Prisoners

Constructed during the early 18th-century during the reign of Sultan Ismail bin Sharif, the Kara Prison is a vast subterranean prison in the city of Meknes, Morocco. Its most unusual feature is that it lacked doors and bars, but it’s believed that no one ever escaped.

Its inescapability despite lacking bars and doors was due to its complex labyrinth-like design. It was named after a Portuguese prisoner who was granted freedom on the condition that he constructed a prison that could house more than 40,000 inmates.

The entrance is located in Ismaili Qasba, but the labyrinth goes on for miles. Some believe it’s roughly the size of the city itself. According to legends, a team of French explorers attempted to discover the vastness of the prison and never returned. Each hall of the dungeon contained several corridors, which led to another hall, into another, then into another.

As time went on, the prison was discontinued and was utilized as a storage facility for food. Today, a portion of the former prison is open to the public, but its true extent is still unknown.

Possible Preaching Angle:

While this Moroccan prison may have claimed to be escape-proof, it is certain that there is no escape from hell. An inescapable horror of black darkness (Jude 1:4,13), eternal fire (Matt. 25:41), undying worms (Mark 9:44, 48), and everlasting destruction (2 Thess. 1:9) await those who reject Christ.

When jurors are seated onto a panel for a trial, they’re expected to assist in the pursuit of justice. But rarely does it result in a literal foot pursuit.

However, the trial of Nicholas Carter was the exception to the rule. The Portland Press Herald reported that 31-year-old Carter had just been convicted of aggravated assault against a 14-month-old when he attempted to escape custody by running out of the courtroom while his hands were cuffed.

Detective Jeremy Leal was present in the second-floor courtroom at the time. After Carter bolted, Leal and several judicial marshals immediately gave chase, following Carter down the stairs and toward the exterior door.

“All of sudden, we hear this huge bang. Crash. Boom,” said attorney Dawn DiBlasi. “And this guy comes running down the stairs. He’s handcuffed or shackled. He’s trying to escape. Literally, he’s got his hands on the railing, coming down, trying to jump three stairs at a time. His feet weren’t shackled.”

Security footage from the incident shows another attorney, who happened to be waiting in the hallway, attempting to thwart Carter’s escape, but he was unsuccessful. Carter eventually made it outside, crossed the street, and then tripped and fell in a yard.

That’s when he was apprehended by two other men, bystanders who just happened be to serving the court as jurors in a different case, according to Sheriff Dale Lancaster. As they held him down, Detective Leal was able to bring Carter back into custody.

Nicholas Carter now faces additional charges for the escape attempt.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Just as this guilty man tried to run but was captured, there is no one fast enough or wily enough to escape the Lord’s judgment.

Authorities say that, due to a clerical error, a suspected murderer was released from county jail, but he’s now safely back behind bars.

A warrant for arrest was issued for 22-year-old Amarion Sanders who’d previously been held in the Cuyahoga County Jail on $1 million bail. Sanders was facing aggravated murder charges in connection with a shooting in September of 2023.

Sanders was released on June 24, because another defendant in an otherwise unrelated case had his charges dismissed, and one of the court personnel incorrectly entered that case number into the database for dismissal. The next day, the second arrest warrant was issued, and Sanders was re-arrested without incident.

County, state, and federal law enforcement agencies, including the U.S. Marshals Service, helped search for Sanders.

Possible Preaching Angle:

This is a great story to teach the lesson that small mistakes can have big consequences. It is important to maintain a system of checks and balances and to take immediate action when an error is discovered.

Michael Meyden, a 57-year-old father was sentenced to two years in prison for spiking fruit smoothies with a prescription sedative during a sleepover, in an attempt to make his daughter and her three friends go to bed. After Meyden dosed the girls, two of them blacked out, leading the third girl to text her mother in a panic, leading to the discovery of the incident. The girls were taken to Randall Children’s Hospital where they tested positive for benzodiazepine. Meyden pleaded guilty to three counts of causing another person to ingest a controlled substance, a felony.

The three 12-year-old victims and their mothers spoke in court, expressing their deep sense of betrayal and lasting harm.

One girl said, “Adults are not people I can simply trust anymore. They are people who scare me and make me think twice: What if they were to hurt me the same way as Mr. Meyden?”

Another girl, whose best friend is Meyden’s daughter, tearfully stated, “I trusted him because he was my best friend’s dad. He abused that trust.”

The third girl directly addressed Meyden, saying, “I am disgusted by the look of your face and your actions and all that you have done. You are horrible and I will always hate you for what you have done.”

“You played Russian roulette with my child’s life,” one mother told Meyden. She detailed how her daughter, “barely five feet tall and on a good day 70 pounds soaking wet,” had dangerously high levels of the drug in her system.

Another mother condemned Meyden’s behavior, stating, “No decent parent feels the need to drug their own child and her friends. No decent parent puts their hands on drugged and unconscious young girls without nefarious intent.”

Meyden explained he had spiked the smoothies because he wanted the girls to sleep so he could rest, but admitted he was overly fixated on getting them to bed. “My whole life is destroyed,” he lamented. Judge Ann Lininger acknowledged his remorse but emphasized the severe impact of his actions, telling him he had “created some tremendous wreckage through your decisions.” She praised the victims for their bravery and pursuit of justice, describing them as “strong, articulate young women who experienced an unfathomable injustice.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

This is an example of how extreme selfishness can lead to behavior that harms others resulting in a dramatic betrayal of trust that children place in those in authority over them such as parents, teachers, or church leaders.

The way Brett Hollins looks at things, the worst thing that happened to him was also the best thing that could’ve happened for him. Back in 2016, Hollins was a 21-year-old reservist with the Marine Corps visiting with some friends at a party on the Southern Oregon University campus when a fight spiraled out of control.

Hollins said, “I really did try to de-escalate it.” At the bottom of the dogpile, Hollins was being kicked in the head and was afraid he would pass out. He grabbed the only thing he thought could help him – a knife in his pocket from an afternoon unboxing furniture—and used it to stab two of the men. Both men recovered from the stabbing, though one was hospitalized with life-threatening injuries.

The U.S. Marine Corps investigated the incident and concluded that the stabbing had been self-defense. Nevertheless, Hollins was eventually convicted of third-degree assault and served six years in prison.

During his incarceration, he turned to the only activity that regularly provided a sense of joy and focus—basketball. Brett played a season of college ball before his conviction, and he was determined to play it again after his release. When he wasn’t playing the game in the yard, he spent time writing letters to college coaches, trying to pave his own way toward an opportunity on the outside.

Wayne Tinkle was one of those coaches, and he recalled being impressed with the content of Hollins’ letters—the contrition and humility, but also the determination to find a way forward. “I know you’re a man of character,” Tinkle wrote back to Hollins, “and that’s going to take you really far in life. So, don’t let this setback change the way you view yourself.” Tinkle eventually told him that per NCAA regulations, he was too old to play Division I basketball, but he still wanted to help Hollins pursue his dream.

Through Hollins’ steadfast letter-writing campaign and Tinkle’s advocacy, he began getting responses from various college basketball programs. As it turned out, the dream manifested in the very place where his life took such a drastic detour. Hollins is now a 29-year-old senior captain for the Southern Oregon University basketball team, living out a dream that he’s been chasing for close to a decade.

As his senior season winds down, Hollins is filled with gratitude for where he’s been and the possibilities for where he might go next. He said, “If you can find a way to use it to develop your own character, you can see some amazing things come out of terrible situations.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

God will use our places of deepest pain to bring healing and wholeness to ourselves and others. It’s only in sharing honestly about our struggles and mistakes that we can find God’s redemptive power.

In 2020 Christian leader John Perkins interviewed the lawyer, Bryan Stevenson. Perkins, the son of a sharecropper, was born in poverty in Mississippi. Stevenson was born two years after Perkins’ conversion to Christ, in a poor, black, rural community in Delaware. Stevenson eventually graduated from Harvard law school and founded the Equal Justice initiative. He represents people who have been sentenced to death on flimsy evidence or without proper representation.

Stevenson told Perkins the story of his first visit to death row. As a law student intern, he’d been sent to tell a prisoner that he was not at risk of execution in the coming year. Stevenson felt unprepared. The prisoner had chains around his ankles, wrists, and waist. Stevenson delivered his message. The man expressed profound release. They talked for hours. But then two prison guards burst in.

Angry that the visit had taken so long, the guards reapplied their inmates’ chains. Stevenson pleaded with the officers to stop. He told them it was his fault they overrun their time. But the prisoner told Stevenson not to worry. Then he planted his feet, threw back his head and sang:

I’m pressing on the upward way,

New heights I’m gaining every day;

Still praying as I am onward bound,

Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.

Everybody stopped, Stevenson said, “The guards recovered, and they started pushing this man down the hallway. You could hear the chains clanking, but you could hear this man singing about higher ground. And in that moment God called me. That was the moment I knew I wanted to help condemned people get to higher ground.”

Eduardo Rocha shares his dramatic testimony in an issue of CT magazine:

It was March 13, 1986, I was all alone and getting high. But I had also gotten drunk on fantasies of somehow becoming a drug kingpin at age 18. Earlier that night, I had left my brother’s house to deliver 4.5 ounces of cocaine to one of his customers. I hadn’t noticed the headlight out on Dad’s 1978 Plymouth Volare, but the New York state trooper sure did. After pulling me over, he also noticed that I was driving under the influence, not to mention the lump protruding from the left pocket of my leather jacket.

I was young and naïve, clueless about what lay ahead. But the stark reality caught up with me later as I sat in a cold cell at the Orange County Jail, where I wrapped a bed sheet from an old cot around my neck and began tightening it. Death seemed like the only way out of this mess. I was trapped. Hopeless. Finished.

As the sheet got tighter, the world started fading away. But just before succumbing to the darkness, I heard a voice in my native Spanish: “Eduardo, no lo hagas. Hay esperanza para tu vida.” (“Eduardo, don’t do it. There is hope for your life.”) That sweet, soft voice saved my life that day. After hearing the voice that stopped me from killing myself, I said, “God, if that’s really you, please help me.”

Eduardo was facing a sentence of 15 years to life in prison. When a guard gave him a Bible, he started reading the Gospels. He was captivated by the stories of Jesus—how he would speak to people in great need and meet those needs in miraculous ways. But the verse that made the deepest impression was 2 Corinthians 5:17, where Paul promises that “if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” And so, at a church meeting in the jail’s gymnasium, on October 6, 1986, he surrendered to the love of Christ, accepting his offer to be his Lord and Savior.

In a sequence of seemingly miraculous events, his sentence was reduced and he became eligible for parole after just three years. In March of 1989, Eduardo was released but he was immediately taken into custody by an immigration official. He was deported back to Uruguay (where he had been born) and banned from returning.

Over the next 21 years Eduardo never gave up his goal of returning to the US. While he waited, he attended Bible college and began preaching. He married and started a family, but the US Embassy in Uruguay denied his repeated requests to immigrate to the US. Finally, after writing an extensive letter to the US attorney general, he received a pardon from the State Department and a tourist visa was approved.

He returned to the United States in 2010, and connected with a church near Nashville. In 2012, this church hired him as the pastor of an on-campus Hispanic church. Over time the Tennessee Department of Correction hired him to serve as psychiatric chaplain in a maximum-security prison.

In January of 2022, God finally granted my fervent wish for full US citizenship. That sweet voice that cared enough to whisper encouragement into my prison cell still cares deeply for me now. Life has not been easy, but I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good, even to those who make terrible mistakes like mine.

Editor’s Note: Today Eduardo Rocha is a corporate chaplain for Charter Construction in Tennessee and a military chaplain for the Tennessee State Guard.

As a result of a streak of good behavior, over one thousand inmates from the Snake River Correctional Institution were served dinner from a local Burger King franchise. Amber Campbell, speaking for the Oregon Department of Corrections, said such meals help people in prison feel normal.

“Some of these men hadn’t had a Whopper for years,” said Campbell. “The things we might just take for granted in our day-to-day lives are things that people don’t have in prison. We want to make good neighbors of the folks who are incarcerated.”

The cost of the food was paid for by the prisoners themselves, although a former inmate says that cost can be prohibitive. “If you don’t have someone on the outside sending you money, you won’t be going to many of these,” said Luke Wirkkala. He lived at Snake River for four years before his murder conviction was overturned and he was later acquitted. He said, “Just having food that is closer to normal makes you feel, even for just a short while, like you are not in prison. You never totally forget where you’re at, but it’s just a little lessening of the pressure for an hour or two.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Rewards for good behavior can result in more good behavior. When we offer hope along with punishment, we can show God’s mercy and forgiveness.

Shon Hopwood grew up in a Christian home in rural Nebraska. When his high-school basketball career faded and college and the military fell through, he was left with a complete lack of purpose. So, it sounded like a good idea when his best friend suggested they rob a bank.

They robbed five banks with guns. Shon knew it was wrong. Still, he couldn’t stop because of the easy money and party lifestyle that it brought him. It ended when he was arrested by the FBI and sentenced by a federal judge to 12 years in federal prison. He was 23.

Shon took a job in the prison law library. He began learning the law. Over the years he took on fellow prisoners’ cases, writing petitions they would then file in federal courts, including the U.S. Supreme Court. Fellow prisoners began calling him a “jailhouse lawyer.”

His next cell-door neighbor, Robert, would grumble about missing out on the lives of his children and he ranted about a friend who had turned against him and testified at his trial. He said he wished that guy would die. It was clear to Shon that the bitterness of life and prison had consumed him.

Shon said,

One day I walked over to Robert’s cell and watched as he smiled and danced around while sweeping the floor. My first thought was that he had scored some drugs. But when I asked why he seemed so different, he said, ‘Shon, I’m with Jesus now.’ Within days Robert had forgiven the man who had testified against him. Today, Robert is back on his farm with his family, and once a week he treks back into prison to lead a men’s Bible study.

Robert was neither the first nor the last prisoner I saw experience a complete and utter life turnaround. These inmates had a great effect on me because I saw how grace can transform everyone, even prisoners.

Shon was released in 2009, during the heart of the recession, when work was hard to find, especially for a former inmate. But then another grace arrived: He found a position at a leading printer of Supreme Court briefs in Omaha, helping attorneys perfect their briefs.

Shon became engaged but the pastor would not marry them without premarital counseling. During the first session, the pastor asked what they believed about Jesus. Shon said, “When he talked about grace, that free gift of salvation, I listened, especially when he said that I could be forgiven. ‘Yeah, even you, Shon.’ I couldn’t escape the feeling that God had been pursuing me for a long time.”

Shon writes:

In Ephesians 1:7–8, Paul writes that in Christ “we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us.” Grace says we are not defined by our failures and our faults, but by a love without merit or condition. God’s grace was enough to redeem me.

Nearly five years have passed since I made the most important decision of my life: to surrender to this grace. I got married, and my wife also became a believer. We moved to Seattle so I could attend the University of Washington Law School on a full-ride scholarship. Looking back over the course of my life, I can see that although I rarely returned the favor, God hotly pursued me.

Editor’s Note: Today Shon Robert Hopwood is an author, appellate lawyer, and professor of law at Georgetown University Law Center.

When people like Maria Garza are released from the Logan Correctional Center in central Illinois, the staffers there don’t usually want to see them return. But in Garza’s case, they were willing to make an exception.

During her time there, Garza was enrolled in the Northwestern Prison Education Program, earning a bachelor’s degree. But since they didn’t want her release to interfere with her education, she was allowed to return to the classroom via Zoom. In her chemistry class, she’s the only one doing the experiments from home.

According to NPEP program director Jennifer Lackey, Maria was their first student to earn early release while in the program. The Illinois Department of Corrections says that most prison education programs like NPEP are so new that the directors have yet to figure out protocols for re-entry because so few of the inmates qualify for it.

One of the few other prison education programs that address re-entry is North Park University and Theological Seminary, which offers a master’s in Christian ministry through the Stateville Correctional Center. Program director Vickie Reddy says of the four students who have made re-entry during the program.

Garza is grateful to maintain the connection with her classmate. She said, “To me, it’s kind of like a comfort. There are people who would say that once they leave [prison] they detach themselves from everything. But it’s hard to detach yourself from the people that understand what you’re going through.”

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Loving others; Loving the Unlovely - When we do our best to care for incarcerated people, we are demonstrating God's love for the lost and broken. 2) Perseverance; Overcoming – Through perseverance it is possible to overcome failure and achieve goals.

Pamela Perillo was on death row waiting for execution by lethal injection when she found Christ.

Pam grew up in the 1960s in Los Angeles. Two adults and five children struggled for living space in a tiny two-bedroom rental house. Church and the Bible were unknown. Her mother had a fiery temper and Pam always felt that she cared the least for her. That feeling led to a spiraling loss of self-esteem. When Pam was nine, her mother ran off with the cook where she worked as a waitress. She died in a car wreck shortly thereafter.

Pam’s father was an alcoholic who molested her. When the police investigated, her father and brothers convinced them that it was just a bad dream. She felt so isolated that at age 10 she ran away from home. She spent the next three years running away from foster homes and being sent to juvenile hall.

Pam writes:

At age 13, I met Sammy Perillo, who was 19. We crossed the border into Mexico and married in “quickie” fashion. Just like Sammy, I started shooting up with heroin. After he went to prison, I delivered his twins, but only one survived. I never saw Sammy again.

To support her drug habit and her son, Pam danced at a strip joint. She then teamed up with a man named Mike to rob a frequent customer. Fleeing California with Mike and his wife, they hitchhiked to Houston, Texas, where they were picked up by a stranger. Mike noticed that the man had a roll of money. High on PCP, they murdered him and his friend and left for Colorado.

When Pam realized she could no longer withstand the emotional upheaval within, she confessed to the police. She was extradited to Texas, where she had been indicted in absentia for capital murder. A swift trial followed, then a verdict of death by lethal injection.

Pam writes:

While I waited in Houston before my execution, a woman involved in prison ministry visited. This angel talked about Christ and his path to forgiveness and I recited the sinner’s prayer. After 24 years of being tossed about like a dry chunk of dirt, God poured in the waters of life and began molding me for his purpose.

When I first accepted Jesus, I felt a change, but I found it hard to believe the change was for real. How could God ever forgive me for the horrible crime I had committed? My soul was in torment.

Then Pam met Karla Faye Tucker on death row. Karla Faye’s redemption was dramatic and the subject of movies. Her commitment to Christ resounded throughout the world before her execution. And her magnificent conversion was the spiritual cement that Pam needed. She said, “I knew then that in Christ, God can forgive anyone, no matter how severe their transgressions.”

Pam says:

In 2000, I received welcome news: My sentence had been reduced from death to life in prison. And today, after nearly 40 years of incarceration, I give thanks for how God directed my path to salvation. As grateful as I am to have escaped death row, I am a thousand times more grateful for the promise of eternal life. Fortunately, the Texas prison system allows for church and Bible-study groups, and I have shared my testimony on many occasions.

Editor’s Note: Today Pamela Perillo trains service dogs for disabled veterans through the Patriot PAWS program.

In June, a group of students were honored in an off-campus commencement ceremony, being conferred with degrees from a neighboring educational institution. But unlike many pandemic-era distance learning arrangements, these students were not doing their learning from home. On the contrary, these men were residents of Statesville Correctional Center. But despite their institutional disadvantages, they earned master’s degrees in Christian Ministry and Restorative Arts from North Park University in nearby Chicago.

Michelle Clifton-Soderstrom is the former dean of faculty at North Park, and says she helped start the program because most Statesville inmates have never had access to quality education. The Statesville Restorative Arts program examines Biblical theology and history, but also includes courses on trauma, race relations, nonviolent communication, conflict transformation, restorative practices, and transformative justice.

Cook County State’s Attorney Kimberly Foxx was in attendance as the commencement speaker, and praised the graduates for their initiative. She said, “We achieve our highest calling as a community when those who have the least among us are leading the charge to get us there.”

Perhaps the best summary of the program’s significance was uttered by one of its participants, Jamal Bakr: "Our potential is not defined by our worst mistakes. Let today's event be an example of what happens when opportunities are created, potentials are unignored and complete restoration is always the aim of justice."

Possible Preaching Angle:

No one is beyond God's redemption. Even those who've done wrong can still find roles to participate in God's service.

Teacher and author Paul Borthwick was on a visit to one of his friends who teaches in Beijing, China. He attended a church with four young men who were new believers thanks to his friend’s ministry. The service was in Mandarin, so Paul understood nothing, but he did think the pastor, a very senior man, seemed a little boring. He was soft-spoken, a little stooped over, and preached without any expressions of excitement or emotion.

At lunch after the service, Paul asked the four young Christians, “Is your pastor a good preacher?” They exclaimed, “Oh yes! He is a great preacher. He spent many years in prison for Jesus Christ.”

Their measurement of the sermon and the pastor’s ministry had nothing to do with oratory ability and everything to do with a life faithfully lived in the face of suffering.

Annahita Parsan shares how she survived snowy mountains, a filthy prison, and an abusive husband as God brought her to faith in Christ.

I was born in beautiful, peaceful Iran. My life was good, and it got even better when I fell in love, got married, and gave birth to my son, Daniel. Even the fact that my country was being overtaken by Islamic revolutionaries couldn’t dampen my joy. Like so many people whose lives feel perfect, I had little appetite for God. But all that was about to change.

Death came like a thief one morning soon after Daniel was born. My husband was killed in a traffic accident, and in an instant my life was robbed of joy. I was in shock. I was in denial. And for the first time in my life, my mind turned to God. I asked, What have I done to deserve this?

In time the pain dulled a little, and I remarried. But from the first night we were together, my new husband revealed himself to be a violent, abusive man. My life was once more plunged into pain and sorrow. Only this time, there was no end in sight.

I gave birth to a daughter, Roksana, but my husband’s beatings continued. And when he got in trouble with the authorities, I had no choice but to join him as he fled across the mountains into Turkey. It was a terrible journey. We weren’t equipped for the snow, and soon my fingers, mouth, and toes were black with frostbite. And when I realized that Roksana was no longer breathing, my thoughts once more returned to God. Why are you punishing me this way?

Crouched on the cold ground, my baby’s tiny body hanging limply in my arms, I was at my lowest point. I had nothing left with which to fight. I wanted to die. I had no idea that God was right there with me.

Hours later, as we sat by a fire in the custody of Turkish police, I got my first real glimpse of God. Roksana was alive. It was a miracle. Throughout the next four months that we spent locked up in a filthy Turkish prison, God was right there. He kept me safe from many dangers, and I know he was there too in the kindness of a stranger: a businessman, once imprisoned alongside us, who helped secure our release through Amnesty International.

But it wasn’t until I was far away from Turkey that God started to reveal himself more clearly. One day two men knocked on my apartment door. They wanted to talk about Jesus, but I was too scared of my husband to talk to strangers. They returned the next day and handed me a Bible. I knew I should have thrown it away, but something made me want to keep it. So I hid it where my husband couldn’t find it. The next time he beat me until my body was bruised and sore, something compelled me to give the Bible a look. It spoke to me, and I started to speak to God. If you really are there, God, please help.

Eventually, with the help of the police, I was able to leave my husband. My children and I were relocated to another city and offered emergency shelter by nuns. As I listened to them talk and sing about loving and following Jesus, something awakened within me. Could I ever learn to love and trust you too, Jesus?

Years passed before I had an answer. I was back in Iran, having returned to visit a dying relative. The authorities were suspicious as to why I had left Iran in the first place, and I knew I couldn’t tell the truth about my escape without facing a return to prison. After three months of court hearings and interviews, I stood before a judge, waiting to hear his verdict. Powerless and desperate, I turned fully to the One who had been beside me throughout it all. I promised God I would give my life to Christ if he could deliver me from this ordeal.

Right then, as I prayed, he freed me from the enemy’s grip. The judge, who saw that I was crying, had mercy on me and let me go free. The very next day, I was back in Sweden—God had rescued me and brought me safely home. From that day on, my life has been his.

Today, at my church in Sweden, I have the privilege of seeing God powerfully at work in the lives of so many Muslims. All over the world, God is appearing in dreams and visions to men and women who have previously followed Allah.

An inmate caused a mild drama in the Nigerian High Court after a judge acquitted him of all charges against him, but he refused and demanded to go back to prison. Instead of the usual jubilation that follows any ruling of "discharged and acquitted," the inmate in question headed straight back to the prison. He was intercepted by a prison guard who reminded him he was free to go home. To the chagrin of eyewitnesses, he said he was going nowhere, demanding to be allowed re-entry into the prison.

The calm of the court premises was shattered by the freed prisoner's shouts and pleas to be allowed to go back to prison, as he thrashed about and struggled with several prison officials. According to eyewitnesses, it took the effort of over six prison officials, court workers, and policemen to get the freed inmate out of the court premises.

Possible Preaching Angle:

That's a picture of us all. We have been set free in Christ, but we often find ourselves returning to the prison of our old way of life and behavior. Healthy Christians remind themselves of their settled status in God’s courtroom. We have been "approved by God" (1 Thess. 2:4) and “set free” (Rom. 6:18-22).

Casey Diaz was a gang member as a teenager in South-Central Los Angeles. As a leader in the Rockwood Street Locos, he led his gang in home invasions, robbing convenience stores, and stabbing rival gang members.

He was eventually caught by LAPD and sentenced to nearly 13 years for second-degree murder. When he was transferred to New Folsom State Prison the guard said to him, “Listen closely, Diaz. We know that you’re a shot caller (a prison power-broker), so we’re putting you in solitary.” He was cooped up in an eight-by-ten-foot windowless box, with all his meals slipped in through a slot in the steel door.

The only source of illumination in his cell was a heavy Plexiglas light that couldn’t be turned off, which made it difficult to get any sleep. There was nothing to do—no TV, no radio, no books. He had been told by other prisoners that if a person is not strong-willed, then solitary confinement could absolutely break him.

He writes:

After about a year at New Folsom, as I was lying on my bed, I heard an older woman say, “Is there someone in that cell?” The guard said “Yes, ma’am, but you’re wasting your time.” She answered, “Well, Jesus came for him, too.”

She approached the cell: “How are you doing?” “I couldn’t be better,” was my sarcastic reply. She said “Young man, I’m going to pray for you. But there’s something else I want to tell you: Jesus is going to use you.”

A year later, he was lying down in his cell, daydreaming. When he looked at the wall, something strange was happening. A movie was playing, it was the crucifixion of Christ which he saw enacted in vivid detail.

He then writes:

What got to me most was when this man on the cross looked at me and said, “Darwin, I’m doing this for you.” I shuddered. Apart from the guards and my family, no one knew my real name. Everyone called me Casey. Then I heard the sound of breath leaving him. At that moment, I knew he had died.

That’s when I hit the floor in the middle of the cell. I started weeping because I knew, somehow, that this was Almighty God. I started confessing my sins: “God, I’m sorry for stabbing so many people. God, I’m sorry I robbed so many families.” With each new confession, I felt another weight come off my shoulders.

That was the start of my journey of faith. I was no longer a shot caller. I had found a new calling: telling other inmates about Jesus.

Editor’s Note: Casey Diaz lives in Los Angeles, where he serves as a part-time pastor.

Judge Donna Scott Davenport was the subject of a recent ProPublica investigation because of the staggering rate at which children are arrested and put in a juvenile detention center. Among cases referred to juvenile court, the statewide average for how often children were locked up was 5%. In Rutherford County, it was 48%.

The exposé centered on one particular case where police were called to arrest several children at Hobgood Elementary School in Murfreesboro. The children were identified from video footage from a recent fight.

But the children targeted were not participants in the fight, merely onlookers. School resource officer Chrystal Templeton refused to arrest the boys who were fighting because she figured the local district attorney thought they were too young to be charged. But she wanted to find a way to charge all the other students in the periphery.

So, Templeton, in consultation with two local judicial commissioners fabricated a crime called “criminal responsibility” that they thought would apply. On that basis, Templeton and several other officers made a public spectacle of arresting several children on school grounds, weeks after the fight had taken place.

But it turns out, Templeton and commissioner Sherry Hamlett were incorrect. When Hamlett came up with “criminal responsibility for conduct of another” as a possible charge, there was a problem. There is no such crime. It is rather a basis upon which someone can be accused of a crime. For example, a person who caused someone else to commit robbery would be charged with robbery, not “criminal responsibility.”

As for Judge Davenport, she not only appointed the commissioners herself, but it was her reputation for harsh treatment of juveniles, that motivated Templeton to find a creative solution for charging the children. She thought that getting the children to appear in Davenport’s juvenile court would ultimately help them. Eventually, the families of the children collectively received almost $400,000 in settlements from a class action suit against the city and county for illegal arrests and incarceration.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Any adult that is overly punitive in dealing with children risks God’s anger toward those who mistreat children. Children need boundaries and accountability, but they also need grace, forgiveness, and enough space to make mistakes without being branded as criminal outcasts.

Mark Wahlberg got into trouble in his youth. He often skipped school and had run-ins with police. At the age of 16, he robbed a convenience store, resulting in a conviction of assault and theft. But it was that time in jail that prompted Wahlberg to make a change by turning his attention to his faith:

I had to make the choice personally, and then I had to focus on my faith, and my faith has allowed me to overcome a lot of things. You know, nothing comes easy especially when you’ve got … a lot going against you. But I wanted to prove to people through my actions … that I was going to change.

Once Wahlberg made the decision to submit to God, everything changed. But even after becoming a Hollywood success, God has remained at the center of his life:

Once I focused on my faith, wonderful things started happening for me. And I don’t mean professionally. For me to sit down and ask for material things is ridiculous. It’s a much bigger picture than that. I want to serve God and to be a good human being and to make up for the mistakes I made and the pain I put people through. That’s what I’m praying for, and I recommend it to anybody.

What I do every day is pray for the strength to be a good servant, father and husband. I ask for the ability to raise my kids, to teach and protect them, and to be disciplined and firm and loving and nurturing. It can be a fine line, so I ask God for the strength to not lose my patience with my children.

Anything that’s good in my life is because of my faith. A lot of people get in trouble, go to jail and find God, and the minute they don’t need God anymore, they’re gone. But I spend a good portion of my day thanking God for all the blessings that have been bestowed on me. If it all ended today, I’d be happy. I’ve had such an amazing journey.

Some people might say that having a face tattoo would make you look like a criminal. But in the case of Tyrone Lamont Allen, it was his tattoos that helped pave the way for his freedom. Allen had previously pleaded guilty to a string of 2018 bank robberies in the Portland area. However, his plea deals with prosecutors came under intense scrutiny once it became clear that police had altered his photo in a police lineup. In order to make his photo match the description of the suspect in the robberies, a police forensic artist used digital image editing tools to paint over several of Allen’s facial tattoos. The police artist likened it to “electronic makeup.”

The outcry over this image manipulation wasn’t enough to convince U.S. District Court judge Marco Hernandez to suppress the photo lineup as evidence. However, Allen had spent the last three years working to rehabilitate his life, working to steer youth away from the same crime and violence that previously ensnared him. Judge Hernandez was impressed by this effort, and by the advocacy coming not only from his attorney, but also from the local prosecutor, US Attorney Natalie Wight.

Wight testified, “This case has the possibility of becoming extraordinary. [Allen] can lead the community and show our community that … the criminal justice system actually recognizes you for your value.

In the end, the judge gave Allen a sentence of time served and three years of supervised release. Hernandez addressed Allen directly, "I believe in redemption. I believe in giving you an opportunity to show your changes are deep and lasting."

Allen said, “I'm here to accept responsibility for my actions. I come from a really hard background and am trying to change." Pointing to supporters in the courtroom, he continued. "People who never gave up on me when I gave up on myself. They pushed me to be a better person. And today, I know I'm a better person."

Possible Preaching Angle:

1) If we take shortcuts in the way we assess someone's guilt or innocence, we might end up dishonoring God and the community surrounding that person. 2) Repentance can lead to a new beginning and support, even from those who were formerly opposed.