Guilty Until Proven Guilty

Guilty Until Proven Guilty

Andrew Zamora

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

-African proverb The ConTextos Authors Circle 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 individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising, illustrating and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie, and positive self-projection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff ’s Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these young men, their families and our collective communities.

In collaboration with

Guilty Until Proven Guilty Andrew Zamora

The big brown door.

The barricade between me and civilization.

The only obstacle holding me back restricts me. I don’t look at how ugly it is, the paint peeling off, the scratches that make it look like someone was trying to scratch their way through. I see the patches of rust. This distinct door is the door that’s been holding people back since what feels like the beginning of time.

I can still feel when the door is locked. And at 6, when it unlocks, I immediately feel all through my body a sensation like an animal set free in the wild.

I remember it like the back of my hand; the feeling of emptiness, comfort, excitement, and sadness all at the same time. All the emotions got me dizzy. When I get out of bed and look around at everyone I see the same look of emotional dizziness on everyone else’s face.

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I could hear the game on TV—the sound of the cheers and screams in the crowd, the sounds of helmets colliding, the grunts that the players make during contact, and the arguments and bets that break out around me.

I hear: “I didn’t shake on that bet,” and, “They ass sucking, hahaha!” The laughter that surrounds me is actually genuine and I’m surprised.

All of a sudden I get a whiff of chicken and summer dog, beef crumble, tuna and sweets.

All these different scents make my mouth water and I can’t help but keep snifďŹ ng.

I see a man sitting all alone and I try to remember his name. It doesn’t come to me, which is very odd considering how I know everyone around me. Then I see a face I actually can put a name to, someone I’ve known for a while now. I see a bowl in his hand. He’s handing it to the mysterious person that seems to have just appeared overnight.

I see the man take the bowl cautiously with a surprised and puzzled look on his face, but he takes it. All of a sudden, all the surprise and confusion left his face and he started to talk to my friend. And in that moment, he not a stranger any more. Now he just belongs.

I could see the expression on his face. First surprise and suspicion, then relief. I can tell by the little smile that crept on his face and the immediate change in his body language that for a moment he overcame the sadness of this place.

You can see through the weariness in his eyes that the heavy weight he is carrying seems to have been lifted the tiniest bit. I could see this not just in him but in everyone around as I walk the dayroom. For this brief moment everyone isn’t focused on their cases. In this moment there are no murderers, robbers, thieves, or kidnappers all that surrounds me are my brothers and good friends, not the heinous criminals society see us as.

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Men who are not innocent until proven guilty as we are led to believe, but the exact opposite.

We are all guilty until proven innocent.

But the most important thing this time has taught me is that sometimes when you’re at your darkest, loneliest point, that’s when you ďŹ nd yourself.

That’s when you look back and realize that none of it was actually worth it. This time changed me in ways I never thought were possible.

Kind hearted in a place of “killers” that I’ve seen share the last that they got. Trustworthy around “thieves” that I’ve seen return lost property. And honesty around “conmen” that I’ve seen show the utmost integrity.

I learned to be myself!

Andrew I am from empty shell casings I use for my marble bowling From Hubba bubba and Hi C I am from the depths of the big yellow run down building I am from the dirt lawn that was my playground Sprinkled with green I’m from sleeping with my backpack and tornado alley From Yogi and Montanna, brothers I earned, I’m from “fifty cent cakes” and “snitches get stitches” From “go outside” and “you better not be stealing shit” I’m from Christianity that I never paid attention to I’m from Little Village, Home of tamales and tacos From the story of BTB passing From the carelessness of Andrew Sr. and Cynthia From the picture of me and my grandma That I keep hidden in a little box that Should still be buried in my dirt playground.