James Shutt

Photograph of Jim, courtesy of Jeanne H.

Memorial by JeanneH

Jim was my person. He was my best friend, my soulmate, my rock, my world.

Losing him has been one of the hardest things I've ever faced.

He was a good man, he had a kind heart. He made a mistake. An 8 year sentence became a life sentence. It didn't have to end the way it did.

On Friday October 16, 2020 Jim was late to call me and when he finally did, he sounded terrible.

He'd been throwing up and sweating the better part of the day but wasn't running a fever. He was in Martin WC in Florida, medical was at the main unit but he did not want to go over there for fear of being put in quarantine and not being able to talk to me. I later got an email from him saying they were sending him over anyway.

Later that evening I tried calling medical to get whatever information I could. He had signed a release stating it was ok to talk to me about his medical condition. The nurse I spoke to was rude and arrogant and hung up on me. She did this twice. The third phone call was made by a friend to get the nurse’s name.

Saturday morning he went back to the work camp. His vitals were fine and because he hadn't thrown up there was nothing they could do. He was still sweaty and could barely keep anything down.

Saturday afternoon he called me. We spoke for 5 minutes and ended our phone call with "I love you" as we always did. It was the last time I spoke to him.

The next day I received a phone call from the Acting Ass't Warden at the work camp to tell me he'd passed away.

He didn't pass from COVID. He passed from pancreatitis. A treatable disease. Unless you're incarcerated. Then it becomes a death sentence.

Letters to the facility, Tallahassee, news reporters, IG and anyone else I could think of went unanswered and ignored.

To them he was just a number. To me, he was my world.

No matter how dark, he could always see the light.

God Bless.