The Ripple

It was one decision. One moment. A single act that started it all.

Like a pebble striking a still pond, it caused ripples I couldn’t control – ripples that would stretch across years, across lives. That decision led me to flee. That flight led to my arrest. And that arrest led to a prison sentence that would change everything.

But change, I would come to learn, is not always a curse. Sometimes, it is a call.

From the moment I got to jail, things were different, this time. Even before then, in the courtroom, I felt it. I was facing 25 to life. I was given 30 years. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know what anything meant. But what hit me the hardest wasn’t the number. It was the separation.

Just hours before. I’d sat with loved ones. We’d prayed. We’d eaten. We’d held onto hope. And now, I was being handed over. Not just my body, but everything – my identity, my rhythm, my way of being.

When I arrived at the cell, I tried to talk to the person inside. I tried to be social. But they were just trying to survive. Maybe we both were.

A little later, a guard brought me a phone. I hadn’t asked for it. I hadn’t expected it. But on the other end was someone who cared – my employer, who would become a friend. And in that moment, I knew: this wasn’t going to be a normal stretch for me. Something was different. Something bigger was happening.

Later, I would see familiar faces – people from my past. However, their mindset no longer aligned with mine. I had done things with my life. I had led, spoken, studied, and traveled. I had glimpsed my potential. And somehow, I had let that life slip away, replaced by something twisted and ugly. I had to face that fact now.

I stopped answering the question about my time. I stopped telling people “30 years.” It weighed too much. So instead, I picked up a pen.

And for the first time, I wrote goals – not for release, but for the sentence itself.

Go to college

Pay off debt

Write a book

Some of them seemed impossible. But I heard a voice inside say: Why be afraid? Trust. Believe. And I did!

That voice helped me to keep writing.

And then I found a scripture: Peace that surpasses all understanding.

That’s what I had. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t know what was ahead. But I was not anxious. I was steady. And I knew: this peace was a sign.

If you’re reading this now – or hearing it – while facing your own uncertainty, I want to take a moment to speak to you.

You may be gazing out a window or staring at a wall. You may be pacing the floor in silence or surrounded by noise. You may be scared, angry, and questioning everything.

Hear me: You can live through this.

What will determine your outcome is not just the facts of your case or the size of the mountain in front of you. It will be your ability to find meaning in the madness. To take what’s happening around you and turn it windward – let it make you stronger, sharper, more grounded.

I used to think freedom started at the gate at the end of the prison yard. But I’ve learned that the world is full of prisons – fear, failure, shame, addiction, and judgment. Real freedom has nothing to do with geography. It’s a state of mind.

You can choose to be free right now in this moment.

Do not let a system, a sentence, a title, a label, or even a mistake define you. You have the right to define yourself. And if you give up that right, you chain yourself to someone else’s imagination.
I refuse to do that. I have chosen to break free. And one act of resistance has led to another, and to another, and to another until my whole life reflects that original act of self-liberation.