Two Stories: Different Outcomes

More than 600,000 people return to society each year after serving time in jails and prisons. Some of those people served short terms, others, multiple decades. Not everyone succeeds. Some walk out prepared to thrive, but others are unprepared. They face new challenges, stumble, and as statistics show, they return to the system.

I’ll offer two stories from opposite ends of the spectrum. They both involve men who served time in the federal system. But they made very different choices, and their choices made all the difference. One came from a gang-infested neighborhood and didn’t have many prospects for success. The other graduated from prestigious schools and earned professional degrees. Different backgrounds, but both went to prison.

Which one succeeded upon release?

The answer might surprise you.

Story One: The Transformation of Halim Flowers

I want to begin with a real person—someone I admire, and someone you can look up Halim online. His name is Halim Flowers, and his story embodies what it means to earn freedom.

Halim went to prison when he was just 16 years old.

Let that sink in.

At an age when most kids are getting a driver’s license or thinking about prom, a judge sentenced Halim to serve two life terms in federal prison. Not one—two.

He didn’t get a chance to live as an adult before the system locked him in. His first stop was juvenile detention. But by 18, the BOP transferred him to the U.S. Penitentiary in Lewisburg—a high-security facility, with high walls and razor wire. I’ve been there. It has a medieval look, spooky. 

Despite that double life sentence, Halim made a decision. He chose not to surrender to bitterness. He chose not to be consumed by anger. He chose to build a life of value, from inside prison. Some notable accomplishments include:

• Earning academic credentials,
• Developing writing skills,
• Self-directed learning through reading,
• Building and practicing his faith,
• Mastering painting
• Authoring books,
• Building a constituency

Most importantly, he built discipline and consistency. Every day, he worked on becoming better. Not because the law guaranteed him a second chance—but because he wanted to deserve one if it ever came.

• Halim didn’t wait for the world to change. He prepared in case it did.

Years passed. He transferred between penitentiaries—Lewisburg, Allenwood, Leavenworth. Then, eventually, he landed at USP Atwater in California.

That’s where Halim met Warden Andy Matevousian—a reform-minded leader who wanted to innovate. I knew Warden Matevousian years previously, when he was a captain at another prison where I served time. He believed in a person’s capacity to change.

Warden Mavussian wanted to launch innovative programs that would help men prepare for life outside. He had the courage to bring our courses into the system. With his leadership, we piloted our Preparing for Success After Prison course—which would later expand into a First Step Act–approved curriculum, allowing participants to earn time credits toward release.

Halim read our books. He wrote to me. He told me he was inspired by the same journey I had taken—serving decades, transforming myself, and then working to help others do the same.

And he didn’t just talk about wanting to prepare for success, he memorialized everything he did through his work:

• His books,
• His paintings,
• His transformation,
• His values,
• His goals.

He built a record that proved he was a different man than the 16-year-old who had gone in. Meanwhile, I was working with advocacy groups and policymakers to help pass reforms like the First Step Act—laws that made rehabilitation matter.

• Eventually, the law changed.

And when the law changed, Halim was ready. He filed a motion to revisit his sentence. After serving 22 years, a federal judge reviewed the record of who Halim had become—and granted him compassionate release. Halim walked out of prison a free man. But he didn’t walk into the unknown.

Because of the record he built, Halim received a grant from a nonprofit organization that wanted to support his reentry. He immediately got to work. He started showcasing the art he created in prison. He began writing and speaking about the injustices of mass incarceration. He was invited to present his work at an Apple Store in San Francisco. That’s where the story gets even more incredible.

After his presentation, a man approached him and said, “I love what you’re doing. Are your paintings for sale?”

Halim said yes.

The man asked how many he had.

Halim said, “Twelve.”

The man replied, “I’ll take them all.”
Halim had priced each painting at $2,500.

The man invited Halim to a Golden State Warriors game. The man owned the Golden State Warriors. At the game, sitting courtside on what they call “Billionaires’ Row,” the man turned to Halim and said:

“I’m a businessman. I didn’t buy your art out of charity. I bought it because you created value. You’re not here because I’m being nice. You’re here because you earned it. And I want you to know—you belong in this room.”

That’s what earning freedom looks like.

Story Two: A Man We’ll Call “Dr. Sam”

Now let me tell you about another man. This one I’ll keep anonymous. We’ll call him Dr. Sam.

Dr. Sam wasn’t a kid when he went to prison. He was a highly educated, middle-aged surgeon. He had gone to undergrad, medical school, and spent years in a prestigious career. But poor decisions in his medical practice led to charges for healthcare fraud. He was sentenced to three years in federal prison. That’s a blink of an eye compared to Halim’s sentence. But here’s the difference:

Dr. Sam didn’t prepare.

He assumed that once he got out, everything would go back to normal. After all, he had a résumé filled with credentials. He was confident. Too confident. After completing his prison sentence, Dr. Sam was transferred to a halfway house. To qualify for home confinement, he needed to get a job. But no one would hire him. He went months without a lead. Finally, in desperation, he asked the case manager if any jobs were available.

The only one?

A clerk job at a 7-Eleven—across the street from the hospital where he used to perform surgery.

He took it.

Not because he lacked intelligence. Not because he didn’t have skills. But because he didn’t build a record to show how he had changed. He didn’t prepare for a world that judges people with criminal records differently.

• Dr. Sam had the credentials.
• Halim had the preparation.

And that made all the difference.

You don’t need to wait until a law changes. You don’t need to wait for someone to offer you a grant, a job, or an opportunity.

You need to start today.

• Start documenting your story.
• Start building your résumé.
• Start developing your skills.
• Start proving you are more than your past.

That’s why we created PrisonProfessorsTalent.com.

You can create a free profile. No one will ever ask you to pay a penny. You can document:

• Book reports
• Journal entries
• Your reentry plan
• Testimonials from mentors
• Evidence of your values and growth

We even created a leaderboard to track engagement. When I speak with Bureau of Prisons officials, or run webinars, I show the leaderboard—and I highlight the people who are building a solid record.

Why?

Because it shows who’s serious about success.

Self-Directed Questions for Your Journey

1. What value are you creating today—behind bars—that can carry into the free world?
2. How would you describe your transformation since entering prison?
3. Have you documented the steps you’re taking to prepare for release?
4. What message would your prison file send if reviewed by a judge or parole board tomorrow?
5. What kind of support system are you building?
6. How are you showing, through your actions, that you are ready for freedom?
   
   

I’ll never ask you to do something I didn’t do. I’ll never ask you to pay for what I offer. But I will ask you to work—harder than you’ve ever worked before.

Because you have to create the record that proves you’re ready to come home.

Don’t wait for the world to change. Be the change you want to see.

And be cool.

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