Recovering alcoholic visiting Stearns County Jail for church ministry program saved by inmate

ST. CLOUD, Minn. — Prior to Sept. 27, the only thing Michael Simpson and Dennis Kay shared was addiction.

Kay's preferred choice for abusing his body was alcohol, and he considers himself lucky that he got sober before he did something that would get him sent to prison.

Simpson abused cocaine and methamphetamine, the latter landing him in Stearns County Jail facing robbery and theft charges that could send him to prison for several years.

Kay, who's been sober for 21 years, has dedicated himself to sharing the love of the Lord and helping people discover their relationship with God. It was in that role that Kay, who lives in Little Falls, came to the jail in late September, the St. Cloud Times (http://on.sctimes.com/1xTU25j ) reported.

Simpson, a self-described self-centered junkie, was a willing participant in the Residents Encountering Christ program that brought Kay and other volunteers to the jail that weekend. A man who was looking for salvation and a new beginning met a man who wanted to help Simpson help himself.

Neither could have predicted the circumstances that led to their encounter or the significance that meeting has on both of them today.

"I know he saved my life that weekend," Kay would say later.

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Michael Simpson has spent more than 30 years in the restaurant business, helping transform menus in Rochester before coming to St. Cloud to be executive chef at the former Cork's Grill and Wine Bar.

After Cork's closed in April 2009, he worked the line at the Ace Bar & Grill in east St. Cloud. He was the kind of person who worked hard and enjoyed his successes, even if the celebrating came at the expense of his family.

He carried with him a criminal past, including convictions for counterfeiting money in the early 1990s and for theft and burglary-related offenses in the late '90s that sent him to prison.

He settled down after the trip to prison, had four kids with his wife, Christine. But by the time he helped open Cork's in 2004, he was an addict, the kind that thought he had somehow earned the right to buy a pile of cocaine because he had worked hard and deserved it. He'd earned the right to party.

It led him down a path he's not proud of. To feed his drug habit, he dropped to a level that he shares with embarrassment.

"Three Christmases ago I stole presents from underneath the tree and pawned them so I could get my next fix," said the 48-year-old.

One of the presents was an XBox 360 intended for his kids. He even stole his daughter's silver crucifix, a symbol of her first communion, and pawned that for drugs.

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Dennis Kay was kicked out of high school and the Air Force because he wouldn't quit drinking. He's had numerous classmates from his Little Falls 1974 high school class die because of alcohol or drugs.

He knows how lucky he is that he never ended up in prison, considering all the times he got behind the wheel, drunk. Really drunk.

The solution to his problem was simple:

"I got that figured out finally. I can't get drunk if I don't have a drink."

His voice is a combination of crackle, gurgle and hearty laugh. The partying took a toll on the 57-year-old, who battles a stomach hernia and "an esophagus that doesn't work."

A burn spur forced his airway open so when he ate, food went into his lungs. It's caused dozens of hospitalizations, feeding tubes and worse.

"It's all gravity, every time I eat. I haven't been able to sleep in a bed in six years. I have to sleep upright in a chair."

It's just one of those things for Kay, nothing more. Something you deal with. You make choices in life and deal with the consequences. And it's faith in a higher power, rather than yourself, that's gets you through the really difficult times.

It's central to his REC message at the jail.

"You have to have faith in something with more power than yourself. That's what always got me in trouble, believing in myself. Even now, I know I'm just a very grateful recovering alcoholic, by the grace of God. Case closed."

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Simpson's meth addiction was in full rage when a man stole money from a Waite Park grocery store bank in 2012. Prosecutors believe the same man robbed a Waite Park convenience store at gunpoint in March 2013.

The charges say Simpson told police he took his son's Mustang without permission and used it during the theft at the bank. His cases are progressing through court, where he faces the prospect of several years in prison.

He blames his addiction as much as himself for his trip to jail. He had a young cellmate who carried the same burden. A friend who chose a different way out, committing suicide in the jail in August.

"I lost a friend. He was 22 and I'm 48. I have a son his age. He had an addiction and that was what we had in common."

Simpson wonders whether he failed to see the signs that led to the suicide. Were there any signs? He felt like he had somehow failed. But he tried not to read into it too much. That didn't work.

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Kay volunteers with three dozen or so in the REC program, which comes to the Stearns jail twice a year. He also helps at the Together Encountering Christ programs offering similar programming outside the jail.

Stearns County Jail programming coordinator Jeff Pollreis describes it as an intense, weekend-long retreat of sorts. There are group meetings, classroom sessions, worship, scripture readings.

It can draw 120-130 inmates to a two-day program. The volunteers spend most of each day with the inmates, including mealtime.

The September program was the first Simpson attended. He missed part of Saturday because he was working in the laundry area and had to get approval from Pollreis to arrive late.

Part of the program included giving inmates a small block of wood on which they were to write the things that they wanted to shed, what they would give up on the cross.

Guilt. Shame. Those were Simpson's words.

"We didn't know anyone who came to the jail, but we shared one thing," he said. "We needed help. Our way wasn't working."

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Lunch that day was in a common area on banquet tables, inmates and volunteers elbow-to-elbow.

Simpson was talking and casually looked a few seats to his left. An inmate had grabbed one of the volunteers from behind.

Simpson immediately knew that Kay was choking and needed help fast. He took over for the inmate who was trying the Heimlich on Kay.

When he tried to stand Kay upright to get a better grip, he noticed something that made him shiver.

"He couldn't hold himself up. I looked at the expressions on the faces of the people who were looking at him. Just looking at their faces, I thought he was going to die."

Kay was blue and his lips were swollen, a piece of food blocking his airway. His medical condition has caused him to have trouble with solid foods before, but he never came this close to dying.

Simpson got a better grip on Kay, moving his hands under his rib cage. He gave four or five thrusts without any success.

"He tightened up on me. I threw him in the air to get underneath him and started thrusting again. I gave him one good one and I felt a jolt. I thought it was a death jolt or something, but then someone said that it had come out."

Kay said he was on the verge of blacking out when Simpson came to his rescue. Nurses checked him out afterward. Jail correctional officers told him who had saved him.

Kay sought out Simpson.

"I went up and gave him a big hug."

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Simpson and Kay have kept in touch since one saved the other's life.

Kay wants to walk beside Simpson wherever his journey takes him. He sees a kindred spirit, a man with a good heart who let his addiction take him down the wrong path.

He sees someone worth redeeming, someone who can overcome past demons like he has.

"Through the grace of God I should be dead, numerous times. I could have been in prison for as many times as I got behind the wheel drunk. I should be dead because of my medical condition. But for some odd reason God wants me around. And he put Michael there to keep me around."

Simpson believes he was saved that weekend as well. The suicide of his cellmate weighed on him for three weeks until the REC weekend.

He thought about the wooden block he got that weekend and the words he had written.

"Shame, guilt. Those were the two. And when I woke up Monday morning, the guilt was gone. There was absolutely no more. I just felt like I was vindicated. Maybe that's wishful thinking. But maybe I'm not supposed to have this guilt on my conscience."

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