Ohio resident Doug Ishmael kept passing hotels through the night on his way to Denver and a parole hearing.
He couldn’t sleep because he was replaying an image in his mind of Okevian Wilson pounding his 15-year-old son Chris Meaghan in the head with a hammer.
For 17 years, Ishmael hadn’t known his son’s fate after his girlfriend left Ohio with Chris when the boy was about 10. Then an Internet search led to a horrific discovery. Ishmael’s longing for his son instantly turned to overpowering grief.
On a recent Thursday morning, Ishmael, his wife, Peggy, and other family members arrived at the Denver Reception and Diagnostic Center where they were greeted by Monica Crocker, who offered hugs and information.
Crocker guided the Ishmaels through check-in, a metal detector and rows of razor-wire fencing into the prison and to a conference room where they were to have their say.
Crocker leads a team of victim-assistance workers for the Colorado Department of Corrections.
DOC executive director Tom Clements said the department has made strides to reduce the pressure of testifying at parole hearings, including offering video conferencing in which victims don’t have to meet offenders face to face.
Helping families make points
The victim-assistance workers including Crocker have helped 187 victims through the highly emotional and intimidating parole comment process so far this year.
Confronting offenders leaves victims’ family members trembling and speechless. Crocker once finished reading a statement by a grandmother of an 11-month-old child who was severely abused. The woman was shaking.
Crocker tries to remain unemotional so she can be a calming influence. She gives a lot of hugs. But sometimes she can’t hold back the tears.
A 13-year-old girl described holding her invalid 18-year-old sister in her arms when she died during a parole hearing for a babysitter who shook the victim when she was an infant.
One father was so enraged with the man who raped his daughter that Crocker was concerned he might attack the rapist. Crocker asked correctional officers to stand close by.
Ishmael wouldn’t get that close to his son’s killer. All he wanted was a chance to say what had been taken from him.
Years of searching, loss
Ishmael’s memories of his son were of a very affectionate boy who clung to his father and loved to hike in the woods.
“He was beautiful,” Ishmael said.
After his girlfriend left the state, Ishmael repeatedly tried to find her so he could see his son. When he finally read about his death online, he couldn’t get enough information about it. He ordered a 400-page police report and autopsy photographs.
He learned that shortly after his son broke out of a Colorado youth corrections program in 1991, his accomplices accused him of snitching at a Colorado Springs apartment. Eight people started kicking and pummeling Chris. Midway through the beating Wilson arrived.
” ‘It’s hammer time,’ ” Ishmael claimed Wilson, then 15, had said. Before he finished, Chris was dead. They dumped the body in a creek near Manitou Springs, Ishmael said.
Joe Cannata, executive director of Voices of Victims, who gave the Ishmaels $800 for gas and hotel money for their trip to Colorado, picked them up at a hotel and drove them to the prison for the Oct. 27 hearing.
“Without them I wouldn’t have been able to come out here,” Ishmael said.
Crocker led the Ishmaels into a conference room where they sat at the end of a long table and took turns speaking to Pat Waak, vice chairperson of the Colorado Parole Board. Crocker handed out tiny water bottles and tissues.
An unconvincing apology
“The killing was vicious,” Ishmael said as tears fell down his cheeks. “I don’t believe he deserves to be on the street. My son will never have anything but death.”
Crocker explained to them that they would go into a video conference room where they could see Wilson, who is at Delta Correctional Center, make a statement. They could see him but he couldn’t see them.
Wilson, who is serving a 30-year sentence, read a statement in which he described earning college credits, including in culinary arts. He apologized to the Ishmaels. He said he was knocked into a closet during a fight, picked up a hammer from a tool box in retaliation and struck Chris.
Afterward, the Ishmaels again spoke with Waak.
“He’s not even telling the truth,” Ishmael said. “He’s trying to minimize his involvement.”
How can he be reformed if he lies about what happened, he asked following the hearing.
Ishmael said the work of Cannata, the father of a murder victim, and DOC’s victim assistance was wonderful.
“If we weren’t here to tell what we know, a parole officer may not know,” Ishmael said.
Following the hearing, Wilson got a two-year deferment. He won’t be considered again for parole until 2013.
Kirk Mitchell: 303-954-1206, kmitchell@denverpost.com, or
