RIP Dennis

After almost four years of incarceration, I’ve met countless people from all walks of life. Many of them ended up here due to substance abuse or narcotic sales. The individuals guilty of the most heinous crimes—murderers, rapists, and child predators—are kept separate, housed in different classifications or protective custody. Rarely do I come across someone whose presence feels truly out of place. Someone who seems like they don’t belong here.

Dennis, you were that man.

At 67 years old, this polite, soft-spoken white man stood out immediately in our harsh environment—an oasis of calm amidst a storm of cursing, tension, and bravado. In my years here, I have never met anyone who said “please” and “thank you” with the sincerity and consistency Dennis did. Even in the smallest interactions, he carried himself with grace and humility.

Dennis had an extraordinary life. Born one of three triplets, he became a successful entrepreneur in the 1980s. Among his many accomplishments, he invented video photo booths for the military, enabling deployed service members to send video messages back home to their loved ones. Later in life, he developed an automatic pill-dispensing machine to help elderly patients track their medications—a project born of his desire to serve and innovate.

But as Dennis and I both know too well, entrepreneurship is rarely a straight path. His pill-dispensing invention failed due to undercapitalization, something we often commiserated about. When the business collapsed, a few of his investors filed lawsuits because he had personally guaranteed their investments. What followed was a tragic chain of events that ultimately led to his incarceration.

Dennis was in the process of turning his situation around, working out a deal with an angel investor to pay back his creditors. The agreement was set to reduce his charges to a misdemeanor, and his release was imminent. But shortly after being extradited back to the Bay Area, while still in custody, Dennis passed away due to health complications. His loss is deeply felt by those of us who had the privilege of knowing him.

I feel blessed to have spent even a brief week of incarceration with Dennis. In that short time, he left a lasting mark on my life. Dennis, you were one of the most talented, humble, and inspiring men I’ve ever met. You shared with me your visions, your prototypes, your wisdom, and your hope. You gave me ideas that I now carry with me, and I promise to honor you by bringing some of them to life. In doing so, I hope to keep your spirit alive and make the world just a little better, as you always intended to do.

I feel so humbled and grateful to have crossed paths with you. You made my year, Dennis. You gave me hope, inspired me, and, most importantly, made me strive to be a better man.

We had plans, my friend. I will do my best to fulfill my half of them. And every step of the way, I’ll look up and thank the angel I was fortunate enough to meet behind bars.

Forever your friend,

Erin