Convicted

by Jameel Zookie McGee

  Since we are both dads, we talked a lot about the challenges of being a father. Jameel talked to me about how little time he got to spend with his son. Once again I apologized because if it wasn’t for me, he might be closer to him. And once again Jameel told me to stop apologizing. Since his ex had moved out of state, he assured me his time with his son would have been limited even if I had never entered his life.

  Jameel might not have been able to spend much time with his son, but he was very proud of him. His son played football and now lived in Fort Wayne, Indiana. One day at work he started talking about a football awards banquet coming up the next day. Fort Wayne is two and a half hours from Benton Harbor by car, but Jameel didn’t have a car. I couldn’t drive him because I had a speaking engagement that night, but I really wanted to find a way for him to go. I texted my men’s group and told them what was going on and asked if anyone could drive him to the banquet. One of my friends said he would be happy to do it. And then a snowstorm started to roll through. My friend still drove Jameel to Fort Wayne.

  —

  One day during a slow time, I overheard Jameel talking on the phone. Then the call started getting heated. Normally Jameel is one of the most chill guys I know. Nothing gets under his skin. He joked and laughed with workers and customers and never stopped smiling. On this day, however, the phone conversation brought back the Jameel I’d met in Broadway Park. He was as angry as I had ever seen him. When the call ended he kept shaking his head and was trembling all over, as if he were about to explode.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He tried to talk but couldn’t. He stood there, shaking with anger.

  I dove right in. “Look, whatever it is, bro, it’s not worth making a stupid decision and ending up back in jail or anything like that. Let’s talk about it. What’s going on?”

  Slowly, he calmed down enough to where he could talk. He explained the situation, which involved his son. I listened closely before I said a word. Finally I said, “Your ex is playing games with you, trying to get you stirred up. Every time you respond, it just fuels that fire. Let it die down. Stop responding and eventually it will blow itself out.” I talked about my own relationships and how I’d seen this work in them.

  Jameel pulled himself together and made it through the rest of the day. The next morning when he came in, I saw a different Jameel. He came straight over to me and gave me a big hug. “Bro, thank you, man. You were right. I went home last night and took time to process everything. I took your advice and it worked. Thank you.”

  Jameel

  After I started the Jobs for Life program, I stayed in touch with Debra Mead. She knew I had a passion for music, so she told me about a church that had a strong band and all kinds of musical equipment, a church called Overflow. I knew about Overflow because Mosaic was part of it and Andrew had already invited me to go there with him. Every time he asked I told him the same thing: “I don’t really do the church thing.”

  Debra also knew I didn’t do the church thing, but that didn’t stop her from talking to me about it. One day we were talking and the conversation turned to music. That led to her talking about Overflow church again. “I know you have a lot of church hurt in your past and you don’t want to deal with that, but you could go over during their band practice and just check it out instead of going on a Sunday,” she said.

  I was hesitant but eventually I agreed to go.

  The next Thursday evening I rode my bike over to the building where the church met. I did a double take at the sign to make sure I was in the right place. This didn’t look like any church building I’d ever seen. I’d actually ridden past the building many times. For years I wondered what it was. Now I knew it was a church that looked nothing like a church. There was no brick. No steeple. No stained-glass windows. None of that. The nonchurchy appearance made me feel better about going inside.

  I made my way to the auditorium, which didn’t look like any church sanctuary I’d seen before. Debra had told band members about me and how I had experience working with the mixer board. One of the guys in charge invited me to go upstairs to their sound room. They were shorthanded and needed my help. The band started playing and I had to admit they were pretty good. I mean, this was not some church group with a piano and organ. This was a real band like the ones I’d worked with in Milan and Terre Haute.

  During a break one of the drummers introduced himself. The two of us started talking, and he told me a little of his story and how he had ended up at Overflow. When he asked about me, I told him part of my story, including my passion for music. I did not tell him I was homeless. I kept that to myself.

  After we talked for a while, the drummer asked, “Are you going to come back and check us out on Sunday?”

  “Yeah, I will,” I lied. I returned the following night for band practice—they practiced both Thursday and Friday nights—but I didn’t go to the service on Sunday. I also didn’t make it back for band practice the next week.

  That might have been the end of it, but I woke up early the next Sunday with God telling me to ride my bike to Overflow. I was like, Okay, I’ll give it a try and check it out, but I’m not making any promises to do anything beyond that.

  I rode my bike over and arrived in time for the nine o’clock service. I found a seat over on one side and just took it all in. The first thing I noticed was the church’s racial dynamic. A lot of the churches I’d seen were all black or all white. This was one of the first I’d seen outside of prison that was mixed. The way people dressed was also very different from the churches my mother took me to when I was a kid. No one was dressed to impress. Everyone appeared pretty laid back.

  All right, I thought, that’s cool. I like this.

  The band started playing and I got into the music. I knew what to expect from having sat in on their practice session. Then the preacher got up to speak. I couldn’t help but listen. It was like he knew everything I’d been battling in my brain. He must have been able to read my mind, because he talked about letting God be in control and how when we are in control, we make a mess of things. That might make some people mad, but this was exactly what I needed to hear.

  When the service ended, I told God, This is a nice church. I’m glad I came. I think I can come back. That’s when I noticed the next service started in two minutes. I didn’t realize they had an early and a late service. I sat down and stayed put. The band played the same songs, the preacher preached the same message, but I didn’t mind. I needed to hear that sermon twice. Both times I got something different out of it.

  When the second service ended, people hung around, talking and hugging and just chilling. Several came over and talked to me. This place had a really loving atmosphere that I knew I needed. I told God right then, This is going to be my church. Nobody judged me there. No one cared who you had been or what you had done. They were just real. I needed to be a part of this.

  This was a really big step for me, more than just deciding to attend a church. During the time I’d been homeless and in my Jobs for Life classes, I had spent a lot of time examining how I ended up where I was. Everything always came back to the same place: I had to let it go, not just the anger I once had for Andrew, but everything. I had to let go of control over my own life and surrender it to Jesus. I’d wrestled with him long enough. At just the right times he’d come into my life to rescue me from some of the situations I’d put myself in, but he wanted more than that from me. He wanted everything. I finally told him okay. I let it all go to him. I made a statement at church saying I had done this and then followed it up by being baptized. This church that didn’t look like a church didn’t have a real baptistery. Instead, they brought in a horse trough and filled it full of water. Andrew helped baptize me in November 2015.

  I haven’t been the same since.

  —

  I hadn’t worked at Cafe Mosaic very long before people recognized Drew and me. The questions started right off. “How can you do it?”
a lot of people asked.

  “Do what?” I always replied.

  “How can you work here?”

  “How can you work with him?”

  “How can you be around him every day?”

  “How can the two of you be friends?”

  Really, everything came down to one question: “How could you forgive him?”

  The question goes beyond what you might think. To understand why people had such a hard time believing I could actually forgive Drew, you have to understand the culture in which I grew up. On just a human level, people have trouble with forgiveness, but on the streets where I grew up, it’s even tougher. Every day you not only have to look out for yourself but you also better be strong or people are going to run right over you. Being strong means you avenge any wrong done to you. If someone hits you or pushes you, you have to push back harder. You don’t just let things go, because if you do, people won’t stop pushing and taking until there’s nothing left of you.

  When I battled God in Broadway Park, this was what I was fighting against. So when people asked how I could forgive Drew, it wasn’t just that they couldn’t understand how I could turn loose of the hurt. They didn’t understand how I could give up my payback, much less become friends with this guy.

  I’ve had a lot of conversations with people, and I always tell them the same thing: You’ve got to get God in there. In life, everything is not to be avenged. That’s not ours to do anyway. Romans 12:19–21 says,

  Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary:

  “If your enemy is hungry, feed him;

  if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.

  In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

  Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

  I told everyone who asked that I had to give everything over to God. I could not forgive Drew on my own, but God could do it. Some people looked at me as if these were just words. When I saw that look, I went even further. I told them to take a look at my life and the mess I made when I was in control and notice how change came when I surrendered to God’s control. I had these conversations while I still didn’t have a house of my own and after I moved into the house in which I now live. I wasn’t talking about a change in my circumstances but a change in me. I stopped being the angry, hurt, keep-to-himself man people had seen walking the back streets of Benton Harbor. When they see me now, they see a different me.

  I’m free. But I didn’t do it. God did.

  Some people got it. Others didn’t. That didn’t matter to me. I kept telling them anyway.

  Andrew

  One day in November 2015, Princella’s husband, Jim, a UPS driver and one of the tech guys at our church, stopped in the café. He came into the café a lot, so I didn’t think anything of it. Often he brought lunch for Princella. Cafe Mosaic serves some great food, but you can only eat there so many days in a row before you want something else. When I saw Jim walk in, I thought this was probably nothing more than another lunch run for his wife. Even when he came over to the counter, I thought he was just being polite and saying hello.

  “Andrew, Jameel,” he called to both of us, “I have something I need the two of you to think about.” Jameel was close by.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Pastor Brian and I have been talking about the two of you and your story, and we wondered if you might be willing to do a video,” Jim said.

  Jameel and I sort of looked at each other. We’d been working together less than two months at this point. “What do you think, bro?” I asked.

  “Geez, I don’t know. Yeah, I guess I’d be okay with that,” he said.

  “Yeah, I think that will be all right,” I said. This was the first time we’d been asked to do anything like this.

  “All right. I’ll let Pastor Brian know. We’ll set something up soon,” Jim said.

  A week or so later Jameel and I were back at the convenience store on Fair Street for the first time since the arrest. Jim and Jameel went into the store to film parts that set up Jameel’s walking out and being accosted by me. I sat outside, waiting. Fair Street isn’t exactly one of my favorite places to hang out. Back when I was a cop, I used to do a lot of business in the neighborhoods near the store. At that time, there were some blocks nearby where you could throw a rock in any direction and hit a drug house or witness a drug deal going down at almost any time, day or night.

  I’d been outside waiting for maybe five minutes when a guy came walking straight for me. I recognized him right off. Several years earlier he had taken off running when I tried to arrest him. The foot chase ended when I got close enough to fire my Taser and bring him down. I remembered it very clearly and so did he.

  The guy got in my face and started cussing at me. He yelled and screamed and called me every name he could think of while asking me what I was doing back in this neighborhood. Proverbs 15:1 kept running through my head: “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” This guy’s anger was pretty stirred up already, so I didn’t want to say anything to make the situation worse.

  When the angry man realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with me, he stormed into the store, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Because of the filming, I knew I’d still be here when he came out. I hoped he’d calm down before he returned.

  A few minutes later the man came out of the store, but the look on his face was completely different. Instead of anger, I now saw fear. Then I saw Jameel. He had the guy by the back of his neck and was basically pushing him along. I saw he was talking right into the guy’s ear. Whoa. What’s this? I thought. Once Jameel had the guy clear of the store door, his grip on the guy’s neck only seemed to get firmer. That’s when I realized where Jameel was taking him. The two were coming straight to me.

  Jameel

  Jim wanted to start filming inside the store as a way of setting up my walking outside and having Andrew get up in my face. He wanted to recreate that scene, which was cool with me. I only hoped I could keep a straight face while we were doing it. Being back in the store did not stir up old feelings. When I say that was all in the past, I mean it really is in the past.

  I was inside the store talking to Jim when this guy I knew from the neighborhood burst through the door yelling. It took me a moment to catch what he was saying between all the cursing and yelling. The guy saw me and directed his shouting my way, as if I wanted to hear what he had to say. “Did you know that no-good Collins is right outside?” Then he went off on all he wanted to do to Drew because Drew had tased him and arrested him and all of that.

  “Hey, man, just chill,” I said. “You don’t need to come into a place of business yelling like that.”

  He didn’t stop. He kept going on and on about that no-good Collins, only he used a lot of adjectives we’ve tried to avoid using in this book.

  “Look, dude, cool it,” I said, trying to remain calm and settle him down. “The guy ain’t a cop anymore, and he went to prison for the things he did. Leave it at that. There’s no need for you to carry on now just because you saw him outside.”

  “Whadaya talking about? Do you know what he did to me?” the guy yelled at me.

  And that’s when he pushed me too far.

  “Hey!” I yelled and then told him in terms he might understand that he needed to shut his mouth now! I got right up in his face and laid into him with truth. “So you’re all mad and upset about this cop who treated you rough, and you think you got cause to be angry? Dude, I know you. I know what you did. You were guilty. He caught you red handed. Everybody knows you were selling dope back then and you still do today. You ain’t got nothing to hold on to or to be mad about. You’re just mad because he caught you doing what you know you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. You know what I’m saying?”

  I didn’t wait for him to respond.

  “Yeah, m
an, you mad ’cause you got caught when you were guilty! I was innocent and I went to prison, but I’ve let it go. So what’s your problem? I don’t care if he caught you or not. If you were caught doing something illegal, that’s on you. You know what I’m saying? That’s your problem, not his. Own up to it. Be a man. I’m telling you, if that was my dope and I’d been caught, I’d have owned up to it. I’m not letting anyone go down because of my mess. I’d accept the consequences. So should you. You need to stop being stupid and stop doing stupid stuff.”

  “I…uh…,” the guy mumbled at me.

  I wasn’t finished. “So you come into this store talking and screaming where everyone can hear. If you think you really have a legitimate gripe with Collins, you need to talk to him. All this yapping about what you’re going to do is irrelevant. The man is right outside. You got a problem with him, you go talk to him.”

  The guy looked at me like he was in shock. I knew what he was thinking. “Yeah, you thought you could come in here like you were fixing to get me to be the cosigner on what you’ve messed up. That’s not happening.” I paused for a moment, then grabbed him by the back of the neck. “You know what? You got a problem with Collins, well, we’re going to settle it right now.”

  I then proceeded to push him out of the store and right toward Drew. I kept talking to him the whole way out. When we got over to Drew, the guy’s tune had completely changed. I pushed the guy forward a little and said, “You got something to say, now’s the time. Otherwise, you keep your mouth shut.” I released my hold on his neck and stood back.

  The guy looked at me and then turned back to Andrew. He dropped his head and said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”