at just how much you miss them when they're gone.      

One of the conditions of me living "out in the community" is to wear an ankle monitor. It's an entirely ridiculous phenomenon to have something strapped around your ankle at all times. I have definitely gotten used to the feeling of having it on but have not gotten used to the optics. Fortunately, for the past 10 years my work shoes have been cowboy boots so they cover up the device quite nicely. But the 1.5 hours each day that I spend at the gym are where I am on full display.  For the first few days, I was extremely self-conscious about it. I went to pretty great lengths to pretend it was something other than what it was - I would periodically bend down and set my watch next to it like I was trying to sync them together (it's an experimental FitBit I'll tell them), I researched diabetes so that I could "talk the talk" when I told people it was a cutting-edge glucose monitor, I considered talking into it (or towards it) to make it seem like the newest wearable Apple product (iAnkle possibly) but my flexibility wasn't sufficient to make it seem feasible to talk into... so in the end, I pull my black sock over it, do my workout and just don't care what people think it is. We can call it iFelon for all I care, it's a scarlet letter of sorts - and I'm OK with that because it means I'm one step closer to the end. 

 I really am so grateful to be where I am at. I am constantly reminding myself that there were times over the past year and a half where I wasn't allowed to go outside and look at the night sky. My heart is full of gratitude for everything that God has done for me - despite my shortcomings. So many miracles have happened over the past 18 months. 

And as it goes..."Gratitude turns what we have into enough."  

Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Felon, 416 Fire, Silver Creek Fire, Spring Fire, Cabin Lake Fire, 

Patience: A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue...

Knowing that I had been fully approved by the Arapahoe County Community Board to be released to move home and live with my family (after 16 months apart) was such an amazing feeling. Although we had been living a halfway together life for 7 months, I was so ready to sleep in my own bed...with my wife.

I met with my case manager a few days after the meeting and was fully expecting her to tell me that I could leave the halfway house any hour. But she informed me that upon approval by the community board, there was still a lengthy process for getting me moved through the system - government bureaucracy at its finest. When I asked her how long she thought it would be, her response was a breath-taker, "4-6 weeks". I called Sallie and broke the news to her - even though I had been approved, we still had to wait for the paperwork to be processed - we had to wait for the government to do their thing.

Normally, Sallie and I wouldn't have been too worried about waiting a little longer to bring the family back together but we were up against a deadline - Sallie and the kids were moving back to Logan, Utah.

Long before I was sentenced to prison, my business partners and I had decided that we wanted to move our company (Spartan) headquarters back to Logan. We recruit a lot of engineering  and construction management majors out of the Utah and Idaho schools and Logan offered a central location for that. We also all have family ties back to the area and after living away from family for so long, we were all ready to live back closer. Fortunately, Spartan is now at a point where we are all comfortable moving the operation back there. Once we knew that I was getting out of prison, Sallie and I started contemplating selling our house and were eventually approached by some good friends about buying it. In turn, we bought a house in Hyde Park, Utah from some good friends and the trifecta real-estate deal was done. We pushed off moving out of the house in Colorado as long as possible but ultimately, our new buyers needed to move in and our kids were anxious to start our new lives in Utah. So we set a moving date of May 5.


I was approved to move home on April 11 so we figured that I would get some amount of time at home before everyone moved. As a matter of reference - I will not be able to leave the State until early September (assuming that I am granted parole in June).  Anyone that is sentenced to prison will have a period of time after their sentence is over called "parole". Parole is a time where you are still monitored by the state but  are free to live a pretty normal life. I will see the parole board in June and they will determine if I am rehabilitated enough to be released from the Colorado Department of Corrections. Going before the parole board is one of the most dramatized events in movies involving prison. When I think of the parole board, the most classic movie scene that comes to mind is Morgan Freeman in The Shawshank Redemption -



Parole Board : Ellis Boyd Redding, your files say you've served 40 years of a life sentence. Do you feel you've been rehabilitated?

Red : Rehabilitated? Well, now let me see. You know, I don't have any idea what that means.

Parole Board Man : Well, it means that you're ready to rejoin society...

Red : I know what you think it means, sonny. To me, it's just a made up word. A politician's word, so young fellas like yourself can wear a suit and a tie, and have a job. What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for what I did?

Parole Board: Well, are you?

Red : There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try to talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone, and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It's just a bulls**t word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a s**t.

Movie Excerpt  - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5wHe-B7JJ4


As much as I love everything about Morgan Freeman's response, I'm thinking that's not the way I'll respond to my parole questions. Anyways, I digress - even if the Parole Board approves my parole, I'm not going to be leaving the state before September 4.
So...after weeks of waiting for the Department of Corrections to release me from the halfway house, they finally gave me a date where I could move back home - May 6 - one day after Sallie and the kids left. It was totally disheartening - my bed, that I had been dreaming about sleeping in alongside of my beautiful bride, was on its way to Utah (with the girl and our kids) before I ever got a chance to sleep in it again.

So now, for the 2nd time in less than 18 months, I am living alone, miles away from my family. Fortunately, we have some amazing friends, who had an empty house (nor far from the one we just sold), that they are letting me live in. I did request that our dog Zeus get left behind to keep me from being too lonely.

So for the next 3 moths it's just me, a Canine Greek-God, an empty house and a lot of patience. But for the first time since this whole ordeal began, the end is in sight...yes, the end is in sight.


Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Centennial Community Transition Center 

Me and my daughter Elizabeth

Me and my daughter Navy




Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Felon, 416 Fire, Silver Creek Fire, Spring Fire, Cabin Lake Fire, 

So close, Yet so far...

Three weeks ago, I sat down for my weekly meeting with my Case Manager at the halfway house for our weekly meeting. The case managers use these weekly meetings to gather information on how residents are doing with their employment, finances and social behaviors - for so many people the transition back from prison to life is a HUGE undertaking - and these meetings allow the halfway houses to gauge inmate readiness for full release back into the community. My case manager is a sweet, kind, Chilean, middle-aged woman who has been very helpful and accommodating during my time at the halfway house. As I sat down to begin our meeting, she was broadly smiling and I sensed that she had something to tell me. "Mr. Stephens, you have been selected to go before the Community Board for release from the halfway house". It was kind of cute just how excited she was to tell me the great news - she knew that I had been waiting 6+ months for those words to come out of her mouth, and here we finally were.

In Colorado, when you have completed the programs associated with the halfway house, show stability in your employment and finances and have non-violent crimes, you can transition to "ISP or Intense Supervision" which is a dramatic way of saying that you can move home, live with your family but must wear an ankle monitor. It's something that Colorado has gotten right with their criminal justice system - inmates who earn the right to be back in society sooner than their sentences indicate are given the opportunity to do so.

So, a few short days later, Sallie and I drove to the building where the Community Board meets. Although you are not given the opportunity to speak at the meeting, you are asked to be there in case the Board has any questions. The Board consists of judges, attorneys, businessmen and other community reps that can hopefully provide an objective decision on inmate readiness. I dressed how I would for any business meeting (jeans and a sport coat) so I didn't think I was trying to hard to impress - but it was funny to Sallie and I because when I first arrived some of the board members thought that I was one of the new members of the board and asked me to sit at the conference table (they were expecting a couple new members that hadn't been introduced yet). I quickly informed them that I was "Candidate A", they all awkwardly went back to reading their dossiers and Sallie and I diverted from the invitation to sit at the table and instead sat down on the aisle of shame.

Sallie is actually quite familiar with some of the members of the board and the approval process because of her tireless efforts lobbying to get me moved from prison into the halfway house. She was relentless in calling, emailing and visiting the board - just trying to get me closer to her and the kids. Of course, unlike Washington, lobbying the Department of Corrections is an exercise in futility, but Sallie was relentless and unwavering - and I can't help but think that at some point the board thought, "she could probably manage this guy better than us"... and gave in. (This community board is the same one that decides if inmate candidates are eligible to transition from prison to the halfway house, and just 7 months earlier, this board had approved me to be released from Rifle Correction Center (Prison) to the Centennial Community Transition Center (Halfway House)).

As the meeting was called to attention, I found myself going over different inspiring one liners that I was ready to spew out to show my readiness to move home. I even considered just invoking my inner-Mel Gibson ala Braveheart and just looking them all in the eye and yelling, "FREEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!" but as it turns out, none of my cheesy, inspiring speeches were required. The meeting opened, they presented my file, asked for a vote and just like that, unanimously, the 12 members of the Arapahoe Community Board voted for me to be released to my family. It had been 16 months since I had first entered prison, 16 months since I had slept on a real mattress, not worried about missing a check-in, not worried that a poppy-seed muffin could cause a failed drug test...After 16 months of dreaming of spending the night in my own bed, it was finally within reach.

But little did we know, father time had another trick up his sleeve - and despite our excitement coming out of that meeting, spending that night in my own bed with my beautiful wife was not nearly as close as we thought...


Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Centennial Community Transition Center 

The Cascade Effect of Bad Decisions

Well...I indicated in my last post that one of my goals was to write on the blog more often. It's been almost 2 months, so... FAIL!

From an update standpoint, I am so close to being able to move out of the halfway house and be back home with Sallie and the kids. I am completely done with the "program" part of the halfway house. Now, it is just a waiting game to get approved by the community board to move back in with Sallie and the kids - the process can take anywhere from 1 week to 2 months (kind of like the Cable Repair Guy schedule from Hell). It's interesting how our human minds work. We tell ourselves how grateful we'd be if <insert wish here> and a lot of the time, our wish comes true. And then once our onetime wish is our new reality, we're no longer fulfilled with it, so we want  <insert new wish here>. I can remember some of those first nights in prison where all I wanted was to be able to go outside, look at the sky and breathe fresh air. I can remember nights up camping on fires this past summer where I'd look up at the stars and just dream of being able to see that same sky with my family...And so I'm constantly reminding myself to keep the right perspective - that as bad as I hate waiting to move back permanently with my family, I'm OK with my current circumstances - at one time, I would have given anything to have my current setup.

Sallie and I often admit to each other that we can literally feel the darkness that has encompassed our lives over the past 3 years lifting and leaving. All of the fear, doubt and anxiety that comes with the unknowns, unexpect-eds and unfamiliars has been replaced by the faith and hope that comes with the knowns, expect-eds and familiars. We are reestablishing, rebuilding and restoring everything that my poor choices destroyed. It's not easy - but it is incredibly satisfying to be moving forward along the path of life again.

As I've gradually transitioned back into my former life, there are some things that are incredibly painful to face. One of the unintended consequences of this whole situation is the cascade effect that my bad decisions have had on so many of the people in my life. I think that one of the biggest lies that we tell ourselves, whenever we make poor choices (sin), is that those choices don't cause any harm to anyone but ourselves - and there are even times where we convince ourselves that those bad choices don't even harm ourselves.

One thing that has become apparent to me as I've started to rebuild and repair relationships is just how damaging this whole situation was on so many people in my life. Everyone from my wife, kids, extended family, friends, former teammates, business associates, employees were put into a situation by me where they had to try and reconcile who I really was - was the Brandon that they "thought" they knew really the Brandon that I was? The media's involvement further complicated the entire situation and put so many people in the awkward situation of having to defend or explain what was going on. As I've talked to so many of you and others about this whole situation, it has become apparent just how difficult of a situation I put so many people in. The tough discussions, questions, conversations etc. that came with all of this were difficult, at best, and at worst, damaging nearly beyond repair. This situation has consumed massive amounts of resources from our friends and families - time, money, sleepless nights, the list could go on and on... Former employees who used to work for me at Wood Group, were blackballed and shunned - simply because of their association with me. My kids were made fun of, ridiculed and harassed about their Dad - the prisoner. I've digressed somewhat into negativity here - but please understand, that's not my intention at all. I just want to make sure that I properly acknowledge what I now know - that the cascade effect of my bad decisions was beyond anything that I ever could have imagined - or wished on my worst enemies. The consequences of my self-serving bad decisions were only ever supposed to hurt me - never those who I love and associate with.

For this and everything else, I want to send an open apology to anyone and everyone who was hurt by my bad decisions - I am sorry. I've had the chance to tell a lot of different people that I'm sorry - but I understand that there are many people who I may no longer associate with or have contact with who I haven't been able to reach. And there are a great deal more people who are too nice to ever let me know just how much this situation has impacted you. Once again I'm sorry - I screwed up, I really did. And I'm fully aware that there are things that have happened that cannot be reversed - for that my soul aches.

I love reading C.S. Lewis and I love his quotes. Two of my favorites are-

"There are far better things ahead, than any we leave behind"

"You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending"

I've spent way too many hours daydreaming about being able to go back in time and smack myself upside the head and ask, "Do you really know what you are doing? Do you know who you'll end up hurting?" But countless unanswered prayers for time travel tell me that there is no going back. So as C.S. Lewis says - I'll start where I am and work towards changing the ending.

I hope that those of you who I've inadvertently dragged into my adventure can forgive me. I never thought that this would end up where it has ended up. All I can tell you is that I am truly sorry... and there are far better things ahead, than any we leave behind.

Love you all-

Brandon


Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Centennial Community Transition Center

13 Months A Prisoner

Despite everything that has happened the past 3 years, it's sometimes really hard to wrap my mind around the fact that it all actually happened. I'm sure that there is some natural survival mechanism in our brains that takes traumatic experiences, files them in a folder somewhere on our cranial hard drive and then selects "hide folder". Sallie and I have at least one conversation a day where we both agree that everything that has happened doesn't seem real. And I assure her that if any of this starts to seem too much like a dream or a nightmare, I could just miss one of my check-ins with the halfway house and everything would get "real"...real quick!

The truth is that even though our life is not completely back to normal, we are so grateful where we find ourselves. I've gotten into a pretty good rhythm for living sleeping at the halfway house. I really am only there to sleep. I am either at work or my house from 6 am - 10 pm all day, everyday. I'm currently a Level 3 resident (out of 4 Levels). With each level I earn more privileges - I am now up to having 30 hours of "free time (time outside of work)" each week. That's almost as much (if not more) than I ever had as a free man. I've been able to go to church each week with my family and I've never appreciated church more - almost enough to wish that we could go for 3 hours again.

The staff at Centennial Community Transition Center (the official name of the halfway house) is very nice and my case manager has been very helpful in making sure I'm progressing through the program. There are some very basic requirements that allow you to progress through the program (or matrix as they call it)-

1. Maintain Employment
2. Pay Rent
3. Complete your essays (weekly requirement)
4. Stay Drug Free
5. Do your chores
6. No write-ups

So it's not like they're requiring a lot from people - but you'd never believe how hard it is for so many people to not check the boxes on these items. And I get it, anyone who has regularly read my blog knows, one of the takeaways from this whole experience for me is that life is harder for so many people than many of us would ever be able to imagine. The vast majority of us are people who have never had to consider trying to make ends meet on a minimum-wage job, homelessness or battling drug addiction. Take my word for it when I tell you that (for lack of a better phrase)- the struggle is real. So many of my fellow residents at the halfway house have good intentions - they just can't quite dig out of the hole that their life circumstances and decisions have dropped them in. 

For the duration of my time in the system, my circumstances have made me the "exception" and not the rule. This has been frustrating at times - abiding by the rules that are in place for EVERYONE at the halfway house seem ridiculous at times. I find myself wishing that the system had the ability to properly evaluate each person on an individual basis and custom-tailor a plan that meets their specific needs. But the resources to accomplish something like that would be tremendous and frankly, (we), the common tax-payer would not be willing to support such an undertaking. So, I've come to accept all of the extra restriction as just another part of my punishment for making some poor choices. 

As an example, I'll talk about the word "movement". Movement is one of those words that is used throughout the prison system. There is major differentiation between the security levels of prison and the allowed "movement" of prisoners. For example, in maximum level prisons, all movement is controlled. This means that the prison staff dictates when you are able to leave your cell and when you must return to your cell. Your cell door remains locked until you are able to move. In a minimum level facility, movement is not controlled as your doors are unlocked all of the time. You are just required to be back in your rooms for role-call at certain times during the day. 

In the halfway house, the Staff must be able to account for your whereabouts at all times. This is primarily done through a computer system that allows you to pre-schedule your whereabouts throughout the course of a day and checking-in with the computer whenever you are moving from place to place. They audit your whereabouts by calling designated people in your life (boss, wife, etc.) or by requiring you to show your GPS location via a phone app. If you are found to be "out of location" at any time during the day, it is a write-up. Depending on the severity of a write-up you are either regressed back to prison or stripped of privileges. While I completely understand the need for a system like this, it becomes extremely frustrating to adhere to. Here's an example of how a typical Sunday looks for me-

600 am -  Check out of the Facility (sign out via computer)

615 am -  6:45 am Travel to work

645 am -  Arrive at work (call the Halfway House and check-in)

1130 am - Leave work to go to Church (call Halfway House to notify about movement)

1200 pm - Arrive at Church (call Halfway House to notify about arrival, Also GPS snapshot                                  Halfway House)

200 pm -   Leave Church to go Home (call Halfway House to notify about movement)

230 pm -   Arrive at Home (call Halfway House to notify about arrival)

400 pm -   Halfway House calls Sallie to verify my location

900 pm -   Leave Home to go to Halfway House (call Halfway House to notify about movement)

1000 pm - Arrive at Halfway House (sign-in on computer that I have arrived back)

1000 pm - Halfway House options upon arrival (pat down, drug test, body search)

1030 pm - Go to bed

(If, at anytime you miss one of these check-ins it is an automatic write-up.)

So while I completely understand the logic behind all of the checking in, it becomes such a redundant task for someone in my situation. But having different requirements for different residents could be a slippery slope and there just aren't the resources to properly customize a plan for every single person and I get it.

As it stands now, I will be eligible to move home sometime in March. They haven't told me what their deciding criteria for actually letting me move home will be, and they have already told me that my situation is so unique that they may not have an answer for some time...

At the end of the day - things are going great. It is such a blessing to be back with family and friends and working again. I've been so busy getting transitioned back into life that I haven't made time to write on the blog like I should. So I've committed to writing more often - hopefully I'll make that happen. 

Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, District Attorney Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Felon, 416 Fire, Silver Creek Fire, Spring Fire, Cabin Lake Fire, SWIFT Run, 1.5 miles, Fire, Fighter, Brandon Stokey, Running for my life, Elder Gary Stevenson, Quorum of the Twelve, Apostles

ONE YEAR TODAY..

 I truly never thought I would ever be writing a 'one year today' for so many reasons. Truthfully, I didn't think I could make it through every holiday, milestone, and every lonely night. Somehow, here I am; I never dreamed on this day last year, Brandon would be here with me and our kids. 

I have had so many people ask how we did it, what we learned, any regrets, how we have changed. Simple questions with such complicated answers. I have many, many regrets but I have learned that any amount of growth comes with hindsight regrets. I had to will myself to get out of bed every morning. I had to tell myself it could be so much worse, I would look in the mirror while brushing my teeth telling myself that I can do this, I have to do this. I would meltdown in my closet or in the shower so my kids wouldn't see me. When I washed my face at night, I would cry because I made it through another day. 

I have thought about 2018 in so many different lights. I don't know if people who reached out to me, Brandon and the kids knew what it meant to us. I saw goodness in so many people, friends, family, people that I wasn't necessarily close too, some I didn't even know, friends of friends. It was extraordinary. My parents, they are the greatest and most Christ like people I know. They are such an example of what being a mom and dad is all about.

I had so many bad days but as I look back, there were so many good days. How dumb does that sound? I know it does but it is true. Maybe all the dark days made the good days all the brighter, what a blessing that is. Being able to look back and appreciate the truly good days has brought a perspective on life that I have never known.

Life can change in an instant and mine did. Although it's not completely behind us, it's getting close. My three girls and my  one boy have been my world, but now, I appreciate them on a level I never did before. They gave me so much hope and so much strength. Their unwavering faith and resilience is extraordinary. Kids have a pure love in them and it carries through in ways I never noticed until I desperately needed it. They loved me through my lowest days while loving me on my best. Never did I doubt myself when I was with them. I wholeheartedly believe as they get older, they will look back on this time in their lives and will draw from it and be an everlasting reminder that they can do hard things, because they did. What a gift that is and will be, they will be better people because of this. All Brandon and I have ever wanted for our kids is for them to be happy and better people than us, they have already surpassed both. 

I was so worried about Brandon. I worried if he would ever be the same. The jovial, confident, loving man that I have loved more than half my life. The funny thing about this whole situation, I doubted him and our kids and the strength they have. I thought I had to be strong for them, oh how arrogant I was.

 Brandon has become the best version of him I have every known. He's different in many ways, but not. I don't have the skill of writing it eloquently, I guess it's simply that he is all that he was before yet has this quiet humility of love and compassion in his countenance. Something you can't fake. I have seen him handle situations with dignity and humility, some have been really hard but in the end, he owns who he is and has a confidence in himself that comes from his heart instead of his head. I know that sounds so silly, maybe even dumb; it's the only way I can describe it. I love him more than I thought I did, I love him for enduring, accepting and embracing all he's gone through. He came home a better man than he was January 24, 2018 and although we are still far from perfect, we are better together than we were 365 days ago.

What have I learned in the last year? I have learned that love and forgiveness can lift the burdens that haunted me. The darkest of days could never overshadow the light that always peaked through. I learned there is always, always hope. Hope in prayer, even when it feels like no one is there. Hope is having faith despite our doubts.

I always think of the saying that it takes a thousand compliments to undo one criticism. I believe that, I also believe it takes a thousand prayers to undo one thought of hopelessness, despair or fear. I believe it because I lived it. I had to consciously focus on the light around me so I didn't get overwhelmed with all the darkness. 

If I can take one thing from 2018, it will be to be a light for someone, anyone. There is nothing darker than feeling alone. Everyone has trials, everyone has things they are ashamed of, embarrassed of, mistakes. Most of those, people will never know about, and some of them will be public. I'm not sure either is better than the other because it's terrible to go through things alone and it's terrible to go through things publicly. I will forever be in debt to those who brought light into my dark year. I will always try to be good to people because I know how much of a difference it make to me. 

I am so grateful to be able to write on this blog. I am so grateful for the lessons I have learned that I never wanted too. I am grateful for people believing in us, loving and supporting us without hesitation. Thank you to every one of you who have loved us on our ugliest days. I love that we have survived what I thought we couldn't; I am proud of our mistakes, our outwardly showing scars because they are daily reminders of all the happiness around me, how far we've come and how much I have to be grateful for. 

Rock Bottom...

 "And so rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life." This quote is from JK Rowling - the author of the Harry Potter book series. And I have come to appreciate this quote more than ever... It's an interesting idea - building a solid foundation on rock bottom. As it turns out, the idea holds up in real-life applications. My entire professional career has been in and around construction. And whenever we are required to build something that requires a strong foundation - we excavate the hole deep enough so that there is a solid rock bottom on which to build the foundation. If you fail to build on a solid rock foundation, the structure will settle, which will cause cracks in the foundation, which can cause the foundation to fail - and once a foundation fails, everything that is resting on it will come tumbling down. My rock bottom came 11 months ago on January 24, 2018 - the day that I was sentenced to 5 years in prison. I've included a picture of me from that awful winter day - a mugshot. I look at this picture and try and remember what was going through my mind as the guards pushed down the button on the camera. A lot of those days are all a blur to me, but I can remember thinking to myself..."all is lost". By the time this mugshot was taken, my plight through the criminal justice system was already a media favorite in Weld County, Colorado so this was this icing on the cake. For years, all through my football career, I had always benefited from the media. But now, at my rock bottom, I wasn't prepared to accept the seemingly unfair part of the gig - the part where they show up to publicly document your mistakes, weaknesses and ultimate demise - all to sell a story. It was the thought of being blasted across newspapers and the internet that really made me feel like "all was lost". I wish that I could go back to that cold, dreary January day and slap myself upside the head and say - "ALL is not LOST - ALL is about to be FOUND"...

After sitting in that cold, dark prison cell for that first week, small bits of hope started trickling in. Because I could not use the phone, hope trickled into the prison in the form of letters. The first was a letter from Sallie and the kids - telling me how much they loved me. Then more letters from family, friends - even strangers expressing their support for me and my family. Over the coming months, God rained down blessings on us - I made the firefighting team, Sallie and the kids received so much help from so many people, my business partners stood by me and as the apparent weight of the entire world bore down on us - we bent but we did not break.

One of the reasons that the Brandon in this picture thought that "all was lost" was my pursuit of what I call "perceived perfection". For a good portion of my adult life I've lived with the idea that I needed to portray some level of perfection to the world. And when I say "world", it's almost as if I'm referring to some imaginary, virtual group of people that are just at the fringe of my life but not at all a part of it. After all, I could never portray any level of perfection to those who really know me - those who are closest to me would be very aware of my imperfections - and love me in spite of them. But there was always this idea, however ridiculous it now sounds to me, that my success and ultimate worth in this life was somehow determined by my portrayal of perfection to this virtual group of people. And so when the day came that I lost my ability to control the message of perfection to the "fringe people", in my mind, all had been lost.

One thing that I will takeaway from this whole experience is the knowledge that there is tremendous power in our imperfections. In fact, in a lot of ways, our imperfections and shortcomings make up a huge part of who we are. The power comes from knowing, understanding and then fixing our weaknesses. Eleven months ago I would have considered such a notion ridiculous - but there is a part of me that now finds gratitude in the fact that I lived out the results of my mistakes in such a public fashion. JK Rowling thought the same thing when she said, "I was set free because my greatest fear had been realized".

I'll never be able to be one of those people who tells you that "I don't care what people think about me". The truth is, as it stands today, there are a lot of people who fit in that category. But it's an entirely different group than it was a year ago. I've given up on the "virtual" people - I don't know why those imaginary people ever mattered to me at all. The people whose opinion matters most to me are those that know me best - those that would have never demanded perfection from me to begin with - the people in this picture with me - including Zeus. We are so happy in this picture - but we're not happy all of the time. We argue, don't clean up our own messes, we fight, pee where we shouldn't (Jack & Zeus), some of us go to prison, spend too much time on our phones, complain about going to church, despise school, work too many hours, spend too much money, need fake eyelashes - the list goes on. In short, we are a family full of imperfections - but believe me when I say...that is perfectly OK.

And so rock bottom became the solid foundation upon which I built the rest of my life..












Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

It has been 313 days since Brandon's sentencing was handed down. I have never had an experience with criminal court, or civil for that matter. I have always believed in our legal system and I still do for the most part but I do believe it failed Brandon. I have tried so hard to not be bitter or angry. So far, I have done pretty well. I would say the beginning of November I started to feel those resentful feelings.

Let me be clear, having Brandon in the half way house is wonderful. Being able to see him working again, living somewhat normal is what we have been hoping and praying for since January 24th. The thing is, it's hard. He's here but he's not. He can't quite be a dad and husband like he wants, like we want, when he isn't living here. I know that it's a matter of time, but isn't everything?

I find myself frustrated because before he moved to the halfway house, we had our new normal down. I knew he would call me every morning at 10:30 if he wasn't on a fire. Then he would call again around 8:00 to talk to the kids and say goodnight. Weekends were spent driving back and forth from Rifle. I knew my responsibilities and having him pretty much tell me how wonderful I am and how much he loves and misses me was actually really nice. I remember a few times when I was visiting him in Rifle, he would tell me all the wonderful, flattering things you see on a Hallmark movie. I would laugh and tell him how quickly he had blocked out all my faults. He thought I was perfect, my impatience, my lack of budgeting skills, being grumpy when I am tired (8:00pm) and/or hungry, stomping my foot to help make my point; all of that was cute and endearing. 

One time in particular, we were sitting outside and he was being his sweet self, the charming, appreciative husband telling me nothing but how perfect I was. I got annoyed and pulled my hand back from his. He laughed and asked what was wrong. When I began to cry, his eyes almost popped out of his head, he was so confused. I told him he is saying all these things and it's not me. I'm not a unicorn like he was saying, I am so far from perfect and I was scared that he was going to be so disappointed when he was finally home and reality hit him and suddenly, it all comes back. Not a unicorn, more like a raging, unmanageable bull.

So here we are and if you asked him about me, he'd laugh and shake his head. He'd never say anything bad about me but that's because he is such a good person. But reality came faster than a bull chasing a matador. Ha, I was right, I'm not nearly as endearing as he had remembered. Trying to be a couple in these circumstances is really, really hard. I can't call him and ask him to grab some milk on his way home, help me run the kids here or there, shop for Christmas gifts, go on a date or spend a weekend away together. Yet, he's here, but not. I just keep thinking this is silly, why not just let him move home and if he screws up, we know what's at stake. Seeing him so nervous about messing up one of the halfway house rules is so hard to watch. He's never done this before and with how extreme everything has been, he is scared that one mistake will send him straight back to Rifle. It's a terrible way to live but he's doing it and doing his best to accept it and get through it.

 On a positive note, Brandon was given time to come home for Thanksgiving. My parents were here along with my two younger brothers, their wives and boys. It wasn't everyone, unfortunately my older brother and older sister's families couldn't make it and although we really missed having them, it was the best Thanksgiving I've ever had. That day was all about Brandon being here around us and knowing his nephews didn't forget him. Just feeling normal again, even if it was only for six hours, it was perfect. 

Since then, I'm missing a normal life so badly. I want him leaving for work in the mornings, coming home for dinner, doing normal Dad stuff and going to bed in our bed only to wake up and repeat. Right now, it's close but so far away. I keep telling myself to hold on and remember there's a reason for it all, that we will be alright. Honestly, I am just tired of trying to rally myself. Both of us are trying to navigate this as best we can, but we aren't in our groove and it's tough not being in sync.

I'm ashamed because I now have what I have been praying for all year and I'm still asking Heavenly Father for more. He has got to be disgusted with me for seeming so ungrateful. I got what I wanted and yet it's not enough. Thing is, I am grateful and this is so much better that it was. Maybe the secret to life is all about appreciating the present, what I have right now today. If I would spend my energy on that instead of waiting/wanting for this or that, I'd be a better wife, mom, friend, daughter, sister, etc. Ugh, it's depressing and overwhelming to think about. The phrase, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger..it's not true. Trying to survive may just turn you into someone you don't want to be. That is what I am trying to avoid right now, one foot in front of the other and remind myself to acknowledge and appreciate  he is here, my kids have their dad back and how much they adore being around him. His life is busy with work and catching up with everyone. I am happy for him yet I can't help but feel a little lost in his world. I have to figure out my new role and figure out how to focus on what I can control, and let the rest be. I want to be better because of all we've been through, and right now, I'm not quite there.


Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas,. Halfway House, Centennial Community Correction Center, CCTC, Centennial Community Transition Center 

Grateful for the Little Things

Ty B (3) and his Uncle B (Undisclosed)

As it turns out, life outside of prison walls is much busier than I ever remembered. A month ago when I walked out of the Rifle Correctional Center,  I had some grandeous plans about tackling some of the world's biggest problems. But just like everyone else, I'm completely busy just handling my own issues. I suspect that we've all felt this way- right after making a New Year's resolution, coming away from an inspirational talk or committing to that diet just minutes after the Thanksgiving glutony guilt sets in... just as the last of those butter-filled mashed potatoes hit our stomachs. We've got all the motivation in the world for tackling that next big problem right up until we get distracted by many of the realities of life...maybe we can live with the hope that we'll get credit for our intentions at some magical future date...

Although I'm still nowhere near a "normal" life, this halfway life has turned out to be pretty amazing. I'm convinced more than ever that I am a creature of habit and routines make me comfortable. It has taken a solid month to fall into a routine at the halfway house and now that I'm there, things feel great. Because I'm not authorized to spend any time at home with my family, I am spending the majority of my time working. I work from 6:30 am to 8 pm every night. It has been awesome to be back in the office - even if I am working crazy hours. Sallie and the kids are able to stop by work to see me on a pretty regular basis - we sometimes eat dinner together and Sallie is able to pick me up and take me back to the halfway house to end each night. It's not ideal at all but it is such a better alternative to the nightly long-distance phone call that we have had to rely on for the past 9 months.

I did get permission to spend 6 hours at home for Thanksgiving and it was absolutely magical. Most of Sallie's family came into town and it was so great to get to spend time with them all. I love seeing my kids interact with their little cousins (my kids are more like aunts and uncles to them because of the age gap). I was able to spend some really good time with Sallie's parents. They have been involved in my life since I was fifteen years old so they could never be referred to as "in-laws". They are just as important to me as my own parents. The attached picture is of me and my little nephew Ty B - ironically enough, he was born 3 years ago to the day that all of my legal heartaches began. There were tough times when some of the only bright spots in my life were when he or his brother Scottie would give me hugs. Now three years later, when I hold him, I'm reminded of all the innocence and beauty this life holds. There are so many people - my wife, my kids, my extended family, my friends, business partners, so many of you...and my nephews... who will never quite understand just how grateful I am for the love and support that I have received through this incredibly difficult period of my life. It's impossible for you all to understand how serious I am when I say that I simply woudn't have made it without the love and support...it scares me to think how different things could have ended up.

After spending Thanksgiving with so many of the people that I love, it was a stark contrast, at the end of the night, to return to the halfway house. The vast majority of those in the house had not had the luxury of being able to spend the day with loved ones - primarily becuase they do not have people who love them. Some of them don't have loved ones because their decisions have eliminated them from their lives - others were born into a world where no one loves them - by no choice of their own. Either way, I couldn't help but turn my head and eyes slightly upwards in reverence to give thanks to my Heavenly Father that I do have people that love me. In a season that is built around the idea of being thankful, I hope that I will never forget how grateful I am to be loved. There may be nothing greater that we all take for granted than the simple principle of being loved. We go through our days seeking out things that we feel will bring us happiness often overlooking the most basic of human needs - to love and be loved. I have never been more aware of how lucky and blessed I am to have people that want me to be with them during the holidays. I've never been more grateful for the idea that families are eternal - and that no matter how unloved someone may feel - they have a God in the heavens that loves them unconditionally. And I have never been more grateful for the simple hug that a 3-year old boy could give his uncle. I hope I'll never forget how thankful I am for these little things - speaking both literally and figuratively, of course.

Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas

Privilege

One of the hardest parts of incarceration, especially for someone who has never been in jail before, is relearning just how many of the things you do everyday are privileges. In the beginning it was things like being able to go for a walk, visit and talk with the people you love, eat whatever you were in the mood for, sleep in a comfortable bed, go to the store, choose who you live with, earn money, spend money, go outside whenever you feel like it...the list goes on. It was very hard for me to accept the fact that so many little things had been taken from me - things that I had never even considered significant were now front and center in my everyday thoughts - in that aspect, prison really is effective in teaching you just how good life is (or can be) for law-abiding members of society.

Being at the halfway house has been such a blessing in so many ways. I am able to see my family on a regular basis - although not in the setting that I would like. But as I've mentioned in my previous posts, there is something torturous about being so close to the life that you once knew without being able to fully engage in it. I love seeing my beautiful daughter Navy - but I hate not being able to go on walks with her. I love seeing my son Jack, but I hate not being able to play catch with him. I love holding my baby girl Elizabeth again, but I hate not being able to be home each night to help her with her homework. And of course, I hate being so far away from our daughter Maggie - I hate that she's so far away from us. And being back around Sallie has been the greatest thing of all - except for the fact that it's like we're back in high school again - parking lots and back seats are our dating venues.

It's also been eye-opening for me to see just how institutionalized I have become in the almost 10 months of being part of the system. While I was still in prison in Rifle, I would always tell myself that that I could never become an institutionalized person - it's just not in my personality.I'd see so many different people who would come to Rifle from higher level facilities and have a hard time with the relative freedom of a minimum level facility. I'd watch them struggle with being able to come and go out of their rooms at any time, they'd struggle trying to be respectful to the guards because they were so used to always fighting against them and they were always paranoid that other inmates were out to get them.

As I've began my reintroduction back into society, I occasionally find myself hesitating before I do some mundane task - because it was something that I needed permission to do while incarcerated. I am always plagued with a small bit of anxiety, no matter where I'm at, that I'm going to forget some small detail about checking-in, doing my chores, etc... that's going to result in me getting regressed back to prison. Sallie calls it my PTSD - I suspect that it will get better as I get more and more used to this new level of reality.

One thing that is clear about the halfway house - a lot of the guys just don't end up being to handle it. Just this week there have been 2 more guys who ran away, missed their check-in's and never came back. It's hard for me to comprehend why someone would go through all of the effort to qualify for the halfway house, only to run away once you got there. Running away from the facility is considered "escape" and will result in a  minimum of 3 additional years in prison. I don't think that they'll send SWAT Teams to find these guys but the next time they have an encounter with the law, they'll have a warrant out for their arrest and they'll start the cycle back all over again. And it won't be long until they do have that encounter with law enforcement - they aren't running away from the halfway house to go spend time with a traveling christian choir - but I've been wrong before...

Brandon Stephens, Weld County Jail, Wood Group, Sentenced, 5 Years, Prison, NFL, DRDC, Rifle Correctional Center, Colorado Department of Corrections, Jail, Judge Quammen, Steve Wrenn, Weld County, Executive, Oil, Gas, White Collar, Wood, BYU, Masters Degree, Colorado State University, SWIFT, Firefighter, Wildland, Sawyer, Fire, Inmate, Brandon Stokey, Miracles, Centennial Community Correctional Center, Delta Correctional Center, DRDC, Denver Diagnostic and Reception Center, Felony, Sallie Stephens, Greeley Tribune, Judge Thomas Quammen, DA Steve Wrenn, Weld County Court, Oil & Gas