My name is Larry Wayne LaFleur. My birth name is Larry Wayne Nichols. My family calls me Larry Wayne. Some of my friends call me Rabbit, a nickname I got when I was a high school sophomore.
But within the BOP, I am labeled 16431-198.
I am 58 years old and serving four life sentences and 30 years. I have been in prison since January 1989. How did I get here? It’s a question I don’t like to think about, but do all the time.
I was born in Long Beach, California, in 1966. I have one brother and a half sister. My parents divorced when I was young and my mom moved me and my brother to Oregon to be with her family. (My biological father stayed in California. I had only an on-and-off contact with him, and only after I turned 17.)
The making of a ‘juvenile delinquent’
I consider myself an Oregonian because this is where I grew up. I was in and out of foster care from an early age. I was sexually abused by my adoptive father, and in those days at least, the mission was always to reunite children with their parents – healthy environment or not. As a result, I started messing with drugs and alcohol, beginning at age 8 or 9 – mostly to make me feel better or, to be more honest, not feel anything at all. My parents drank, so I started with alcohol. But pills and weed were not far behind. My mom took Valium and both her and my step dad smoked weed, so both were easy to get.
The first move to a foster home was triggered by my anger and verbal lack of control. My mom took me to the police station and they directed her to a juvenile detention center. I landed in foster homes other times because I ran away or got into petty trouble.
I moved into my last foster home just after I turned 16. It was a chance to turn my life around, and it did in many ways – for a while. I quit using and drinking (except for a beer with the guys once in a while). I started going to church. I became an athlete. I ran cross country and played basketball; as it turned out, I was pretty good at running! The kids started calling me Rabbit and it stuck. My sophomore and junior years, my team won the state of Oregon cross country championship and my senior year I won the state meet as an individual runner. I even earned a scholarship to college.
A second and third chance
I left home and went off to college, thinking I had life by the tail. Boy was I wrong! I had left behind my support system, and although I had stopped drinking and using drugs, I hadn’t dealt with the why. And even though I was in a “Christian” college, all the usual temptations and stressors were there. When life got tough, I knew how to make the pressure go away.
It started to get out of hand, so I dropped out of college and joined the Marine Corps. The structure was good for me. I did well, and I got married. But I drifted away from God, when my marriage ended in divorce, I once again turned to drugs and alcohol to make the pain go away. It affected my work in the Corps, and I was (honorably) discharged.
After I left the Corps at 21, I was without direction. When my money ran out, I made a series of bad choices – including a kidnap and murder that landed me in prison for the rest of my life. I know I can never make up for, undo or excuse what I did, but I have recommitted my life to the Lord and do my best daily to be a better person by helping the men around me.
The turning point
The change point that drew me back to God came when I met an old man at the Lompoc penitentiary in California who took me under his wing. He and my Aunt Cindi kept at me to make my relationship with the Lord right again. It was the Word that led me to understand that I am called to be and do good, to help others when help is needed. I also learned that I need to grow in and through the pain. And that means drugs cannot and will not solve things but make them worse.
I work in the psychology department as an orderly, I am a suicide-prevention companion and I do biohazard clean-up when needed. (Biohazards are blood, vomit and any other body fluid that is spilled in any area of the prison. Clean-up involves use of nasty chemicals and a lot of people – including staff – do not want anything to do with it.) I teach a Money Smart class and mentor men who ask me to help them. And now, I will be a contributing writer for More Than Our Crimes, to help others understand how prison affects not only the men and women inside, but family members and the broader community..
I have been rewarded with amazing people in my life. In 2011, I married Valerie. We first met in the 70’s when we were in school together and she dated (and later married) my cousin. She wrote to me when I first came to prison, but when she got divorced, she stopped. I asked my aunt why and told her to tell Valerie I really enjoyed her letters. Then, when I was sent to a prison in the same state, she visited me. The rest, as they say, is history.
Valerie grounds me, and keeps me from giving up. And despite my disastrous actions, my last foster parents, Connie and Joel, remain a loving presence as well. And I welcome all of you, my readers, into my “circle.”
