Da’Cipher 360: Documentary illustrates what can happen when adults listen to youth

By Ashley Cruse

I had never heard of “Da’Cipher 360” until recently, and honestly, I wish I had.

“Da’Cipher 360” is the name of a documentary and the name of the program the documentary is about. Officially, the program was “Da’Cipher 360 Youth Peer Support Ministries,” and every Monday evening for 8 years those involved with the group met at Abilene’s G.V. Daniels Recreation Center, bringing together dozens of youth who had basically been forgotten.

The closest thing I’d ever seen to a program like that was “Teen Summit.” Every Saturday morning on BET, “Teen Summit” was the one show where a group of African American teens got to sit down and talk about issues we were all facing at that time. Topics about teen sex, peer pressure, HIV awareness, family violence, education, etc. were discussed every week. And to top it off, your favorite artists would show up, join the conversation and perform at the end.

The only thing missing was that it was on TV, not real life. In my own reality, I didn’t have anyone to open up to about my concerns. Even growing up in a two-parent household, my parents didn’t really listen or talk to me. They only felt like I should listen to them. My concerns felt like they went in one ear and out the other.

That’s why Robert Lilly’s story hit me so hard. While at one point I was watching “Teen Summit” on TV, he was building the real thing here in Abilene years later.

Da’Cipher 360 wasn’t just a program, it was a movement. He wanted to make sure he could reach out to as many kids in this community as possible. If he could prevent some kids from slipping through the cracks, he would be glad to help. And he knew what slipping through the cracks looked like, because he had lived it.

Lilly grew up in New York during the 1970s, a time when his neighborhood was filled with struggle and change. By the ’80s, he moved to California, where, amongst many other incidents, he got caught up in a cocaine addiction. That road eventually led him to Texas, where he got into gang banging and eventually prison.

But instead of letting that be the end of his story, Lilly decided to rewrite it. His desire to show people he has changed led to him being told something he would never forget: “You might have changed, but what you did didn’t change.”

He started with the simple idea of listening. Unlike so many adults who believe kids should be “seen and not heard,” Lilly flipped that mindset. He wanted to know what young people were feeling. What was really on their hearts. He knew kids wouldn’t open up unless they believe you care. He still carried his own inner child inside him, the one who used to have fears, fantasies and ideas but nobody to share them with. And he thought if that was true for him, what if it was true for all these kids, too? That’s the seed Da’Cipher 360 grew out of.

The documentary, which debuted at the Paramount Theatre last month, brings that to life in the most powerful way. Through old archival footage, you can see the actual circles of Da’Cipher kids, teens and adults sitting together, saying things out loud they probably never said anywhere else. They were laughing, crying, admitting mistakes, confessing struggles. And they weren’t being punished for it; they were being heard.

One moment that stuck with me was a teenager named Zach. He had gotten into some trouble, but instead of hiding from it, he owned up. He spoke about what he did wrong, and at that moment you could see the weight lifted off his shoulders. That kind of accountability only happens in a space where you feel safe. That’s exactly what Lilly created.

Lilly’s work with Da’Cipher 360 wasn’t just about the present. It was also about breaking cycles. He knew that many mental health struggles start young, long before the system ever gets involved. His own two brothers, both of whom have since passed away, may have shown early signs of mental illness when they were kids. And Lilly himself admits he struggled without ever receiving a diagnosis.

“The Black community doesn’t really talk about it or acknowledge it,” he said. Seeing what his brothers went through pushed him to look deeper into himself, and it shaped the way he approached kids who might be battling things nobody else could see.

From 2008 to 2015, Lilly mapped out a whole new path for himself. He went back to school, starting at Cisco Junior College, then transferring to Abilene Christian University, where he earned a bachelor’s degree in liberal arts.

Today, he works with the Travis County Public Defender’s Office in Austin as a peer support specialist in the mental health division. In that role, he helps people with mental illness navigate the criminal justice system, giving them the same kind of support he once wished he had.

The documentary doesn’t just tell Lilly’s story; it ties it into a bigger history. The opening scenes walk you through the realities of the ’70s, reminding viewers what was happening at that time and what would later play a factor into shaping Da’Cipher 360. It reminds us that incarceration, addiction, and mental health crises in our communities didn’t appear out of nowhere. There’s history behind it. Lilly was a product of that history and then chose to create something different for the youth of Abilene.

And credit must go where it’s due: Alisha Taylor, with Taylor Made Productions, did a remarkable job putting the film together. From weaving in the old footage to capturing the raw honesty of those who were there, she made sure Robert Lilly’s voice was heard loud and clear. It isn’t just some local story thrown together. It’s a professional, heartfelt film that’s already being prepared for festival submissions. And I believe once it gets out there, it’ll earn the recognition it deserves.

In my honest opinion, it isn’t just a documentary; it’s a wake-up call. Watching Da’Cipher 360 reminded me of what happens when a community truly listens to its kids and even adults.

Back then, Lilly created a space where young and old people could be real, be vulnerable, and be supported. And looking around at our city today, I can say we still need that. We still have kids carrying heavy things with no outlet. We still have teens slipping through the cracks. And we still have adults with the mentality that children should be seen and not heard.

Da’Cipher 360 proved what can happen when somebody cares enough to step in. It wasn’t just a program. It was hope in action. And it’s a story everybody needs to see.