'I'm not crazy, I just miss my family dearly along with my freedom'

This letter, written by inmate Ferrell Scott, is part of USA TODAY's Lifers series, which focuses on people who will likely remain incarcerated for the rest of their lives for nonviolent offenses, despite last year's enactment of the federal First Step Act. The series is published in conjunction with the Buried Alive Project. Letters are edited for length and clarity.

August 2019

You would think that selling marijuana is the worst thing in the world because I was given a life sentence for it. But when I die and they say at the Pearly Gates that the worst thing I did was sell weed to help take care of myself and my family, I like my chances. My good attributes far outweigh the bad.

I have been incarcerated for 4,252 days and counting for a non-violent marijuana conviction — something that is becoming legal in this country more and more every day. I'm just sad that the federal government is moving at a snail's pace to facilitate change. Our nation's capital has already passed laws that allow marijuana use for recreational purposes.

I'm not looking for sympathy. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me. At the end of the day I just ask for empathy — the ability to understand other peoples' situations and deal with the difference. The truth of why we do what we do isn't always black and white. The gray areas are where the most interesting parts of us can be found.

I don't want people to focus on what I did. I would like for the focus to be on how much time I received for what I did. I was offered as little as eight years, but only if I would cooperate and tell on others. After I refused the offer, I was forced to trial and given life for the same thing that they had just offered me eight years for. How do you go from eight years to life without parole? It just doesn't seem fair.

One of Scott's letters from prison

Scott sent a series of handwritten letters last year to Brittany Barnett, who heads the Buried Alive Project, in which he talked about being depressed and missing his children. Here is one of the originals.

In January 2018, I was diagnosed as being depressed. When the doctor told me that, I was like: Hell I've been depressed for a long time. The doctor wanted me to start taking some type of medication, but I refused. Then she said that my mental health is important and I was like: Whoa, I'm not crazy, I just miss my family dearly along with my freedom.

I have never been locked up this long in my life. The longest I've been incarcerated is 30 months, and I must say that this has begun to take a toll on me. The most stressful thing is that my mom is 96 years old, and I worry that I will never get to see her again. My dad died seven years ago on this date (1-2-2012) which happens to be my birthday, so this day has been bittersweet ever since. I haven't seen anyone in my family for more than a decade. I miss them so much.

My kids are all grown up now. They were just teens when I left. I know that they have been affected so much by me not being there for them. Just knowing that hurts my heart. I remember when I was being sentenced that one of the prosecutors said that I could still be there for my kids by talking to them on the phone. I remember thinking that he was absolutely crazy if he thinks talking on the phone to my kids is the same as being there for them. I could not believe he said that. I wondered if he actually believed that himself. It makes me so angry to revisit that day in court.

On March 26, it was 11 years that I have been incarcerated, and I am no closer to going home than I was the day I was arrested. You hold onto the hope of one day walking out of here alive and not in a box, but there's always that doubt that you may not.

I am trying to remain positive and see the world through the view of the glass being half full so that I will eventually see my situation from the other side. Things are particularly difficult for me right now. I try to remind myself that I will recover from this.

I just remember how it felt when I was sentenced to life and thought things couldn't get any worse and remind myself that I recovered from that and pray that I will recover from this, too.

Ferrell Scott; Allenwood Penitentiary, Allenwood, Pa.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: 'I just miss my family dearly along with my freedom': Ferrell Scott