Among California criminals, there is no place more preferred than the California Men’s Colony. The prison is sprawled at the base of the scenic Coastal Mountains just a few miles from the Pacific Ocean. It lies north of the Cuesta Grade and adjacent to the Seven Sisters, an area landmark made up of a seven-point mountain range.
But for the barbed wire and occasional watch tower, the prison might have been a resort. Inmates at the colony often remarked that the prison was cleaner than most hospitals they’d seen. The buildings almost always had a fresh coat of soft beige paint and the grounds were kept neatly mowed. No trash or graffiti marred the facility.
Still, cleanliness was not why the colony was preferred among prisoners. The inmates felt that they received better treatment here. California Men’s Colony employees were generally happier and nicer than at any other prison in the state’s system, perhaps because the facility was considered the country club of state prisons. One prison spokesman liked to tell visitors that the place was so well known for its shining example that it received nearly as many visitors as Disneyland and Universal Studios.
“This prison is absolutely nothing like the places you see in the movies,” he would tell people. “The warden has had a standing bet that if any one of us ever finds any graffiti anywhere dinner’s on him.”
So far, the spokesman said, the warden has never had to buy dinner.
Dan Montecalvo experienced far less anxiety once he was moved to this prison in late August 1991. But even in this relatively calm setting, he continued to complain day and night about being framed by Burbank police and the district attorney’s office for something he could never have done.
Finally, on September 25, Dan was eating his lunch when he felt a sharp pain in the left side of his body. The guards heard him cry out and quickly took him to the infirmary, where doctors confirmed that he was suffering a major heart attack.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” the doctor told Dan later that afternoon when Dan was resting in one of the infirmary beds. “You won’t be so lucky next time.”
The heart attack had taken its toll, deadening much of the organ’s vital tissue and leaving Dan with a heart operating on just 42 percent of its original capacity. Doctors placed Dan on complete disability.
So while Gene worked to form the case against Suzan Brown that he would eventually take to the officials at the sheriff’s department, Dan sat day after day in his prison cell. Dan’s cell, which he shared with another man, was eight feet by ten feet and had no windows. After his heart attack, Dan received most of his meals in this cell and was excused from participating in work duty and free time. Instead, he would sit on his cot all day long going over his case.
His constant companion was a black notebook which contained nearly 200 pages of documents used in his trial or obtained from police reports at the murder scene. After a year of studying those documents several hours a day, Dan had come to some conclusions. First, he had identified what he considered to be 235 lies that had taken place in the trial. Eighty of those, Dan determined, were either mistakes or what Dan claimed were blatant falsehoods made by Ben Bernard. For the most part, these came in the form of questions which Dan believed Bernard never should have been allowed to ask.
For instance, Ben Bernard might have begun a question to a certain witness like this: “Now, because you could never get an identifiable palm print from Dan Montecalvo . . .”
Dan would flip through his black notebook to the photocopy of a page of court transcripts that showed this question. Then he would flip to a document in which one of the evidence technicians had listed the prints found in the house and to whom they belonged. On this official document, one palm print found on the front door was clearly identified as Dan Montecalvo’s. Therefore, that question became one of what Dan considered to be eighty falsehoods the prosecutor had concocted during the seven-week trial.
Bernard denied ever intentionally misleading his witnesses. If anything, he said, such a question might have been just a misunderstanding on his part.
“Don’t you see,” Dan would lament to whoever would listen to him. “They framed me. Clear and simple.”
Then Dan would cite precedent cases about the role of a prosecutor in criminal cases. For instance, in Imbler v. Pachtman (1976), it was decided that a prosecutor has a special obligation to assure that the rights of citizens, including the rights of criminal defendants, are afforded protection. He also cited Berger v. U.S. (1935), in which it was determined that a prosecutor’s goal must not be to win a case but to make sure justice is done.
“According to those cases, (Bernard) broke the law,” Dan would say.
When Ben Bernard—who by December had been promoted three times since the Montecalvo case—got wind of Dan’s accusations, he chuckled softly.
“Dan thinks the way things are worded is all part of some elaborate plan to put him away for something he didn’t do,” he said gently. “Why in the world would we all be joining forces against someone like Dan Montecalvo?”
For that question, Dan had no answers.
“Right now he’s the hero of this whole thing,” Dan said of the prosecutor, his voice filled with bitterness. “But one day the truth will come out. And then I’d like to see him put away for the rest of his life. He should go to prison for the lies he’s told about me.”
When Dan wasn’t complaining about Ben Bernard and the injustice done him, he spent his time thinking about Carol.
“The reason I married Maree is that she and I both love Carol,” Dan said. “When she visits me, we talk about Carol. She understands and because of that, I love her very much.”
Dan also admits to another, more practical reason for marrying Maree Flores. In case he dies in prison, Maree would legally be able to continue the fight to clear her husband’s name.
“I don’t want money, and I don’t want a dismissal on some kind of technicality,” Dan said quietly during a December interview in prison. “I want my name cleared. I want my marriage cleared.
“Carol must be in heaven somewhere shaking her head at what’s happening down here. I loved that woman,” he said. “She was the closest thing to God I’ve ever known. I could never, ever harm her. Don’t you see? Doesn’t anybody understand that? I didn’t kill my wife. No matter what anyone says, I didn’t kill her.”
At that point, tears began to form in the eyes of the man who once called himself a chronic liar, the man who credited Carol Montecalvo with changing him and giving him a new lease on life, the man who authorities agree will most likely remain in prison until his twenty-seven-year term is up.
“I promised to love her as long as we both shall live. Well, I’m still alive and I still love her. I will always love her. Is anyone listening? I will always, always love her.”
Reader Letter
Dear Friends,
Back when my writing career started, I was a reporter for the Los Angeles Times. I began in the sports department, writing game stories and profiles of prominent athletes. I was quickly promoted to a general assignment reporter, writing features and covering prominent crime cases for the front page of the Sunday paper. The position was the most coveted on staff, but there was nothing glamorous about following the grim details of abduction, tragedy, and murder. Many nights I lay awake, praying for peace, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. I could usually find a redeeming character in each true story I covered – the detective who held tight to her faith, the private investigator with the Bible verse on his desk. I was intrigued enough to adapt a number of these stories into books. But the darkness in these stories was more than I could bear. After writing four true-crime books, I knew I needed a change.
Not only did I want to escape the darkness of crime stories in Los Angeles. I wanted to be part of the light. I wanted to tell stories with real struggles and trials, real tragedies and triumphs – but I wanted to tell them in light of redemption. I wanted to write stories that gave people a reason to beli
eve.
I wanted to be a bearer of light.
And so that is what I became. I began writing redemptive hope-filled fiction and I trademarked it Life-Changing Fiction ™. I have 25 million copies of those novels in print now, and miles of letters from readers who have found hope and light reading my stories. But many of them – many of you – wanted to know where my writing journey began. I often get asked that question when I speak and at every book-signing.
For that reason I acquired copies of these early works that had been out of print for years, though they remained available via second-hand retailers and the internet for significant sums of money. In rereading them, I wasn’t pleased by the offensive language that was added without my consent when they were first published. After a fresh edit, I decided to make them available again to those who wanted to read them. Also, sometimes there is benefit in reading a cautionary tale, a story about innocent people caught in the crossfire and people who chose darkness and bore the consequences. That said, these stories are not for everyone. Though there is always a redemptive character, they are not stories of redemption. While these are different from the books I now write, they still remind us that life often turns on the smallest of hinges and that seemingly innocent choices can provoke dramatic consequences—including the loss of life itself.
They are true stories of choices and consequences, true stories of tragedy and darkness in a world that desperately needs light. There is no knowledge of light without darkness, no sense of good without evil, and no understanding of our desperate need for God without understanding how far gone we truly are.
I know that’s true in my own life, and I am grateful for the journey God has led me on and the grace I’ve been shown along the way. For those wondering how I got my start as an author, it all began here and with the three other true crime books (Deadly Pretender, The Snake and Spider, and Missy’s Murder) I wrote as a young mom. Every road has it’s beginning, and I’m thankful for mine. But I’m immensely and eternally grateful for the love of God that called me to a brighter place and ultimately allowed me the opportunity to write Life-Changing Fiction ™. Bad things still happen in the lives of my characters because that’s the reality of our fallen world. There’s death and extraordinary hurt and pain. But that is not the end of the road or of the story. Amidst the darkness, there is a great light. There is hope. There is redemption.
Thank you for allowing me the chance to share a bit more of my journey as an author and participating with me as we bring light into a dark world. And no matter where you are in your personal journey, please never ever forget that your life is precious to me and to the One who created you.
You can connect with me on Twitter @KarenKingsbury.com or on Facebook. I’d love to hear from you.
Karen Kingsbury
About the Author
Karen Kingsbury is America’s favorite inspirational novelist. There are more than 25 million copies of her award-winning books in print, including several million copies sold in the past year. Karen’s recent dozen titles have all debuted at or near the top of the New York Times Bestseller’s list. She is also a public speaker, reaching more than 100,000 women annually through various national events. Karen lives and works outside Nashville, Tenn., with her husband, Don, and their five sons, three of whom were adopted from Haiti. Also living nearby is their only daughter, Kelsey, an actress in inspirational films and married to Christian recording artist Kyle Kupecky. For more information visit www.karenkingsbury.com. Karen is also on Facebook (facebook.com/AuthorKarenKingsbury) and Twitter (@KarenKingsbury), where she regularly interacts with nearly half a million reader friends.
About Bondfire Books:
Bondfire Books is an independent epublisher based in Colorado and New York City. We publish fiction and nonfiction—both originals and backlist titles—by today’s top writing talent, from established voices to up-and-comers. Learn more about Bondfire and our complete list of titles at www.bondfirebooks.com. Follow us on Twitter @bondfirebooks and find us on Facebook at facebook.com/bondfirebooks.
Karen Kingsbury, Final Vows
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