A Year in Juvenile Detention : Carl Gallagher

Group therapy

Group therapy was a mandatory part of life in the detention center. Every week, the inmates were gathered into a small room, where they sat in a circle and were encouraged to share their feelings and experiences. For many, it was just another chore, a way to pass the time without revealing too much. But for Carl and Areum, this session would be different.

The tension between them remained, an unspoken barrier that neither had dared to cross. They sat on opposite sides of the circle, avoiding each other's gaze. The counselor, Ms. Davis, was a kind but firm woman in her late thirties. She had been running these sessions for years and had a way of drawing out even the most reluctant participants.

"Today," Ms. Davis began, "I want us to talk about why we're here. Not just the crimes, but the reasons behind them. What led you to make the choices you did? It's important to understand our past to move forward."

Carl shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn't keen on baring his soul in front of everyone, especially not in front of Areum. But he knew the routine. Eventually, Ms. Davis would call on him, and he'd have to speak.

As the session progressed, several inmates shared their stories, each one a mix of regret, anger, and a desire for something better. Finally, Ms. Davis turned her attention to Carl.

"Carl, would you like to share your story?" she asked gently.

Carl hesitated, glancing briefly at Areum before looking away. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "Yeah, I guess," he said, his voice low.

"I started dealing when I was thirteen," Carl began, his eyes fixed on the floor. "It wasn't about the drugs at first. It was about the money. My family... we never had much. My dad was gone, and my mom... well, she wasn't really around either. So it was up to us kids to make ends meet."

He paused, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on him. "I met this guy, Reggie. He saw potential in me, said I was smart and could make a lot of money if I played my cards right. At first, it was just small stuff—running errands, collecting payments. But then I started dealing on my own. The money was good, and I thought I could handle it."

Carl's voice grew softer, tinged with regret. "But then things got out of control. I got busted in a sting operation, and here I am. I guess I just wanted to prove I could take care of myself, that I wasn't just some poor kid from a messed-up family."

Ms. Davis nodded, giving Carl an encouraging smile. "Thank you for sharing, Carl. It takes courage to open up like that."

Carl nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and vulnerability. He glanced at Areum, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. For a moment, their eyes met, and Carl saw a flicker of something—maybe understanding, maybe pity.

Ms. Davis turned to Areum next. "Areum, would you like to share your story?"

Areum stiffened, clearly uncomfortable. She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay."

"I moved here from Korea when I was ten," Areum began, her voice quiet but steady. "My parents wanted a better life for me. They worked long hours, and I was alone a lot. It was hard to fit in, to make friends. I felt... invisible."

She paused, glancing at Carl before looking away. "When I was fourteen, I met some people who made me feel like I belonged. They were into some bad stuff, but they accepted me. They showed me how to make quick money, how to survive in this new world."

Areum's voice grew more intense, tinged with bitterness. "I started dealing because it gave me control, made me feel powerful. I thought I was smart enough to avoid getting caught, but I wasn't. One deal went wrong, and now I'm here."

She took a deep breath, her gaze hardening. "I don't regret trying to survive, but I regret the choices that led me here. I let my parents down, and I let myself down."

Ms. Davis nodded, her expression compassionate. "Thank you for sharing, Areum. It's important to acknowledge your feelings and understand where they come from."

When the session ended, Carl and Areum avoided each other's gaze as they filed out of the room. The silence between them was still heavy, but it was no longer just a barrier. It was a space filled with unspoken words and shared experiences, a fragile connection that neither of them was ready to acknowledge.