by Michael Vick
I guess when the story came out, everyone looked at it like my family and I really didn’t care about money and didn’t respect the situation we were in. It wasn’t that way at all. We were grateful and thankful for everything we had. My mom always told me to be grateful each and every day. My grandmother told me that too. It was just a bad situation.
Despite all of my financial immaturity and mistakes, I believe bankruptcy could’ve been avoided if certain people overseeing my assets had done some of the things I asked, like liquidating some of my real estate investments in order to pay off debts. If I could start over, I would put all my money in the bank so I would know where it was. If I wanted to invest my money in something, I would have it in CDs, mutual funds, and maybe in real estate. This way, if I had to take a loss, I would take it based on my decisions and what I did—not because of someone else’s decision.
Promising young athletes entering the NFL and other pro sports need to be mindful that there are “sharks” trying to take advantage of them and their money. The bottom line for me, given what I know now, is for the player to take a hands-on approach with his finances. Don’t pay a financial advisor to hold your money. The bank will pay you to hold your money—it’s called interest. So, your money is safe and making money, and it’s not a high risk.
However, I’ve had some advisors that I still like and trust. One advisor really had my best interests at heart. He did a great job because all my money was accounted for. But you should never give anyone full access to your funds like I did. This advisor knew that other advisors and various people were talking to me, but he ended the relationship because he said that I refused to listen to his advice. I admit that I had a lot of people in my ear, and eventually I parted ways with the man.
I put a lot of trust in another financial advisor I had. I don’t know enough to say for certain whether all of what he did was right or wrong. What I can say is this: I felt like he abandoned me when I needed his help the most. Things he did concerned me based on what I discovered through the bankruptcy process. He had my money invested in three different real estate projects—which included a lot of property, a lot of land, and two restaurants in Atlanta. There was money that never really was totally accounted for.
I wrote him several letters—stern letters—demanding that he turn over my money to a certain individual, that he liquidate all the assets and liquidate the investments. I knew I was going to take a loss, but having something was better than having nothing in terms of a judgment I needed to pay off. I just wanted to show people my honest desire to fulfill my obligation to pay back the money I borrowed from them.
Through it all, this financial advisor never came to see me in Leavenworth, never got on my visitors’ list, never came out to ask what I needed or what he or his firm could do. He knew everything that was going on. But he never made the effort to come see me or contact me to talk about my financial situation. I should have been given all the information regarding what was going on. And I wasn’t.
The fact that he never came to Kansas to see me hurt me more than anything else. I put an enormous amount of trust in him. He had received at least $7 million in cash from me, maybe even more than that. I never saw it again or even heard about what happened to that money until I went through bankruptcy.
I met this advisor back in January of 2005 through someone I feel very close to and still love—someone I had a lot of trust in and still have a lot of trust in to this day. I don’t want to reveal that person’s name, but because of that friend, I placed my trust in this financial advisor and believed he would have my best interests at heart. But in the end, that may or may not have been the case.
My relationship with him was great until I went to prison. That’s when things changed. Leading up to prison, things kind of got out of whack when I started making certain demands for lump sums of my money, and the decisions I was making were being questioned. But I was doing it in my own best interest.
Before prison, this advisor and I met about once a month, and he would send me monthly financial reports. It’s why I was so surprised that he acted the way he did and didn’t communicate with me when I went to prison. To this day, I wonder what the reason was behind it. I haven’t gotten an explanation for it. But I know now that he may have been leery of another person working with me—another financial advisor who was later sent to prison.
I guess he didn’t trust this other person when they were making demands for large amounts of my money. But I gave this person orders to do so.
Maybe he saw potential problems and was trying to protect me. Maybe that was the reason, but no one told me. Still, there was no reason for him to seemingly disappear.
Ultimately, in 2009, a bankruptcy judge ordered me to follow the advice of a court-appointed financial consultant and repay my creditors $20 million. That’s also when I had to surrender my assets, like the boats and houses. I was put on a budget. For example, in 2010, I was given $300,000 to live on out of my $5.2 million salary with the Philadelphia Eagles. I don’t mind living on a budget. It has helped me develop a better understanding about material things.
Money is still important. It’s going to be important; you can’t live without it. But I don’t dwell on how much money I lost—particularly because I know I didn’t spend it all, and I didn’t put it all in jeopardy. I just look at it as making poor decisions in picking people to manage my money.
I don’t live my life or play the game of football saying, “I need to make this much money.” I think about enjoying what I do, achieving success personally and professionally, then maybe the money comes later. I think you need that type of attitude, and within those guidelines, things happen.
Most of all, more than ever, I’ve come to understand that money comes from God as a blessing, and I need to be a good steward of what He gives me.
Part III:
The Redemption
Chapter Ten
Coming Home
“I became focused on being a family man.”
Free from Leavenworth, I was thrilled by the simplest sights as Kijafa and I drove home to Hampton, Virginia. It was one of the best days of my life—May 20, 2009.
Being on the open road after eighteen months in prison—simply seeing McDonald’s and hotels—was like living a brand-new life. It was awesome. For almost two years, I was a caged bird. Now, I was free.
My probation officer called and asked us to drive straight home, which would take almost a full day. Already, my house in Virginia was surrounded by media awaiting my return.
I decided against the option to fly home or ride a bus, so Kijafa and I took turns driving. It went faster than you’d think. I was just so excited to get behind the wheel of a car. I wanted to do something different. I wanted to get away—to see the world, the trees, the interstate, and stop signs. I had to free up my mind and just enjoy life again.
In prison, I was so limited in the time I could talk with Kijafa, whether it was on the phone or during her twice-a-month visits. But now we had what seemed like endless time to share our thoughts and hearts with each other. We talked about me coming home and seeing our daughters and my son—the chance to get to know London, our youngest daughter, and to see how she would respond. I wondered if she would be receptive to me.
We talked about the jobs that were part of my release program—about me doing construction for a few weeks and going to work at the Boys & Girls Club. I knew the construction job was going to be different. It was going to be a humbling experience.
While driving through Indiana, we got out of the car and gazed at a cornfield in the middle of nowhere—just to look at things. Freedom felt so good.
I was intrigued just to be in the car again. It was great to work a CD player and listen to music. It was nice to find out what was going on in the world, in Kijafa’s family and in my family—just things that were important. At the same time, I was in disbelief that I was out. I said to myself, I can’t believe I’m free! I can’t believe I’m free!<
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Part of that freedom brought the opportunity to enjoy certain types of food—fun food—things I hadn’t been able to eat in almost two years. Our first stop was a Pizza Hut in St. Louis. I ordered a pizza with cheese only. I like it plain. Later, we stopped at a Dairy Queen for a hot dog with chili, onions, ketchup, mustard, and relish—with French fries, of course. And the trip wouldn’t have been complete without a visit to McDonald’s, where I ordered a Big Mac.
Kijafa kept getting phone calls on our trip back.
“Do you know what your house looks like outside?” friends asked, referring to the television trucks, reporters, and cameras sitting in the cul-de-sac in front of the house.
“I can only imagine,” she said. “I can only imagine.”
When we arrived, we had to pull right into the garage to dodge the media circus. I walked into the house and saw my daughters. I hadn’t seen them in six months. It was an extraordinary moment.
Jada ran into my arms. “My baby!” I said, picking her up. “I missed my baby.” To be reunited with her seemed like I never left. She was three when I left and five when I came home.
London—who was two at the time—was only a month old when I went to prison, so she had no experience of me living at home as her father. It took her a few days to warm up to the idea. I had seen her only about five times during prison visits.
She was scared of me at first. She had only seen me behind the glass, and she would kiss the glass. Now, she didn’t even recognize me. For the first two days, she didn’t want to come to me. Kijafa was sad about it and cried. I remember picking London up when I first saw her, pointing at myself, and saying, “My daddy. My daddy,” trying to tell her who I was.
I figured it would just take time. It’s like taking a child who’s used to being in one house, and you put her in another house around a totally different group of people. She’s going to be shy unless she’s extremely outgoing. It’s just the way it is. Still, we wondered if I could ever make up for the two years of absence in her life.
I had to talk to her, kiss her, and let her know that Daddy was home. After about two days, I was chasing the kids around the house—not pushing London too much, just giving her space, but at the same time letting her know that I’m her daddy and that I love her. I’ll never forget it; out of the blue, out of nowhere, she said, “I missed you, Daddy. Daddy, I missed you.”
She basically told me everything she had been feeling. She knew who I was. She didn’t hear anyone else say that; it came from her. Right then and there, I resolved, I can never leave my family again. When London realized I was her father, it was one of the greatest moments of my life. This was where I was supposed to be.
It was great being around close friends again, like my pastor, Domeka Kelley. He visited me when I was at the Warsaw Regional Jail, and we wrote one another while I was in Kansas.
He has always looked out for what God wanted in my life. He was thrilled I was home, but he also knew it would be tough.
Pastor Kelley said in an interview: “I wanted [Michael] home, but I knew it was going to be a difficult road ahead of him. We live in a cruel world. I can’t expect everyone to be forgiving. I knew society wasn’t going to welcome him back or embrace him because of the mistakes he made. By the grace of God, he made it. One thing about Michael, he is tough.”
Being with Pastor Kelley in those early days after my release was key for me in my faith journey as I transitioned from being in prison to being back home. He gave me a Bible, one called a parallel Bible because it has two versions—in this case, the King James Version and the Amplified Bible—presented side-by-side so you can compare how the verses were translated. It meant a lot that he gave it to me and wanted me to believe it and understand it. He just wanted me to get closer to God. I try my best to read it regularly, and I can call him if I need help understanding something. Pastor Kelley likes to say we “dive” into the Scripture in order to gain a deep and lasting understanding.
He says he looks back on my life and thinks about the verse that says, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:24 KJV). He understood the temptations I faced on a daily basis and the challenges that came with living a life in the spotlight.
I love Pastor Kelley. He has invested so much in me, my family, and my relationship with God. Like Coach Dungy, he has believed in me. I can tell you without a doubt that my faith in God is what’s gotten me through everything I’ve endured.
Two months of home confinement was much better than prison. I liked being in the house. I could stay in the house all day and find a ton of things to do with my kids. My friends and brother would come over, and we would have a good time. But, make no mistake about it, it was confining.
I was only able to leave the house for work. I worked the construction job for about three weeks and later worked about three weeks more at a local Boys & Girls Club. I was getting paid and then donating the money right back to the Boys & Girls Club. It’s something I enjoyed and still enjoy doing. And it was only fitting to be starting all over at the place that changed my life to begin with. Because of Mr. James “Poo” Johnson, my life stayed on the right track when I was younger, while so many of my peers strayed. And here we were again. Mr. Johnson and I were together.
Hoping I could soon return to the NFL, I exercised during my confinement in an upstairs workout room. But it was far from what pro football players are used to using. I weighed about 225 pounds when I got out of prison—about fifteen to seventeen pounds more than my normal playing weight. I really couldn’t do much at the house. The room was so small, and I didn’t have free weights like I prefer to use. I had an elliptical machine, a treadmill, and an ab lounger. I’d run on the treadmill and break a sweat, but I couldn’t open up a sprint, couldn’t run outside, and couldn’t get my body in tip-top shape.
During those two months, I was required to wear an ankle bracelet that allowed probation officers to monitor my location at all times. Other than when specifically permitted, such as going to work, I wasn’t allowed to venture beyond about a fifty-yard radius around the house.
The monitor on my ankle bracelet was extremely accurate. On the last night before my home confinement ended, I was on the sidewalk talking to friends, and I apparently drifted just past the boundary. My probation officer called and asked, “Why did Mike just leave the house? Why is he out of range right now?” But I was standing right there! It got real sensitive toward the end of my confinement. I couldn’t wait to be done with that little machine.
I enjoyed being home, but home confinement is truly home confinement. You can’t leave to go anywhere except for work—not even to the store to get a gallon of milk.
Perhaps the greatest blessing for me after my release from prison was getting reacquainted with my family.
It felt like I never left. All we did was bond. I was determined never to return to the wild, partying ways that eventually landed me in trouble in Atlanta.
Just the memory of having to leave my family in the first place was so sobering. It was very hard when I left for prison because London had just been born. She was only one month old, and I can’t get those two beautiful years back. I was leaving Kijafa, who’d had a C-section, and it was hard for her to get around. I was leaving Jada, my oldest daughter, who I helped Kijafa care for as a newborn. And I was leaving Mitez—whose heart was broken when he saw his father’s potential prison sentence come on the television. I knew what I was leaving behind. Being reunited was extra-special.
Like Coach Dungy advised, I became focused on being a family man.
The children caused me to slow my life down. They mean more to me than anything else in this world. If I have something to get done, or if I have an obligation, I primarily want to make sure I spend quality time with them first. It’s important to me because my schedule is often overbooked and busy. I want them to know I can’t be there all the time, but I’m doing the best I can
. I put them first.
My life now is focused around family, and I love my family members. Each one of them is unique. Each relationship is very important to me and has been crucial to my development as a man.
Now I strive to be the man God called me to be; not for myself, but for them. It is more important to be a husband and father than it is for me to be a football player. For them, I will be the strong leader of my house that I needed to be before my troubles began.
Coming home wasn’t just about getting out of prison and back to Virginia; it was more than that. It was about returning to the foundations of my life—faith and family.
Chapter Eleven
Starting Over
“I had no margin for error.”
Once my home confinement ended, I nervously awaited meeting with NFL commissioner Roger Goodell concerning my possible reinstatement to the league. I deeply regretted lying to him about my involvement in dogfighting, and I looked forward to having an opportunity to make amends and regain his confidence.
The opportunity came one week after my federal sentence was completed.
I was so excited to see him and talk to him again, to apologize face-to-face, and to try and reconcile our relationship and the credibility I’d had with him at one time. I had spent so many countless hours thinking about what I would say and how I would approach the entire conversation.
I went into the meeting with this whole dissertation of what I wanted to say—things like, “I’m sorry, and I should’ve told the truth” or “I was involved, and I feel so bad because I let a lot of people down, including you.”
