On August 11, 1987, federal authorities arrested me for my role in trafficking cocaine. I was 23 years old. I regret that I wasted ambition and energy in a criminal enterprise, especially one that had lasting consequences for many people.
At that time, I didn’t know how to confront the problems I’d created. The only thing I wanted was to get out of jail and put the problem behind me. DEA agents brought me to a federal detention center, where officers processed me and locked me in solitary confinement.
I had hired a lawyer who told me what I wanted to hear rather than what I needed to hear. Although I knew I had committed the crimes described in my indictment, I pleaded not guilty. Rather than considering a plea, I went to trial. Making matters worse, I perjured myself on the witness stand, saying I didn’t do it.
A jury convicted me, and a federal judge sentenced me to 45 years. At 23, I couldn’t even comprehend what such a long sentence would mean.
During my first year in solitary confinement, I didn’t know anything about the system. Rules in the jail allowed me to have a Bible in the cell, but nothing else. Before my arrest, I hadn’t been religious. While alone in that cell, on the other hand, reading the Bible helped. The different stories and parables began to change how I thought about my circumstances and the decisions that had brought me there.
One of the influential stories for me was The Parable of the Talents. It encouraged me to consider the opportunities I had squandered. Other stories gave me hope that I could begin taking steps to turn my life around. My faith helped me see responsibility as a continuing obligation to use what remained available to me.
By the time a jury convicted me, I’d been in the cell for almost a year. I got to know the officers, and one of them, Officer Wilson, took an interest. Even though the rules didn’t allow it, Officer Wilson brought books that introduced me to people who had faced hardship. I enjoyed reading about the ways that helped them move forward. Through reading about Socrates, Frederick Douglass, Viktor Frankl, Nelson Mandela, and others, I began to reconsider how I would approach the years ahead.
Those books prompted me to examine the decisions that had led to my confinement. They also encouraged me to think about how I could build meaning, relevance, and dignity into my life. As I learned how other people responded to adversity, I began directing more attention toward plans for my future.
