Means of Escape — Page 3

All of Griffin’s other books, though fiction, verge on autobiography. Beyond the Vows is set in the 1960s and tells the story of a young Catholic priest who falls in love despite the vows he has taken. “Dystopia” began as a narrative of alternating chapters, written with a prisoner named Mike, that tells the story of his experiences as an outsider entering prison, and Mike’s insider impressions of him.

Mike is 30, charismatic, and energetic. He attended Griffin’s classes every Friday morning when he was at Matsqui. “I never believed I could ever be anything other than a criminal,” he says. “If you told me seven years ago that one day I’d have aspirations to become a writer, I would have tried to sell you drugs.” In the story of Mike’s life, he is both the villain and the hero. His troubles began almost a decade ago in a Mexican jail. He had a plan: buy cheap drugs, smuggle them back to Canada, make big money. When he and his partner were arrested, the partner fingered Mike. The partner left Mexico; Mike spent years in a horrifying prison. “All I thought about was revenge and dealing more drugs,” he says. “I never thought I could ever write a novel.”

Transferred to Canada through a treaty arrangement, he met Griffin at Matsqui. He thought little of the old defrocked priest at first. “I figured he was crazy for coming into prison to teach,” Mike says. He was baffled by Griffin’s inability to see the futility of what he wanted to accomplish. “Convicts have a hard enough time changing their clothes, never mind changing their way of thinking.”

But over time Griffin had a profound effect on Mike. The younger man has developed the means to explore his anger, locate the source of his self-destructive behaviour, and convert those emotions into words on the page. Griffin has shown him the power of self-expression and the divinity at the heart of introspection. “Ed Griffin is a superhero,” Mike says. “Able to overcome any obstacle in a single bound. Able to break down the thickest walls in any penitentiary. He saw right into my heart and helped me understand what I need to be happy.”

Griffin has influenced many prisoners over the years. Rob is known for his starring role in an RCMP bait car video, which shows him high on crystal meth behind the wheel of a stolen pickup. At one time the most successful car thief in the province, he was convicted and sent to Matsqui in 2004. He overcame his addiction in prison. He also met Griffin and was drawn to the idea of writing. Week after week, month after month, he wrote about his life, a therapeutic journey. He’s almost ready to show a nonfiction manuscript about his life, tentatively titled “Oncoming,” to publishers. In the spring Griffin introduced Rob to agents at the Surrey Writer’s Conference (at least one of whom was offended that the ex-priest would inflict an ex-con on her).

Rob’s prose is simple, almost childish. “When I reached the house,” he writes in a chapter about his childhood, “I stood on a tire, climbed up and slid my bedroom window open. I wasn’t supposed to do this. My mother had made it clear to me many times that I was to wait for Charlene to get home and unlock the front door.”

Rob is out of prison now, living with a woman and her two children, seemingly on the straight and narrow. But he’s the exception. Recidivism is rampant at Matsqui, as elsewhere; as many as 80 percent of inmates are repeat offenders. Too many of Griffin’s students return to drug abuse and crime after their release. Still, the prospect of helping even one in five deal with life on the outside is all the motivation Griffin needs. Asked why he’s committed to helping men most people want nothing to do with, Ed Griffin smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “Hard to say. I still don’t know exactly what I hope to accomplish. I guess it’s enough to know that these guys can use my help.”

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