by Larry Lawton
Wolfinger wrote to Lawton on his letterhead, “Watching your tape for the second time, I can see why you influence these young adults to consider making good choices – you’re real and your stories were lived.”
Lawton and another police chief, who he doesn’t wish to identify, also didn’t see eye to eye about much. Their biggest disagreement was over how public funds should be spent to protect the community. Lawton expressed his belief in community policing, while the chief said he preferred the use of technology. Lawton saw that the chief also didn’t think much of his program.
One time Lawton bristled when the chief told him, “Some of your kids are no good and will never be saved.”
“You’re wrong about that, chief,” said Lawton.
“Not all law enforcement officials are like that,” said Lawton. “What I’ve learned from my travels and dealing with the public is that there is good and bad in all people. It’s no different from when I was in prison. I’m sure I’ve lost business because of my passion and willingness to tell the truth as I see it, but I’m not going to give up what I believe in just for the sake of business or to please some police chief or school official.
“The more people I come across, the more I believe that what I am doing is right. I often say, ‘Who among us is an angel? Who of us hasn’t made mistakes? What’s sad is that some people get a badge of authority and lose the compassion they need to do a good job. Like some of those prison guards I ran up against, they lost the human side of their soul, and that’s sad.”
This fact hit home with a vengeance when in August of 2010 Lawton’s nephew Brendan, my sister’s son who helped him set up his computer program, was found dead face down in a river in upstate New York. Lawton was sure he was murdered.
“Brendan was just like me, a risk taker and very smart,” said Lawton. “He was at a party in upstate New York, and he ended up dead in the river. There was no blunt trauma to his body and no drugs in his system, and no one seems to know how he died, but someone at that party knows more than what they’re saying. I was told he had an argument with another one of the kids there, and he didn’t come home. There was an exhaustive search with helicopters and search teams, and three days later his body was found.
“I was devastated. He was my second nephew to die violently. Ten years ago while I was in prison, my brother’s son, David, was shot in the head at point blank range. David used to live with me in the summers before I went to prison. He would play with my son when he came to visit me. These terribly sad situations helped form the structure of the adult Reality Check Program.
“I tell kids about Brendan and David. I tell them, ‘This is the life you’re going to lead.’ David was into drugs, into bad shit in Philadelphia. Brendan made bad choices as well.
“Helping young people just like Brendan and David drives me. Their legacies are saving lives every day. As I said, there is no magic number that says you’re an adult and ready for the world. Times have changed, and young adults, not just teenagers, need guidance.”
*
Lawton met with Judge David Silverman who wanted to see whether his program could help adults as well as juveniles.
“Why shouldn’t it?” Lawton said. “After all, just because you’re 22 year olds doesn’t make you an adult. A lot of 22 year olds make dumb choices.”
Larry had first met Judge Silverman on a golf course during a charity golf outing. In the foursome was Satellite Beach Police Chief Lionel Cote. Chief Cote was a believer in Lawton’s program and introduced Larry to the judge. Larry and the Judge were paired together, and after they spent four hours together on a golf course, Judge Silverman saw first-hand how strongly Lawton felt about his program.
Judge Silverman was a ten-year veteran on the bench, primarily dealing with misdemeanor criminal cases. He had been a prosecutor and before that had been a public defender dealing with capital cases. He was impressed with Larry’s knowledge of the law and his passion for helping kids.
Lawton gave Judge Silverman a copy of the Reality Check Program DVD. The judge promised to watch it and get back to him. In his chambers Judge Silverman watched the DVD alongside his 19-year-old college intern.
The intern said that watching Larry on the DVD was like watching the Exorcist.
“You’ll never forget it,” he said.
Lawton didn’t know it but Judge Silverman, ordinarily a cautious man, was sick and tired of ordering young people to eight hours of anger management and then seeing them again in his court room six months later. Jails were crowded with these people, and he was looking for an alternative. These weren’t murderers, rapists, or seriously violent offenders. These were wild kids involved with underage drinking, getting caught with under 20 grams of marijuana, multiple driving tickets, and petty theft. The judge decided that the Reality Check Program just might be what these young people needed to keep them from repeating the bad choices that were getting them in trouble.
Judge Silverman started sentencing people to the Reality Check Program, and the results were astonishing. When the judge asked those who went through the program what they thought of it, resoundingly, they all came back with, “This is the best program I’ve ever been to, judge.” And to Judge Silverman’s surprise, most never returned to his courtroom.
Lawton also got a call from Administrative Judge Judy Adkins, who asked to see him. She said, “I’d like to host a meeting in my chambers, and I’m going to invite all the judges.”
Judge Adkins had seen that the plea form included a reference to the Reality Check Program, and she wanted to learn more about it. In attendance was Chief Judge Preston Silvernail along with ten other Brevard circuit and county court judges.
When Lawton walked in, he asked Judge Atkins, “Where do you want me to sit?”
“Sit at my desk,” she said. Just three years after getting out of prison, there was ex-con Larry Lawton was sitting in a judge’s chair with all the judges sitting around looking up at him and listening to what he had to say.
Joe Reilly whispered to him, “What a photo this would be!”
*
Early on Lawton knew his program was effective, because after six months he did a quick quantitative analysis involving thirty offenders who went through his program. He found that 70 percent of them never got in trouble again – an excellent result. After eighteen months an independent quantitative analysis was done by an outside agency, the Brevard Community College honors involvement class did a more comprehensive study. They questioned over a hundred families, asking them four questions.
A: Has your son been arrested since attending the Reality Check Program?
B: Has his attitude improved?
C: Has your son’s grades improved?
D: Has his attendance at school improved?
The numbers were off the charts. A full ninety percent never got in trouble with the law again. School grades improved by forty-three percent, school attendance rose by thirty-one percent, and their attitudes improved by a resounding seventy percent.
The Reality Check Program is a life changer, and there’s no other program like it.
CHAPTER 17
Spreading the Word
Near the start of 2009 Larry Lawton received a phone call from Robin Lemonidis, a well-respected criminal defense attorney in Brevard County. Six months earlier, as Larry was starting his program, he was outside Judge Reinmann’s courtroom waiting for the deputies to open the courtroom doors after the noon lunch break when he heard a family having an argument.
The family was arguing about their 16-year-old son who was in trouble with the law. The father, a burly man of Italian descent, was getting loud. Larry could see his temper flaring.
Larry saw this slight, red-headed woman, perhaps five foot one and 110 pounds, in between the husband and wife, trying to calm the situation with no luck. Larry got up, lo
oked at the father, and in a commanding voice said, “Calm down, buddy. Can I talk to you?”
The man, confused, looked at Larry while he explained his past and what he did for a living.
The little red-headed woman turned out to be Lemonidis, who asked for his card. The 16-year-old boy was Robin’s client. With the situation diffused, Robin asked Larry more about what he did, and Larry explained in more detail. A business relationship was born.
Lemonidis began sending more and more of her clients to Lawton’s pre-trial diversion program and using the positive results to help her clients get less time in jail and more rehabilitation.
Robin was getting some unwanted phone calls from a man she once prosecuted twenty years earlier. The man was out of prison, and Robin was getting nervous. Larry and Robin set up a meeting with the man at the courthouse.
Larry showed up early, and as Larry predicted, so did the man.
“I had no description of the guy, except he was black and around 45,” said Lawton. “I can spot an ex-con from a mile away, and I wanted to speak to the guy before Robin showed up. It turned out the man thought he was wrongly convicted and wanted Robin to write a letter saying things to that effect.”
Larry told him, “She can’t write a letter. It won’t help you. And you can’t have contact with Miss Lemonidis, or you’ll go back to prison.” The man saw that Larry knew what he was talking about, got the hint, and when Robin arrived, Larry said, “Robin, I explained to him why you can’t get involved in his case, and he understands.” And that was the end of it.
A convict speaking to a convict is more effective than if cops showed up with guns blazing. That is how people get killed. How you speak to people is a key. Larry has a gift.
After Robin saw how effective Larry was with ex-cons, she said, “Larry, I have a case I want you to look at. I have a young man in the Brevard County detention center up in Sharpes, Florida, and he’s facing at least two years in the big house. If he goes there, he’ll never make it. Can you help?”
Lawton wasn’t sure exactly what he could do, but he agreed to go see the young man. Lawton knew the commander at the jail and called up to see if he would be allowed in. He then set up a meeting with the young inmate. Visitors to the county jail could only talk to inmates via a phone and a television monitor.
Lawton picked up his phone, and when the image of the inmate popped up on the monitor, he was shocked to see that before him was a kid no older than twenty.
“What are you in for?” Lawton asked.
“Drugs and robbery,” said the boy.
Lawton began by telling him what prison was really like.
“This is county jail,” Lawton said. “Prison is far worse than this.”
Lawton told the boy how during his eleven years in prison he had lost his wife and children and the time with them he could never get back. How he had felt helpless when he learned his grandmother had died and the gut wrenching feeling when his nephew was killed. The stories went on and on.
When the boy started crying, Lawton was pleased to see that the kid had a heart.
For an hour Lawton told the boy about the horrors he had experienced in prison. When it was time for Lawton to get up and leave, the boy had tears in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said, “and whatever happens, you helped me a lot.”
Lawton called Lemonidis the next day and told her about his visit. She asked if he would come to Judge Jim Earp’s courtroom on the fourth floor of the Brevard County court house in Viera, Florida, and be an expert witness at his sentencing. She wanted Lawton to tell the judge what life in prison was like compared to life in a county jail. She was hoping to get the judge to keep him out of the state prison system.
On the day of the hearing, Lawton couldn’t help but think about how his own life had changed. Once he had stood in front of a judge to face sentencing. On this day he was testifying on behalf of a young man who himself stood to go to prison.
The boy’s parents spoke first. When his mother pleaded for leniency and began to cry, Judge Earp, a fair man who had seen his share of these cases, said to her, “Where were you when he was doing these things? You’re crying now, but you should have done more beforehand.”
Lawton thought to himself, What’s the judge going to say to me?
Lawton was called to the podium. He stood beside Lemonidis, who started to tell the judge who Lawton was in order to qualify him as an expert.
“I’ve heard of him,” said Judge Earp. “He’s qualified.”
Lemonidis asked Lawton to discuss the difference between the county jail, where the boy currently resided, and the state prisons.
“The real difference,” said Lawton, “is that in a county jail the inmates come and go, and they really never get a chance to organize like in a state facility. In a state facility there are more gangs, more drugs, more violence, and in general more disorder than in a county jail. County jails may not have the programs some state facilities have, but if you want to keep a person away from gangs and drugs, a county jail is always better – not perfect, but better.”
Lawton stepped back. The young defendant was then asked to speak. He expressed his sorrow over what he did and told the judge he had changed, that he had learned from his mistakes.
Judge Earp looked at the boy, and then looked at Lawton, and he said, “Son, because of that man right there, I am going to sentence you to eight months in the county jail and give you time served for the time you’ve already spent in jail. And when you get out, you will attend the Reality Check Program. I hope you learned your lesson.”
At the end of the hearing Judge Earp asked Lawton to approach the bench.
“I would like to go to lunch with you,” he said. “I want to know more about your program, prisons, and what really goes on in there.”
Lawton would be called on as an expert witness in future cases. Lawton had found another way to make a difference in people’s lives.
*
The Reality Check Program was gaining more recognition and acceptance and a business decision was made to change the company name to Lawton 911. The words Reality Check were hard to copyright, and changing the name would make it easier for people to remember Larry when he appeared on TV. It is still referred to as the Reality Check Program as well as Lawton 911.
In January of 2010 Lawton was invited to Congress by U.S. Congressman Bill Posey from Florida. The year before Congressmen Posey had been a guest on Larry’s radio show. Impressed by what he had heard, he invited Larry to come to Washington to spread the word about what he was doing.
When Lawton arrived in his office, Congressman Posey announced to the dozen or so staffers and guests, “I’m glad to see Larry in Washington spreading the message about the good work he does. You can’t put a price on stopping a child from falling into an adult life of crime.”
President Obama was scheduled to make his state of the union speech, and the halls of Congress were packed with visitors. George Cecala, the communications spokesman from Congressman Posey’s office, escorted Lawton to see a half-dozen other Congressmen including Tom Rooney, Louie Gohmert, Jason Chaffetz, Don Lungren, and Debbie Wasserman-Shultz. While walking the halls of Congress Lawton couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the feeling that so much history had taken place there.
While in Washington Larry also stopped into the offices of the Department of Justice to meet with Dennis Greenhouse, the director of the Community Capacity Development Office.
“Dennis, a career government employee, sees things in a different way,” said Lawton. “He looks for solutions, not a paycheck.”
Greenhouse told Lawton a story about when he was attempting to help inmates in the Delaware state prison system when he was the comptroller of Delaware. There was an issue of how best to spend state funds on inmates. Greenhouse, a compassionate man, preferr
ed to spend the money on counseling rather than punishment. During his stay Greenhouse introduced Lawton to Sam Beamon, who ran the Florida operation for the CCDO. Lawton had another opportunity to spread the word about the Reality Check Program.
*
While visiting Washington Larry was staying in the Capitol Hill suites up the street from the Cannon Capitol office building. During a break between meetings, he returned to his hotel room. There was a knock on the door.
Larry opened the door. Standing in front of him were two tall men in dark suits with dark sunglasses.
“Are you Lawrence Lawton?” he was asked. They showed their badges. They were from the Secret Service.
Wow, thought Lawton, right out of central casting.
“May I have your identification, please,” he was asked. Meanwhile, the second secret service agent looked into the suite while the first one checked his ID.
For Larry, who had with him his probation papers from his probation officer in Cocoa, Florida, it was a reminder that no matter how much good he may be doing, he was still an ex-con.
The agents never asked for the papers. They thanked him and left. Lawton figured that because the President was coming to Congress, secret service agents were checking everyone in the vicinity.
“I’m sure my ex-con status raised a flag and they wanted to check me out,” said Lawton. “It kind of freaked me out knowing Big Brother was everywhere and knew everything.”
*
In March of 2010 Lawton attended the Sheriff’s Association convention in Destin, Florida, and among those in attendance he had a chance to meet Jeff Kottkamp, Lieutenant Governor of Florida. Kottkamp had created the Children and Youth Cabinet, whose stated mission was for “all children in Florida to grow up safe, healthy, educated and prepared to meet their full potential.’ Lawton and Kottkamp spoke for a few minutes, and Lawton could see that the lieutenant governor had a genuine interest in helping young people.
