Help Us So We Can Help You!

After a couple of months of training, testing, practicing and waiting, our inmate fire team was looking forward to Memorial Day Weekend. Historically, the mix of campfires, dry conditions and alcohol have kept firefighters engaged on the last weekend of May for generations. It may sound a little evil that we spend our time looking forward to being deployed onto fires but such is the nature of our craft-and if it means time off my sentence, I'll take the elevator into hell to see my family sooner.

As I've shared in previous posts, we have been extremely busy working on fire mitigation work up around Aspen. It has been a complete 180 degree from spending time locked up at the facility. The hardest part about going out and doing the mitigation, if there is one-is that you are back out in society and the reality that you are an inmate is ten times more real than when you are back at the facility.

We travel to these jobs in our firefighting truck and we travel like any fire crew would. We are driving  through downtown cities, past restaurants and businesses that I'm used to being able to stop at. Everyday on the way to Aspen, we pass through Glenwood Springs and pass a hotel that Sallie and I used to love to stay at-all they times we've stayed there,  I never could have imagined that I'd be passing the hotel in an inmate-filled fire truck.

The other hard part about being out in the community is that people are generally terrified of inmates. And I get it-we're in prison- it's safe to assume that we're dangerous people. But I just have the hardest time seeing the way people react to me. While we were in Aspen, we were cutting trees down around some nice homes. As we were walking along the driveways to one of the homes, one of the homeowners was outside on the sidewalk. Naturally, I said hello and stuck my hand out to shake hands. We're not supposed to interact with people but I forget that all the time and my natural instincts take over. The man looked surprised that my hand was extended to shake his hand. But his response was a sharp reminder of my current position in society, "Forgive me if I don't shake hands with an inmate." I quickly retracted my hand, picked up my chainsaw and continued on to the next area. It's hard to blame the guy-he doesn't know me or anything about who I am.

As great as the mitigation work is, it's not fighting fires. And so when Friday, May 24th rolled around and our crew got the dispatch call that we were waiting for-I could hardly contain my excitement! Four months and one day after being sentenced to prison, I was headed out to my first wildland fire. As I ran down to our building to change into my gear, I couldn't help but marvel at the many miracles that had allowed me to make the firefighting team. I quickly said a prayer thanking my Heavenly Father for the opportunity and in the same breath, I asked that me and the crew would be taken care of-we all have families and we all wanted to see them again.

For security reasons, we are not told where we are going when we leave for a fire. I had called Sallie when we got the call to let her know that we were being dispatched. It was a quick call but one that we had both talked about for weeks. We can be dispatched for up to 21 days so we were both prepared to know that it might be a while before we spoke or saw each other. Dramatically and to make her laugh, I told her to let the kids know that Dad was going to save the world and that I loved them.

Our fire building is called the "dome" because of it's round roof. All of our gear and packs are meticulously organized so that upon dispatch, we are ready to roll. We all dressed out, went through our checklists and loaded onto our buggies. We are organized into two crews of nine. Each team has a buggy. The buggies look a lot like a 4x4 ambulance. There are eight seats in the back that are arranged like a bus. Our buggies are bright neon green. We loaded into the buggies, finished our checklists and our bosses radioed to the facility control tower that SWIFT was motorizing to a fire. It was such a rush to hear the announcement over the radios that we were actually headed to a fire. I reached down, latched my sealt belt, slid open the window on my buggy seat and waved at the 40-50 inmates and guards that had come to see us off. My adrenaline was spiking as we left and make our way down the canyon towards I-70. As we were close to the bottom of the canyon our bosses finally told us that we were heading to Pagosa Springs-near Telluride to the fire that was growing by the minute.

It's hard to describe the feelings that I had as we caravanned down I-70 as a fire crew. I looked around at my fellow inmates and felt a sense of pride-for the first time in months, somebody needed us. Society needed us. As we roared down the freeway with our windows down, it almost felt like we were free men again. Our buggies bare very subtle signs that we are inmates so other people on the road have no ideas that we are inmates. So our fellow motorists have no problem waving and cheering us down the freeway-little kids would wave at us as we passed them-it was almost as if we were heroes!

I was giddy with excitement as we made our way down I-70. After about 30 minutes of waving and blowing kisses to motorists, I settled into my seat and let the breeze blow across my face as I closed my eyes to enjoy the moment. Just as I was settling in, our entire buggy surged and smoke started pouring out of the hood. We pulled over immediately an parked at a rest stop.

Long story short, one hour later we rolled back into the facility with our broken buggy, We had not even made it 30 miles before breaking down. It was humiliating to roll back in and have the same guards and inmates that had just sent us off with cheers, welcome us back with humorous, sarcastic reminders that we are still just inmates-not the heroes we had felt like just minutes before.

Needless to say, we were replaced on the fire by some other crews (with a functioning buggy) and we are now on standing back at the facility until our buggy gets fixed.

My daughter Navy laughed for five minutes straight as I told her the story. She suggested that our motto be- "come help us so we can help you." Love that girl of mine!

*As of this morning-Brandon and his crew were called to a fire near Durango called the 416 fire. I haven't heard from him so the kids and I are assuming they made it. We don't know how long he will be there but luckily we do know where he is and can follow the fire progress online.*

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