Charles Cofield

©Copyright 2004 Don Henry Ford Jr.

A few years ago, I walked into the Hasting's bookstore in Seguin, Texas. A table was set up near the entrance for a book signing; behind the table stood a man. His head was shaved bald, his body fit and strong. Piercing dark brown eyes searched my face.

I approached. The man was well dressed but the grip of his hand was not that of someone who sits behind a desk all day. Only when he spoke did I realize that he was of Latin extraction. This guy was not your average author. "Hi. My name is Charles Cofield and this is my book."

He handed me a copy of a book, Runaway and the Forgotten Prisoners. I noticed that the cover depicted both a Mexican and an American flag. On the back it had a picture of him and an impressive array of what I recognized to be razor wire.

I know razor wire. I lived behind it for five years.

He said, "I have done some bad things and I have seen some bad places, but by the grace of God I survived. In this book I tell my story, but not only my story. I left a lot of friends behind. This is for them."

I told him that I, too, had done time. Charles was not covered in tattoos, nor did he have outward signs that he had been an inmate but there was a hardness to him and an intensity I recognized. No one does a long stretch behind the wire or in a war and emerges unscathed.

"Who published your book?" I asked.

"I did," he said. He handed me a card that said Runaway Publishing Company.

I told him that I, too, had written a novel, two in fact, but that I had never gotten them published.

"You should," he said. "If you need help, I'll show you how."

Charles gave me a brief rundown of his life--how he had been born in Mexico and had come to the United States--illegally at first. An American family adopted him as a teen and he took their Anglo name. And then how he had been involved in a crime as a young man--a violent crime in which he was not the principal offender. Nevertheless, he pled guilty to attempted capital murder on the advice of a public defender and was sent to TDC (The Texas Department of Corrections) with a ten-year sentence. While in prison he witnessed and survived terrible events, from the harassment of building tenders (now illegal) and abusive guards to a riot and its aftermath--a riot that never made the newspapers. In spite of the lack of incentives on the part of the state, he worked at rehabilitating himself. After his release he became a profound believer in the teachings of Jesus.

Charles is not your average church-attending kind of guy. Picture a slightly smaller Latin version of Jesse Ventura--the ex-wrestler and current governor of Minnesota. I can easily visualize Charles going toe to toe with Marvin Hagler in a street fight, but I found it a stretch to imagine him singing in a choir.

Two of my children accompanied me that day; we were there to rent a video. After we found the movie they wanted to see, I returned to his table and picked up a copy of the book.

I took his book home and began to read. I found the story very interesting, but I could tell only a small part of that story managed to get on the printed page. It's hard to write a book in your native tongue--to do so in a second language is beyond difficult. And to write and publish a book with no more than a sixth grade education--well, in today's world, it is simply unheard of. Quite a remarkable achievement.

My first thought was, if this guy can get a book in print, then I can too. I looked through a box under my bed and found an old manuscript I had written while in prison. One of my sons wanted to read it--after he did, I began typing it into a computer. I eventually got the book published, albeit by a print-on-demand publisher.

Had not I run into Charles Cofield, my first novel, The Devil's Swing, would probably still be sitting in a box under my bed. And it is unlikely that I would have continued to write. His faith and courage inspired me.

About a year later, my wife Leah and I were eating at the Taco Cabana in Seguin when I saw Charles come in. He was dressed in work clothes and covered with the soil of a nearby construction site. I walked up and introduced myself. He remembered me. I told him that I had gotten my book published and asked how he had done with his.

He told me that he had sold 2,500 copies, one at a time. Some he sold on job sites where he worked and others at bookstores where he placed them on consignment. He told me he went to jails and prisons and talked to troubled youth and then donated books to them or sold them at a reduced price to the institution to make them available to the inmates through their libraries.

I explained how I had gotten my book published and began to ask him questions about self-publishing. I had learned is that it is no small task to produce a book. And I also had learned that it is difficult to get a brick and mortar bookstore to carry self-published books, outside of a few that will take books on a consignment basis. Widespread distribution is virtually impossible.

He, too, had run into that obstacle. Most who try to self-publish end up with a room full of books and a debt of at least ten thousand dollars (if not more) and that is the end of their career as a writer. If the books are big enough they make good doorstops and thin books work well to level tables, chairs and beds. All of them have pages that make good fire starters.

But Charles remained undaunted. "I wrote a good book and I will sell a many more copies before I am done. You wait and see."

I took his business card again. Later I called to see if he might be interested in publishing some of my work. He told me he was going to a Latino book fair hosted by Edward Olmos and invited me to come along. I couldn't. Too many other things I had to do. After the book fair he told me he had met Olmos and showed me a picture of the two of them standing arm in arm. Now Charles became convinced his book could someday be a movie. If there's one thing Charles has a lot of, it's confidence. He told me he hoped to produce a Spanish version of the book to market in Mexico and also to sell to Spanish speakers here in the United States.

He had sold or given away most of his first print run of four thousand so I suggested that he get in touch with Lightning Source, a printing company that produces books for print-on-demand publishers. That way he could order books as needed rather than having to purchase a minimum of at least three thousand required by most off-set presses. Each book would cost more, but print-on-demand technology eliminates unsold inventories and a large initial outlay of cash to get a book into production. Lightning Source also distributes books through Internet book providers like Amazon and Barnes and Nobles on-line bookstore--markets he was not reaching.

Charles prepared his Spanish version book and then got set up with Lightning Source to print both versions. He ordered a few books from them and was satisfied with the results. He came by to tell me that he was going to Mexico to market the Spanish version and then I heard no more. It was as though he had disappeared.

Several months later I got a call. He told me he had been in jail.

Jail? Charles Cofield. The guy that goes to prisons and jails and councils young kids about the dangers of illegal use of drugs and involvement in gangs?

"Why?" I asked.

"I'll tell you later. I don't want to talk about it over the phone."

A few weeks later Charles came by our farm and explained what had happened. He had traveled to Mexico to visit family and to promote his book. Upon re-entering the United States at the international airport in Houston, Customs and Immigration officials detained him for having left the country.

Since when did that become a crime? Apparently it hadn't been the many times he had come and gone before while working with a legal immigration work permit.

Charles got caught in the aftermath of 9-11 and our country's new policies toward immigration. With the present cloud of fear under which our country now lives, a guy looking like Charles draws scrutiny. That scrutiny revealed his old conviction from way back in the 1970's.

He was detained and sent to a correctional facility owned and operated by a private corporation--a company that profits from incarcerating people. He spent 80 days in this facility. Charles learned that his permanent resident status had been revoked because of his old conviction. And that he would have to remain in jail for somewhere between four and five years without the possibility of making bond to fight the case. So he signed a document, in essence proclaiming guilt for having left and re-entered the country. The U.S. government granted him a one-year temporary work visa with no guarantee that it will be extended. This enabled him to get out of jail and rejoin his family. He now lives in San Antonio with the knowledge that he can be deported at any time, and in fact will have to leave the country in eight months and will be unable to return to the United States unless the government renews his temporary work visa.

A piece of irony: Charles is currently helping to construct one of nine new federal illegal immigrant detention centers here in the State of Texas. He may very well be building his own future home.

Here is what the government's computer did not reveal. Charles Cofield is married to an American citizen--his first and only wife. He is the father of a soon-to-be eighteen-year-old son, born and raised in this country--an honor student that spends up to five hours a day studying classical piano and also works and saves his money to further his education.

Charles works hard, pays his taxes, contributes to his church, and donates his time, effort, and money to help kids avoid the mistakes he made. He has given away 1,500 copies of his book at various institutions where he spoke. When he speaks, young men listen. Because he comes from their world. They don't see him as an outsider, but instead as one of their own--one that overcame and now serves as a model for others to do the same.

Charles loves both of his countries: the United States and Mexico, and deeply appreciates the opportunity he has had to live and work here. In spite of his appearance he is a man full of love and compassion for others. He has lived twenty-three years in the United States since being released from prison without a single blemish on his record.

I thought this new homeland security act was instituted to protect us from our enemies. It appears there are those among us that have something else in mind. If not, then there are innocent people getting caught up in the rush to rid us of terrorists. And Charles is one of them.

Charles now rests his hope on getting a full pardon from Governor Rick Perry. Otherwise he will live under constant threat of deportation or have to move back to Mexico without the right to return to the United States--even to visit his family.

The whole story of Charles Eagle Cofield has not yet been told. Matter of fact, a lot of the important things may still lie in the future.

But he is not the only person in a similar situation.

Detainees of Cuban extraction are far worse off than those from Mexico. To continue to punish a person after having paid his debt to society is a sin of great magnitude. I'll let you in on one of our dirty little secrets. We do this to thousands of people in the United States. I have seen it with my own eyes. So has Charles. There exists another world within our world--behind all that razor wire. And a lot of Americans would be shocked to learn what really happens there.

Charles has prepared a web site. Check it out.