A Boy Who Changed a Man

A Boy Who Changed a Man

Isaac Martinez

The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are 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 and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection 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 men, their families, and our collective communities.

While each memoir's text is solely the work of the Author, the images used to create this book's illustrations have been sourced from various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering, and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into fully illustrated books.

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A Boy Who Changed a Man Isaac Martinez

I remember the day as if it was yesterday. At the time, me and your mother were separated and were not on the best terms. We were already about 3 weeks of not being together. At the time, I had a good friend named Kevin Medellin. I remember being at his house talking to him about some business I had going on in the streets when I got the call. It was your mother. She told me she needed to see me, that she had something to tell me. I had so much stuff going on in the streets at the time, that it could’ve been anything. But I knew in my head it was you in her stomach. I remember saying, “What? What happened?! Tell me!

Are you pregnant?” She didn’t reply. Her friend Diana answered. I asked Diana if she was pregnant. Diana said yes! I honestly couldn't believe what I heard; I didn’t know how to take it. I remember Kevin looking at me shaking his head as I asked your Mother, “Where are you?

I need to see you.”

As I walked out of his house and got in the car, as new as the feeling was for me, I can honestly say I was happy. I don’t know why, but the thought of you then and now carries me through life. I always knew you were going to be a boy, since day 1. I remember having a Ferragamo man bag full of phones and as I got on the expressway to meet your mother they all were going off. I couldn’t even answer them. I took that 25 minute drive from Bolingbrook to Oak Park to reflect on my life and knowing I had to make yours better. I couldn't wrap my head around the news your Mother broke to me. I told your Mother to have Diana bring her to the BP right off of 290 and Austin so that I can see her.

As I pulled into the BP, I remember her friend drove a jeep at the time.

It was parked in a parking space in the front of the BP. She wasn’t parked at a gas pump.

I parked in the gas pump facing the back of Diana's truck. I remember not knowing what to say or how to say it, but I wanted to hear that it was true in person. As I walked to your Mother on the passenger side door, I opened it and asked, “You serious? You’re pregnant?” I don’t even think she believed it at the time. It was so surreal, but she replied yes. I hugged your Mother. I kissed your Mother, and promised that everything was going to be OK. I honestly didn’t stay there long. I just needed to hear and see the truth in person. I told your mother I had a lot to do and that as soon as I was done handling my business I would go see her.

I got back in my car, which at the time was a silver Volkswagen Jetta with no tints. I remember just sitting there thinking for a minute, “Holy shit, she’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father.”

When you get older, you’ll learn to know your father was always a hustler. I always wanted and worked for better things for myself, but when I heard the news about you in person, papi, I was more motivated than I had ever been. I finally understood why your grandparents did what they did for me. In that moment, I admit I wasn’t the best person. I had my demons. I had my problems. But nothing was more important than you. I was so proud to tell the world about you.

After breaking the news to family and friends, the next move was trying to get it all together for your arrival, which honestly didn’t go as planned. As much as I thought I was ready to be a father, I honestly wasn’t. I still was partying, staying out late, and dealing with all kinds of women. Don’t get me wrong, nothing was more important than you, but I honestly didn’t know how to slow down. A couple months into your Mother’s pregnancy, a friend of mine named Jimmy, who at the time owned Arandas Tire and Rim shop, was building some new condos in Wicker Park, and he asked if I was interested. I couldn’t help but to think of having you in a better part of the city, as far as for school and growing up in a positive manner. I ended up moving in with plans of opening up a shoe store on the front part of the condominium. Jimmy had given me a retail space with the actual condo. I pictured us as a family in that place, but of course, I fucked that up, too. Me and your Mother were constantly fighting, so the condo ended up being more of a bachelor pad than a home. As fast as your Mother moved in, she moved out. She moved back in with her mom (your Grandma).

Now that I have changed and grown through what I’ve gone through, I can honestly say I don’t blame her. I wasn’t healthy for you guys. I was drinking almost everyday, was abusive, ignorant and childish. Life was on its way downhill for me, but nobody knew, just me. I remember walking into the condo one day about ½ way done with the store, and opening the door to the actual home part of the condo. There was a door/wall that separated the two. I looked at everything I had hustled for as if it was nothing. It felt like nothing because I didn’t have nothing, at least emotionally.

I felt like what good is all this if I can’t share it with my family? To the outside world, I was sitting on the throne: money, cars, women, a beautiful condo, a store on the way, but no one knew that deep down, I felt like a nobody. I felt like I had studied all year for a test and I didn’t pass. A couple months later I packed my shit. I couldn’t live there; it reminded me daily how it wasn’t a place you called home. Months passed by. Your mother is huge, and we’re still fighting all the time. I’m still on bullshit. It got to the point that she didn’t even tell me about her ultrasound appointments.

I was on I-290 passing the Central exit, heading towards Harlem with a close friend named Los, when I had got a call from your Grandma (my mom). As I put my turning signal on to get off at the Harlem exit, all I could hear was everyone yelling at your Mom in excitement to cut the cake; it sounded like a concert in the background. Bumper to bumper traffic, and as your Mother slices into the cake, my Mother is saying, “OMG. God, Isaac, it’s a girl.” I replied, “Get the fuck out of here.” She had spoken to soon, because when your Mother lifted the slice the inside of the cake was baby-blue. She said, “Oh my God, Isaac, no, it’s a boy!” Crying, I could hear tears of joy in her voice. “Don’t lie to me,” was my response. “It’s a boy.

It’s a boy,” was hers.

same time, “My laughing, crying and smiling at the him told and him ged hug and ks wrong I had looked at Los me were looking like what the fuc to t nex s car , car the in ing eam won the finals. Shit, fucking boy is on his way!” Scr dow screaming like if the Bulls had win er’s driv my g erin low py, hap my body at with him? I was so explain the emotions going through ’t ldn cou ly est hon I . did y the hearing about you, it felt like e confirmed a boy just put something. The fact that you wer ut abo py hap so n bee er nev ssing you up that moment. I had xico, beaches on the ocean, dre Me to you ing Tak y. pla into you will want to plan with all my plans and thoughts of have plans for us that you one day day this till still I d. min my on like me was always my grandson.

All the way up to pretty much the baby shower, I had stayed away. To be truthful, the night before, I had someone from out of town that I had to meet. Long story short, our meeting at a restaurant turned into a party at a strip club called 390. As much as they wanted me to stay, I couldn’t. I knew I had to be at the babyshower the next morning. I never told them why I left that night, but halfway home, drunk, pitch black out in the middle of fucking nowhere I see red & blue lights in my rear view. I had felt like there’s no fucking way this is happening right now, not tonight. The officer smells the alcohol on me. Instead of charging me with a D.U.I., he arrested me for driving on a suspended license. Now mind you, it’s about 3 in the morning, I’m getting arrested and I have a baby shower to attend in 10 hours. I knew in my head if I missed the baby shower that it would be the icing on the cake. I’d offically win the worst fucking Father-To-Be award, at least in everyone else’s eyes. I get to the station and get processed. I ask, assuming I was going to be taken to county jail, “When is bond court?” The Officer comes in and says, “You can bond out from here if you want.” I don’t even know what fucking time it is, I make a call. My friend Giovany, who was in the car when I got pulled over and had all my belongings, including my money, had already reached out to my family. Before I could even finish the call to try to make another, the officer comes in and says, “Let’s go. Someone just paid your bond.”

As I walk out the station, yeah, your Grandma was standing tall with her arms crossed shaking her head saying, “You’re not missing this shit today.” I guess Giovnay called her first. Shit, I’m glad he did ‘cause I’ve got 3 hours left before the baby shower, and, yes, everyone thinks I’m not going to show up. I get home; I can’t find shit to wear. Fresh on a bond for driving on a suspended, I get in a brand new white BMW 750 Li, and I take my ass straight to Banana Republic and find something to wear. I make it to the baby shower just on time. What are the chances that me and your Mother are matching? I truly believe God wanted me there that day. My family, my friends, your mom’s family, her friends. The baby shower was beautiful; it ended up being everything I thought it wasn’t. As much as I knew, everyone was excited for your arrival. The baby shower confirmed that they were. You are loved.

That day was the first time both sides of our family and friends had met. As much as I wasn’t around your Mother, there was absolutely no tension. We enjoyed that day; I even took the time to sit down and look around the room. Young, old, everyone smiling, laughing. I hadn’t seen or felt like that ever, and the reason for it was because of you. That was the best part.

You know, now that I can look back at the situation for the better, I honestly wish I would've been a better person for you, your Mother, her family, shit- even my family - because at the end of the day all we really have is family. Not saying that you don’t have one, because believe you are more than loved by everyone on both sides of your family. But I feel as for me, I had the power to bring both sides together more often and I didn’t.

Now it’s time for your arrival, literally. Your Mother was with my Mother when I got the call. Like straight out of a movie on T.V., she tells me, “It’s time Isaac.” They were at Northwestern downtown already. When I got the call, I was in the car talking to someone about plans for the next morning.

Yeah, that shit got cancelled quick. I honestly felt weird driving fast to the hospital. I was talking to myself the whole ride saying things like, “Oh shit, it’s real,” and “Damn. I’m about to be a Father.”

I remember thinking like- “Man, nobody better fuck this up.” I get off on the Ohio exit off the Dan Ryan, taking it straight down to Michigan Ave, taking yellow lights and all. I finally make it. I'm wearing some straight leg jeans, a white button up and a pair of white Yeezys. After I got the call, I felt like I had got there fast as fuck. That really wasn’t the problem; the problem was after I got there, I couldn’t find your Mother or mine. I asked at least five different people, walked to four different floors and went to two different buildings before finally finding them.

I get walked to where your Mother is. She wasn’t in the room you were born in. Her Brother and my Mother were by her side. Your Mother was mad at me, had an attitude the entire time, up until the nurse gave her the Epidural shot. It's like it made her instantly nice and drunk. By now we were in the actual room you were born in. I swear, after that shot, the entire mood changed. We got along. It felt like, “Yes, finally it’s time. We’re going to do this together.” I was the only man in the room. Her Father wasn’t there. My Father wasn’t there. Your uncle Luis was still in high school, if I’m not mistaken.

I wish there was somebody there, a Father figure at least, that could’ve prepared me for everything that was going to happen because in all honesty, I didn’t know what to do or how to do it. I just acted like I did, because, shit, I had to. I couldn’t tuck my tail now. You were about to be welcomed into this crazy thing we call life. Me and your Mother went back and forth about names for a while.

I never budged on anything else but Isaac Martinez. She wanted to name you Liam. I remember being like, “Liam? What the fuck? Hell no. He’s my first. It’s going to be Isaac, that’s it.” She even pushed for Liam as your middle name. “Nope! Not gonna happen, haha.” We’re getting closer to your arrival, and I remember your Aunt Brigette putting makeup on your Mother, trying to get her glam ready. It made me laugh and smile at the same time.

Ok, so let’s get to it. Nurses are coming in. Legs are getting propped up. Stations are getting set up.

Oh, and I’m freaking the fuck out. Contractions are happening. Nurses saying push, and I’m holding your Mom’s hand. Before it came time, I didn’t know if I was going to watch you be born or not. I’m watching as I hear the Nurse say things like, “Good job,” “Take a breath,” “Let’s go,” and “Push!” I see your head halfway in and halfway out. I wanted to grab your ass already. I needed you already.

“Almost there, push!” Your head first, body next, bloody, crying.

March 4th, 2016 at 6:39 in the morning at 8lbs, 2 ounces and 21 inches my son, my prince, my papi, my seed, my world, my baby Isaac Martinez was welcomed into this world. I had to cut your umbilical cord. Shortly after, the Nurse cleaned you. I held you in my arms, crying. Now your Mom and I are both holding you; both of us crying as I say, “We did it, our baby is here.� As pictures are being taken and we were holding you, you wrapped your hand around my finger. It was like you knew I was your Father, you knew your protector was right there. Everyone was crying tears of joy.

All on my mind was our future: raising you into a good man, trying to get rid of every devil inside me. You were beyond innocent. I want you to know when you get old enough to read this that any decision that I made or anything that has happened between me and your Mother was NEVER your fault. Ever! Nothing that has happened in my life or things that you might hear as you grow up were ever your fault. And more than anything, they have never stopped me from loving you, truly loving you, everything about you. I’m your #1 fan, forever and always.

We had to stay a couple of days at the hospital. Me and your mother were knocking out with you next to her bed in a cradle, and I slept on the couch in the room. Friends and family are showing up, coming to visit you in the hospital. A doctor had explained to us that you had a tiny heart murmur, which is a tiny hole in your heart. The doctor explained that it would close on its own, that everything would be ok. Now for me, someone who doesn’t feel bad, show pity, and is not really soft at all, it felt like my world was crashing down. I was scared. I cried. I felt like, “Why my son? Was it my fault?

Did I do this? Is God punishing me?” When you have children, you’ll learn to understand that when it comes down to yours, you can’t wear a mask. As good as I am at it, I couldn’t, and I can’t with you.

Even though the doctor said things would be fine, I still was scared for you.

It’s our final day in the hospital. The nurses check our baby-seat and all. We finally get to take you home. We took you to your mother’s home. Your bed/nursery was already set up there. I had practically moved in when we took you home, but that didn’t last long. For a couple months, me and your mom, we tried. We tried to do things the right way for you.

Taking turns in the middle of the night feeding you, bathing you, swaddling you, changing your dirty diapers, trying our best for you. No matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get along.

Between my shit at work, being out, and not having respect for a home that wasn’t mine, it was better that I left. So, I did.

When you were a baby, sometimes I used to watch you sleep and when I would hold you in my arms, I would sing a song to you called “Mi Primer Amor”, which means “my first love” by a group called Los Alegres del Barranco.” It’s my song to you. I used to look at you and see me with no sins. You bring me peace, baby boy! As I’m trying to get fatherhood down pat, I was starting to have a lot of problems at work. A lot of friends were getting in trouble. I was getting deep on my end. Things that were bad were getting worse. But honestly, I had you to motivate me, to push me to never give up. Neck deep in the sand, the thought of coaching your future basketball games gave me the strength of Zeus.

A couple months later, after I moved out of your mother’s, you had a doctor’s appointment. I took you and your mother to the appointment, fighting before, during, and after the appointment. I left with you, which ended up being one of the worst decisions I’ve made, if not the worst. I had actually left with you that day to spend the day with you. I don’t know if it was your mother’s or the nurses at the doctor’s office decision to call me to tell me to turn around and take you back.

To me, this was another fight, until I answered the call and it was Chicago Police on the other line saying to bring you back or they would put a warrant out for my arrest for kidnapping. I was on Pulaski and Lake when I decided to turn around. I looked at you in my back passenger seat, knocked out, sleeping without a care in the world. I actually wanted to just go to the park or somewhere downtown, sit and just look and talk to you, just me and you that day.

As I pulled up to the doctor’s office, I remember seeing a police truck and officers in front. I assumed if I walked you to them, they would arrest me, so I had a friend who had owned a business across the street do me the favor of walking you to your mother. The day was over after that. At least I thought.

I was so mad. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about that shit. The fights between me and your mother were so extreme sometimes that it just felt like another fucked up day between us, but this fight and altercation was different. It would be a fight we would have to pay for in the end. Days later, I was downtown on Rush Street having lunch at Tavern with some friends from Detroit when I got a call from your mother. She was crying, saying they were trying to take you. Confused, I asked, “Who? What the fuck are you talking about and what is going on?” She replied, “DCFS.” I guess the nurses from the doctor’s office reported our fight days before and felt you were unsafe with us. Halfway through the meeting, I stepped away with a knotted up stomach, telling your mother to slow down. She was crying so hard that I could hardly understand her. I told her to stay by the phone. As I hung up, I looked at the sky like “What the fuck has my life come to?!” I instantly call my attorneys; they refer me to more attorneys. DCFS leaves your mother’s house with the ultimatum of signing custody of you to either my mother or someone of her family. My mother was out of state for work at the time, so that wasn’t an option. The final option was her aunt and her husband. I still to this day am indebted to them for the amount of love and care that they gave you while me and your mother had to show and prove we were fit for you. I was the one at fault, nobody else.

As I returned to the meeting, I couldn’t keep a straight face. I cut it short. I had felt like throwing up.

The appetite I had was gone. I’ve always been the type to have answers and be the one to know what to do no matter the situation, but this time I didn’t. I knew there was no amount of money or connections that could fix this. I was scared. DCFS made me and your mother go through a lot. We both had to go to court, take classes, take random drug tests, and honestly turn our back on each other because it seemed that the only leeway they’d give us was if we stayed separate and raised you separately. Instead of coming together for you, we clashed. It ended up being an us vs. us thing, sadly.

When DCFS took you from me, I took my drinking to a whole other level. I eventually turned into an alcoholic. Drinking was the worst thing I had ever turned to. DCFS let you be with your mother.

They knew I was the problem. They made me have supervised visits for months with you. I was never allowed to be alone with you, and all the visits had to be in public places. There were so many times I just wanted to take you and run away, but I knew in the end I would lose you forever.

A lady named Michelle was the one always bringing you on visits. Sadly, she taught me a lot, especially when it came to feeding you, changing you, holding you. I used to cry in the car after our visits because she would let me place you in your car seat after our visits. When you would drive away, I used to feel like you were looking at me wondering why I was letting you leave with a stranger. My hands were tied, Papi. I couldn’t do what I wanted. I had to play by their rules. We would go to places like McDonalds, libraries, Little Bean’s cafe, the Shedd Aquarium and ChickFil-A. I used to order you eggs at Little Bean’s cafe and get chicken nuggets for me. It never failed: halfway through your eggs, you’d reach for my chicken nuggets.

In the midst of going to domestic violence classes, parenting classes, and these supervised visits, I was fighting a DUI case. I had planned to finish what they wanted as far as the classes for court before I decided to finish the case but that didn’t happen. I ended up catching a pistol case in May of 2017. You were a year and two months and I was about halfway done with everything DCFS asked of me. I was expecting to get a bond for the case. I never received one. DCFS was quickly notified, making it easier for your mom to get you back. One of our last visits together was at Chick-Fil-A near Skokie. I tried to make you walk. You stood on your feet, took a step and fell. It wasn’t really your first steps but to me, I had witnessed my baby walking.

About 5 months into my bid in the County, my lawyer put in a request for me to show up to a DCFS court date. I’ll never forget the day. I couldn’t believe I was finally going to see you. By this time, you’re walking, not talking so much, but you’re walking. DCFS wouldn’t let you come and see me, so I saw you grow through pictures until that day. I got transferred from the Cook County Jail to the Audy home where court for you was held. My lawyer had come to the bullpen before court and explained to me that you were upstairs, walking, and giving everyone a hard time. I was so excited to see you. About an hour later, my back on the bullpen bench, I hear my last name being called, “Martinez, get up. It’s time.” A lady officer put handcuffs on me and walked me to an elevator. As I exited the elevator, she asked why I was at court. I told her I finally was going to be able to see you.

As I’m sitting at the back door of the courtroom, my hands are sweating, my emotions are everywhere. As I’m about to walk in, the officer stopped me. She told me, “I’m not supposed to do this.” She took my handcuffs off so that you wouldn’t see me like that. I walk in, I see the judge, my mom, your mom, your aunt and behind a wooden podium, all I see is some little legs. You weren’t taller than the podium. My eyes instantly start to water. You come from around the podium, I hug you, I kiss you, crying. The judge and attorneys are talking but I could care less. I didn’t know when I would see you again. All of my focus was on you. I cried looking at you the entire time. As happy as I was to see you, I was in pain. I knew everyone knew I was in jail but you. I felt like a failure. After court, I thanked the officer for what she did.

Upon my release, me and you were together again. While I was in prison, DCFS closed the case and returned you back to us. The first time you seen me at home, you were scared. You weren’t used to me. It took you a couple hours but after that, it was like I never left. I finally was able to have you to myself. I felt like a father for once because I fed you. I bathed you with me, I dressed you, slept with you, and started waking up early, putting all mine on hold to take you to school. I was beyond grateful to your mother. She was giving me the chance to do all of this with you. She took care of you all the time I was away. I’m sure she needed a break. You were so spoiled. You expected to always get your way, but I felt like you knew I was your father and that wasn’t going to happen. I used to sit in the living room with flash cards and make you say words before I would give you things like snacks or put on Mickey Mouse or “MICKEY!” and point at the TV as you would say and do.

One morning, it’s my first time taking you to school. I wake up early, wake you up, bathe you and get you dressed and ready for school. I had just bought a SRT and before sitting you in your car seat, I always tried to make you say “truck” because it was yours and I wanted you to learn that word. I double parked in front of your school, I get you out of your car seat, you hold my hand, and I think I was more nervous than you were. This was going to be the first time your teachers would meet me. When we walk into the school, your teachers, like I assumed, looked at me like, “Who the hell is this guy?” I introduced myself, gave them my contact information, gave you a kiss, and started walking towards the entrance to leave out.

“PAPI! PAPI!” I turn around and you walk me to your hanger to hang your jacket. I read in print “ISAAC MARTINEZ” and underneath was where your jacket and backpack would go. I say bye after I kiss you again, and walk out. I hop in the truck and nothing could stop me from crying.

I had did it. I won that day. I took you to school. I officially was a parent. Days later, it’s my turn to pick you up from school. I walk in, you see me, say Papi, we get your stuff, head out and I try to get you to say “truck”, but you don’t. I remember having a song called “You Stay” by DJ Khaled on and we’re driving past the brickyard on Narragansett. When I hear “TRUCK!” I instantly turned the music off, pulled into the kids Footlocker parking lot and ask you “What did you say?!” You looked at me and said it again, pointing your little fat finger saying “Truck.” You said it! I Facetimed your grandfather about that one. Slowly but surely, you started saying more words and talking. I had felt like we finally were winning the war you were fighting when it came down to your speech.

43 days later, I’m arrested and charged with a discharge of a firearm. I was doing great. I had changed for the better. I still am, but in a few seconds, shit happens. My feet are taken from under me, and now I’m writing to you sitting here, trying to prove my innocence.

Lord knows no one comes before you. Lord knows I will be there with you soon. And Lord knows I love you more than life itself. I call and speak to you now. Before you couldn’t speak, now you don’t know how to shut up. Life has its ups and downs, but life makes no mistake. You will never need, and no matter where I am, I promise that. I am sorry for leaving you again. I am sorry for all of my wrongs. We cannot change anything unless we accept it first. I finally got the chance to be honest, so I did just that. “Leave who you were, love who you are, and look forward to who you will become.” I will do right by you son. I promise.

You are the light when I can’t see. You are the air when I can’t breathe. You are my son. My everything. YOU ARE THE BOY WHO CHANGED A MAN.

Isaac Martinez I am from a beautiful strong woman named Rosalba From basketball games and horse races I am from the Back of the Yards and the town of Cicero Grandma’s Garden, the corral, and gorditas from Aguascalientes I am from the lemon tree in Abasolo In the backyard of a Garza home I’m from family get togethers on Sundays and vacations in Mazatlan From Abuelita Alma and Abuelita Petra I’m from mom’s dinner after work and her sopa de fideo.

From “stay loyal, stay honest, and never snitch.”

I’m from baptisms, confirmation, and a Catholic background.

I’m from Durango and Nuevo Leon.

Alma’s tortillas de areina, handmade tamales on Christmas From the grab bag and opening Christmas gifts at midnight.

The breakfast my grandmothers never forgot to make Living rooms filled with family pictures No matter where life takes me, 4940 will always be home, and I will always be safe there.

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