A Chocolate Shake with a Side of Mercy
“…and I bought him a chocolate milkshake.”
Inspired by Bryan Stevenson’s book Just Mercy, a story follows about Avery Jenkins, a man unjustly convicted and condemned to death row.
His father murdered and mother dead from an overdose, Avery began foster care at 2 years old. Over the next 15 years, he was moved around over 20 times and suffered through abuse, abandonment, addiction, and untreated mental impairment (organic brain damage, bipolar disorder, and schizophrenia). At the age of 10, his foster parents chained him to a tree and left him to die. Miraculously, he did not. Though only a few years later he was left to fend for himself again as he was kicked out of the foster care system and as a direct result, became homeless.
When he was 20, in the midst of a psychotic episode, he wandered into a house thinking he was being attacked by demons and stabbed to death a man he believed to be one. With no investigation into his history nor his illnesses, Avery was swiftly convicted of murder and put on death row.
Avery remained there for years until Bryan Stevenson discovered his case and began to represent him as his lawyer. When arriving to their first meeting, Mr. Stevenson came across a prison guard known for his unrelenting anger and spiteful cruelty — as well as his confederate flag tattoo and truck adorned in “southern pride” character. After some intimidation and being forced to succumb to demeaning tasks — such as an unnecessary strip search — he was finally able to see Avery.
Upon seeing Mr. Stevenson, the first words he spoke were “did you bring me a chocolate milkshake?” Avery had asked the guards for a chocolate milkshake every day while in prison, and this day was no different. But each day, the answer was always the same: no.
Eventually, Avery had a new hearing for his case. With his history finally unveiled before the court, he was granted a new trial, which he ultimately won much later. He was going to be released to a mental health facility and receive proper care.
Sometime later, Mr. Stevenson came to see Avery in prison before he was released to only be faced with the same guard as before. However, this time was different.
“I want you to know that I was listening,” said the guard.
The guard had been assigned to escort Avery to and from court, so he sat in on the trial. It turns out, the guard had suffered a similar upbringing to Avery’s. Hearing his story unfold had unraveled repressed feelings of his own, and he reflected on how his anger had manifested into hatred. He saw things differently now.
Before leaving, the last thing he said to Mr. Stevenson was “Oh, wait. I’ve got to tell you something else… on the trip back down here after court on that last day — well, I know how Avery is, you know… anyway I took an exit off the interstate on the way back… and I bought him a chocolate milkshake.”
Still taken aback by this gesture, when Mr. Stevenson went to go see Avery, he started to say “Look, I tried to bring you a chocolate milkshake, but they wouldn’t — ” but Avery cut him off and said “Oh, I got a milkshake. I’m okay now.”
In Just Mercy, this story was told across 10 pages. But, for me, it will last forever on my arm as an emblem of redemption and, yes — mercy. It is a reminder — and a commitment — to lead with compassion and choose to see, and be, the good; to embrace mitigation when it may feel undeserving. In a world so unforgiving, the least we can do is buy someone a chocolate milkshake and make each other’s lives a little easier, even if just for a few moments.
As Mr. Stevenson has famously said:
“Mercy is just when it is rooted in hopefulness and freely given.”
We all deserve a little bit of mercy.
