Day 25 of 30: Dispatches from Death Row

Saving Lil’ GQ & a letter to a prisoner

Quintin Jones being visited by a family member

Hi friend,

This may be the most important email that I’ve ever written.

You may remember my pen pal Lil’ GQ, whose given name is Quintin Jones. I wrote about him in my book Between Two Kingdoms, and back in January, he shared with our community a short essay and prompt called “Survival Skills.” 

Quin has been on death row in Texas for over 20 years. In the decade that I’ve known him, I knew he would eventually face execution. But when I heard the date May 19, 2021—only 24 days from today—it was shocking, and it ignited something in me. I decided to use my book tour to amplify Quin’s story as much as possible. That first week, after a small virtual gathering, a lawyer got in touch, offering her firm’s legal services pro bono. We have since joined forces with Quin’s attorney in Texas, and we are working to get Quin’s death sentence commuted to a life sentence. 

As part of the clemency plea, we’ve been reaching out to other people who have corresponded with Quin—and there are many. In one of his early letters to me, he explained it this way: “I enjoy writing letters and learning new things from other folks who’ve done way more than I have. You see, I’ve been locked up ever since I was 20 years old and I’m a high school dropout.”

To witness the breadth and depth of these friendships is amazing. One woman has been Quin’s pen pal from the beginning, and she has seen him evolve and transform—each letter wiser, more reflective and eloquently written than the last. A grandmother in England began writing to Quin, then shared his address with her nine-year-old granddaughter. They became “best pen pals,” and the granddaughter went on to write a letter to Pope Francis, asking him to do what he could to save Quin’s life. A third person wrote of her son’s suicide last year, and Quin replied by sharing about his own suicide attempts in his troubled teenage years.

These letters are a testament to who Quin is as a human being—to his compassion, generosity, unsparing honesty, and deep humanity. I see it in everything, including his handwriting. One look at his flowery cursive, and it upends every preconception you might have of someone on death row.

For a long time Quin believed he deserved the death penalty for a murder he committed when he was 20 while high on drugs. He has spent the past 20 years reckoning with his past, asking forgiveness, and seeking redemption. He no longer believes that any human deserves to be executed, though he does think he deserves to remain behind bars for the rest of his life. The victim’s closest relatives—who are Quin’s closest relatives, too—have forgiven him. They are asking the State of Texas to allow Quin to live out the rest of his natural life in prison, rather than retraumatizing them with another death.

It’s still astonishing to think of the power of one letter. Because he wrote to me all those years ago, we began a decade-long friendship. Quin has never asked me for anything—not books, not money, not even help with his case. But I consider it an honor to share his story and this plea for clemency with all of you.

 If you’d like to join me in helping to save Quin’s life, there are a few things you can do:

• Learn more about Quin’s story by visiting our Clemency for Quin website and sharing it with your friends and family.

• Sign and share this petition in support of Quin. 

Regardless of what the State of Texas decides, I want to fill Quin’s remaining 24 days on death row with his favorite thing: receiving and writing letters. And so, today, we’re resharing a prompt from my friend and the brilliant writer Mitchell S. Jackson, called “Letter to a Prisoner.” May it inspire you to see your world a little differently, and maybe brighten someone else’s.

Sending love,

Suleika

---

Quin’s dispatches from death row.

---

Letter to a Prisoner by Mitchell S. Jackson

This me the night I got arrested with close to 5 ounces of hard and 9mm. Ain’t no tough guy mug shot. I was spooked. (For the record, telling was not an option and they asked.) Anyhow, that’s a side note. Posted this cause I can remember being locked down. And especially during this crisis, I’ve been thinking about what my life would look like behind the walls right now, what it looks like for the millions of humans who are currently incarcerated. It’s unimaginable. My life would be at risk. Their lives are at risk.

When I was incarcerated, mail call was second only to visiting hours as the most important part of any given day. The letters kept me connected. They reminded me I had value. They gave me a something to look forward to. They helped me exercise my mind. Letter writing led me to the creative writing that eventually changed my life. Writing a letter to someone incarcerated can have all of those effects and more. So write, write, write. 

Your prompt for today:

In his seminal essay “On Ways of Seeing,” the critic John Berger writes, “To look is an act of choice.” In his essay “The Life of Images,” the poet Charles Simic writes, “the attentive eye turns the world mysterious.” 

Decide to look at things that you find beautiful or mysterious and write to someone about what you see, about why they are beautiful, sublime. Let them know what’s going on in the world. Give them some joy. Send pictures. Remind them of their humanity; you can bet inside those walls someone is reminding them otherwise.

---

Where to send your letter:

We have Quin’s permission to share his contact information. If you’d like to hear back from him, please send one self-addressed and stamped envelope with your letter.

Quintin Jones #999379

Polunsky Unit D.R.

3872 FM 350 South

Livingston, Texas 77351