My name is Timothy Munday, and I'm a correctional officer. My job, as my professors had taught me, is to detain, punish, rehabilitate and release prisoners in order for them to become productive members of our society once again. Today has been one of the lowest days of my career, as I've seen our broken system fail one more lost soul. This time hitting home closer than ever.

The last time I saw my cousin James was March 30th. He reached out to me the night before, asking for a helping hand, knowing the career field I work in. I assured him everything was going to be alright, and met up with him for lunch that afternoon.

After years of not seeing or speaking to eachother, a young man sat in front of me at a local restaurant with sunken eyes, rough hands and a broken soul. You could tell by one look at him that his past humbled him, as he made a mistake when he was a kid at 18, and paid 8 years of his life in the New York State Correctional system to pay his debt to society for what he did.

James spoke to me with passion and intelligence. He spoke about broken hope of a brighter future. He spoke about how hard things were for him since he's been released. He spoke of wanting nothing more than a job to feed himself and get out of the drug house he was forced to live in. He spoke of wanting to make a happy life for himself. He spoke of wanting to make his daughter proud of her daddy.

He spoke about forgiveness of his past. He spoke with thankfulness,pride and love when he talked about his daughter, and how well the mother of his child and her husband did at stepping up where he couldnt.

I made a promise to him that day. A promise that I would help him out, get him on his feet. That the system wasnt always broken. I promised him I wanted to make a difference in his life because I knew, as family, as a father, as an officer, that he had the goodness and ability in him to do whatever he wanted to do with life as soon as he helped him take off.

I dropped him off, he hugged and thanked me for everything, and told me that he couldnt wait to show me what he was capable of. I reluctantly watched him walk back into that drug house with his hood up and his head held low.

This morning, Monday April 4th, James was found dead from an apparent overdose. Part of me wants to believe it was accidental, but the other part of me knows he never touched heroine and that this was him giving up and releasing his pain forever. Now, I want nothing more to keep my promise to him, and send him off the best I can.

I need your help to give a kid, that never had a chance at a happy and fulfilling life, the proper burial and memorial that his huge network of friends, family and loved ones knows his huge heart deserves....

Anything you give, even $5, would be appreciated so much.

Thank you,
Timmy Munday