First Time, Last Time

“Until the lion writes his own story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

The Soy Autor writing process was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible high quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of young people who have long been underserved and underestimated.

Through the process of drafting, revising, illustrating and publishing memoirs, the Authors’ Circle members develop reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie, conflict resolution and positive self-projection.This Roseland Authors’ Circle has been based at the Youth Peace Center in Roseland, as part of Chicago CRED program.

In collaboration with:

First Time, Last Time Antwan Walker

It started as a normal day, but ended up being one of the worst days of my life.

JUNE 16TH 2016 MY LIFE CHANGED

I will never again take my life and decision making for granted..

On this day I learned that being in the streets can get your freedom taken away.

Here is my story.

I put on my clothes as I walked to the store.

Saw one of my homies who was going to the block. I went home to get money, and my gun for protection, and met up with him. We smoked then the police pulled up. The cop and his partner jumped out to check us.

He searched my friend with no probable cause. I took off, I ran down the alley and tried to take a sharp left. I ended up slipping on gravel rocks and gashed my leg.Â

My adrenaline was so high, I didn’t feel it. I got up and threw the gun in some tall bushes.

I looked behind me and took a short breath.

At that moment I was focused on getting home safe. I ran more, hopped a tall brown gate going towards the street.

I was just one block away from home.

I heard the police car pulling up. The CPD car hit me in the leg and I did a 360 then fell down in the grass. The other cop put the handcuffs on me.

It was the first time I ever felt handcuffs on my wrist.

I felt everything, a mix of emotions, anger, fear, frustration, and shock.

I felt like I had made the worst decision in my life.

I could have prevented all of this by just staying in the house.

They sat me in the squad car and took me to 111th Street police station.

There was no conversation in the car.

I felt depressed and that I had made a terrible decision.

The lady officer took me to the police station.

I told her I had weed, to throw them off. I wanted to keep her mind off the gun I dropped in the bushes. Thirty minutes later, they came into the holding cell and said they retrieved a gun.

They told me they saw me throw it.

They took me back to the processing area and allowed me to make a call. I called my ma and she didn’t answer. Then they put me in a cell and gave me a sandwich.

It was cold in the cell and I put my arms in my shirt to keep warm. I had no appetite and was not able to sleep.

My stomach was in knots.

I was on my way to Cook County Jail, my first time going. I didn't know what to expect when I was getting processed.

Being in the County for the first time in my life made me feel like a zebra in a cage full of lions.

After processing, my body knew it wasn't at home. I was uncomfortable and felt like I wasn’t ever going home from the way people were looking at me and the stories I was hearing.

I finally got to the dorm. There were over 350 men in one area. The first day, I saw someone fight over the phone. After witnessing that fight, I knew this wasn’t the place for me.

I couldn't sl eep, I couldn't eat.

The only thing I could think about was my girlfriend and my grandmother. The County food was so horrible I actually thought they were giving us animal food.

That was the longest two weeks of my life.

During the court hearing, I was told I would get Electronic Monitoring. I didn’t know what that meant and my lawyer explained that it was house arrest. I was relieved, and knew I would never end up in Cook County Jail again.

I am making different choices, taking different risks.

House arrest feels like being locked down, but you are in the house. You are still being monitored and detained every hour of the day. Instead of prison walls, you are contained by the walls of your house.

You are not held against your will like in jail, but you are reminded 24 hours a day by the band on your leg.

It wasn’t easy at first, because I was used to being outside constantly. I had to get adjusted.

I watched a lot of TV, hung out on the front porch. . . slept a lot.

It was not the way I wanted to live, but it was much better than life in County Jail. Being in County means being around 350 men, potentially fighting over something like using the phone.

On house arrest I could be in my own room and not hear someone talking or screaming all night. My body was relieved knowing that I was safe.

When I was in the County I knew I wasn’t safe. I knew anything could happen to me at any time.

The day finally came, May 31st. House arrest was over and I was a free man. I spent 120 days in the house. I had permission to go back and forth to work, but I had to be home by 5 pm every day.

For many, 120 long days is a long time, but to me it was all about patience. I knew if I didn’t think about it, my time would fly by.

I was at work when I called the electronic monitoring department to find out if I could cut off the monitoring unit attached to my leg.

The first time I was on hold for thirty minutes with no answer.

I felt my mood change.

I got angry and impatient, then a work colleague told me they were closed.

I replied, “Knock it off, they are open 24 hours.”

I called again and this time I was on hold for 47 minutes.

All of a sudden they answered.

My heart was racing as I gave my name, IDOC number and pin number.

Once I gave her my info she placed me on hold again.

By this time, I was very nervous.

I thought, “What if I’m not getting off?

How long am I going to be on hold?”

Finally someone picked up.

“Hello, Mr. Walker, you can cut the band off and have it picked up”.

As joy filled up inside of me I didn’t know what to do at that moment but smile.

Being in the Cook County Jail cell taught me that everybody is not my friend.

I learned I have to use my power to make wise decisions.

Being on house arrest taught me what I want for my life.

I don’t want my movements monitored.

I don’t want my freedom taken away.

I was given another chance.

I will not take that for granted.