By the time I was 11, I was a full-fledge drug addict.
Let that sink in. While most children were still clutching action figures and dreaming of sleepovers, I Christopher Hightower – better known today as Certified – was already chasing demons through smoke, trying to silence a storm that began long before I ever picked up a pipe.
Born into the chaos of a broken home soaked in abuse and neglect, I never had a childhood – only survival. Love wasn’t something given freely in my world. It was a concept I only saw on television, not something I felt from a father’s embrace or a mother’s words. And like so many others who fall through society’s cracks, I went searching for that love in the streets.
The streets listened. They gave me a tribe, a purpose, an identity – at a cost. I wore addiction like a second skin and carried pain like a backpack no one else could see. By the age of 20, that pain, left untreated and misunderstood, reached a devastating climax.
I was coming off a four-day method binge. I was empty emotionally, spiritually and physically. I didn’t even recognize myself.
What happened next would forever alter not just my life, but the lives of many. In a haze of drug induced psychosis I lost control and attempted to rob Jamie Kelly – a woman I didn’t know, a name that now lives etched into the folds of my memory. In that moment of chaotic confusion and darkness, Jamie lost her life.
And I, spiraling in a psychotic fugue, didn’t even remember it.
I didn’t wake up planning to take a life. But that doesn’t change the fact that I did. And for that, I will always carry deep remorse.
Sentenced first to 29 years, then life without the possibility of parole, it seemed the story was over. But that was only the end of chapter one.
Finding a Voice In the Void
Prison is a place where silence screams louder then voices. But in the echo of iron doors and the fluorescent buzz, I found something I’d never had before: stillness. In that stillness, something stirred.
I started writing. At first, it was just scribbles of random thoughts, lyrics, pieces of my soul I didn’t know how to say out loud.
What began as survival turned into a salvation. Words became therapy. Rhythms became a mirror. And the man the world called a murderer slowly started to become something else: a messenger.
The name “Certified” was given to me not as a symbol of my crime, but as a stamp of authenticity. My pain is real. My growth is real. My transformation – undeniable. In a place built to break men, I began to build myself up through spoken word poetry and music that refuses to lie.
Redemption In Rhythm
My art with a message doesn’t sugarcoat. It doesn’t pretend. I spit raw truth with the urgency of someone who knows the price of silence.
In one poem, I talk about screaming for help and being met with nothing but echoes. In another, I revisit the night that changed everything – not to glorify it, but to remind people what happens when pain goes unhealed.
Before I committed the crime, I was crying out. I was drowning in addiction and trauma. And nobody threw a rope.
My poetry isn’t about absolution. It’s about responsibility, and the radical belief that people can change if we’re brave enough to believe in their humanity.
I’m not asking the world to forget what I did. I’m asking them to see who I’ve become.
More Than A Statistic
Too often, society views incarcerated individuals as numbers, not names. But my story refuses to stay boxed in by a number or a headline.
I’m a living testimony to what can happen when broken people are given a voice. I’ve become a mentor to younger inmates, showing them that their past doesn’t have to define their future. I encourage them to pick up a pen instead of a shank, to choose creation over destruction.
There’s an artist, a healer, a leader inside every lost soul. Sometimes they just need someone to say, ”I see you.”.
Now, I’m asking the world to see me – not as a criminal, but as a cautionary tale, a creator, and a catalyst for change.
A New Chapter
Today I continue to write, perform, and dream dreams not just for myself but for the lives I can impact through my art. I know that my time inside may never end, but that doesn’t mean my purpose has to.
I dream of starting a nonprofit that uses spoken word poetry to reach at – risked youth. I envision my poetry being used in classrooms, juvenile centers, and community spaces to help others unpack their pain before it becomes permanent damage.
I know I can’t undo the past, but I’m rewriting the future one verse at a time.
I, Christopher Hightower – Certified – is proof that even in the darkest places, light grows. My story isn’t wrapped in a neat bow. It’s complicated. It’s painful. It’s human.
I am not asking for pity. I am offering truth.
So the next time you hear someone say, “people don’t change”, remember this name: Certified! Listen to my voice. Read my words. And ask yourself:
What if we loved broken people before they broke?
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