Road to redemption

By David Maurer

Published: August 17, 2008

It’s 3 a.m. and the former paratrooper is walking down the paved driveway leading from Piedmont House.

At the bottom of the tree-lined lane, Jeff Hawkins turns left and starts trudging up the hill into Charlottesville. During the three-mile walk to the restaurant where he works as a maintenance man, the 45-year-old has plenty of time to think about how he went from being an Army staff sergeant in the storied 82nd Airborne Division to being a felon fresh out of prison.

Michael Fitzgerald, a 48-year-old former master sergeant in the Marine Corps, can ponder the same question during his five-mile bicycle ride to his job. Both men were honorably discharged from the military after serving with distinction.

On the night of Dec. 20, 1989, Hawkins was with the 82nd when they parachuted onto Torrijos International Airport in Panama during the opening phase of Operation Just Cause. It was the first combat jump the division had made since World War II.

“Our job was to secure the airfield,” Hawkins said. “I was scared to death, because it was my first time going into a combat situation.

“We were under fire coming down, and I could hear guys grunting and groaning when they hit the ground. I was also in some pretty heavy fighting during Desert Storm.

“It was the first time I had been under artillery fire. Some of the blasts were so close they lifted me off the ground.”

Fitzgerald stood tall for his country during trying times as well. He, along with other Marines from the frigate USS Stein, went into Beirut, Lebanon, to provide security and support after the terrorist bombing of the Marine barracks on Oct. 23, 1983, that killed 241 American servicemen.

But those exploits have long since been relegated to history. Now, the two men find themselves walking down the difficult road called redemption.

As they begin their journey, the Piedmont House is serving as a critical buffer between them and complete immersion back into society. Since 1990 the “house of second chances” has helped nonviolent felons readjust to life after prison.

‘A second chance’

Most men arrive at the front steps of Piedmont House with just the khaki uniform they’re wearing, a few personal items and a $25 check from the Virginia Department of Corrections. After their handcuffs are removed they’re welcomed by a handful of people eager to help with their ascension into a new life.

“Basically, we try to give these guys a second chance,” said Birch Martin, supervisor of operations at Piedmont House. “The whole purpose is for them to save money while they’re here so they’re able to function independently when they leave after 90 days.

“We give them a goal of finding a job and saving between $1,500 and $2,000, so they have money to put down for a room or apartment and get their utilities turned on. In addition to helping them find a job, we also try to give them all the guidance and common sense counseling we possibly can.

“A lot of these guys have no experience with budgeting and things like that. We kind of teach them about the realities of life.”

A total of 21 men stay in the well-maintained, yet aging two-story house located near the intersection of Interstate 64 and Route 20. During their stay they’re technically still prisoners, and have to adhere to certain rules and conduct.

Hawkins and Fitzgerald said their military background helped them deal with prison. Now they’re relying on it to help them make good on their second chance.

“When you’re in the military you learn to adjust to any type of situation, whether it’s harsh or pleasant,” said Fitzgerald, who was on active duty in the Marine Corps for nearly 15 years.

“Now we can use the same drive, motivation and discipline we learned in the military to do the right thing.”

Hawkins said the patience he learned while serving a six-year hitch in the Army held him in good stead while serving 21 months of a two-year sentence in Coffeewood Correctional Center in Culpeper. The strict rules and regimentation prisoners have to follow were second nature for him.

“I had a routine in prison,” Hawkins said. “My bed was made before anyone else woke up. I even did the hospital corners like you do with your bunk in the Army, because it was so ingrained in me.

“I remember in the Army doing PT [physical training] in the rain at 4 in the morning with our linen in our hands, because somebody hadn’t made up their rack right. Even though I’ve been out since 1991, I still have a lot of habits I picked up in the Army that I’ll always have.

“When I got out of the Army I was lost. I wanted to go back in, but they wouldn’t let me do what I had been doing, so I stayed out. I think a lot about what could have been if I had stayed in.”

Running from, running to

After the service, Hawkins went back home to Baton Rouge, La. He got a job working in an oil refinery, and spent a lot of his off time drinking. The drinking started him on a downward spiral that eventually left him jobless and homeless.

“When I came to Virginia in 2006 I was running away from a lot of things — mostly myself,” said Hawkins, who was convicted of charging $295.90 on a stolen credit card.

“When I got here I was homeless and looking for a place to stay. I had somebody’s credit card and used it to check into the Marriott Hotel at the Dulles Airport. The second night I was there I walked out the door and saw all these security guards and that was it.

“I was drinking at the time, and I was hungry. It was a survival thing. You do what you can to survive. But I’ve been sober since then, and I plan to stay that way.”

Fitzgerald’s run-in with the law offers another sobering example of how circumstance can contribute to making bad decisions. His troubles started a few years ago after he hurt his back and spent nearly three months in the Veterans Hospital in Hampton.

“When I got out of the hospital I had lost my apartment and didn’t have the money to get another one,” Fitzgerald said. “I finally found a job driving a forklift in the Tidewater area.

“I was sleeping in my car, which was a little Jetta. After a month of that I just got desperate. All I wanted was enough money to get me through until my next payday.

“So I took a blank company check, and made it out for $260 to get a hotel room so I could take a shower.”

The impulsive act got Fitzgerald a felony conviction for obtaining money under false pretenses. His sentence was one year in the Rustburg minimum security road camp near Lynchburg.

The former Marine was once trusted with repairing engines and hydraulic systems in CH-53E helicopters and F-18 Hornet jets. He is now working hard to earn that precious trust back.

Trust, and faith, rewarded

“Trust is even more important to me now, because I know everybody is looking at me,” Fitzgerald said. “What are you going to do when things get hard? Are you going to revert back to doing wrong?

“I have a great job now, and I just want to be allowed to go forward in my life. My greatest fear is that somebody will judge me because of my past.

“I just want a chance to achieve, and show I can be a better individual than circumstances have led me to be in the past.”

Recently Hawkins’ boss tossed him the keys to the restaurant and said he could open up. That act of faith meant the world to the man who had put his life on the line for his country many times.

“Trust is something that has been missing from my life for a long time,” said Hawkins, who has lost almost everything, but still has and treasures his Combat Infantryman Badge and paratrooper wings with bronze star affixed denoting a combat jump. “When I was a sergeant and leading men in combat, my privates and corporals trusted me to make the right decisions.

“The second chance I’m getting here at Piedmont House is giving me a chance to be the person I know I am, not the person people think I am. I can look people in the eye again.

“It’s giving me my self-respect back. It’s allowing me to pay taxes, which might sound funny. And it’s allowing me to start doing things with my life that I should have done 20 years ago.”

Joseph N. Soos, director of operations at Piedmont House, said former military people don’t cycle through the facility that often. He said when they do, they usually do very well.

“I think former service people do so well here because of the personal discipline they learned while in the military,” said Soos, who served three years in the Army during the 1960s.

“Everyone is welcome at our house, because it’s a place of second chances. But we are particularly pleased to help and provide services to guys who have been in the military.

“They have served our country, and some of them have really put their lives on the line for it. Having served in the military doesn’t give you a pass. But we feel we’re doing a particularly good thing when we help the guys who have served.”