Do people change? That’s a question I was asked about Jerry. A few weeks ago, I attended a function where many attendees had known Jerry when he was a boy, and it was interesting listening to stories about him. They remembered him as just a boy, not a hardened criminal. They talked about him in ways that I remembered during my visits, so I wasn’t surprised. What I saw was a man who had made big mistakes and accepted his punishment; yet felt he deserved a second chance. He had the same twinkle in his eye he showed as a boy. He especially wanted a second chance with his grandchildren because he knew he had screwed up big time with some of them. The only time I saw him come close to crying was when he talked about this, and it’s a shame he didn’t live to set things right. So, had he changed? I think so. Would life be hard for him, yes, without a doubt. But all along the way, Jerry’s influence had been from those with his same agenda, and that’s probably the reason he and I got along so well because I was not hesitant to tell him he was wrong. Our arguments were interesting but always civil.d He would always end his correspondence with me, “Your friend, Jerry.” He needed someone, as do all of us. There were those in place ready to support him on the outside, good people without any agenda. He would’ve made it. He would’ve been a good father and grandfather—-and a friend.
My name is Richard Biggs and I'm a writer. My latest book is about Jerry Allen LeQuire, a convicted drug kingpin, who rejected two offers from the CIA to work for them, and has been in a federal prison for over 30 years.