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Three hundred words can’t capture the full scope of what connects me to John Lennon—or why it shouldn’t even be a thing. But here’s the spine of the story.
John Lennon was born on October 9. His son Sean was also born on October 9. John was killed on December 8, 1980. I was born on December 8, 1980.
In 1999, I robbed a Blockbuster and was sentenced to 14 years. Seven years later, I met a female correctional officer. Seven years after that, when I was free, we met again—and got engaged.
She told me something shocking. Back in 1999, her dad was accused of murder. It got national coverage. At the time, he and I actually had the same lawyer. His name? John L. He was accused of killing his adopted son—Sean L.—on October 9, 1999. The boy was nine years old.
So here it was again: Lennon and Sean, both born October 9. Lennon’s song called “#9 Dream.” October as the ninth month. The number nine holding strange weight in the Chinese calendar. And woven through it all, my own life intersecting with these dates, names, and connections.
Those are just the bare facts. The whole picture is far more tangled and uncanny. What I’ve stumbled into feels like my own Lincoln-Kennedy connection—unfolding in real time, and still ongoing.
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