I Believed in Prison Abolition Until My Own Father Was Assaulted
It’s easier to think someone is redeemable when they don’t hurt someone you love
Around 11 p.m. on August 27, 2019, a notification appeared on my phone. I saw through a location-sharing app that my mom was at our local hospital, and she never leaves the house at night. I called her several times. No answer. Then I called my dad. I didn’t get him either. Every time I heard the automated voice teller come on the line, my stomach dropped. Eventually, my mom picked up the phone. “Mom, who is in the hospital?” Before answering, my mom took a deep sigh, preparing me for the worst four-word sentence. “Thalia, it’s your dad.”
Over the next several minutes, my mom told me that my dad had fallen and hit his head at his work. The next morning, one question ran through the emotional circus that was my brain: How does a healthy, able-bodied mechanic suddenly fall and hit his head? During our morning conversation, my mom informed me that my dad had amnesia and couldn’t even remember his own name. I used this conversation as an opportunity to ask her that nagging question. “Mom, how did Dad just fall? I don’t understand.” Again, she took a deep sigh, a harbinger for more bad news. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. Your father didn’t fall. He was pushed.” She…
