It was the summer of 2014 on the Wynn Unit. The day is so hot, the heat waves are visible. Anyone who has been on a red brick prison unit in Texas can attest to the fact that it is even hotter inside. It is like standing in an oven. I should be at work in the license plate factory, but last night I got a Lay-in for the Chapel. If you’re not from Texas, a Lay-in is a pass allowing you to get to your appointments. I’m worried because I don’t go to Church. Any prisoner across the nation knows, if you get called to the Chaplain’s office, it’s probably bad news.
So, those were my thoughts as the chapel door opened. I feel some relief as the cold air from inside hits my sweaty skin. The Chaplain himself is letting us in. I’m a take-charge kind of guy, so I ask the Chaplain to just give me whatever news he has for me. He was confused at first but then smiled gently and said there was no bad news. I was there, he said, because I qualified to attend Bible college. I was not comprehending the words coming out of his mouth. Me! To a seminary college? You made some type of mistake. Do you know who I am?
Background Interlude
I was born in Lompoc, California, where my Californian white mom met my Mexican dad when he was in the Air Force. After I was born, they moved to Victoria, Texas, where I grew up on the south side of town.
The neighborhood was full of prostitutes and heroin addicts and was extremely violent. We were the family that had the punching bags in the back yard, so all the kids would come there to box. Where I come from, boxing and football were king. My dad fought professionally as a young man, and he was my hero. When he left us, I was destroyed. You know the saying, “Hurt people, hurt people.” TRUE, so true.
All I wanted to do was train to fight and go start trouble. By the time I turned 16 in 1989, I robbed a store by running behind the counter and choking out a male clerk. I was sent to Giddings State Home and School for a year. I was out for 30 days when I carjacked a guy and threw him off a bridge. I got the unauthorized use of a motor vehicle charge, and my buddy got the robbery. I got probation, but soon robbed another store and at the age of 17, was sent to prison.
The ‘90s in Texas prison was violent to the extreme. I was soon in the mix with the violence and because I could really fight, gangs came recruiting and I became gang related. I became an animal. I discharged my sentence, meaning I was so bad, the parole board made me do my time day for day. I got out June 18, 1998, with no parole.
By September 2, 1998, I was already under arrest for murder, sitting in jail with a million-dollar bond. I was sick. I just did all this hard time and now I’m in for murder? I fell to my knees and said, “God, you get me out of this, and I’ll serve you forever.” Thirty days later the grand jury no-billed me. That means not enough evidence to indict, and I was released.
I forgot all about God. (Don’t act like you have never made a deal with God and you didn’t hold up your part). I told everyone I was going out to California, and I took off to the East Coast; Greenville, S.C. to be exact.
After a year, I made my way back to Texas and got right back in the mix with my prison gang brothers. On April 4, 2000, I was arrested. Once again, I had a million-dollar bond. Both the Texas Rangers and the FBI got involved. By October of 2003, I had been sentenced to life in state prison and two life sentences in the Feds. I don’t glorify my charges, so if you wanna know, you look it up.
My first thirteen years of incarceration were done in solitary confinement. In Texas, we call it seg, or administrative segregation. Now they call it restrictive housing. One day I left the prison I was in to take a trip to the prison hospital in Galveston. When I came back, they put me in a cell and the walls were covered in feces and blood. As I stood in that cell, I asked myself the question, is this really my life, in a 6 x 9 cell covered in some crazy man’s crap? After I scrubbed that cell three times, I sat down and wrote kites (small notes) to my gang, and I asked for permission to get out of seg. Denied! Well, I’ll do it myself then. I went to the Gang Renunciation and Disassociation Program for a year and was released to population on the Wynn Unit in Huntsville, TX.
So, the Chaplain tells me that I qualify to go to Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary on Darrington Unit. I fit the parameters by having (a) a G.E.D. (thank you Giddings State School), (b) an E.A. score higher than 11.1 and (c) more than 10 years before I’m eligible for parole. All I had to do was send in an application and write three essays. I laughed at the man. I was still laughing as I walked out of the chapel, back into the heat.
That weekend, I got a visit from my mom. I laughed as I told her what happened, but she wasn’t laughing. “Jimmy, that is answered prayer. I’ve been praying for 30 years that God would change your life and use you. YOU ARE GOING TO sign up! And you will go!” My mom was the only person who was really down with me. She was doing this time with me so I would do anything she wanted. Plus, she didn’t ask, she told me what I was gonna do. I don’t know about your mom, but mine was square business, so I said, “I give you my word, I’ll do my best to go.”
So, I turned in the application and wrote three essays. December, still no word. When my mom asked, I told her, “Don’t get your hopes up Ma, out of 150,000 people in Texas prisons, they only pick 40 a year.” She responded, “Watch God work.” By January I forgot about it. I was at work when the plant manager sent word for me to go straight to the chapel. I had bad news. As I walked to the chapel, I was thinking if it’s my mom, I’m out of there.
I get into the chapel and as I’m walking toward the Chaplain, he is smiling at me. If this dude tells me somebody in my family died while he is smiling, I’m going to knock him out cold. I’m going back to seg. So, I start taking those side steps, lining him up for a knockout shot when he says, “You made it!!” “I made what?” “The Bible college! You got accepted!” The next week I was on Darrington Unit for Seminary.
The first day, I went straight to college orientation. As I walked into the classroom, I saw three 50-inch televisions. I had never seen a flat screen before. I was in solitary from 2000 ‘til 2013 and Wynn Unit only had the old box TVs. I was up close to the 50-inch TVs, looking behind them, tripping out on the high definition. I can see the pores on the newscaster’s nose. Man . . . I heard the door open behind me and when I turned to look, I locked eyes and came face to face with the person who turned me in to the FBI and helped get me two federal life sentences!
This guy was already in prison doing a 99-year sentence when he wrote to the FBI. I got a copy of the letter. What it said was short and simple:
“Put 300 dollars on my books and give me a straight trip to G.R.A.D. (Gang Renunciation and Disassociation Program has a 2-year investigation time) on Ellis Unit and I’ll tell you everything I know about Jimmy Delgado.”
He knew enough to get me indicted.
Now, as we stare at each other, he starts crying and begging, “No, Jimmy please don’t, please no.” People are looking now, plus, over his shoulder, I can see a camera on the wall. So, I tell him, “Nah homie, I’m not here for you, I’m here for something bigger than you.” I spent that whole day trying to calm him down. My first day at seminary, and I was planning a murder.
At the end of the day, the professor told us we could go to chow and come back, or if we choose, we could go back to the wing. “Where do you live?” I asked. “J-line, I think. I’m going to the wing and unpack my stuff,” he said. “I’m on J-line too. What row you on?” “1 row,” he said. “I’m on 3 row. Check this out, you know this unit has a lot of active gang members. So, if they roll your row out for showers in the morning, wait for me and we will go together to watch each other’s backs.” “Ok,” he said. “Got you!” My plan was set. As soon as we get into the showers there’s 2 doors, 50 feet apart. Once we go through the second one, I’ll stab him in the neck, turn around and walk back out with the people leaving. God had other plans.
We went to chow together and as we were leaving, I heard someone call my name. I turned my head and there was no one. I felt a punch to my chest that stopped me in my tracks. In front of me stands an African officer, 130 pounds soaking wet. At the time, I was 330 pounds and was more confused than hurt. How did this little person stop me cold like that? “You Bible college, you go in there”, he said with a heavy Kenyan accent. “No sir, that guy right there going down the hall is also Bible college,” I said. “They told us we can go back to the wing.” “No – you listen to me, you Bible college, you go in there,” he stated as he pointed back to the classrooms. Ok, I’m not gonna argue, I’m just going to listen to him and not get in trouble. So, I went back to the college.
For three hours count wouldn’t clear until at least they told us to go back to our cells. As I walked in, there was an inmate mopping in the dayroom. He told me that six or seven gang members came in and jumped a Bible college guy. I asked who and he said the name of my intended victim!
In my cell, I walked back and forth. I got to thinking (1) I never took an E.A. test, so how did I have one higher than 11.1? (2) I wasn’t a Christian. I only signed up because my mother asked me to. (3) On my first day in seminary, I ran into the one guy I’ve been fantasizing about how I wanted to kill. (4) Who was this little African who stopped me in my tracks? As it turns out, I described him to all the guys who had been there, and NO ONE knew who he was . . . nor did I ever see him again. Angel? (5) All the guys that jumped my intended victim were from my old gang. Not only did God keep me from doing what I was going to, but he also removed all my enemies too.
I looked up at the ceiling and had tears streaming down my face. Ok God, you got me. You did all this to get my attention. But why me? I’m a piece of trash. All I’ve ever been good at is hurting people. I didn’t hear any audible voice, but a sense of peace just washed over me. Later, I got to see why me. As I walk in any prison in Texas, no matter the custody level, I can relate to anybody. I’m prison raised. In the 30 plus years of doing time, I’ve been to every type of prison from the red bricks to the air-conditioned high securities. From solitary to having the freedom to being only 1 of 4 Field Ministers out of 250, that are used to travelling to different hardcore units for 3 weeks to do ministry. (250 graduates are in the field. Only 4 of us can travel).
I graduated in 2019 with a Bachelor of Science in Biblical Studies.
Do you remember back in 1998 when I made that deal with God? He made me keep my word.
The stories that will follow this testimony are all from my personal experience as a Texas field minister. They will not be for the faint of heart. I think outside of the normal box people put Christian Counselors in. I have empathy for ones who struggle. However, I am a little too rough for some.
I’m in the trenches with gangs, drugs and drug addicts, murderers and child molesters, and I treat them all equally. Some of these situations will have people just like you grew up with. If you don’t agree with how I handle a situation, how would you handle it? One day, I hope to have a collection of these stories put together and published. I started with my testimony so you would understand who I am, and why I do what I do. You will hear about this in the stories I tell.
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