ROOSEVELT — When James Gardner was 22 years old he killed a man.
The two were at a drinking party when, Gardner says, the other man made a sexual advance and he fractured his skull. Less than a month later, Gardner pleaded guilty and was sent to prison.
Eighteen years later, in 2003, the state Board of Pardons and Parole gave Gardner his first chance at freedom. He was out for five months before being arrested again and convicted of DUI. Two more years passed, and in 2005, Gardner was released on parole. This time has been different, so far.
"One thing with James is he'll tell it like it is. He doesn't mince words, he's pretty direct. I think that's what makes him successful," says Brad Draper, the Adult Probation and Parole agent assigned to supervise Gardner.
Gardner sits across from Draper in the agent's Roosevelt office, his work shirt covering most of the prison tattoos that adorn his torso and arms. There's an air of confidence about him, instilled in part from the countless confrontations he took part in during his time behind bars.
"I fought a lot in prison," Gardner says without apology.
The fighting, he says, was mostly in defense of "kids" who were at risk of being victimized by stronger inmates. He says there were also verbal battles, some waged against members of the parole board during many hearings. But in the end — like an estimated 90 percent of inmates nationwide — Gardner earned his release from prison.
Now the 43-year-old married father of a 6-month-old boy is working to stay out of prison permanently. It's a process, he says, that began while he was locked up.
"I woke up every day in that prison, and I looked in the mirror and I made myself hate that place," Gardner says. "I hated it with every particle of my body. I never, ever allowed myself to get comfortable, because the first time you get comfortable in that place you get institutionalized."
Raised by a father who told him, "If you step in s--t, you clean your own boots off," Gardner says he's taken full responsibility for what he did as a young man. He continues to pay for his crime — subjecting himself to random drug testing, field visits from Draper and other AP&P agents, and knowing that one mistake could put him back behind bars for years.
"You don't forget that you're on parole because that's impossible," Gardner says, "But it's nice to get up every day and not think about prison."
The secret to his success so far this time?
"I don't have friends out here. The only thing that's important to me is my family."
Gardner says he learned who was truly important during his second stint in prison after the DUI arrest. He says while he was away, none of the people who claimed to be his friends bothered to help his wife. The couple's trailer was without air conditioning during the sweltering summer months, and his wife's only possessions were her clothes and a mattress.
All that changed when Gardner was paroled again.
The couple and their son still live in a trailer, but Gardner has made improvements to make it a "happy, comfortable home. ... We have everything that we need, we are comfortable, and what we have is ours."
Gardner's experience with false friends was reinforced earlier this year after an on-the-job accident. Gardner was working for a construction company specializing in metal buildings. During a job in Ballard, he was carrying a piece of sheet metal when he was blown off a roof and fractured his hip and jaw.
Gardner says after he was injured people started stopping by his home. They didn't ask about his health. Instead they asked for the painkillers Gardner had been prescribed.
"I wanted to beat every one of them up," he says. "It made me so mad and I chased them out of there. If you come around my house drunk or using drugs, get the hell away from my house. You're not welcome."
Because of his injuries, Gardner couldn't return to his construction job. Draper says he would have understood if Gardner didn't work while he healed, but Gardner was determined to pay his bills and provide for his family. He immediately got a job cooking in a local restaurant, something he'd trained for in prison.
"It's being a man," Gardner says. "I've got to go out and bring money home to take care of my family. It's not hard to get a job, and it's a cop-out whether you're a parolee or not."
Gardner admits that being on parole isn't easy and says one of the hardest parts is adapting to the changes that come with the assignment of a new agent. He adds that the first few months of supervision when "you're going to be pushed to the limit and buttons will be pushed" can be particularly trying.
Still Draper says that Gardner, who is older than all but one of the AP&P agents in the Roosevelt office, has adapted "very well," and his cooperation has been rewarded.
"Since he's done well, we've backed off," Draper says. "He's still monitored, he's still supervised, but not nearly at the level he was when he first came out."
Gardner says he uses Draper and the other agents as a source of stability, as the "machinery that's getting me through" parole. He says he's visited the office at times to seek advice or work out problems he can't see a solution to.
"These people are not the enemy," Gardner says. "These people have helped me."
"Not all offenders are going to agree with that obviously," Draper replies, before adding, "It's not us against them, it's us with them."
Draper says that no parolee is required to follow the conditions of parole. Instead it's an agreement to follow the rules in exchange for an early release from prison. Draper says many of the people AP&P supervises choose to break the agreement, then lie about their conduct when confronted.
"You take that personally," the agent says. "If they test positive for a drug, you don't take that personally. You don't take it personally if they go out and commit a new crime. But if they sit there and it's a bald-face, flat-out lie, it's hard not to internalize that and just know you can never ever trust that person."
To his knowledge, Draper says, Gardner has yet to lie to an agent while on parole.
"He doesn't try and impress us, he doesn't try and hide stuff," Draper says. "What you see is what you get. I wish more offenders would learn from him."
Gardner's parole could end in 2008. He says if that happens, it won't change the way he lives. Given his experience though, Draper won't wager on whether Gardner will make it to the end of the year without a problem.
"Right now he's making all the right choices," the agent says. "He's doing everything he can at this point to get off in that year, but it's up to the parole board."
E-mail: geoff@ubstandard.com