•

Fareirirrotten Man

How a last-minute
e ort provided
a man with no
known family and
few friends a
Jewish funeral.

Michael Knell

ELIZABETH APPLEBAUM
AppleTree Editor

M

JN

5/19

2005

14

ichael Knell was something
of a forgotten man, a pris-
oner who had no contact
with family, a private figure whose
entire circle of friends was limited to
two.
Knell died at 7:30 a.m. Dec. 17,
2004, and even his body would have
been abandoned had it not been for
the efforts of an Orthodox rabbi he
never knew, a handful of acquaintanc-
es, a member of a Christian motorcy-
cle association and his wife, and
thanks to a largely unknown piece of
legislation.
His story begins in Maryland.
Knell was born on Feb. 6, 1957, to
Charles and Ina Knell. After graduat-
ing high school in Maryland, Michael
found work as a security guard.
He mentioned to a friend that his
mother was from Niles, Mich., which
may explain how Knell came to be in
this state. He arrived sometime after
1971. and settled in the small town of
Bronson, south of Jackson near the
Indiana border.
Because Knell has no known rela-
tives, it's impossible to say virtually
anything else about his life before
prison. What is known is the kind of
trouble he got into.
On Jan. 25, 1985, Knell was con-
victed of criminal sexual conduct, first
degree, involving two children under
13. He entered a plea of no contest,
which means the accused does not
admit guilt, though the plea has the
same effect.

During sentencing, Knell, then 27,
stood quietly wringing his hands" as
Judge Michael Cherry spoke, accord-
ing to a story in the Coldwater Daily

((

Reporter.
The judge sentenced him to 16 to
25 years and told Knell: "I want you
to know the reason I have exceeded
the minimum sentencing guidelines is
first to punish you for your offense
and secondly as a deterrent for others
in this community."
Knell served 19 years in prison
before he went to the hospital for sur-
gery in 2004 and ended up dying days
later.
, Today, Knell is virtually forgotten in
the community where the crime was
committed. The most seasoned police
chief in the area doesn't recall details
of the crime, while Knell's own attor-
ney can't remember him, either.
Family didn't keep up with Michael
Knell. His only apparent connection
after his incarceration was with his
mother, Ina, who came to visit him at
Jackson State Prison. She died in 1986.
Harl Orr and his wife, Linda, were
Knell's only real friends. They stood
beside Rabbi Boruch Levin of Hebrew
Memorial Chapel in Oak Park at
Knell's funeral — the only three per-
sons in attendance.
Orr also was a prisoner at Jackson.
He was sitting at a picnic table and
reading a Bible when Knell, newly
incarcerated, approached. "He was kind
of lost at the time," Orr says of Knell.
"He asked me, What are you reading?'
I said, 'Sit down and I'll tell you.'"

Knell was, at the time, disenfran-
chised from his own religion, though
he would come to be interested in
Judaism later on. Meanwhile, he want-
ed to know what Orr had to say about
the Bible. The two became friends.
"He was a character, a very pleasant
guy to be around," Orr says. "He liked
to draw. He liked to laugh; he had a
good sense of humor. We used to pull
jokes on each other all the time." Knell
was good at plumbing and did some
electric work while in prison, Orr says.
The two men enjoyed walking out-
doors and would do so no matter the
weather. Orr says Knell rarely spoke of
his family. "Michael wasn't mad at his
family for deserting him, though,"
Knell says. "He was resigned to it."
Though Orr was the man who knew
Knell best, he didn't know the truth
about why his friend was incarcerated.
Prisoners don't make a habit of dis-
cussing their crime, Orr says. Knell
said he had been living with his girl-
friend in Michigan, and the two had
had a fight. The girlfriend ended up
accusing him of rape, Knell said.
Orr was released from Jackson and
found work in Grand Rapids. Knell
was set to get out soon, "and he was
going to come live with my wife and
me, and I was going to get him a job,
get him back on his feet and get him
interested in life again," Orr says.
"When Michael got out, he was
going to go back to Maryland and
have a good time. My wife is from
Maryland, too, and they talked all the
time about going fishing there. But
then all the plans went down the drain
when the Lord took him."

"Pleasant Kind Of Guy

Marty Hochberg is director of
Michigan City (Ind.) Prisoner
Outreach Inc. MCP() works with
incarcerated Jews throughout the
Great Lakes Region. It's a small organ-
ization, uninvolved in any legal or
financial aspect of a prisoner's life.
Inmates hook up with MCPO
through prison directories and by

word of mouth, "then we do every-
thing we can to help them," Hochberg
says. Usually, it means providing
books and other Judaic material, and
corresponding with the inmates.
It's difficult work, Hochberg says.
"I'll ask myself, 'Why am a doing this
backbreaking job?' But then I'll hear
from somebody we helped — we've
got a list of about 300 men and
women in our region — and I'll
think, 'That's why.'"
Because files are destroyed when a
prisoner dies, MCP() no longer has
Michael Knell's letters. But Hochberg
recalls forming a picture of "a pleasant
kind of guy" who liked to talk about
politics.
Knell requested a Hebrew Bible and
a few history books, and he wrote
Hochberg about his heart trouble. But
Hochberg never imagined Knell would
go so soon.
"We thought he was going to recov-
er and maybe get out," he says. "Then
I learned he died and they were going
to cremate him and I said, 'He's got to
have a Jewish burial.'"
Hochberg kept in touch with Rabbi
David Nerenberg of Oak Park, who
makes regular visits to what is official-
ly tided Southern Michigan
Correctional Facility. For many years,
Jackson was the largest walled prison
in the world. In 1997, the prison
underwent a huge renovation, includ-
ing the creation of various sections
divided by security levels.
The minimum-security section is
called Parnall. Surrounded by two
chain-link fences, above which is
razor-ribbon wire, Parnall provides
inmates with educational and voca-
tional programs, along with psycho-
logical care. This is where Michael
Knell spent his last days.
A volunteer at the Jackson Prison,
Rabbi Nerenberg makes it a point to
meet with the inmates on holidays.

FORGOTTEN on page 16