Based on a True Story

By Jagada Chambers

Have you experienced the deepest point of your life where you have nothing but your unwavering faith in God?

For twenty-three-year-old Jagada Chambers, life took a turn for the worst when he, under the influence of alcohol, made a grave mistake during Spring Break vacation in Florida. He hit rock bottom facing twenty-plus years in prison and a violent-felony conviction. He was confronted with the reality of being stripped of his freedom and doomed to adjust to life behind bars.

If you were faced with the same circumstances, how would you respond?

In this book, you will gain a new perspective in life. You will know more of hope, love, life and justice. You will learn that, win or lose, God is with you always. Most of all, learn when to accept defeat and to wholeheartedly trust God, without questions, without doubts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781628381276

Book preview

Chapter One

Obviously you don’t have a clue. How could you when it was I who walked through this maze?

Venturing back to March of 1999 isn’t always a pleasant voyage for me, but it is always interesting. The beginning is usually the most difficult part of any story since there are so many different paths to take. I’ll take the main interstate and start right around March 21.

At this point in my life, Alachua County jail was my home. My clothing consisted of blue pants and a blue shirt. Underwear was a luxury I wasn’t afforded. The only thing separating me from my freedom was a $50,000 bond.

Time stands still for no man is probably one of the most accurate old school quotes to describe life.

Taking chances and living riskily had been a part of my life since the late 1980s, but it wasn’t long until this lifestyle seemed to catch up to me. Feeling too ashamed, I hadn’t spoken with my parents since I had been arrested and charged with first-degree premeditated attempted murder.

Each of us eventually comes to a point where we realize that no one can do for us more than we can do for ourselves. When I reached this point, I knew that turning to God was the only answer. Trust me.

Ironically, making that call to my mom about all this was not as bad as I had anticipated. The first five minutes were her listening to my side of the story, and then the remainder of the conversation was filled with my parents’ thirty-plus years of parental skills.

Making decisions had never been my finest quality, and there were several big decisions to make during my first few days in jail. Since I was still firmly rooted in criminal behavior, deciding how to approach the $50,000 bond seemed easy.

I ain’t trippin’ off the money, Pops, I told my dad. I can get that in two weeks. I just don’t know if I’ll come back!

My dad listened to my idea but didn’t necessarily agree with me. All I could do was think about getting out and smoking something green to help me come back to life, but my dad advised me to stay put and find a lawyer.

At first, this seemed crazy to me. Fighting this case was out of the question! I had never looked further down the road than the next twenty-four hours, but now I tried to focus on the rest of my life. I patiently waited although I was confused and curious more than ever about my fate. My mind bounced back and forth between thinking that I had no idea what would happen and that I had some serenity in knowing that I had always gotten myself out of situations unscathed.

With the bond-reduction hearing approaching, the days and nights in Alachua County jail seemed to get both longer and darker. Taking my father’s advice to stay put wound up being the best decision I made during the whole ordeal. With a private lawyer representing me, and God in my mind, I approached the hearing with an aura full of confidence.

When I first met the gangly black lawyer, I felt good about my situation but had no idea what God was deciding. During our first counsel, the smooth-talking legal practitioner stated that my bond would not only be reduced but could also very well be revoked all together. Upon my arrest, I had immediately prayed for divine intervention, and I knew then that I had received it. Throughout the course of the hearing, I came to see God’s powerful workings when five hours later, I was a free man on a $10,000 bond and with what seemed to be the worst behind me.

After twenty days and twenty nights, the pressures of temptation in everyday life upon my release became all too vivid. When I took my first trip to the gas station on Thirty-Ninth and University, I felt Christ’s power help me make my decision. There in the convenience store, right in the beer and wine section. As a self-proclaimed alcoholic, I knew the energy that helped me decide to buy an iced tea instead of booze was not just my own. I called my folks and shared the feeling of being out with them. I remember telling my dad that I got a drink.

What kind of drink did you get? my dad asked me. I knew, with my response, that I had passed my first test on my journey back.

My first night in Gainesville will remain forever etched in my brain! Any memories of partying, drinking, smoking, and having a good time were still so fresh in my mind. A paid bondsman, Sam Messley, was chauffeuring me that night. Messley was a character in his own right. The lifestyle of a bondsman is a touch-and-go game. Well, that night, he introduced me to Gainesville in a way that only those most familiar with the city could. From spot to spot, alley to alley, and junkie to junkie, we drove through every square mile of the college town.

Since I had only been in Gainesville four days before the incident and had not seen the city this closely, I was amazed at how ghetto some parts of the city were. Having spent most of my days poolside, and my evenings at university clubs, I had not seen the hood. Messley wanted to make sure that I didn’t go back to California thinking that Gainesville was a square town.

As my first night approached its end, there was still one test remaining. Messley took me to see a friend of his who was renting a sweet three-bedroom, two-bath crib off Placenta near the police station. This was where I would crash. Messley and I decided that he would be back at 6:00 a.m. to bring me to the precinct so I could claim my property and what was left of the $1,900 I had brought with me to Florida.

Before we made it to where I was staying, Messley bought a twenty-sack of some high-grade Hydro. If it was just regs, I would have turned it down, but as someone who had smoked for the last seven years of my life, I couldn’t turn away Hydro.

Getting acquainted with Messley’s renter, Jack, was pure comedy. It was southern hospitality at its finest; he shoved a plate of food in my face before my bag found the floor. Jack had surrendered himself to Christ seven months prior and had been clean and sober for over eight months. While I was finding euphoria in a plate of hot wings and a cheeseburger, Messley was preparing the blunt for the Hydro. He was waiting for me to finish my first real meal in over twenty days. At this point, I clearly knew that God was not only listening to my prayers, but was also answering every one of them. Still, God left this decision up to me.

Although I wasn’t born again while I was in county, God and I were exchanging thoughts, to say the least. I had always feared God, but it was only recently that I established a reverence for faith. Jack made a comment to me just as Messley and I were about to go outside to smoke the blunt, and his comment changed the rest of my days on earth.

If you just found God, you don’t need to smoke, Jack said to me in a brittle, weightless voice. It was the voice of a former crack addict, but it only took two minutes for me to realize the gravity of his statement. Only through the grace of God could I have passed my second test the way I did.

Even now, walking with God is a day-to-day battle. I often go back to that late evening on April 5 when I made the greatest decision of my life. That blunt would have placed an enormous burden on my spirit! There have been so many blessings since; blessings that I never would have experienced if I had chosen to satisfy myself rather than the Lord.

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Chapter Two

With a farewell handshake, Messley drove off in his black SUV, and I was twenty minutes away from heading back to the beginning phase of my nightmare.

My Greyhound bus departed from Gainesville at 7:45 a.m. Eighteen hours later, I was due to arrive in Belleville, Illinois, on April 7. As expected, the bus arrived an hour late, but the promise of getting off the bus was too great to let that upset me. Besides, that long ride provided me with time to look into myself and to reflect on my past while I looked into my future. With each moment, I squandered any opportunity to rest. My mind was working overtime, and my life seemed different already.

I recalled my time in the county jail. There were a great many people who were concerned about my welfare and who had reached out to my mother during our time of need. During one conversation with my mother about who had stopped by the house that day, she told me that a young lady from my school had called her, saying that if we needed anything, she would like to help. My mother told me the girl was sincere and had called more than once. During the bus ride, I wondered why she cared so much for me.

At the first stop in Tennessee, I phoned the young lady who was on campus in Jacksonville, Illinois. I had previously contacted her about getting a ride from Belleville back to college, so this call was just a reminder. I’ll never forget the sensation I felt as we spoke on the phone, and I kept asking myself, why me?

But I had to get to her first. I was stuck on the bus with my thoughts. Repeatedly I imagined everything surrounding my arrest: the four nights of smoking and drinking, the particularly wild ten-hour binge, the night I spent drinking myself into a stupor as I planned to make $10,000 in two weeks or better, and the clear recollection of stabbing the man a third time, puncturing his liver and watching loads of his blood spray out.

The latter part of the trip dealt solely with getting to know the curvaceous, homely young freshman whom I kissed and held for the first time when I got off that Greyhound bus. We had spent a great deal of time together, but we knew little about each other. She knew I was a baseball player and a hustler at the small private college and that I was from California. In my eyes, she was a talented, smart girl from a small town, enjoying the freedom afforded to young girls living away from home at school.

Through our evenings together, I never sensed that I was special to her. It all seemed to be about physical pleasure. But growing up on the brink of trouble, I knew that when trouble found you, it was easy to see who cared about you. Dawn was the girl who called my momma, and she proved that she cared for me; I could even tell that there were some fierce feelings in her heart for me, but at this point, I could never tell that my late-night friend was in love with me.

As we drove east on Interstate 55, I remembered that I wasn’t going back to California until the end of the spring semester but felt as if I was already home. Christ would not let up on my heart. I instantly remodeled my room and rid it of all drug paraphernalia, liquor bottles, all my favorite freak books, and every gram of weed I had. I had yet to save myself by quoting the Sinner’s Prayer, for there were still some things I needed to address. I needed to reflect upon how much time I had spent drinking or smoking pot, or how much time I had spent womanizing wherever I went, or even how much time I had spent just getting high.

After getting a nice fade and a shave from a two-sport athlete from Danville, Illinois, Jeff Chapman, I relaxed in the shower for about twenty minutes. Unexpectedly, Dawn came to mind, and I continuously replayed our first kiss in my mind. Was it perfect? I wondered. Then I remembered that I was Jagada K. Chambers, and no matter what, I was a good kisser.

Finding out what Dawn wanted to become of us turned into one of my deepest yearnings. After years of mackin’ to ladies, I knew that this relationship was different and could turn into something real. I downplayed the notion due to the fact that California was at the other end of the continent and knew that this would interfere with any plans I had. Dawn had other ideas, however, and at eighteen years old, she boldly told me how she felt.

When I was in the Gainesville Police Station, I had been denied one of my bags of luggage, which was being held as evidence. As is the case with Murphy’s Law, that bag held all of my clothes, which made my gear extremely limited when I was back on campus. Luckily, Dawn took me shopping so I could get my dress code up to par.

After this mini shopping spree, she expressed her deepest feelings and shared her longing for us to be together. I did not want to feel obligated to her, but it seemed that my feelings were irrelevant. I guess from then on, I had a girlfriend.

Having missed nearly a third of a semester of school, it felt like I was trying to build a mansion without a foundation. My first priority was to have a one-on-one conference with each of my professors. During these meetings, my instructors gave me 110 percent of their support as long as I never fell behind on any of the new work they assigned. Even with their support, I knew that I still had a month’s work of makeup work to tackle.

Now that foolishness was no longer a part of my routine, schoolwork became a top priority. It was a difficult chore but after two weeks, four essays, two major research papers, and a four-thousand-word story, I was back on track for my bachelor’s degree in journalism.

My first weeks back were filled with anything but hanging out. I didn’t even allow myself the time to miss it. Quality time of the past, such as hustling and playing baseball, was no longer an option. This led to a lot of free time to spend with Dawn. I began to listen to her speak rather than just hear her, and this allowed me to understand her more deeply than before. The more I understood, the more my heart began to care for her.

As humans, we experience these transitional periods where we ask ourselves, Am I supposed to change? Down in my soul, I knew the answer, but I also knew that I had to prove it to myself. Change is not as easy as writing out the six letters; it begins with a positive outlook at your future along with an evaluation of the things that are most important to you in life. As you take these factors into consideration, remember that God will assure you as to what type of person you will become. It did not take long to see where I was coming from, and I surrendered myself fully to Christ ten days after coming home.

As Dawn and I spent more time together, we began to create special moments, which inspired true feelings. After a period of time, our relationship evolved into a real romance. Relationships develop strength with direct focus, and during this time, I was obsessed with finding myself. There is no better way to find yourself than spending time with one woman.

At the end of the semester, it was time to head to Lambert Airport in St. Louis and finally go home. Obviously, this is not the way love is supposed to go, so I assumed there was still something else to do . . . before love. This flight home seemed like a reward for staying focused on Christ and relinquishing several of my bad habits.

Even if my welcome party at Sacramento would make me feel like a celebrity, the ride to Lambert was not going to be easy. Several friends let me know that they would miss me and told me how much I was loved. Although I would miss them too, I would miss no one more than the girl who was driving me to Lambert Airport.

We made no promises and shed no tears, but the ride was a tough two-hour trip nonetheless. Dawn had become such a big part of my life, but reality took hold, and we realized our relationship was geographically doomed.

With no decision made and traffic preventing us the chance to kiss good-bye, we parted ways far too briefly. That’s the way it unfolds when you know you’re saying good-bye.

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Chapter Three

Departing for the West Coast was one of the heftiest burdens removed from my shoulders. I had not seen my parents since before my arrest. This was a circumstance that we could not wait to rectify.

Even though I wished I had more than a rushed kiss with Dawn, there were millions of thoughts going through my head while I was on flight 273. Prior to leaving Jacksonville, I had spent time with my pastor, Joanne Caldwell. Momma Jo had stressed that I was such a new person that anyone who knew me before would have a hard time recognizing me. The Pastor warned me that everyone would not welcome my new self, and I wish that I had known how right she was.

Jagada, you stay focused on Jesus and don’t worry what anyone thinks, she told me. Momma Jo tried to drill this message into me. This advice made me realize that introducing my new self was not going to be an easy task.

There I was, with my head literally in the clouds, that much closer to God for the first time since I had found Him. After a lengthy prayer for both protection and asking God to remain close to me, I relaxed and read my Bible. Chances are I was the only person on that plane reading a Bible; a Hustler or Playboy magazine probably would’ve made people feel more comfortable. But I had never been embarrassed to board a plane smelling like weed, so I wasn’t going to be embarrassed for reading the Word of the Lord.

When I landed in Sacramento, I felt that I was home for the first time in a long while. Home! I had lived in Northern California my whole life, and Sacramento was only forty-five miles north of my hometown, Stockton. My friend Ruben and I had made arrangements a week before I arrived for him to pick me up from the airport. Calling to see if he was coming was unnecessary; when we made plans, it was etched in stone.

In my life, I’d only had beautiful women greet me when I exited an airplane. Expecting Ruben to be there that early was unrealistic. As I removed my luggage, I was surprised by the presence of both Ruben and a dear friend, Mark Martinez. Blessedness filled my spirit. Seeing my two friends I had known since grade school gave me a sense of comfort.

As we all walked to the parking lot, Rub insisted that if I was going to smoke, I should go up first, alone. He let me know that he had two joints ready to burn. We laughed, but that devil was serious as a heart attack.

This was the first time I had seen Rub’s brand new 2000 Jeep, and it was white with chrome trimming and was lovely. In the rear, he had four twelve-inch speakers and had invested in other fine stereo equipment.

We raced at seventy-five miles per hour on Interstate 5, spearmint pot smoke whirling around my head, not the dank smell of wood chips. I had missed this aroma, but I stayed sober and refused the four-hundred-dollar-an-ounce green. Despite the temptation, I knew that I was home.

About fifteen miles into Sacramento, we headed off the interstate and went to downtown Sac. Mark’s fiancée was from there, so he was fairly familiar with the area. He brought us to a small Mexican restaurant off the Foothill strip. It was good to be around my real family.

I was wearing the polo shirt I wore on every flight. Ruben and Mark had had long money since we were lads, so they kept their apparel up to snuff. It amazed me that I could tell I was home just by the taste of the food and the speed of the service. We chopped it up for over an hour. They both had a few drinks, but I stuck with cherry sodas.

When I was away at college, my lifestyle had varied depending on the setting. Money was made hustling with pagers going off nonstop, making and receiving calls on a cellular phone as small as my hand, and it established a life that led me to ignore my Savior. Only now that I was back in this small nucleus did I realize that I missed this life I had left behind for school. Out of all the people who raised support and money for me when I was arrested, Ruben and Mark had come up with the most. When the check came that first night back in Sacramento, paying for the bill was the least I could do.

I relaxed and enjoyed the California scenery on our way back to Stockton. We blasted Tupac on full volume through Ruben’s brand new sound system. It felt like Tupac was rapping directly to me; it felt like he knew that it was Me Against the World.

As we turned onto my cul-de-sac, my spirit filled rapidly with anxiety. My friends knew what time it was with my folks, so they assisted with my luggage and then left me to fend for myself. This would be the first time I’d see my parents since the incident.

The first thing my momma did when she saw me was point out the discoloration of my eye. Even after two months, the black and blue hadn’t healed entirely.

It was good to see Willie Mae and Leon. The relief in their faces showed a ton of concern erased from their hearts. Explaining what happened that night in Gainesville was the next hurdle we approached. My momma didn’t want to venture back down that road, yet Pops had to know. Since the ordeal was still fresh enough in my mind, I had no difficulty recalling the event with great clarity.

Do you regret what you were accused of doing down there? Pops asked me.

The fact that we had never discussed the verdict over the phone made me realize how well my dad really knew me. I tried to come up with a perfect response.

Well? Pops interrupted my train of thought.

No! I blurted out.

In situations where you’re put on the spot, those knee jerk responses come not just from your mind but also from your heart. I knew I felt remorse, but I felt no regret. Was I supposed to? At this point, I was just happy to be back on Rex Court. I failed to disclose my faith to my folks, but I knew they saw the crucifix hanging from my chain.

So what happened to your dollar sign? my dad sarcastically asked me. It was like he knew that I had put that life behind me, but wasn’t sure if I had for good.

The rapid fire question and answer series had only just begun. My older sister, Tasha, and her husband showed up at the house that evening. Tasha longed for graphic details, which I found inappropriate for the dinner table. Shortly after she showed up, we were all outside discussing my spring break.

"Jagada,