92 days in..

I feel like I am counting the days again like I did 18 years ago when Brandon was on his LDS mission in Romania. He was gone for two years, and like back then, I waited for a weekly email and letters to be delivered. Besides the obvious differences, he can call me anytime, any day and I have seen him nearly every weekend since March 6th. It is so good to be able to see him both Saturday and Sunday if it's worked out with my and the kids' schedules. I have left the kids and gone by myself and loved every minute I spent with him alone.

Brandon has yet to have a weekend pass without someone visiting. He's been so happy to see friends and family and really good for them to see Brandon. For me, the amount of people submitting visiting applications has brought me to tears of gratitude every time.

I have had so many reasons and experiences that have made the days living without him here bearable. Some of them are so tender to me, I would rather keep it to myself or maybe don't feel as though I have the right words to adequately convey them. I am doing as well as I can be without Brandon here with me, and I am proud of that because it is the hardest thing I have ever done. I am still smiling and can even make a joke at our own expense although I probably make a few people cringe.. but it is what it is!

 My kids continue to blow me away with their resilience. Although they miss him terribly, they know him and they know he'd really struggle if they were. I have said it before, but it feels to me as if there is this blanket of comfort that envelops us making everything feel as though everything is alright, and that it really will be. Maybe this is what it looks like to be so far in denial I don't even know, but I feel it and it's holding us together.

When we go see him, we can bring in food and whatever snacks or treats we want as long as they are unopened and with a receipt. I usually grab him a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit from McDonald's for breakfast as I get there at 9:00. I also have lunch for us for us as well.  Brandon loves this steak bacon blue cheese salad from a restaurant we always go to and it's easy to grab and take with me. Subway, and his favorite sandwich from Heidi's Deli are also easy to take to him. Visiting is open from 9-3:30 so depending on the weather and what kids are with me, we stay as long as possible.

Visiting is what I live for these days, seeing him is like Christmas morning every weekend. Knowing I have to leave without him is like getting the wind knocked out of me every time yet, how full my heart is and the laughing and teasing, it's worth hurting for over the next few hours.

I tell my friends they better take good care of their husbands and love on them more since I can't. Of course I say it with a smile but it's true. I know there isn't anyone who has the perfect marriage and there is always life that gets in the way of appreciating and taking care of each other as we should. But as I think about where I am at right now, there is still so many people I know and love going through much harder, unfair, and more devastating trials than mine. One of my dearest friends lost her brother unexpectedly and it has rocked me. I can't stop thinking about it and how would I go on. Why her and not me, why do unfair things happen, why doesn't this happen to the guy who abuses his kids?  It has consumed me.

I have thought about all those times I would get frustrated with Brandon for leaving his shoes at the end of our bed and most mornings they would greet me as I tripped over them. Let's say that I would laugh about 10% of the time and would get mad the other 90%. I laugh as I wish I could trip over them, but sadly they are put away and haven't moved in 92 days.

At some point after I came home from Greeley without Brandon, someone in my family, I think it was his mom, Louise; she handed me a clear, sealed bag with all his personal belongings he had on him. His watch, his wallet, a pack of gum, a half dozen gum wrappers, a pen, his business card, sunglasses and his wedding ring. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the end of my bed when it was handed to me, it took me a minute to realize what it was. I stared at it. I thought, this is what would happen if he had died and whoever collected it was the last person with him. I don't know how long I sat there and stared, I've been told I sat in my room for two hours until we finally told the kids what had happened.

I can only remember bits and pieces of it which is probably for the best. I know my brother-in-law Lane, had his arm around me, probably more like holding me up as my kids were told what had happened and why their dad wasn't with us. I remember my youngest brother, Bouk being the one who broke the news and lost it at some point as he spoke. My other brother Sam and Jason were standing next to him.  I remember looking at my dad who had tears streaming down his face and just looking at his grand kids. I remember Louise sitting by Jack and Elizabeth and Navy in the arms of my sister-in-law, Hailey. My older brother Peter on the couch holding Maggie. I can't remember where anyone else was, my Mom, Caytee, Alex, Jimmy, McKelle, Tim, Diana, Bevin, Sara or what they were doing. I can't even remember who else was there but for some reason, there are nights I lay in bed trying to remember it all because it bothers me that I can't.

I relive that day in my head over and over. It's like I need to know exactly where everyone was, what I said to them, they said to me, the last thing I said to Brandon, who was the last one that hugged him, all these things that would not change one thing that happened that day. As I type this, it's crossed my mind that maybe I do this because I am still trying to figure out where it went so wrong. That wasn't was supposed to happen so maybe if I can pinpoint every detail it would somehow make this better or at least make sense?

I know that's not rational, but I am certain I am not the only one who has had these weird thoughts and ideas when the lives that we know are suddenly yanked away and a new one is staring at us. I will never say I don't have a pity party some days, but I pull right out of it when I look around and see how much I have to be living for, grateful for. It can always be harder, it could always be worse. I promise you I would rather go through the public scrutiny, gossip, loss of some friends I thought were solid, my kids not being invited to things like they were before, the questions, the rumors, and the heartache for myself, my kids and everyone who loves Brandon again rather than picking out his casket.

Six days later, on January 30th, there was box addressed to me in Brandon's handwriting in my mailbox. The return address said Weld County Jail. I felt a lump in my throat so big I thought I was going to choke. I took it to my room where I could open it without the kids around, I was afraid of them seeing me break down. When I finally found the courage to open it, it was so much work to get open that I had almost lost it by the time I was ready to open it! I took the lid off to find a big black garbage bag stuffed in it. I pulled it out and just as it was fully out of the box, out dropped his dress shoes, socks, dress shirt, and his gray suit. All balled up together and now on my floor. I immediately grabbed his suit and shirt and just held it against my face, I was so happy there was a faint smell of his cologne and it still smelled like him. I rummaged through the pockets with hope of finding a note from him that he had managed to write me....nothing.

My poor Mom, she was staying with me and trying to help me with the kids and the day to day stuff. She had already tried to wash my sheets on my bed and I had told her no, I didn't want them washed just yet. I had already started to sleep on his side of his bed, just holding onto anything that was Brandon. So when the suit showed up, all wrinkled and in a ball, I laid it nicely on the oversized chair in my bedroom and told my Mom I would drop it off at the dry cleaners. I did drop it off, just last week.

Perhaps I felt the need to say all of this because there is always something good in even the hardest of circumstances. That's not to say it's easy and obvious to see or acknowledge, but it is there. It takes time and a lot of healing but I have seen people do it in much more tragic of situations than mine. Maybe getting lost in helping someone is really what will help, maybe standing up for someone, stopping rumors or judgment of another will. I don't know but I do know there are people who have
come out of the woodwork and have been heaven sent angels to me, my kids and to Brandon. A note, an email, a text, dropping something off, inviting my kids, all of these things have made a difference. I may not have responded to all of them but it helped me and it meant something to me.

I am certainly not the first, nor the last person to deal with something hard. Mine just happens to be public and while that has brought it's own tough things, going through something privately is sometimes much worse. Life can be so so hard and having people stand by you is sometimes the only thing to hold onto. In my case, much more bearable. Maybe just giving someone the benefit of the doubt if they are acting funny, just doing something as simple as inviting them to do something even if they don't accept, just ask. It makes a difference and it matters. 

There is so many things we cannot control, how we treat people and how we talk about them, how we treat their kids, we have control of that. It doesn't have to be a scandal, a tragedy or anything life altering to cause us to be kind and gracious to each other. I have had it both ways and the sweet is sweeter and the sting is deeper when you are going through something. You never know when you will need the same outpouring of love and you will never, ever regret giving it. Trying to convince everyone you're life is perfect has got to be exhausting and frankly, miserable. In the end, don't you just want to be happy yourself and for others, and comfort and be comforted when it's not?

I hope at the very least, being separated from Brandon will make me appreciate everything about him, even those size 15 shoes being left right where I will trip on them. How I look forward to the day my toe hurts again because that means he is home and what a lucky, blessed girl I will be.

Now go kiss your spouse, do it for me! xoxo Sallie

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

Running For My Life (Part 3 of 3)

For the next two weeks I trained as hard as I ever have. My self-appointed training mentor-Brandon Stokey was simultaneously the best and worst training partner that I could have asked for. He was great because he knew exactly what I needed to do to get in running shape. He was awful because he has no mercy. We trained twice a day for at least an hour each session.

Our morning session started at 6:30 am and our second session started at 2:00 pm. There were mornings where it had snowed 2-4" overnight and the temperature outside was well below freezing. I thought for sure we wouldn't train on those mornings-I was wrong. At 6:25 am Stokey would knock on my door and tell me to get ready. I'd pull on my boots, put on my prison issued wool beanie and we'd go run on the snow-covered track.

Our morning routine was pretty consistent-Stokey would run in front of me at a 12:00 minute, 1.5 mile pace and I would try and keep up. In the beginning, I could only keep up with him for three of the required seven laps. After I would finish those three laps-I was exhausted. In the afternoons we would run sprints, burpees, hill runs, lunges, squats, bear crawls and anything else that he could come up with to make me throw up. Pretty much everything that kept me from joining my wife at her crossfit box. Many of the other firefighters would join us on those morning runs to give me input and encouragement.

On Saturday mornings, Stokey insisted on a workout that involved flipping a huge tractor tire around the track. It was an exhausting workout and required alot of endurance. On our second Saturday of training we went out to flip the tire and it was pouring rain. I kept waiting for him to tell me that it was raining too hard to workout. But a full hour later, we were still flipping the tire around the track soaking wet in our prison clothes. I was as muddy as I had ever been and my white t-shirt was ruined. We were the only guys who had braved the weather that morning. Somehow, in the midst and mud of flipping that tire I had a flashback to the scripture that an Apostle of God had shared with me a few weeks earlier, "God will consecrate your afflictions for your gain." As I came off the track that day soaked with mud and rain, I knew that if I kept working hard-if I did everything I could to get ready for the race-God would do the rest, whatever that would be.

The next Thursday, which was two weeks after my first run, I found myself at the starting line once again getting ready to run a qualifying race. There were five of us running for the remaining two spots on the team. After this race, there would only be one more run before the season started. It was getting down to crunch time.

I had trained enough over the past two weeks to know that I probably wasn't going to make the time. My best 1.5 mile time had been 13:20 which I had run two days before. I also had not seen any of the other four guys who were running that day training-so I figured they wouldn't make it either.

Once again, three other firefighters ran with me the entire race. Stokey led the way and I stayed right on his pace until the end of the fourth lap-just after the one mile mark. I had ran the mile in 7:35 but I just couldn't sustain the pace. As frustrating as it was, I had to slow my run down so that I could finish the race respectfully. My group of guys tried their best to get me to speed up instead of slowing down but my body just couldn't do it. I gave the final two laps of the race everything I had. I sprinted the last 50 yards to the finish line- 12:43. I had mixed feelings about my time. One on hand, I cut a significant amount of time off of my original time. On the other hand, I was extremely discouraged. I had worked so hard over the past two weeks and there was no way that I could have ran faster than I just had. I felt like I had cut all the low hanging fruit off of my time-to cut another :43 seconds was nearly impossible.

On a positive note, no one else had made the qualifying time either so the two spots were still open until the final race in another two weeks. The downside was that because no one had qualified, they would be bringing inmates who had qualified at other facilities in for the final run-I had to make the time on this next run or my chance of making the team were gone.

I recommitted to my training regime over the next two weeks. Over the initial two weeks, I had lost 11 lbs. Over the next two weeks I would lose another 17 lbs, a total of 28 lbs. Instead of having Stokey drag me out to the track every morning, I made sure I beat him to the track. He pushed me harder and harder each day and on the Thursday before the final run, I had a breakthrough- I kept up with him for six of the seven laps. That pace put me about :25 seconds off of the qualifying time.

The week of the final run brought terrible weather. Monday and Tuesday it rained which eventually gave way to snow. Stokey and I trained on both days and on Tuesday, we ended up running almost three miles in blizzard conditions. Although they weren't a fast three miles, I found myself enjoying the run and the time it gave me to think. My only worry was that the dirt track would be too muddy for race time-but at that point there was nothing I could do to change that.

The day before the race, Stokey had me practice on certain parts of the track. The second turn on the track is uphill and slows runners down substantially. It's very mentally draining to run up the hill during the race and feel yourself slowing down. Stokey made me run that corner 20+ times to help get me mentally prepared for the next morning's race. I was starting to regret having ever told any of my loved ones about the race. Everyone was pulling for me and I didn't want to let them down. I also put so much work in and I didn't want it to be for nothing. I was so nervous-I felt like I did before football games.

RACE DAY

I woke up to a beautiful sunny morning. The track had dried out from the storms and race time temperature was in the low 40's. It was a perfect morning for a race. The race was set to begin at 9:00 sharp and being the last race of the season, a large crowd of inmates and officers had gathered to watch. Two other inmates had been brought in from other places to run. There were an additional four inmates from Rifle (including me) so a total of six running the race. Stokey told me that there would be three total firefighters running with me. He would run in front , Christopher (nicknamed Cheapshot) next to me and Wyatt behind me. We all approached the starting line and I said a quick desperate prayer-the moment had finally arrived...it was time to run for my life..

The Officers who were timing the race yelled, "GO" and we were off. Immediately, I was in last place. The other five guys were running extremely fast. Cheapshot reminded me not to worry about the other guys but just concentrate on Stokey's feet. We came around the first lap and I was surprised how many other inmates were cheering for me. Our lap split was 1:18-about :22 seconds ahead of our normal pace. The adrenaline had gotten to all of us. As we came around on lap two, I was feeling extremely good-my breathing which Stokey had told me tended to get erratic was good and my legs felt strong. Our second lap split was 1:40-right on pace. As we got halfway through lap three, two of the other inmates dropped out of the race and walked off the track. By the end of the third lap I could finally start to feel the lactic acid start to build up in my legs.

My legs had gotten somewhat used to this and due to the training I pushed through it. Our lap three split was also 1:40-we were still ahead of our pace because of the first lap. As lap four began, I could feel a bit of anxiety start to push my heart rate up-laps four, five and six was where things started to be a challenge for me. Before I knew it, I heard our lap four split-1:50. Five seconds off of pace but still ahead. As my pace group and I started lap five, we passed one of the other guys, adrenaline jolted through my body but by the end of that lap, I could feel my body telling my brain- fatigue was setting in.

Halfway through that lap, they called out the mile split-7:28 but I had lost time on that lap, a full 15 seconds-1:55. I was trying my best to keep up with Stokey but I was breaking down fast.

Partway through lap six, I knew that I was in trouble. I was running noticeably slower as I approached that uphill turn. I felt as if I wasn't moving at all. My peripheral vision was starting to narrow and my legs felt like lead. I lost sight of Stokey's legs and I knew that there was no way I was going to make it. All the hard work, the countless hours, everything was about to go down the drain.

Just as I thought I couldn't take another step, I felt something pushing me in the small of my back. At first, I thought it was all part of my running delirium until I realized Stokey had ran behind me and he and Wyatt were physically pushing me through lap six. As they nudged me along towards the beginning of the seventh and final lap, the cheers of my fellow inmates and even the officers triggered one last shot of adrenaline through my body. Cheapshot called out our last split-2:00 meaning I had 1:36 to cross the finish line.

After starting the final lap, Stokey resumed his position in front of me. As we approached the uphill portion of the track, we passed an inmate who was struggling to finish. Passing him gave me another boost and we were almost halfway through the final lap.

As we rounded the second to last corner, my vision became even more blurred. I struggled for oxygen as my breathing became more and more erratic. So much of this would determine my future in here, there has been so much stress and pain from past two years that had weighed so heavily on me, it was all there making it hard to breathe, let alone run. I started to worry I wouldn't even make it to the finish line. As my vison narrowed even more, all I could see were Stokey's feet-and I just kept focusing and following them.

As we rounded the final corner and started running down the home stretch, I knew people were cheering but I couldn't hear anything. All I focused on was Stokey's feet. The finish line was now within sight. I could see everyone cheering at the finish line and for the first time in the last few minutes, I could not only see Stokey but I could hear him-he was looking at his watch and yelling out the time....11:51! 11:52! 11:53!...I tried sprinting the last 15 yards but I had nothing left-I was barely moving-as soon as I was within reach of the finish line---- I dove. Not because I thought it would save me time, but because my legs were just about to give out.

I laid on the ground relieved that I had made it across the finish line. Before I could stand up to check my time, I was tackled by Stokey, Cheapshot and Wyatt. I took this as a good sign and as I stood up with bloody knees and elbows, I heard them announce my time-

-11:59-

I HAD MADE IT! I DID IT! By some absolute miracle, I had ran for my life and I was about to get some of it back!

That evening, I had officially been interviewed and signed all of the necessary paperwork to join S.W.I.F.T. I was awarded the 20th and final spot on the crew. Our official crew name is the

 Juniper Valley SWIFT Fire Crew.

As I sit here and write this part, we are headed out tomorrow for our first fire training. They have prepared us to spend the next 4-5 months on the road fighting fires.

I was also assigned my mentor today. He will oversee my education, training and performance in the upcoming days. You probably have guessed who he is by now-my good friend Brandon Stokey...A month ago I had prayed for help in making this run-Stokey was the direct answer to that prayer.

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, SWIFT Run, 1.5 miles, Fire, Fighter, Brandon Stokey

Running For My Life (Part 2 of 3)

Within minutes of making the decision to start training  to make SWIFT , a full moon started to peak over one of the valley's mountains. I glanced at the clock- 8:25pm. The thought popped in my head -if you're really serious about training, why not start tonight? It was a beautiful night with a full moon and stars to illuminate my way around the track. I pulled on my military boots and headed out into the night.

I slowly began to jog my first laps around this historic track. It was absolutely amazing to be jogging under the moon and stars under the shadow of mountain peaks. The track had no artificial lighting and it was so beautiful I almost forgot where I was and how much I despise running.  As I was thinking all of this and making my way around the track, a horribly loud alarm was blaring from the facility bringing me back to reality. I could see the doors open and the officers running with flashlights.

"Just my luck," I thought. An alarm interrupting my peaceful albeit painful jog. Alarms go off whenever an inmate had violated a major rule. Fighting, drugs, gang activity, escape attempts etc. It wasn't as if I had heard this alarm often, maybe once. Whenever the alarm goes off, all inmates are required to return to their rooms for lock down. I silently cursed the idiotic inmate who had chosen to ruin the night for the rest of us. I was so committed to starting my training and just a few laps in, my first practice run was over.

When is first went off, I was on the far side of the track so I decided I would I would finish jogging to the other side of the track. As I continued jogging, I noticed that the officers and their flashlights were headed towards the track.

"Maybe someone is trying to escape," I thought to myself.  "Who is stupid enough to try that?"

I kept up my pace and and jogged over to where the guards were entering the track area. As I approached the officers I heard them yell, "Get down!" "Hands behind your back!" I looked behind me to see who they were yelling at, suddenly I was a little bit scared wondering who was out there.  I couldn't see anyone and the officers yelled again, "Get down, hands behind your back!" "STEPHENS, you, lay on the ground and get your hands behind your back!" THE IDIOT I WAS CURSING WAS ME!

As it turns out, the track area closes every night at 7:30pm. As it was my first night at the facility, I had either missed that detail during orientation or was too busy day dreaming about getting in shape to even pay attention. Either way, I was the reason for the alarm going off interrupting my rule breaking jog. The officers ended up being very cool and understanding, even had a good laugh..we all did. But protocol is protocol and I was required to do a strip search including a performance of the now all to familiar, squogh.

Apparently, inmates have been know to go on an evening jogs and have rendezvoused with someone to smuggle drugs back in. Bigfoot's human vault was empty so I was cleared to go back to my room.

Talk about the walk of shame! I got all the smirks in the world as I walked past the other guys to my room. I was almost to my room when a couple of guys approached me. I could tell immediately that they were already already on SWIFT. They turned out to be the senior members of the firefighting team with multiple years experience. They gave me a hard time about running on the track in the dark but  also said they liked someone who was dedicated enough to break the rules to get into shape. I was about to correct them and let them know that was not my intention, but decided I should just keep my mouth shut. They then told me that if I was really interested in trying out for the team, training started at 6:30 am the next morning. And just like that, I was in for one of the hardest working months of my life.

That night as I went to bed I prayed that God would help me not make a fool out of myself. God would answer my prayers through another inmate named-appropriately named, Brandon.

The SWIFT qualifying races are pretty big events here at the facility. There are usually 30-50 inmates and most of the officers come out to the track to watch and cheer the participants on. Secretly, I think everyone likes to come out and see people fail-that sort stuff tends to motivate me.h

As we were lining up, one guy walked up to me and introduced himself as Brandon Stokey. Brandon is a veteran of SWIFT and has multiple years of experience fighting forest fires in Idaho. I also recognized him as one of the fittest firefighters from the previous day. Seeing him, there was no way I was going to make it. He told me he didn't care about making the 12:00 time, he was going to help me finish the race. Seriously, who was this guy? I didn't know him, but I liked him already.

They called for the runners to the starting line, we lined up and the whistle blew. There were a total of 12 runners which included six current members of SWIFT. There is a pretty inspiring tradition that for every qualifying race, current members of SWIFT run to help coach and encourage the new guys. All I was thinking besides not dying, was that if I did make it by the Grace of God, would have to run this again?!

As we started the race, I was immediately overwhelmed with the pace. As we rounded the second corner, the group was still running together but I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep it up. By the time we came around to complete the first of seven laps, I was falling behind the group.  As I was slowing down my pace, Stokey slowed his and began to encourage me not to worry about the other guys. They had been training for the past four to six weeks and were conditioned to run that pace.

Three laps later, we crossed the halfway point of the race and I was about to be lapped by the leaders and I was certain, based on my heart rate and breathing, cardiac arrest was emanate. The beginning of the fifth lap, two of the guys who had been in front of me burned out and walked off the track. I couldn't help but wonder if I should follow them. I was so far off the pace that it was embarrassing. Just as I started started to contemplate quitting, Stokey calmly reminded me that I was going to finish the run, "You finish this, don't you quit."

I had to slow down even more on the final two laps and when I finally crossed the finish line, I was barely able to to run anymore. They yelled out my time as I leaned my head across the white line, 14:51. I was so discouraged and I was completely humiliated. I was 2:52 off of qualifying. However, of the six of us who were trying to qualify for the remaining three spots, only one had qualified. Three of us had finished but did not qualify and two had quit....and despite my pathetic time, I didn’t  quit.

Stokey could see how discouraged I was. He immediately grabbed me and told me to walk a lap with him. I thought he was joking, walk a lap? I'm pretty sure what I just did may have qualified as a walk!

As we walked around the track that had just kicked my butt, he offered so much positive encouragement. He pointed out how I had only started training the day before and that didn't go so well yet I still finished the run.  He then told me that if I was really committed to making the run, he would train me himself..starting immediately. I was so tired from the run that the mere thought of more training made me even more nauseous than I already was. Sensing my hesitation, Stokey reminded me that just like him, I wasn't running for fun-I was running to get back to my wife and my kids sooner, he said I am literally running for 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,. 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

Running For My Life (Part 1 of 3)

The facility that is now known as the Rifle Correctional Center was originally built after World War II as a base camp for training the military's elite Army Rangers. The high elevation, rugged terrain and isolated location combine to form the perfect environment for mountain combat training. As it turns out, these conditions are also ideal to serve as a base camp for S.W.I.F.T. or the State Wildland Inmate Firefighting Team.

Over the past couple of decades, many of the States in the Intermountain West (Colorado, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming) have started utilizing inmates from their respective prison systems to fill the resource gap when it comes to fighting wildland forest fires. For the most part, it has proven to be a very successful program as it meets the goals of both the State and the inmates. The State has additional resources for fighting fires at a significantly discounted price (SWIFT inmates get paid about $2/day) and the inmates are able to spend extended periods outside of the facility giving back to the communities.

For multiple different reasons, less than 1% of inmates meet the qualifications for joining the SWIFT program. Criteria include the following:

1. The inmate's crime(s) that they are currently serving time for cannot be violent or sex-related.

2. Qualifying inmates cannot have received any major write-ups or infractions during their time of incarceration.

3. In order to be qualified for consideration, inmates must be in excellent physical shape.

4. Required to pass a "pack test" which is being able to hike 3 miles in 45 minutes with a 45 lb. pack on.

5. Colorado has added an additional fitness requirement that is specific to inmates-you must run 1.5 miles in 12:00 minutes or less. 

Fighting these fires is obviously extremely hard work and if a firefighter is not physically conditioned well, they become a liability.  These tests are designed to ensure that there are no inmate liabilities in the middle of a fire anywhere in the State.

These SWIFT crews are typically gone for 14 day periods throughout fire season which is typically April 1- October 1 and they typically work 12-16 hour days. The crews camp out the entire time they are on fires and have no access to showers. It's grueling work as each inmate is expected to carry between 40-80lbs of gear including chainsaws and axes and can be expected to build fire lines and firebreaks all day, everyday.

Some of you are probably wondering (as was I) why inmates would want to do this. Is it really worth all the training and work just to be outside of prison? Here's where the Colorado Department of Corrections has strung a carrot out in front of their inmates. Inmates who are part of the SWIFT program will receive day for day credit off of their sentences for every day that they are working on a fire. All of the sudden, this becomes a very enticing proposition. Everyday that an inmate is out working on one of these fires is one day less that they will have to spend incarcerated. With a six month fire season, inmates could take anywhere from 4-6 months off of their sentence! As soon as I heard about the program, I was hooked on the idea of trying out-now it was time to see if I was prepared to put in the work to get there.

The Rifle Facility is located in a beautiful valley surrounded by jagged peaks lined with beautiful pine trees. They valley floor extends for miles and it's nearly impossible to go a day without seeing deer or elk grazing in a meadow or on a hillside in any direction you look. Sometimes you can get carried away in the beauty of the place-that is until you remember that if you stray too far from the facility, a bullet to the back would be the least of your problems. Ahhh...prison.

Situated directly behind the buildings is a grass field surrounded by a dirt track. The dirt track is as old as the facility and has been rutted out by many rain and snowstorms. The track is anything but level as parts of it are very much uphill while the others have a downhill slope. In other words, it's not a nice regular track that you would find behind most high schools. But, dating back to those Army Rangers and now inmate firefighting wanna-be's-this was where you train.

The track is slightly smaller than a standard track-instead of being 400m in diameter, it's closer to 370m. It has two separate pull up bars located on it's perimeter. On one side, there is a hill that is about 45 yard high-this hill is regularly used to train on.

My first night in Rifle, I laid in my bed wondering if I had the drive to start training for the 1.5 mile test. For the past couple of years I had used weightlifting to east the stress of both the civil and criminal cases. As a result, I had bulked up to 280lbs-much less than my top football weight to be running 1.5 mile races at. The more I thought about it, the more  and more nervous about it I became. I knew I would have to commit to a workout routine and diet that would not be fun. There was no guarantee that just because I decided to commit to training that I could even make the time. Another problem that I had heard from other guys was that of the 20 available spots open on the team, 17 of them were already filled.

The qualifying runs are typically held every other Thursday in Rifle with other pre-qualifying runs being held weekly at other facilities. If an inmate pre-qualifies at another facility, they are transferred here to Rifle where they have to run again with everyone else.

Another major problem was shoes. Upon entering the Colorado Prison System, all inmates are issued a set of military style short boots. Think black plastic Doc Martin knock off style. The insoles are a cardboard type of material, they are terrible. In order to get running shoes you must order them through the commissary and those orders are taken at the first of the month and take anywhere from 4-6 weeks to be delivered. Seeing as how I was not in my final facility until February 22, I would have to wait until the end of March to get mine, and that was with a bit of luck!

So I was going to be training in my boots-which was terrible. I called Sallie to get her thoughts and she thought it was a no-brainer-I should do it. Easy for her to say because long distance running is easy for her! She has been begging me to join her at her cross fit gym for years and I kept saying no. Burpees, running, squats, no thanks.

I spent the next hour going through all of the reasons that I shouldn't try. I was too big to run long distance, despite Sallie disputing that 1.5 miles is not considered long distance-it was to me. I had also come into Rifle too late in the game, those 3 slots would fill up before I could qualify. I didn't have running shoes, in fact all I had were my inmate scrubs and military wanna be boots. How could I train in that crappy gear? I suspect we've all been here before-or on the verge of a big decision where one choice will be exponentially more difficult to carry out. But the more I thought about it and the more I looked at the picture of my beautiful family hanging on my wall, I knew I had to try and make the run. After all, it wasn't just any run. I'd be running for a shorter sentence, I'd be running to be with Sallie and the kids sooner, I'd be running to get back to work-
I'd be running for 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,. 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, 

On to Rifle Correction Center...

On the evening of March 5, I got the news that I had been waiting for-my week stint in Delta had come to an end. I was being moved to Rifle. My three weeks in Delta had not been bad-when compared to the prior two weeks. But, I was ready to move on to my final facility where I could get settled in until I am (hopefully) transferred to a halfway house this fall. 

There were a total of seven of us who were being transferred. All seven of us were woken up at 4:00 am on March 6, and told to pack our possessions. As I packed up my stuff, it was crazy to consider the pile of basic essentials that I know valued as my belongings:

3 pair of green scrubs, 4 pair of boxers, 4 t-shirts, 5 pair of socks, a coat, 1 pen, 1 toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, 5 books, and 7 pictures. (6 of Sallie and the kids and one of Tom Brady) It's almost as if John Lennon could have written a song about my lot in life.

We grabbed a quick bite to eat in the cafeteria and we were then loaded into a large, 12 passenger van. It was an amazing feeling to finally be transported and not be required to wear handcuffs. It was around 5:00 am when the van finally pulled through the main gate to leave, I turned around to get one last look at the place I knew I would never be again.

I sat directly behind the officer who was driving. As we pulled away from the facility, I reached up to put my seat belt on only to find that I didn't have one-it had been tied off because it didn't work. Anyone that knows me knows that I always were a seat belt so not having one as we pulled out of the facility made me very uncomfortable. But what could I really do? I figured the Department of Corrections probably trains their drivers to be super safe, but it was the other drivers on the road I was worried about! It occurred to me that maybe if the van did wreck, Sallie and the kids could hire one of those TV attorneys and they'd be set!

At some point during my day dreaming about what Robert Shapiro and Frank Azar could do for my family, I joined my fellow inmates who were sound asleep buckled up. 

After what was probably 30 minutes, I was awoken by all sorts of internal alarms going off in my head. It took me a few seconds to recognize what alarms I was dealing with but as I came out of the crypts of sleep I knew exactly what alarms were going off in my head-they were the highway rumble strips! I quickly woke up and became hype-aware of two things... 
1. The driver had fallen asleep
2. I was not in a seat belt 

In the micro seconds that followed, I was aware enough to know that it would probably end really bad if I suddenly yelled at the driver to wake up. I also thought I could reach up and grab the wheel but I had a hunch that if the officer woke to a large inmate commandeering the prison van, that would end poorly as well.

By now, two of the four wheels had passed the bump zone and were clearly off the road. The rougher terrain caused the suspension on the van to start bucking like a mad horse. Just as I thought this was the end and I saw a bright light, the guard woke up, realized he was 4x4ing down the median of I-70 and slowly brought the doomed van back into contact with the pavement. The off-roading had woken up a couple of the other inmates but by the time they were awake enough to realize what had happened, things were back to normal and they went right back to sleep.

The Officer, as most of us would do, played the whole thing off like nothing had happened. I asked him if he was okay and he said, "Yeah, I think the alignment is off and it caused the power steering to pull a bit." I rolled my eyes and thought, "alignment, I'm so sure." -recalling the sight of the officer fully hunched over the steering wheel just seconds before. I may not be one of the blood born Goble boys when it comes to cars, but I know that wasn't the alignment!! 

As I considered my situation, I came to a couple of quick ideas. 

1. A jury would probably not award any money to an inmate's family-what was my life worth anymore?
2. I was done napping-I engage in a meaningful conversation with the guard for the remainder of the drive. 
3. I needed to figure out my seatbelt situation.

#3 was first, I grabbed two of the lap belts and tied the best square knot in history around my waist.

Now that I was somewhat secured to the seat, I struck up the most life saving conversation I have ever had. As we got closer and closer to Rifle, the Officer was so tired that he would nod off while I was talking to him! I would tap him on the shoulder to revive him and on we went. I learned that the Officer is the one that always transports inmates from Delta to Rifle. The poor guy had been up all night, he hadn't slept at all. I felt terrible for the poor guy. We had a great conversation, aside from him nodding off :)
I enjoyed talking to him, he is a really great guy. I remembered how exhausted I had been being moved around so had it been me driving, it wouldn't have been any better! He is someone I respect. We joke about it now, and I am really glad for the conversation because it felt normal and that’s something I haven’t had since this all began. 

As we pulled into the Rifle Facility, my fellow inmates began to wake up one by one from their beauty sleep, safely buckled in. I looked at all of them with a disgusted, annoyed look, knowing full well that I would never be thanked for the past three hours of life saving heroics. 

We pulled up to the facility and unbuckled and jumped out. It took me a couple of minutes to to undo years of Boy Scouting that had found it's way into the World's Greatest Square Knot. I climbed out of the van just in time to overhear one of the Rifle guards say to the guard that had driven us, "looks like you're missing a couple of hubcaps." Our driver responded, "I don't think they were on there when I picked it up." I just about made a sarcastic comment about the rodeo that was our drive but decided it was too soon and didn't want to make the wrong impression on my new captor friends.

I looked around and noticed how beautiful it was, it's located at approximately 6500 feet above sea level. The facility is in a valley completely surrounded by mountain peaks and pine trees. With about 170 inmates, significantly smaller than Delta. Rifle is best known for being a base camp for SWIFT (STATE WILDLAND INMATE FIREFIGHTING TEAM). SWIFT, is a program that allows select inmates to go and fight wildfires throughout the Western US during their time incarcerated. It's a pretty remarkable program-I've been told inmates who qualify and trained are actually accredited as full blown wildland firefighters.

I was taken to my room and I was amazed at the view. There were wild turkeys and deer right outside of my window! Not bad at all for prison. I was introduced to my new roommate - He is a really good man, we hit it off immediately. He was a running back for the Broncos in the 90's. I could tell that I was going to like Rifle. I laid down on my new bed for a power nap-being up since 4:30 and safely in my room, I was finally able to sleep. 


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, SWIFT Run, 1.5 miles, Fire, Fighter, Brandon Stokey, Running for my life,