Chapter 23: The Power Of Forgiveness

The police officer pulled me out of the car in handcuffs and walked me down the long dark hallway to my jail cell where I would stay my first night. Many people in my life had said this is where I would end up, starting back when I began to act out due to the pain and anger I was holding inside. I believe it started when they said I had a learning disability, then placed me in special education. Being treated like I was not as smart as the other kids in my class, like something was wrong with me, made me hate my teachers. Being racially profiled as if I had committed a crime when I was just trying to walk down the street made me hate the police. Growing up in poverty without the things kids need to live made me hate life. So, there I was, 17 years old, a high school dropout, and in jail—exactly in the place where they said I would be. The first night was the worst as I began to realize that this small, cold, and quiet room with no windows, where I couldn’t look outside and daydream and see the sun, was my new home. Like many other young people in lockup, I had fallen for the trap. Some of my cellmates looked at being locked up as a badge of honor. We have all seen the Hollywood images of people in jail. They show the inmates walking around acting hard. They made it look really cool. What they don’t show on the videos or movies are the sounds of men crying from broken heartedness and loneliness. They don’t show them talking to themselves because there is no one else to talk to, or the screaming out for help as horrible things are being done to them.