My mother always says God answered her prayers by putting me in jail because she feared she would lose me to the streets.
At nine years old, I took a “violation,” which involved a brutal beating from men twice my size and age. I thought joining a gang was the coolest thing to do, so I endured it and became a member of the Latin King Nation. My life became filled with shootouts, fights, drug deals, robberies, and death.
I’ve held people as they died in my arms, and I’ve been jumped and beaten by grown men multiple times. I’ve been shot, stabbed, hit with a brick, and beaten with bats, crowbars, and sticks—basically, you name it, I’ve been through it. That’s how I earned the nickname “Scarface Skrappy.” The scars on my face are from physical altercations, and “Skrappy” came from the little dog in Scooby-Doo who always wanted to fight everyone.
Growing up, it was just me and my four siblings, raised by our mother. She struggled to make ends meet because she had no education and no help from anyone else. All we had was each other. As a single parent with five kids, we moved from house to house, living in one of the toughest neighborhoods in Chicago, surrounded by gang and drug activity.
At 18, I was charged and falsely accused of first-degree murder. On the day the murder occurred, I had suffered an epileptic seizure just a few hours earlier. Although I wasn’t in the hospital when the crime happened, I was at home recovering in bed. My mother, girlfriend, siblings, and even the doctor who treated me testified that I couldn’t have been in any condition to commit the crime.
I spent eight years in Cook County Jail, which was the worst time of my life. I had to constantly keep my guard up, not only with the inmates but also with the staff. There were times I fought one-on-one with officers in my cell and even got jumped by them on several occasions. With inmates, I’ve had close to 100 fights—no exaggeration. I’m no bully, but I’m no coward either. I’ve been stabbed six times, most recently during a group attack by inmates.
While incarcerated, I started reading and writing a lot. I’ve filled notebooks with music—rap and R&B—and I’m finishing an urban novel called Humboldt Park Goonz. The story is about twins, a boy and a girl, growing up in the slums of Humboldt Park trying to achieve financial stability while being raised by a single mother. I plan to turn the book into a movie when I get home.
My mother always says God answered her prayers by putting me in jail because she feared she would lose me to the streets. I was never big on religion—I was focused on gang life—but now my life has changed drastically. I no longer want to hurt others, and I no longer see myself as part of a gang. Instead, I want to help my culture and community by opening nonprofit programs and starting businesses. I dream of launching a clothing line called R.F.W. (Ready For Whatever), as well as barber shops, beauty salons, mixed-food restaurants serving Hispanic cuisine, and a music studio for aspiring artists.
I was given 25 years for this murder, but because I was 18 at the time, I fall under the Young Adult Act, which may make me eligible for parole soon. My focus now is on finishing my book, continuing to write music, and staying away from negativity.
I have to make it home. I want to take care of my mother, sister, niece, and nephews, who are my biggest motivations. God has made me a better man, and for this difficult journey, I am truly thankful.
