A Better Man

He'd already served four years in juvenile corrections. Then at 20, he landed back behind bars, this time in state prison. Was there any hope for him?

- By JERMAINE WILSON Leavenworth, Kansas

Twenty-three and one—that was the rule in the intake unit at El Dorado Correctional Facility, a state prison 170 miles away from Leavenworth, Kansas, the city where I grew up. You were locked down in your cell 23 hours a day, with one hour out for supervised recreation, while the staff did an assessment to determine what programs you were eligible for and where you would serve out your sentence.

I landed in that intake unit in March 2008. I was addicted to ecstasy, and I was selling cocaine. I got caught with drugs in my car and was sentenced to three years for possession. Once I detoxed from the ecstasy, my mind cleared and the reality of my situation hit me. I'd already served four years in juvenile corrections. Here I was, 18 months later, back behind bars. Was this how I wanted to spend my life?

Being on lockdown 23 hours a day gave me a lot of time to think. I paced my cell, sometimes talking out loud to myself, looking back at everything that had led me here.

Maybe it was predictable that I ended up in prison. Where I grew up, resources were few; violence, crime and drug activity were common. My parents were poor. My mom had four kids—I was the baby—by the time she was 21. My parents separated for a time. I thought it was because they fought and Mom kicked Dad out. I didn’t know then that the fights were about his addiction and incarcerations. My mom and siblings shielded me.

To me, my dad was a protector and provider, and I was hungry for his love and approval. But even when he was physically present, he wasn’t there emotionally. I’d see other kids with their fathers—playing ball, getting hugs—and I'd feel lonely because I didn’t have that kind of dad.