Never to Late to Change: A Journey of Transformation

My early childhood, extending until the age of nine, followed a conventional trajectory. I was fortunate to have devoted parents who approached child-rearing with dedication and care. They provided consistent guidance on moral principles and ethical behavior, establishing a foundation of values and virtues that I would later choose to disregard.

The pivotal moment that altered the course of my childhood occurred during the summer of 1974. My ten-year-old brother and I were sharing a bicycle—mine having been damaged—and spent our days riding through the neighborhood with typical childhood abandon. Our carefree afternoon was interrupted when an older boy forcibly removed us from the bicycle and claimed it as his own.

We immediately returned home to report the incident to our father. Rather than handling the situation directly, he instructed us to accompany him in the car to locate the perpetrator. When we found the boy walking our bicycle down the street, my father made a decision that would prove consequential: he required me specifically to retrieve the bicycle, despite the fact that both my brother and I had been victimized.

I approached the boy and calmly requested the return of our property, informing him that my father was observing from the nearby vehicle. The boy glanced toward the car, paused momentarily, then abandoned the bicycle and departed without incident.

While I initially felt relief at recovering our property and assumed normalcy would resume, I was mistaken. Upon our return home, my father disciplined me and delivered a directive that resonated profoundly: I must never again permit anyone to take anything from me.
 

I believe this moment in the summer of 1974 marked the emergence of what I would later recognize as a more aggressive aspect of my personality. Subsequently, I became increasingly prone to physical confrontations and faced repeated suspensions from school. I developed what could only be described as an enthusiasm for fighting, particularly targeting individuals I perceived as bullies or those who were overly confrontational. My parents found themselves unable to manage my increasingly challenging behavior.

This behavioral shift extended beyond physical aggression to include theft and dishonesty. I began appropriating items that belonged to others and would respond with defiance and hostility when questioned about my actions. I evolved into the type of child who could not be trusted—a reality that only intensified my anger, despite recognizing that I had brought this reputation upon myself.

At the age of twenty in 1985, my life entered a deeply challenging period. I found myself caught in a cycle of incarceration, facing repeated parole violations and new criminal charges. What began as gang involvement evolved into drug dealing, and consequently, I spent approximately 90% of my adult years within the prison system.

I recall returning home after serving a ten-month sentence for a parole violation when my mother approached me with quiet concern. "Raymond," she said in her characteristically calm voice, "you love prison, don't you?" Taken aback, I responded, "Why would you ask me something like that?"

Her reply was both simple and profound: "Son, you wouldn't continue to physically harm yourself once you learned it causes pain unless there was something deeper at play. So why do you continue putting yourself in situations that lead to incarceration when you clearly don't enjoy being locked up?" While her logic was undeniable, I wasn't ready to internalize her message at that time. She was desperately trying to save her son's life, but regrettably, I chose the perceived loyalty of street associates and the adrenaline of criminal activity over my family's wisdom and love.

On January 25, 2001, at thirty-six years old, I was arrested for home invasion robbery and detained while awaiting trial. Facing a potential life sentence under California's Three Strikes law, I believed my future was effectively over. In 2003, while housed in county detention, I became caught in a racially-motivated riot that left me severely injured. I sustained deep lacerations from a razor across my face, arm, and chest, resulting in lasting physical, emotional, and psychological trauma. Medical professionals subsequently diagnosed me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Initially, this violent experience intensified my anger and resentment toward other racial groups. However, my mother continued to reach out to me during our phone conversations, consistently encouraging me to release my anger and transform my life. On December 15, 2004, following the passing of my beloved mother—a devoted Christian woman who meant everything to me—I made the decision to commit my life to Christ. Through this spiritual transformation, I was finally able to release the anger that had consumed me for so long and begin the journey toward becoming a new man.

This pivotal moment marked the beginning of my personal redemption and the end of a destructive cycle that had defined my young adult years.