Waiting, Not In Vain
Christopher Havens is a founder of the PMP and a Staff Research Associate at UCLA

A few months ago, while he was waiting for the meeting that would help decide his future, Christopher answered our questions about his trajectory, his work, and the process of petitioning for clemency. In that meeting, the State of Washington’s Pardons & Clemency Board voted to recommend that Christopher’s sentence be commuted. He has yet to receive the governor's final decision, and the day it will be announced is unknown to the public.
Since Christopher entered a new stage in his journey towards freedom, we got back in touch with him to learn more about what the criminal justice system requires from an individual before approving a clemency petition and what it has been like to wait for the outcome. We start by looking at the day Christopher’s audience with the board took place.
PMP: How did the day of the hearing go for you? What were your expectations, and were they met?
Christopher: First, let me say that I had hope, but no expectations. You never know with these things. One might feel like they have vastly different circumstances and a completely different level of growth and contrition, that their accomplishments and deeds combined with such a deep level of contrition somehow make them worthy of being released, because the act of incarceration is no longer in the best interest of justice. This process has a way of removing those feelings, psychologically, and somehow making truly extraordinary circumstances feel insubstantial.
I went in there scared and feeling like this was my single chance to show the Clemency and Pardons Board who I really was, deep inside my heart. The more I prepared, the more I felt unprepared. During the weeks before the hearing, I felt like a fraud because I couldn't answer the simplest questions about my quest in healing my heart and reforming my "self" into who I am today. That was such a huge part of my life, but the stress and anxiety leading up to the hearing were so intense that I couldn't speak what was on my heart. This was the biggest stressor. Would I betray myself by freezing and ruining my only chance of releasing early? I have a problem where my mind goes blank in high-stress situations, and my biggest fear was just that.
During the day of the hearing, a large group in my network came together at the Office of Public Defense, and they attended my hearing via Zoom. I was here in the prison, watching the hearing just before mine on the television in the common area. This guy did horribly, and I was struck by the thought of sitting through the hearing, saying all the wrong things... my words failing me, just like this guy was doing. All I needed to do was to convey what was in my heart.
Every moment felt heavy, and yet the hours became minutes, and all of a sudden, I was called into a little office at the far end of the unit where I live. It was silent, and everyone was locked in their rooms for the daily count time. My heart was pounding, and my mouth was dry, no matter how much water I drank. I sat in that little office in front of the computer screen where the Zoom was held. The only other person in the room was my Classification Counselor, and she was very supportive, but my nerves were just so stressed.
When the hearing started, I immediately connected to my emotional self. I felt my words as I spoke them, and I was able to say exactly what was on my heart. Still, I was terrified. One of the Board members asked me if I was nervous, and I said, "ABSOLUTELY!" And I explained how it felt like I was fighting for my life! But as the questions came, I noticed how meaningful they were, and my biggest problem now became that I had too much to say. The Clemency and Pardons Board is composed of an incredibly diverse group of people, all having different points of focus, and it allowed me to really pour out the things I wanted to say, right from my heart, even though I left so much out.
By the time I finished speaking, I felt like the Board could go either way, but then Amit Sahai spoke, and then the prosecutor. After all was said and done, I waited for the votes. The first Board member voted in favor of my release… and then another, and another, until all five voted unanimously in my favor.
What happened next was something I'll never forget. As soon as the last Board member cast their vote, I was in shock. All of a sudden, I could hear cheers and applause throughout the whole unit. It was deafening... That was all I heard, and then all I could do was cry. My Classification Counselor let me shed some tears before leaving her office, but as I left... as I walked into my wing, everyone was waiting for me. I was embraced by two other prisoners when I walked in, and I cried on another guy's shoulder, in probably one of the most personal moments of my incarceration.
Afterwards, I called my fiancée and my family. My energy just began draining second by second, and within an hour, I was struggling to stay awake. The next morning, my back hurt from the stress finally loosening up. My body had gone through the wringer, but I had made it through a huge moment. My mind was exhausted, but for the first time, I found myself facing the reality that I would most likely soon go home to start my new family.
PMP: How does it feel now to be in this in-between state where you received a positive recommendation from the board, but you still have to wait for the final decision from the Governor?
Christopher: It’s a bit tough. My family really needs me right now, more than ever, and so I’m feeling each moment drawn out. I have seen this step of the process with other people, and so I'm very relieved to have gotten this far in the first place. Having a unanimous vote from the board was huge because, statistically, it's now just a waiting game. Of course, we can never completely rely on statistics. That chance, however small or large, is very heavy when you're in my situation.
I'm doing my best to occupy my time in a way that helps me keep my mind off the fairy tale land outside of these miles of razor wire. Unfortunately, if there was ever a time when I must make plans for after I'm released, it is right now. But I have made those plans already, and now I'm just working on things that I may never have the opportunity to do in the same way. I know that I'll never have an opportunity to use time in the same way as I have it now… so I'm taking advantage of these moments of time, which also helps me keep my mind off the uncertainty.
PMP: Are there any steps you must follow to secure the commutation? What is required of you now, and what will be required after your potential early release?
Christopher: I've gone through all the steps, very thoroughly, and even went out of my way to do some more. Now it's just a waiting game.
All I must do now is simply maintain what I've always done, behaviorally. And on top of that, I've begun working on pre-release programs, which are court-ordered for after my release. Chemical Dependency is one of these programs, and it was never allowed to me until I received the favorable vote from the Clemency Board. Now I have started this program, 12 weeks BEFORE my release, because otherwise, I'd have to take it after I am out. And I have many plans with my time once I'm out... I'd prefer to optimize my time out there by removing some time commitments that I can also do while in here.
PMP: Will your civil rights be restored fully? What changes for incarcerated people after release?
Christopher: My civil rights will never be fully restored. I think this is a great question because it’s a factor that seems to cause the most people to come back to prison. The truth is that the same rules do not apply from before we became incarcerated to after we've been released. Our actions have changed those rules.
A good example of this is: people with certain crimes will never be allowed to own firearms. I will never touch one again in my life, by choice, but many people do not think this way. That's a tough one for a lot of people.
Also, I will have to hold myself accountable to the State of Washington for several years after my release while I serve my probation. My travel will be limited and must be approved ahead of time.
There are actually many different ways in which our civil rights change, but I will leave it at that! The bottom line is that we can't be released and expect to experience the same rules as somebody who was never incarcerated. That is not reality. The rules have changed, and instead of being upset at the "injustice" of it all, it's important to realize that the rules a previously incarcerated person lives by were dictated by their own actions, and these new rules are much easier than the rules of incarcerated living. So, sign me up.

PMP: What are you most looking forward to doing, seeing, or eating once you are outside?
Christopher: I'm looking forward to seeing the people I love waiting on the other side of the fence, the moment I walk out these doors. I can't wait for that special moment. I'm also looking forward to getting fitted for some suits. I don't care much about the food, but I have been looking forward to dressing in a way that'll set a good impression wherever I find myself, and then afterwards, purchasing my home workstation, my computer.
PMP: You mentioned in our first interview that you hoped to be an advocate for people with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. Could you expand on it? How did you become interested in this matter?
Christopher: Yep. I became interested in it because my fiancée lives with chronic illnesses. One of those illnesses is called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). This is a connective tissue disorder often accompanied by comorbidities like Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS), Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), and Cerebrospinal Fluid (CSF) leaks.
These are known as "invisible illnesses" because it's not obvious by looking at the person that anything is wrong... but internally, EDS, MCAS, and POTS create medical complexity that is overwhelming to doctors and especially the people experiencing them. This trio is often referred to as the Stealth Syndrome.
The result is misdiagnoses and dismissal. On average, it takes about 10 years for somebody with MCAS to be diagnosed with MCAS, and by that time, their life has dramatically changed. If you want to learn a little about any of this, a great resource is zebrasandspoons.org (my fiancée's new website).
People with this Stealth Syndrome don't often get adequate medical attention because it takes so many specialists working in unison. When do we ever see that happen?? The unfortunate side effect is that people in this community have much higher suicide rates. I've seen this occur already with two people in my fiancée's circle of friends with chronic illnesses who lived with EDS, and I never want this to be my fiancée.
PMP: What are your hopes and plans for the future of the Prison Mathematics Project?
Christopher: Well!! I want to help our Executive Director, Ben Jeffers, take this organization to new heights. A few ways I'll be doing this are attending and speaking at events, networking like nobody's business, and adopting some of the more tedious administrative tasks, which will allow me to really focus on the mentor/participant relationships that are not in person. That was where I began, and I would like to see that part flourish. Maybe, I'll even set up an infrastructure for providing mathematics to folks in solitary confinement, giving them Math Paks, and using that time of isolation as a womb instead of a tomb. Woohoo!! Rock and Roll, my friends!!!
Header photo by Serena Naclerio on Unsplash


