Alexandru Marin was known among law enforcement officers in much of Romania. His name and picture appeared in police stations throughout the country. He spent more than a third of his life in prison.
Alexandru didn’t fit the typical image of a hardened criminal. Well- educated, multilingual, a promising artist and designer, Alexandru’s future was full of promise. His older brother was a national champion athlete before he committed suicide at age 18. Marin was only 15 at the time. His grieving parents showered all their love and hopes for the future on their younger son. But he made friends with the wrong young people.
His friends delighted in breaking the law. “We knew what would happen if we were caught,” he said. Eventually Alexandru was cap- tured and imprisoned. Prison was an excellent school for crime, and as soon as Alexandru was released, he was wiser in the ways of criminals. He indulged in more illegal activities and eventually made connections with the Mafia.
Alexandru married a former schoolmate. She knew his past but hoped to reform him. But Alexandru didn’t want reform. He decided to escape to Yugoslavia and later send for his wife, who was expect- ing their child. He made it safely across the border but had no money. “We had to steal to eat,” he said. Again he was arrested and impris- oned.
The day before he was to be released, a woman who worked in the prison told him of plans to deport him to Romania. To be returned to Romania could well mean the death sentence. She gave him a metal file, and he and his cellmates began filing through the metal bars of the high security prison. They sang and made noise to conceal the sounds as they cut the steel bars on the window. The window was very small, and Alexandru had to remove his coat and shirt and put shaving cream on his body to help him slide through the tiny open- ing. He tells what happened next:
“Four of us tried to escape, and three made it out of the prison and into the neighboring cornfield. It was late autumn, and I had no shirt or coat. I shivered in the cold. We could hear the guards and police dogs searching for us. The dogs found my cellmate. I could tell by the cries. That’s when I prayed my first prayer. ‘Help me, God,’ I prayed. ‘If You will let me escape, I will change my life.’ I meant that prayer, but after I escaped, I forgot my promise to God.”