Mad Dogg

 

My son Travis, a high-voltage lineman in Oklahoma, was in the process of moving to his new home last week.  Long days working at his new job were followed by longer evenings moving and preparing the house with his wife, Danielle, and their kids, Emma and John.

When his phone rang, caller ID said it was Trey, a friend and coworker from his previous job and also a brother from the church they had been members of.  Trey’s tone said it all but his words made Travis’s heart drop.

“It’s Mad Dogg.”

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The name is an indication of the mindset he had at one point in his life.  No one I’ve spoken to who has known M.D. (as most call him now) knows what his birth name was.  They just know that he changed the name he was given at birth to Mad Dogg when he was serving 25 years-to-life in prison, for killing a man.

You see, he had been a leader of a biker gang at one point and they were heavily into serious crime, including murder.  M.D. was right in the middle of it.  Every bit of it.

They rode motorcycles, as biker gangs are wont to do.  With a mixture of drugs, alcohol, and motorcycles, sensible people can see the glaring possibility of serious accidents…if they care whether they live or die.  Many of them don’t.  Others carry so much pain from their early lives that they try to substitute the threat of physical pain for the mental pain they carry from their youth…from abusive parents; from molestation at the hands of people they should have been able to trust; from authority figures who thought the way to “straighten them out” was through beatings rather than help.

I don’t know why M.D. was part of all that.  I never got to talk to him enough to ask.  I do know that he was involved in some serious accidents…very serious.  Three times he had wrecks that the doctors didn’t think he would survive.  The third time his skull was laid open and his brain was clearly visible.

But he survived.

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One of the good things about prison is that it gives a man time to think about his past life and his future.  And that’s just what M.D. did.  He thought about all the bad things he had done.  He let go of the pain of a poor family and a bad childhood and took responsibility for his actions.  He began to work on improving his education.  Travis told me that the former biker had “some kind of a law degree” that he had earned while incarcerated.

But there was another change overtaking Mad Dogg too.  Someone during that time locked up told him about God.  I assume M.D. was resistant at first but gradually realized that it all made sense to him.  He accepted the invitation and became a Christian while still in prison.

I have to admit, when I hear about a criminal, especially a violent one, becoming a Christian while in prison, I’m skeptical.  I’ve seen too many people who would do anything to keep from being held responsible for their past doings.

Whether that’s how it started or not, I just don’t know.  I do know that M.D. impressed enough people in prison that he was awarded parole.

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Parole is when ex-prisoners often show their true colors…and Mad Dogg did.  He started talking to others about God and what He had done in M.D.’s life.  He started a Facebook page on which he spread the word.  He still spent some of his time hanging out around bikers, but now his goal wasn’t drugs and crime.  Now his goal was to help his brothers in leather to find a new, better way to live.

He was a Christian but he was still Mad Dogg.  His words were sometimes pretty coarse but his meaning was clear and he still didn’t pull any punches, verbally at least.

His preacher talked to him about the language on his Facebook page.  Some of the parishioners had talked to the pastor.  They were offended by the biker’s words.

M.D. explained that the people he was trying to reach wouldn’t listen to him if he talked like the good Christians did at church.  Many of them had never heard of God except to take his name in vain.  If M.D. stayed short of that, wasn’t opening sinners ears more important than offending those of Christians?

Hm-m-m-m.

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Some of you may recall I met Mad Dogg in early May.  Our family was going through a horrible time.  Danielle was in the hospital.  She was pregnant with our sweet little Adam and it looked like both of them were going to die.

Before the worst happened, Travis walked into the waiting room and Mad Dogg was there.  T. introduced me, “You’ll like him.”

I think he was talking to me.

M.D. stood tall and lean, his hair and beard were a long, reddish blonde.  His skin was like leather, burned dark by the sun and scarred, but that makes sense, doesn’t it.

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The situation worsened with us eventually losing our little Adam.  M.D. was right there with us.  For the most part he stood there quietly, but I could see the pain in his eyes as our precious little man left us.  M.D. prayed with us and he prayed for us.

That whole time is pretty much a blur, thankfully.

By the time Mad Dogg had to go, he felt like a member of the family.

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Travis’s friend Trey had been there with us too, and shared the pain with our family.  Just as Travis, he had gotten close to M.D. through the church.

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Trey was on duty that night when the call came in that they had a power outage.  He had gone to the scene.  Linemen have to face the possibility of their own and other people’s deaths on a daily basis, but they still have a job to do.  So Trey tried not to look at the nearby body as he worked to get the grid back up.  He knew the poor victim had not been declared dead yet and was waiting for someone to arrive who could do so.

The he heard someone say, “It’s Mad Dogg.”

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If you know motorcycles you know that it doesn’t take much to wreck one.  M.D. had been out riding with a friend that night, probably going a bit too fast, when a dog ran out in front of him.  He had swerved to avoid it, lost control, and slammed into a power pole.

He probably died instantly

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I don’t know what kind of family life Mad Dogg had growing up, and I don’t know if he even had a family in later years.  I don’t know if anybody loved him or cared about him, but I know one thing for sure, as long as these current generations of the Matthews clan are still alive, Mad Dogg has a family.

I don’t know if he can hear me now but, if he can, I want him to know, “M.D. you will be missed.”

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I’m sure heaven’s residents thought they heard thunder the day he arrived.

I can see M.D. now, riding a wheelie and yelling, “Open the gates, St. Pete!  Mad Dogg comin’ through!”

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God bless you Mad Dogg and may you rest in peace.

 

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