30 Years to Life

By Michael Johnson, Jr

As a sixteen year old juvenile, Michael Johnson, gets tried and convicted for a gang crime that resulted in his sentence of 30 years to life. Take a journey through the life story of a young boy raised in South Los Angeles and culturally introduced to a criminal lifestyle that created a ripple effect that went from adverse to Michael Johnson regaining his freedom after serving 23 years in California's adult prison system. For the reader, Michael's story can be life changing in perspective; you never know what insight can be achieve through the story another. Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Johnson, Jr
• Release date: Nov 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463807613

Michael Johnson, Jr

Michael Johnson grew up in South Los Angeles, California, formerly kown as South Central Los Angeles. Brought into this world in 1978, by two very loved parents in Michael's wonderful mother, Debra Smith Thomas, and his late father, Michael Duane Johnson. After suffering many hardships as a child, Michael turned towards a criminal liestlye that led to his lengthy incarceration in the California Department of Corrections. By the blessings that come, Michael was released from prison and went to start a family with his amazing wife Crystal Jones - Johnson, his two sons, Joquan Hood and Achilles Jones, and his lovely granddaughter. Since he has regained his freedom, Michael has successfully planted his feet into the wonderful world of authorship.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

When I started this project, I didn’t know how to introduce myself to the reader. This is the first book I’ve written about my life. Initially, I adopted the average introduction but, however, When formatting, I decided to freestyle this introduction; it is my better way of breaking the ice with you.

My full name is Michael Johnson Jr. I grew up in South Los Angeles. Nine times out of ten, you either experienced a similar lifestyle as myself, or your upbringing was or is the total opposite; either way, each one -educate one is the model I live by. My story is real; my story is not what’s often displayed in the movies, music, or autobiographies. I give you MY LIFE. I give relatable experiences, shocks, scares, and wake - up calls. My story is not exaggerated, bought, nor is it police informative. This is not a story about other peoples crimes and privacy, although I speak about my prior prison sentence of 30 Years to Life.

CHAPTER ONE (Eyes of My Own)

Today is June 5, 2018; I’m laying on the bed with pass thoughts;

thoughts of a childhood I’d never assumed I would be thinking about͘ Don’t get me wrong, my complaints our limited, but seriously, what child wants to grow up to think about his or her years of parental supervision, abandonment, neglect, abuse and confinement? Today I can say I wasn’t that child, but I am that adult͘ Maybe, serving 23 years gave me a different perspective, one that enables my ability to use the variations of its worth; oh, you didn’t Know that doing time in prison can give a man the best insight he has ever embarked on. That’s what happened to me going to prison at age sixteen to the age of thirty nine. Now, here I am 25 years later, delivering my story to you, the reader.

I Remember

I remember being escorted by the Juvenile Hall security staff. I had shackles on my hands and my feet. All I kept hearing was the voice of the staff, shut the fuck up and look straight! Those words were the most rhetorical part of my day, accompanied by the hit - me up gang introductions I found myself engaging into with fellow and rival gang members; at that stage in my life, I found it to be somewhat entertaining; and sadly so, it mentally and emotionally relieved me of the reality of my brand new incarceration. Although I was sixteen, I wasn’t naïve to the fact that I was facing a life sentence, especially after being tried as an adult. However, at the same time, I was raised in the streets of South Los Angles; I was properly schooled. I understood that doing time comes along with the lifestyle I was living as a juvenile and a young African/Black male of a split generation.

I remember the dinner that was served on the very first day of my incarceration: Hotdogs, try taters, corn and a small cup of water to aid in the urinalysis that was demanded of me by facility staff. Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall was a complete situation. It was so much like the County Jail - the youth league version, that it became my first line of schooling on prison politics, shit that I just simply will not

mention. In fact, it is not the intent, motive, nor action of the author of this autobiography to throw anyone under the bus. The only crimes I know of, ARE THE ONES I WAS CONVICTED OF; I WAS CONVICTED BY MYSELF. Although, my life story is presented to provide insight to the readers, in which maybe helpful with directing ones own children to better choices, my story DOES NOT THROW ANYONE UNDER THE BUS; EVERYBODY DESERVES THE TIME AND OPPORTUNITY TO CHANGE THEIR LIVES. And just to be very blunt, if

it wasn’t for the so called street criminals that embraced my older brother and I, when nobody else would, I wouldn’t be who I am today, and I wouldn’t know who I am today. I refuse to overlook the strength that was passed down to me from those least expected. Over the course of my forty years on this Earth, I’ve seen a lot of people forget where they came from and who helped them to get there. Life’s progress demands for a person, such as myself, to included all elements o my past into how I deal with my future, in the event that tomorrow comes for me once again.

The Raw Truth

I was born in Los Angeles, California. In 1978, my mother gave birth to ma at Centinella Hospital in Inglewood. I’m, what I refer to, as a Los Angeles Original. Although, I have spent some short time in a few places besides LA, overall, Los Angeles is all I know. Seriously, I love Los Angeles, like senior citizens loves antiques and old fashion culture. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not praising my environmental isolation as morally sound judgement, but, if it wasn’t for the environmental circumstances existing within the ghetto and suburbia of Los Angeles, my past experiences that continues to shape me would not exist; I wouldn’t have humility to someone else’s feelings over mines - something I often do a lot; I wouldn’t have the calm I need when time gets a bit frustrating due to external pressures of livelihood; and most importantly, I wouldn’t be able to relate to a large number of children raised in less fortunate