A Story of the Man Who Saved My Life in a Youth Prison and Taught Me How to Live
A year ago around this time, my mentor and friend Mr. James J. LeCain passed away as a result of Lou Gehrig’s disease, also known as Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a nervous system disease that weakens muscles and impacts physical function. It was the most brutal way for such an amazing human being to leave this world.
What follows is parts of my story with the man who saved my life.
James J. LeCain was the first person to see me as a young man capable of change at 17 years old. At the time, I was sitting in a maximum-security juvenile prison in upstate New York called Brookwood Secure Center serving time for second degree attempted murder. I was gang affiliated and thought very little of myself as a person. I went to Brookwood ready to do what had to be done to make it out of prison. I thought that I would have to constantly fight and give up on my future until the day I met “LeCain”.
Brookwood was a juvenile prison two and a half hours away from New York City. It was a prison designed for young people who were charged with some of the most serious crimes; one of the last stops before being sent over to the Department of Corrections. Each day at Brookwood was unpredictable. One second, my peers and I could be having a good day and the next a full riot could break out. It was not the most ideal place for any young person to be growing up.
I remember getting my GED because some staff told me and a couple of guys that we were too stupid to get it, and I decided to prove him wrong. I got it on my first try. The GED graduation ceremony made me feel good about myself since it was one of the first times that I was celebrated for doing something right in my life. Soon after, I was asked to join a college program that had just been started in the facility in 2010. At first, the program had no real structure but I ended up taking two courses where I got an “A” in both of them. It felt amazing. Then, I got asked to join a second semester and I met Mr.LeCain, a man who was notorious for being a total historian, constitution lover, and hardcore teacher at the facility. I didn’t take him very seriously at first. He was a small, white, man who didn’t look threatening to me all. I would later find out that he had served 25 years in the military and retired with the rank of First Sargent.
It explained why he wasn’t afraid of me or any of my peers. He would talk to us very directly. And was not afraid to tell us things as they were. He kept it real. So much that on my first paper, he gave me an “F”. I was furious, I felt stupid, and demanded that he explain why he gave me an “F” when the same kind of paper got me an “A” before. He went on to say, “a kindergartener could write this better, this is not college-level material.” I felt angry, and so I demanded to be taken out of class before losing my cool and wanting to punch him in the face. Later that day, he came to my cell, stepped inside, and locked himself within. I looked at him and said to myself, “Is this white dude crazy”? He sat on my desk and said to me, “Hernan, whoever gave you an “A” before, felt sorry for you. They did not think you were going to amount to anything. That paper, was not written at a college level and it would not have held up in the real world.” I listened to him tentatively, I was blown away by his realness and didn’t know what to say.
I started thinking that I didn’t deserve to be in college, that I was really “stupid”, and that everyone thought that. And just as my thoughts started to wander LeCain asked me to look at him in the eyes and said, “If you want to write at a college level, I will help you get there but you will have to trust me and put in the work.” In his eyes, I saw for the first time, a person who genuinely believed in me. At that moment, I made a choice to take a chance and trust another adult once more. In the days and weeks that followed I would complain and stress out about my grammar and paper composition and it would go down as one of the hardest English 101 courses that I would ever take.
Towards the end of that class, we had to do an oral presentation and I ended up quitting his class for a second time. Why? Because I was afraid of public speaking. What did LeCain do? Rather than letting me flunk my oral presentation, and by extension failing the class, he came to my cell again, stepped inside, dropped a book on my bed, a couple of index cards, and said, “I expect to see you in class later to give your 5 min presentation” and before I could say anything back he stepped out and locked my cell. I was baffled by what he did and some part of me felt challenged by him while another felt like I couldn’t let this man down. So I showed up to class, and with shaky legs and a quivering voice, I delivered my first speech. I ended up passing my English 101 with a B. I felt amazing once again but it was different this time because I knew I had earned it.
The third time I quit, I had already amassed more than 30+ college credits. I was in the fatherhood program. I worked in the kitchen, the library, and even did custodial maintenance. I was on a good path until I went to the parole board and was denied parole. I was angry. Why? Because I had a daughter outside who was growing up without me, a relationship that was getting strained by the distance, and parents who were also constantly going through something where I could do nothing about it. I felt helpless. I felt like all the work I had put into changing for the better wasn’t worth it. And so I quit the college program for the third time, and this time I offended my peers and Mr. LeCain, I also shoved him and spit at him from a distance as I was being taken out of his class by force. I lost it. As a result, I ended up threatening the facility director and everyone in the facility. I was isolated for some time. Staff came trying to talk to me. Everyone asking why I was giving up.
Some part of me was waiting for LeCain to show up. But he never did. I was hoping he would, but this time I had gone too far. I asked the staff to let me talk to him and he refused. I kept demanding to speak to him and when I finally did he said, “I cannot take you back. You can’t just give up on something and expect it to be there when you want, Hernan. I cannot lower the standard for you because then I make it okay for everyone else in the program to do the same.” I pleaded with him to allow me back and he didn’t. By then, I was already a couple of steps away from being transferred to the Department of Corrections at my request. However, thanks to the letter from one of the volunteers from the college program I was reminded once again, why I wanted to change. For my daughter.
I demanded to speak to LeCain once more. This time he showed up to my cell again and said nothing. He waited for me to speak and the first thing I did was apologize for what I had done and said.
His response, “What do you want out of life, Hernan?” I told him that I wanted to change because of my daughter. I wanted to be a better person for my family.
He replied, “what if your daughter wasn’t around? What if something happened to her or your family. Then what?” I immediately got angry and got up to his face and warned him not to say something like that.
He looked at me in the eyes and said, “if you want to change do it for yourself. Do it because you want to be better for yourself. If you do that, your daughter will be fine. And you will be able to do more for your family.” I looked at him. I could see the sincerity in his intense eyes. I said, “Okay. Can you please let me back into the college program?”
He looked at me once more and said, “I will only allow you back in the program under three conditions: 1) You will do the next 4 classes without receiving any credit for them; 2) you will mentor new incoming students; 3) You will write a letter to the governor explaining why investing into college programs like the one at Brookwood is so important.” I was pissed that I was going to have to do all the work of 4 classes and not get credit but I reluctantly agreed.
The rest of my time at Brookwood would be filled with many more tests and challenges but ultimately I would confide in LeCain with everything in my life. He became my friend, mentor, and supportive parental figure I so desperately needed at the time. I honed my leadership and public speaking skills and would then be released with 57 college credits in June 2012. There were some conversations with LeCain about extending my time intentionally to obtain an associate's degree but I refused, wanting to get back home.
I ended up going home and every time I had a challenge or struggle I would email LeCain or sometimes talk to him on the phone. I would repeat this for 5 years after coming out. During that time, I ended up coming back to the facility with students from John Jay College (my alma mater) and would try to bring more attention to the Brookwood College Program. I tried to give back to Mr. LeCain and the college program as much as I could.
However, the last time I saw LeCain I noticed that something was wrong. He had lost a lot of weight, he struggled to speak and seemed like he was tired. He refused to tell me what was wrong and then months passed and I heard the news that he was retiring. This was around the same time that I was hitting a low point in my life once again I reached out to him and he asked to speak on the phone with me. It was during this time that he explained to me that he was dying. He shared that he had been battling ALS for some time and that his body was finally starting to lose the fight. I cried. I got angry. I felt immense sadness because I couldn’t fathom this man no longer being around. I told him that I needed him. That I wasn’t going to be able to live up to what he thought of me if he wasn’t around.
On the phone, I heard him clear his throat and he said, “Hernan, I’ve lived a good life. I am happy. I served my country. I helped young men like you, and I have a beautiful family. I lived the life that I wanted to live. It’s your turn to live your life and give back.” I explained to him that I was sliding back into bad habits, that I didn’t know how to keep going.
And his response was, “you know what you have do. I believe in you. And I am very proud of all you’ve been able to accomplish. Live your life the way you want to live it, Hernan. You don’t have to be your mother’s savior or allow your dad to be an anchor in your life. You have nothing to be guilty about. Professionally you are doing great. Personally, you still have issues to deal with and you have to address them because these things take us out.” I listened to him in tears and told him that it felt like I was carrying a cross, something that he was passing on to me, and that I didn’t think I could handle it.
He then said, “That’s a cross you're going to have to carry for the rest of your life. Get used to it. You should feel good about being that person.”
As we finished our conversation he would tell me once more that he was proud of me. And to make sure that I lived the life I wanted to live.
That would be the last time I would ever hear his voice again. His words have never left my mind.
Mr. James J. LeCain taught me the value of education, never giving up, finding my own value, how to fight and advocate for myself, and, ultimately, to live my life by my values and how I wanted to live it. I will never forget this man. And it is because of him that I keep hope alive for every single young person that I come across no matter what background they have. He was the first person to treat me like a human being. He addressed me by my first name and with nothing but respect. He modeled the kind of human being I wanted to be for myself, my daughter, and any young person I would ever come across. He is the kind of person all of our young people need.
Today, I am a nationally recognized champion for young people who have also been impacted by the criminal justice system. I work at the Youth First Initiative, a national campaign focused on closing youth prisons and reinvesting that money into community alternatives. I have spoken before thousands of people both in the community and those who run justice systems around the country. I have also made it my mission to help build the leadership of other young people who, like me, needed just one person to believe in them. I am also now the proud Founder and CEO, of Healing Ninjas, Inc.
On this Veteran’s Day, I say thank you once again, to the man who saved my life and taught me how to live it even before I knew how to. I love you LeCain. I will never forget you. Thank you for everything you did for me, sir. I hope you're watching. I still have a lot more to give.
Hernan Carvente-Martinez: Brookwood College Program Alumni — Summer 2010 to Spring 2012
