Life Above Reproach

Testimony of My Journey

By  DeShawn Stallsworth

Hello, I guess I should start my letter off by telling you a little about myself.  I am a Christian.  I was born and accepted into the family of God on March 30, 2010.  This is the day that I would find out that the person and life I was accustom to living was a lie and self-destructive to my family and my community.

My name is DeShawn Stallsworth and I am currently incarcerated for the murder of Mr. B.  I have been incarcerated for 26 plus years since I was 16 years old.  I grew up in San Diego, California.  I have three sisters and one brother and a host of nieces and nephews that were dear to my heart if only I would have truly known what love meant at that time of my life.  My mom and relatives on her side of the family were compassionate, loving, godly examples.  Yet as much as I loved my dad and as much as I was allowed to know or understand, his side of the family was strong-willed, physical men and women who lived a worldly life.  I don’t remember many relatives on my dad’s side who went to church, but they did understand street survival, criminal participation and isolation.

Growing up in a household with a mom and pop was comforting.  There were a lot of good times for the first seven years of my life.  By the age of eight, I remember hearing and recognizing violence, loud sounds of thumping and banging on the wall around midnight.  There were a lot nights I remember putting my covers over my head trying to hide from the sounds of pain, hurt, and screaming through the walls.  I think that these covers became the first stage of my imprisonment and a road toward a life of destruction.

Over the course of four years, my mom and dad fought most of the time.  I felt scared and isolated to speak out because I believed the fighting was over me.  I was often called weak, scary or slow by my dad when I didn’t meet up to his expectations.  I was hit, stomped on by his foot, and at times hit with undesirable objects during his uncontrollable rages.

My siblings never really stayed at the house.  My brother was incarcerated for over 24 years of his life.  All my sisters were living the life of the world.  I only saw them when there was a family problem they experienced.  My family all tried to escape my dad’s anger which meant isolating yourself from those you claimed you loved.  Most of my teenage years were spent around community friends.  They became my family and as I got older, my gang.  I saw them as a place of refuge, an island of safety from the pain and conflict that I was living within my family.

By the age of fourteen, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer; he was dying.  He refused to let me cry or even speak about my emotions.  This was one of the few reasons I was hit or yelled at while growing up around him.  Failure to always appear strong was considered total weakness and unacceptable.

It was just me and my mom taking care of my dad.  My mom worked and didn’t get home until 5:30 or 6:00 p.m.  So it was my job to watch over my dad.  The pain was truly unbearable for me and I didn’t believe I could share this with my mom because I was raised to believe this was weak.  I also didn’t want to put any more pressure on my mom’s shoulders, so I watched my dad deteriorate right in front of my eyes.  I watched this figure above life to me lie in the grass unable to get up.  He soiled his pants and I was the one who had to carry him in the house and try to clean him up.  I felt helpless and I resented my family in some ways for putting that burden on a child.  This lasted for two to three years.  I never saw my siblings come to help me or my mom.  My peers were my outlet and gang violence was the tool that was going to be used to hide my feelings and leave my selfish beliefs behind.

My mom did the best she could to try and hold the family she imagined together.  She battled through abuse, a husband that was dying rapidly, and a child going crazy.

On August 8^th about twenty-six plus years ago, I murdered a young man just to be looked-up to by the older peers who I now know didn’t care anything for me.  But as I truly look back, why should they care when I didn’t care about myself.  I hated myself.  I felt unloved and unlovable.  I believed I was weak and slow.  I stopped dreaming of a life beyond the day I was living.  Most of my days I felt isolated from the world and my pain, confusion and hurt were beyond anything I could share with another person.  I wanted to be seen as tough.  I desired for people to like me the way I desired to be liked.  It was my way of proving to my dad that I was strong and not weak or slow.

In the process, I used marijuana and alcohol to fill the void in my life.  Although I participated with the gang, I was actually scared and yearning for help.  The help I did get God had sent and continued to send, but I refused to listen and take heed.  I abandoned my family.  I allowed my nieces and nephews to grow up without an uncle.  I gave them over to a worldly life that desired to destroy them.  I broke up friendships just to meet my peers’ needs and not my own heart’s needs.  I was selfish and inconsiderate on every level, especially as my dad’s sickness worsened.

On August 8^th, several situations happened.  I was a part of a crime where some individuals who wasted their time helping me because I robbed them after fixing my car.  Seconds later I would be surrounded by my older peers telling me to leave the people I was with and come with them to the beach.  God sent them in the midst of trouble to carry me away, but I didn’t listen.  I would call my mom one hour later and she would try to get me home to eat dinner, but I put this off.  There would be another confrontation five hours later with an older gang member and one of the older peers in my car.  At the end of this situation, I watched eagerly the other group of men chant one of our peer’s name with joy as if he was tough.  What is crazy is that I wanted that feeling of superiority!  I was tired of feeling powerless and helpless.  Within minutes I met my desire for destruction and I ended up killing a young innocent man and wound another.  I left their families in pain and misery that would last a lifetime.  I would rip apart my family, already holding on by a thread.  I would go into custody as a juvenile and be tried as an adult.  All my co-defendants were left out for one reason or another.  My lawyer was sick and dying of cancer and eventually passed on two months after I pleaded guilty.

But yet, God’s mercy was with me even then.  I couldn’t see it because I did deserve more, especially as I started to realize all the pain and hurt I had caused.  I sent to the Youth Authority. There, I was mentored by a great counselor.  One I will call truly a friend who even shared a part of his family to be apart of my life.  This was truly a blessing.  I will never forget and honor this journey I am on.

There were some very bad times—gang fights and even “hole” or SHU time that would be experienced.  What I mean about the “hole” time or SHU time is that this is the place that very bad people go for still committing some type of violent or aggressive act against someone.  It’s a jail behind a jail where you are isolated from everyone who is trying to do right.  It is dark and gloomy in this 8-20 cells called the “hole.”  The walls are cold and life is believed to be walking with the dead within these walls.  I watched some men hurt themselves and others pass away, but the majority would try to find a way to live again above the SHU or “hole” walls.  I would find myself transferring to four or five prisons, each one unique from the other.  But one thing that was constant was the feeling of hopelessness and regret that seemed to live in the soil of the ground.

I had lost my dad and my sister to cancer.  My nephew just passed away from a senseless killing.  One of my sister’s gave her cancer related symptoms to God where they needed to be.  My grandparents are deceased, my nieces and nephews live miles apart and still, no one has ever experienced a family reunion among them.  Isolation is still norm for my family.

I have been to the Board of Parole Hearings four times.  Prior to the third time, I believed I was ready and on paper, at times, I looked ready. But mentally, physically, and spiritually, I was a monster who didn’t know my own true self, the self God wanted me to know.  On March 30, 2010, I was involved in a riot that would send me to do another SHU program for violence against another man.  It was this situation when I finally begun to hear God’s voice and I found myself one night fighting to make a decision that I believed meant eternal life or death.  I grabbed onto God’s hands and Christ lifted me up out of the pit of darkness.

It was on that day that I said, “I am yours.”  I told my celly, “I am no longer a gang member.”  It was several months later that I walked out of the SHU telling some of my peers, “I am done.”  I am following Christ Jesus and it was then that I felt truly in control and encouraged to look up and see a better tomorrow.  My next journey would be to explain this to the Board of Parole Hearings.

Through these meetings all I heard and felt within me was energy and a voice of love saying it will be okay.  The situation you see on paper is not the situation I allowed you to go into.  As I went to the Board the third time, I spoke about God and what he has done for me and one of the Board members asked me what book I liked to study.  You might think that I was blessed with a parole date, but I found myself in a heated argument with the authorities.  It was my fault for this battle because I was too scared to say it was completely my fault.  I wanted to blame other people for my actions instead of being mindful of my own actions.  This situation reminds me of when Christ Jesus instructs us to live at peace with all men.

Anyway, it has been a unique journey through it all.  I recognized how God saved me through the power and might of Jesus Christ.  I now recognize and feel special that I am part of God’s family.  He brought a family into my life, the church.  Yes, I see them as my family in every way.  He has given me character and encouragement to learn. I have been able to be certified in multiple vocational training programs, received an A.A. degree, and been a part of a ministry class and schooling because of His love.  The most beautiful part of all this is that I can recognize Him in all this and know I am loved.

God’s plan is above my thoughts and imagination.  His grace is truly above all.  On January 29, 2015, I was found suitable for parole and sometime in June 2015.  By God’s will, I will be released back into society to carry out the mission He put into my heart, and that is, to share His awesome good news with all I come in contact with.  God bless you and love you to all the saints in Christ Jesus.  May His peace be with you!