Prodigal son leaves jail, starts nonprofit for kids

Former gang member wants students to hope

Myung Oak Kim, Rocky Mountain News

Published February 6, 2006 at midnight

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Wearing neatly creased khaki pants and a forest green dress shirt, Terrance Roberts stands at the front of the classroom and quickly commands the attention of 11 fourth- and fifth-graders.

"Come on, get up. Y'all know what to do," he says.

The kids crowd in front of an easel.

"OK. On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

"This is my life, my most valuable possession," the children read, almost in a shout, from the after-school program's creed posted on the easel. "I will always respect myself, my family and all others . . . I am strong and my value cannot be measured."

Roberts applauds.

"That's right!" he says with a wide smile.

This is how the new Prodigal Son Initiative starts every Tuesday and Thursday at Hallett Elementary in Park Hill. For two hours each afternoon, Roberts, the program's 29- year-old founder, and co-founder Johnathan Moorehelp children with their homework, play educational games and encourage community service. About 35 children are enrolled in the program, which soon could be expanded to two other Park Hill schools.

Roberts, who attended Hallett as a child, said he chose to start the program at that school because many students there are vulnerable to succumbing to street life and gangs.

He knows the risk firsthand. Under his shirt, the father of two has numerous tattoos, including the letters CMGB (Crenshaw Mafia Gangster Bloods) on his wrist and a Swahili word for blood on his chest.

When Roberts was just a few years older than these children, he adopted the street name "Showbiz" and joined the Bloods. From age 14 until two years ago, "Showbiz" spent much of his time in jail.

During his last jail term, Roberts vowed to give up gang life and devote his freedom to helping kids avoid the mistakes he made. He is one of the few former gang members who has come clean and established a program that is making a difference.

"A lot of people try to say things that people want to hear," said Rev. Leon Kelly, head of Open Door Youth Gang Alternatives, a longtime anti-gang program. "He is one that was consistent and proved himself to be genuine."

The program has helped children "see that there is hope," said Lazette Ray, an administrative assistant at Hallett. "(Roberts') personality and the way that he approaches children, and him living that life . . . is the value of it. It's real. It's not pretend."

Moore, who has been friends with Roberts since middle school, socialized with gang members but did not join a gang himself. He said children from Park Hill need positive father figures, something he said he lacked while growing up.

"Back in the '90s, it was horrible for kids," said Moore, 29, who also works full time managing sample displays at warehouse stores. "The generation me and Terrance grew up in, we caused a lot of havoc. Now the kids growing up today, these kids are lost. They don't have the common sense to go out there and do right."

"Somebody has to help these kids."

A turning point

Roberts might still be gang-banging today had it not been for a night in 2001 when he watched a television documentary about Martin Luther King Jr. in the Denver County Jail.

Earlier that night, Roberts, the oldest of four children, talked to his mom by phone and tried to make excuses for his latest jail stint.

"She was just crying," Roberts said. "Over and over, she asked, 'When is it ever going to stop?' "

Roberts' family had long been frustrated by his criminal ways.

He became a Blood at age 13 and went to juvenile detention at 14.

A week after his 17th birthday, in the summer of 1993 - a time that became known locally as "The Summer of Violence" - Roberts was shot in the back. Just over a year later, he was shot in the forearm.

That night in 2001, Roberts was serving a seven-year sentence for being caught with a Mac-11 submachine gun. He had been charged with attempted murder. A rival gangster had been shot at but not hit, said Denver Chief Deputy District Attorney Joe Morales. But Morales dropped that charge because the victim didn't want to testify.

Still, Roberts could have spent almost 100 years in jail as a habitual offender. Instead, he persuaded Morales to show him leniency.

Sitting in a common room at the jail, Roberts watched one of King's most famous speeches and learned that the civil rights leader was killed the next day.

Roberts already had begun attending Bible study groups in jail. After the show ended, Roberts sat on the edge of his cell bed and thought about how much King and Jesus had accomplished in their short lives. He cried for hours.

The next day, Roberts told fellow prisoners that he no longer would answer to "Showbiz." They laughed at him.

By the time Roberts was released from jail in January 2004, he already had formed a plan to work with children. He began attending community and church meetings to find ways to put his idea into action.

Around the same time, Roberts ran into Moore, who recently had returned to Denver from Greeley, where he spent three years studying finance at the University of Northern Colorado, and the two began talking about Roberts' ideas.

At first, they worked with community groups that wanted them to give talks about gangs. But they didn't want to keep doing that.

"I started feeling used. The only time they wanted me to come around was to talk about gangs," Roberts said. "I got tired of talking about gangs."

Roberts took a class in creating nonprofits at the Community Resource Center. Then he launched the Prodigal Son Initiative, named after his favorite Bible story.

He said he loves the story because the son who went astray was welcomed home with open arms, like he was. Moore also identifies with the story.

Today, the friends are both settled into homes with fiancees and kids in Aurora.

They spend almost every night together doing work for their program. They have $25,000 a year in grants and donations and hope to extend the program nationwide.

Looking for a Joshua

It's almost 3:30 on a recent Tuesday afternoon. Roberts asks the children in his program what their weekends were like.

Ten-year-old Keizuan (pronounced kee-john) Rudd raises his hand. He tells "Mr. Terrance" about the time a lady who lives near him was locked out of her house.

She needed someone with smaller hands to reach into her window to get the key.

"You went and helped her?" Roberts asks the boy. He nodded.

Roberts marches over to shake his hand.

"That's what I'm talking about!"

Ray, the Hallett administrator, said parents tell her that their children in the program come home with most, if not all, of their homework done correctly and that they have a more positive attitude about school.

"Terrance's goal is to keep them on the path of hope, because they feel that they're in a box in this neighborhood and they feel that they can't ever branch out," Ray said. "They come here and it's a breath of fresh air."

Kelly, the anti-gang activist, said time will tell how the Prodigal Son Initiative develops, but what he has seen so far is promising.

"I feel like a Moses and I'm looking for a little Joshua to come forward and take my place here," Kelly said. "I've heard so many people try to do what I do, but they're not prepared for it.

"He's been consistent," he said of Roberts. "He's been one that's taking the initiative to follow through . . . He certainly has the potential to be the Joshua."

The Prodigal Son Initiative

• More information: e-mail TheProdigalSon Inc@yahoo.com or write to The Prodigal Son Initiative, 1250 S. Buckley Road, Suite I-111, Aurora, CO 80017.

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