About a month ago, I curled up on my favorite recliner with a hot cup of coffee and the Sunday paper. My 6 a.m. ritual—reading the paper quietly before my noisy family wakes up—is a relaxing way to ease into my day. (Well, relaxing as long as there are no articles about Amy Fisher!)
This particular Sunday, as I flipped through the paper, I came across an article called “Seeking Mercy for Mom.” As I started reading, an overwhelming sadness came over me. It was about an elderly woman, Marie La Pinta, trapped in prison for 19 years over a domestic squabble that led to the death of her husband, Michael La Pinta.
A Suffolk County jury convicted La Pinta and her brother, Leonardo Crociata, on February 9th, 1984, for a murder that their relatives say was the culmination of decades of physical and emotional abuse. Both are serving a 25-year-to-life prison sentence, although Marie was only charged as an accessory.
As I read the article, I felt helpless, wishing I could do something to help Marie gain her freedom. I believe strongly that society will be better served if she is released from prison. I say this not because I read some article, but because I know her.
I met Marie La Pinta in Bedford Hills prison in 1993. I was assigned to a horticulture program where I would sit by myself and draw pictures in the dirt to pass the time. I felt very isolated, and was not able to relate to the gangs, drugs and violence that seemed to be the sociological norm of prison. There wasn’t an abundance of young girls from the ’burbs to talk to. In horticulture class, a kind, grandmotherly woman would ask me if I was all right. She would show me beautiful floral arrangements and offer to teach me how to create them. If I said, “No,” she would simply smile and say, “Perhaps tomorrow.” I had assumed she was one of the horticulture teachers, not realizing for a while that she too was a prisoner. She was so “normal” it never dawned on me that she could have been convicted of a crime. This was Marie, and indeed she had been convicted of a very serious crime.
Eventually I gravitated toward Marie’s kindness, enjoying our afternoons together planting bulbs and making wreaths. It wasn’t that I really liked the horticulture thing. I simply liked being around Marie. She was the only person I met there who was genuinely kind to me. Most people I came in contact with were too caught up in my notoriety to realize I was just a scared young kid from Long Island. Marie was different. Her biggest concern was that I was too skinny. Every afternoon she would bring me a home-cooked Italian meal. It was like having a close relative right there with me, so that I wasn’t so alone.
I never asked Marie why she was in prison, assuming she was there for something trivial and would be going home soon. I figured that since she didn’t ask me a bunch of nosy questions, I shouldn’t be nosy either. She didn’t speak much about herself; she was focused on helping other people.
Eventually, through prison gossip, I found out Marie was serving a 25-year prison sentence for the murder of her husband. I never asked Marie a single question about the situation leading to her arrest. I didn’t have to—I knew there had to be extenuating circumstances.
Whenever I would feel sorry for myself, feeling as though my life was hopeless, I would think of Marie. She never complained and she was never bitter. I admired the way she lived her daily life, being productive and giving in spite of her dire circumstances.
When I was released from prison after seven years, I felt like I was being given a second chance at life. I vowed to show society that people make mistakes, but can learn from them and lead positive lives.
In 1999, I spoke to Marie’s son Tony, a Suffolk County attorney, asking him if there was anything I could do to help his mother. At the time, it probably would have become a joke—“Ha-ha, Long Island Lolita trying to free the convicts”—or something equally tabloid-ish.
We must forgive in order to move on. There are many circumstances surrounding Marie’s conviction that call out for leniency. She was never accused of committing the murder itself, but she would not testify against her brother, the shooter, so she got the same sentence he did.
Marie’s family is trying to secure clemency for her, as is the family of her deceased husband. Even tough-on-crime District Attorney James Catterson, for the first time in his career, has recommended clemency. Should Marie be given the opportunity to be a positive member of society? Does it really serve a purpose for her to be locked up in a prison after 20 years?
It is easy to say Marie’s ordeal does not affect our daily lives, and therefore, it’s not our problem. After all, she is not a friend or relative. It’s easy to say, “Oh, how tragic,” as we throw this newspaper in the trash. In the end, Marie’s struggle is not our problem, right? But issues of fairness, redemption and rehabilitation are part of the essence of what makes a society work.
Marie was an abused woman who was caught up in a situation out of her control. She has more than paid her dues. It is time to set her free.
For more information logon to www.MercyforMom.com.
