Until last summer Toccara had had little more than perfunctory telephone talks with her father since he had gone to prison and had visited him only once. She was still angry about what he had taken from the family. "Who'll be there if my mom needs something when I'm away?" she said in June. "Who's going to be the male role model to tell Patrick what's what?" Only recently have their conversations warmed as she has gradually accepted his remorse over the toll his imprisonment has taken on his wife and children. "He wants the best for us," she says.
Inside the prison Paul tries to imagine the life he is missing. He looks forward to the day during the 2004 Olympics when he might sit down in front of a prison TV with the Kool-Aid and popcorn he buys with the money from his job making bumper stickers. There, he hopes, he will watch his daughter wrestle for a gold medal. "Puff turned out so beautiful," he says. "I live my life vicariously through her. Her life is the life I have left."