Participant Stories

When Darren walked out of prison five years ago, he carried little more than some paperwork and the will to survive. At 50 years old, he had spent most of his adult life in and out of the criminal justice system, but this time was different. Released during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, Darren was sober, focused, and ready to rebuild from the ground up.

Terrell's job coaches at CEO connected him with SLA Inc., an advanced training program offering a pre-apprenticeship in landscaping through a local union. An eight-week program that teaches people the ins and outs of their mission to beautify urban areas through hands-on experience and classroom instruction, SLA Inc. helped Terrell become a state-approved and OSHA-certified apprentice, ready and eligible for well-paid union work. And when he completed the program, SLA Inc. recognized his ability and potential by giving him a job.

Just eleven months after his release from prison, Josh is succeeding by sheer determination. He has a full-time job, is enrolled in school with a 4.0 GPA, is sober, and is on a path to helping others. But Josh’s journey has not been easy. “I’ve been working since I was a kid, but when I got out, no one would hire me because of my criminal background, and that made things tough because I didn’t have any family left,” says Josh.

When G’Andre reflects on his childhood, the joyful memories come first—gatherings with family, adventures with friends, and rollercoaster days at Six Flags. Though born in Chicago, he was raised in Atlanta, Georgia, where he once dreamed of becoming a doctor or surgeon who could heal others and provide for his family.

Leon is wholeheartedly committed to building a career in construction. Despite the rigorous demands he faces daily on the job, he continues to push forward. As a newly accepted and paid apprentice with the Buffalo Local 210 Labor Union, Leon trains under the guidance of an experienced journeyman, learning the complexities of both physical and technical labor in real time.

Ashely, a 34-year-old single mother of two boys from Pomona, California, grew up in a typical middle-class family. She was a cheerleader in school and spent summers playing basketball with friends. But returning home from incarceration presented a reality far different from her youth. Reentry was never going to be easy, but giving up was never an option.

At the Center for Employment Opportunities (CEO), we know that the path home after incarceration is never walked alone—and for many, it’s shaped by the deep, enduring bond between parent and child. This Father’s Day, we asked a few of the fathers in our CEO community to reflect on their experiences.

I had to grow up fast. At 16, I went from playing third base for my middle school team to what we called the Gladiator Camp. We gave it that name because every day felt like a battle. Fighting wasn’t mandatory—but if you backed down, you became prey.

Known affectionately as “Rainbow,” Amy has walked through some of life’s darkest valleys and emerged with clarity, resilience, and a passion for helping others find their light. Originally from Hazard, Kentucky, she now works as a job coach at the Center for Employment Opportunities (CEO) in Cincinnati, where she once stood as a participant herself.

On January 7, 2025, a brush fire fueled by high winds ignited the Eaton Canyon area in Pasadena, California, forcing evacuations and turning entire subdivisions into ash.

The difference between a successful reentry after incarceration and a failed one often lies in the smallest of details: no money for the bus; can’t get work boots; lost birth certificate. These problems are big obstacles for returning citizens that often have no support system, and can be a catalyst for defeat.

In 2023, Clyde was released from Solidad State prison in California after serving 28 years of a 30 years-to-life sentence. He walked out of prison looking for the best way to get back on his feet: a job. But, after nearly three decades of living behind bars, Dudley was on his own and lacked the skills and knowledge most people on the outside take for granted.

One of the most difficult positions to play in baseball is third base. The hot corner requires great hand-eye coordination, quick thinking, and speed. Pascual had all three and was being scouted by colleges when he was in high school, something every boy dreams of.

Javier never imagined that welding would become his passion. But sometimes, the right opportunities come from the most unexpected places. After completing a drug court rehabilitation program, Javier’s probation officer introduced him to an opportunity that would change his life – a paid welding class.

Meet Blake, the visionary behind No Excuses Initiative and Bosses Building Bosses LLC. His journey from spending 14 years behind bars to leading impactful community programs showcases his relentless spirit and strong will.

Meet Willie, the driving force behind Fedenterprises, the business under which his food truck dreams will take shape. Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, into a family of entrepreneurs, Willie was instilled with a strong sense of responsibility and work ethic from an early age. Despite facing hardships and a period of incarceration, Willie turned his life around, inspired by the birth of his daughter, who motivated him to strive for a better future.

Some people like working in customer service, but not Brian. Brian loves it. In fact, it’s his passion. A native of the West Coast beaches, Brian recalls working in customer service since he was 16.

Edris knows the value of being teachable and gaining new skills. Growing up in the projects of Flint, Michigan, his first job was washing dishes in a busy restaurant when he was 16. Edris saw each duty in the kitchen as an opportunity to learn something new.

When Robert stepped out of prison, he had nothing but the clothes on his back. He had no money, no place to live, and no food, but he had one thing that would set him apart from everyone else and possibly save his future – his art.

When mail call came on the U.S. Naval carrier each week, every sailor would get quiet and listen closely for their name being called, hoping that someone from home – a sweetheart, a parent, a friend – would write to them and break the monotony of the six-week voyage to Korea. On one of those days, 18-year-old Michael would get a letter from his mother that would change his life forever.

Anthony is in disbelief. He doesn't understand what has changed since speaking to the landlord on the phone that morning. He’s been living in a transition house for the last nine months, but Anthony only has one week until he has to move out. Then he will be homeless, and he expects his parole officer will certainly violate him.

Abu, the youngest of ten kids raised in Chicago, has never been one to coast through anything in life; when he develops a passion for something, whether it be Scrabble, public speaking, or manufacturing operations, he goes all in. “I was raised to work,” says Abu. “I learned early on that if you are dedicated to something and set goals, then you can succeed.”

The first time David stood on a stage and looked out at an auditorium filled with rambunctious kids, he was 27 and in the custody of the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR). He was sweating under the bright lights and a little nervous, but David knew he was there for a reason bigger than himself.

“CEO had staff available for anything I needed, but I didn’t ask for much until I had to,” Eddie said. “You can extend a hand to someone, but they still have to do the work. CEO gave me the opportunity, and I took advantage of it and worked hard.”

After Terissa M. nearly lost her life in a car accident two years ago and suffered a tragic personal loss, she knew that it was time to seek help for her substance use. But what she didn’t know was that one day, she would be in a position to help other people heal too.

Sha-Ken recently realized a dream he never imagined was possible: he helped pass New York state legislation that will positively impact people with past justice-involvement like his.

This spring, Azariah performed a prestigious rite of passage: he spoke at the graduation ceremony for a program he’d been a part of called the Advocacy Leadership Committee (ALC).