by Damon West
When I was back at home later that night, I sat on the edge of my new bed thinking about everything that happened throughout the course of the day. Remembering my letter, I opened it and began to read.
Space was at a premium, as these were my last sheets of paper I owned in prison. Aside from my terrible penmanship and run-on paragraphs, it was a letter I was proud to be reading. With the help of so many others, I had truly made it home. It would be incumbent upon me to never forget what I put others and myself through while in my addiction.
I slept on the floor that night, as I did for the first three nights. After sleeping on a steel bunk with only a blanket for padding for so long, the bed was too foreign to me. Like a true institutionalized ex-con, I laid my blanket on the floor, rolled up a few T-shirts for a pillow like I did in prison, laid down, and closed my eyes. Surprisingly, I fell right to sleep.
Provost Umphrey
The next day was a big one. Remember my writ of habeas corpus I wrote in prison? The appeal I wrote to the Court of Criminal Appeals and mailed to Mr. Umphrey at the Provost Umphrey Law Firm? Mr. Umphrey told me back in 2012 that I did an excellent job for a guy who had never been to law school, and to look him up when I got out of prison one day, that he might have a job for me. Well, on my second day out of prison I had a 9 a.m. appointment with Mr. Umphrey
My parents went with me. We were greeted by Sue Greenway, Mr. Umphrey’s secretary. Sue and Mr. Umphrey, I am sure, were curious to see what a man who had spent over seven years in a maximum-security prison looked like. Thankfully, I took great care of myself and had no tattoos. Apparently, I passed the test. He set up an appointment for me to meet with Christopher Kirchmer, the lead attorney in the pharmaceutical division. From that interview, I was hired as legal assistant, a paralegal. Right out of prison, I was employed at one of the most prestigious law firms in Texas. The firm agreed to give me a second chance in life. It was a second chance they had never extended to any other felon in their forty-five years of practice. Talk about a God thing. To this day, I still believe Sue had so much to do with my second chance. Her beautiful, Christian soul spoke to me that day.
After the meeting at Provost Umphrey, I had another meeting. This was even more out of the box than walking into a law firm looking for a job. This meeting was one of those things I put on my list that other inmates I talked to would never do. Well, their plans kept them going back to prison. I am never going back.
Walking into the Port Neches Police Department, I told the woman at the front I had a meeting with Chief Paul Lemoine. After only a few minutes of waiting in the lobby, I was shown into his office. We shook hands and he offered me a seat.
“Well, Damon, what can I do for you today?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “Chief, I just walked out of a Texas prison yesterday, on a sixty-five-year sentence for organized crime around a bunch of burglaries I committed in the Dallas area.”
I explained that my crimes were all property crimes committed in the pursuit of meth, but that didn’t take away from the responsibility I bore for the pain and loss I caused so many. Nor did it lessen the regret and remorse I carried. I told him I was in recovery now, no longer that selfish addict. “I live in your city now, and I wanted to meet you to tell you, personally, there will be no problems out of me.”
He was quiet for what seemed like minutes but was really seconds. Then, he said he’d never had a formerly incarcerated individual walk into his office like this. He said, as a Christian, he believed in second chances. “I sincerely hope you make the most of this opportunity God has given you, this second chance in life.”
“Chief, once I gain your trust, I want you to put me in the game,” I told him, sitting a little straighter.
I asked him to please help me get into schools to share my story and help other kids and their families from having to go through what I and my family went through. It would take the confidence of someone with standing in the community, who believed in me, to open those doors. “Having done the ACTS Retreats in prison, I’ll be turning to my ACTS brothers out here for help in this new life.”
“I noticed your ACTS bracelet. There’s an ACTS brother you need to get in touch with. Do you know Judge Brad Burnett?” he asked.
I did know Judge Burnett. His son Jake was a year older than me and a damn good football player. It must have been more than twenty years since I last spoke to Judge Burnett.
Our meeting concluded, and he sincerely wished me luck in my new life. I came away feeling both encouraged and relieved. So much trepidation was present in the beginning. I was positive everyone would judge me, and no one would want anything to do with me. Like most things in which I “knew” the answer, I was completely wrong.
The next day, Wednesday, I met my parole officer and found out all the limitations on me. There were plenty, but it occurred to me that if I did not do anything wrong and stayed sober, I would be just fine. My new job would not begin for a month, so I had to go through all the re-entry processes like everyone else paroling out of a Texas prison.
I joined St. Elizabeth’s Church that first Sunday. There, I saw several of the men I met in prison who came in with the ACTS Retreats. It was one of the most emotional experiences I have had since my release. Once word got out that I was at mass, about a dozen men circled around me hugging and crying. It was an infectious homecoming that left few dry eyes in our general vicinity. Within a few weeks, the priest, Father Shane Baxter, allowed me to address the entire congregation, to tell them my story and profess my faith in a loving God who spared my life. Instantly, my new church took me in, warts and all. One of my ACTS brothers, Mark Fiorenza, made me an usher in an effort to get me involved. The love I felt from the parishioners was like a warm blanket around my heart.
About twelve days after my release, the day after Thanksgiving, my father was inducted into the Museum of the Gulf Coast for his distinguished career as a sportswriter. It was a recognition that was long overdue. I later found out he had the date pushed back until I was released from prison so I could attend. This momentous occasion, along with my release from prison, brought in family from all over the country. It was the happiest I had been in over a decade. Reuniting with family members I had not seen in years and meeting other family members for the first time put a permanent smile on my face.
Every family picture in my parents’ home over the last ten years was missing my face. While I was in prison, I paid a prison artist to draw me into a family picture. He did this by drawing a photograph taken of my parents, Brandon, and Grayson. Then he drew in my likeness from a visitation photo of me. It was the first Christmas present I gave my family from prison. Now, at my father’s ceremony, we took the first West family photo in the 21st century. Never again can I be away from these people I love so much. Never.
I started my job at Provost Umphrey, went to my ACTS Retreat, found new friends, found places to volunteer all my free time, and found Judge Burnett. He listened to my plans, but my credibility was no good. I had to prove myself, he said. It took me a few months, but I earned his trust.
* * *
Winning the Race
Having won that race today, I’d like to think it’s a metaphor for my life. Provided I continue to work my program of recovery, stay humble, live a life of service to others and, most importantly, always put God in front of everything, I will keep winning each day. Really, that’s all I can do anyway.
One day at a time.
Ray and I have been working the steps in the months since my release. Some days early on, I had to get by one hour at a time, instead of one day at a time. Readjusting to life in a world that I had not seen in over seven years has had its ups and downs. Mostly ups, but I would be lying if I did not admit to some struggles adapting, and I have every advantage in the world. I think about all the men and women who get out with far less to work with than me. Then I think about how horrible life was in
prison. Position determines perspective. My position and perspective today are that my worst days out here in the free world are better than my best days in prison.
Even after more than ninety days’ separation from prison, I’m not totally comfortable in my own skin. Every time I meet someone I say something like, “Hey, I’m Damon West. I just got out of prison. How are you?” I know this is a defense mechanism. It’s a way of thinking on my part that says, “I take your weapon away from you if I use it on myself first. I’ll expose my weaknesses, so you don’t get to.” Even though I am cognizant of what I am doing, it’s still not something I have been able to cease. It’s my security blanket.
My life is finally settling into a routine, which is good. A few days ago, Judge Burnett took me into my first school, Port Neches-Groves High School, to speak to the at-risk kids. He took me back to PN-G yesterday to speak to all the athletes. Both talks went extremely well. It was something I was comfortable doing and the kids were very receptive. Hopefully, I was able to get through to some of them.
The opportunities to speak at more schools will increase, as I have met another ACTS brother named Marcelo “Mo” Molfino. He is the assistant chief of investigators in the Jefferson County District Attorney’s Office. It’s a unique relationship, to be sure, as Mo is a law enforcement officer, complete with badge and gun. However, he’s a cop who understands the difference between an addict and a predator.
A judge, a cop, and an ex-con walk into a school.... It sounds like the opening line to a joke. These two men will never know how grateful I am for the faith they’ve put in me, for the opportunity they’ve given me.
When I was first released, I asked my father how bad it was going to look when I Googled my name. He tried to talk me out of doing it, as there was understandably nothing positive to say about me.
I did do it and was immediately hit with the sins of my past. He was correct, there was nothing positive. I earned this, though. Even if some of the opinions about me were harsh, my choices and my behaviors earned me this negative presence on the internet.
“Give me a year, Dad,” I said, with conviction I wasn’t sure was real. “Give me a year to turn this thing around. By 2017, we will see a completely different page when you Google my name.”
CHAPTER 27
Living in Recovery
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Port Neches, Texas
MY SPONSOR IN RECOVERY, Ray, once told me, “Damon, if you live by the principles of this program, your life will become so good you’ll have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.” Today was one of those pinch-yourself moments. After having been sentenced to life in prison, I’ve been selected to receive an award for service.
The Golden Triangle Sertoma Club is the local chapter of the National Sertoma Club. Sertoma stands for Service to Mankind. Each year, the Sertomans honor someone for their dedication to service in their community. The list of past recipients includes philanthropists, business owners, and other pillars of society who have so freely given of themselves, their time, and their money. This year they are going to honor me for the work I do speaking to youth all over Southeast Texas. It is one of the most humbling moments of my life.
A few months after the two-year anniversary of my release, my family, friends, support group, and community will come out for a dinner to celebrate what some are calling one of the greatest comeback stories ever. While I’m not sure I agree with the “greatest” part, I cannot disagree with the “comeback” part.
Through servant leadership, a repentant heart, and a desire to help others with my story, I have found a way to be useful to a community and a country that has given so much to me. This is an award I share with everyone because, without the help of so many, there is no Damon West story.
So many things in my life have been what I like to call “God things.” There is no other way to explain not only the way opportunities have presented themselves, but also the accelerated pace with which I have been able to become a positive force for change, to truly become that coffee bean Mr. Jackson talked about.
My life prior to recovery was a dichotomy in incarceration. When I was on drugs, my physical body was free, but my mind and soul were incarcerated. Conversely, when I was in prison and in a program of recovery, my body was incarcerated, but my mind and soul were set free. Today, for the first time in my adult life, I am truly free spiritually, mentally, and physically. This trifecta is what living in recovery is all about.
With the help of Judge Burnett and Mo Molfino, I have been able to present my story to thousands of kids in area schools, church groups, civic organizations, and various other groups in our Southeast Texas community. The response has been overwhelmingly positive, as administrators, teachers, pastors, and civic leaders came calling to hear my story, a cautionary tale about a kid who had it all, lost it all to drugs and crime, and battled back with the help of faith, family, and community.
In March of 2016 my father asked the then-head football coach at Lamar University, Ray Woodard, if I could present my story to his team. Coach Woodard, knowing I was once a college quarterback, saw the value of my life lessons for his players. This was the first presentation I made on a collegiate level, and was where I met Michael Orta, the Emmy Award-winning photographer and cameraman who would eventually help elevate my presence to a national level. Mike, who was there originally as a favor to my father, quickly became convinced my story needed to be told everywhere, and we became close friends.
Trying to find my way in this new world, I was always looking for opportunities to help out and give back. One day at church, a fellow parishioner asked if I had ever considered privately coaching kids who wanted to play quarterback. At first, I did not know what he was talking about, as private coaches did not exist when I played ball. With his help, my name got out there and I began working with three future quarterbacks. A friend of my father’s offered to help, too. Kevin Barbay, a former star QB in Nederland, was now on the coaching staff at the University of Florida. Kevin and I chatted on the phone a few times and he sent me some training videos to bring me up to speed on quarterback drills in the 21st century. This was a lot of fun, as it gave me a chance to get out and throw the football, something to which any former QB can relate.
Still, I always felt there was so much more I could be doing. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I do not sit still well. The speaking opportunities at first were few. I jumped at every phone call from Judge Burnett or Mo telling me another group was ready for me to come and share. I was ready to have an opportunity to find that one kid who needed to hear my message.
My employer, Provost Umphrey Law Firm, was supportive from the very start. They allowed me the time I needed to do presentations in our community. They loved the idea of me giving back, and saw this as a community service project in which they were a part. At every turn, they have deflected any amount of praise and recognition I have heaped on them. There can be no doubt, without Provost Umphrey providing me with this unprecedented second chance, there would be no Damon West story. Period.
Grayson, whom I credit with having the vision for all that is happening now, set out to have a website built, www.damonwest.org, and began coordinating with Mike about producing content for the site. It was with the creation of this site that I received a crash course in all the technology I had missed while incarcerated. It definitely brought me out of my comfort zone, which is where true growth happens.
Grayson is a comeback story of his own. Since my arrest on July 30, 2008, he has been drug-free. Today, he works in sales for a Dallas-based technology company where he is frequently one of the top producers. By every measurement, he is better than he’s ever been.
Brandon and his wife, Shana, bought me the laptop I am typing this on now. They wanted me to have the tools necessary to successfully navigate this new undertaking. There is no way to quantify how much this computer
has truly been worth. Aside from the financial and structural support, my two brothers have been the pillars upon which my new life has been built. At no time have they ever complained about all the help, love, and attention I have received. Both in prison and out, they have been in my corner. I am so blessed.
A local television reporter named James Ware picked up on the presentations I was giving. He happened to be the same reporter who broke the story of my arrest in 2008. He said he wanted to do a piece about all the positive work I was doing. Obviously, you don’t hear many good stories of ex-cons, especially not ex-cons who have only been out for half a year. I had some initial concerns about the story because it is impossible to tell the good without telling the bad. In the end, I agreed to it and James produced a two-part story called Rise of a Fallen Star: The Damon West Story. He did a fantastic job, as evidenced by the first-place Press Club Award he later won. As a bonus, James and I became great friends.
My Appeal Verdict
On Wednesday, June 8, 2016, a few weeks after James’ story aired, I received some shocking news. Every Wednesday, the Court of Criminal Appeals (C.C.A.) publishes their decisions on their website. So, every Wednesday, I ritually went into work, made a cup of coffee, logged onto my computer, and went to the C.C.A. website. That morning, I saw the decision for Ex Parte Damon West, WR-78,439-02.
My writ of habeas corpus had been in the C.C.A. for four years. In that four years, so much had happened in my case. The evidentiary hearing was so eye-opening that the recommendation was that I receive a new sentencing trial. However, Judge Snipes didn’t like that recommendation and proceeded to submit my case to the C.C.A. without the completed testimony from the evidentiary hearing. Big mistake.
My attorney, Chip Lewis, pounced on this egregious violation of the law and got Judge Snipes to recuse himself from my case because “his impartiality can reasonably be questioned; he has demonstrated personal bias and prejudice concerning the subject matter, the Applicant, and the matter in controversy; he has improperly expressed an opinion concerning the merits of the matter in controversy; and he has refused to follow the law.” (Motion for Recusal of Trial Court Judge, C.C.A. April 23, 2014).
