Ex Gangbanger Turns Life Around!

The right man
The Commercial Appeal
By David Waters
Ex-gangster turns life around, now he's on a mission with a message
January 1, 2007
T.J. spent a lot of years trying to be the man, but he turned out to be the wrong man.

"When I was recruiting for the gang, my first question was, 'Does his father stay with him?' 'Cause I don't need that," said Terrell 'T.J.' Johnson, a product of what he calls the North Memphis DNA -- Daddy Not Around.

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"Give me a single mama with four boys by four different men, you know what I'm saying? You know they need money, protection, status, power. They need a strong man in their life. I'm going to supply them, even if I'm the wrong man."

T.J.'s drug-dealing, gang-banging, childhood-robbing days are long behind him. He was released from prison in 1999, freed from his sins in 2003. Now he's trying to be a good man by working for the right man as pastor of -- "take a long breath before you say it" -- the Greater Fellowship Faith Tabernacle Full Gospel Baptist Church in Bolivar, Tenn.

Pastor T.J., a bear of a man with a booming voice and a bone-crushing handshake, talks to kids every chance he gets. He tells them

his story -- how he was bad news before he found the Good News, how he was lost and then found, how he died and was reborn.

"Getting caught and getting punished isn't what turned me around," T.J. said. "It was the grace of God that turned me around. That and people who came into my life and treated me like a child of God. I needed those people with me when I was a kid, when my mama was on crack and when my daddy was not around. It was the O.G. (original gangster) in the 'hood that raised me."

T.J., who will admit to being in his 30s, was born in Chicago and brought to North Memphis to live with his great-grandparents when he was about 3. He attended Caldwell Elementary and Frayser High, but he got his real education in the alleys and empty lots of the Scutterfield neighborhood.

"My mother died a junkie," T.J. said. "She never stayed with us. She was always on the go. She had five children by five different men. ... I don't know my father. My great-grandparents were churchgoers, but they were too old to raise me. It was guys on the outside that took me in, the gangsters who said, 'Hey, this is what a .38 looks like and this is what a .45 looks like. I was taught how to hustle. It's like the mafia."

T.J. said he started running drugs when he was about 9, dealing drugs when he was about 15. He formed his own gang, the Insane Disciples. He had all the money, cars, girls, guns and insanity he needed.

"I found out that crime does pay," T.J. said. "I really couldn't spell and I couldn't read that good, but I could count money. I could use a triple-beam to weigh and measure drugs. I got caught up and fascinated. I got smothered with that type of life. If you don't fight you get beat or killed. You had to be hard. I had a spirit on me to throw gas on you and set you on fire. I had a bad spirit."

T.J. got caught up. Eventually he got caught. He was arrested late in 1991 and charged with possession of a controlled substance (cocaine) with intent to manufacture, deliver and sell. He pleaded guilty in March 1992 and was given an eight-year suspended sentence and fined $4,012. Two years later, he violated his probation. He was in prison until 1999.

When he got out, T.J. found his way to the city's Second Chance program, which helps one-time felony offenders re-enter society. Along the way he met Dr. Rita Dorsey, former head of the criminology department at Southwest Tennessee Community College. In 2002, Mayor Willie Herenton appointed Dorsey to direct the city's new Juvenile Violence Abatement Program.

Dorsey hired T.J. to help. She also treated him like a child of God. She taught him about taking responsibility. She taught him to identify and appreciate his gifts and how to be a role model.

T.J. spoke to hundreds of kids in dozens of city and county schools.

"Programs don't work. People work," Dorsey said. "I tend to be cynical when it comes to cons and ex-cons, but T.J. is sincere and he's effective. Kids listen to him because he keeps it real. He's been there."

T.J. got another second chance about three years ago when he met Bishop William Young and his wife, Pastor Diane Young, co-founders of the Healing Center Full Gospel Baptist Church. T.J. was struggling. His mother had died of an overdose. A month later, his younger brother was killed in a drug deal in Atlanta. T.J. vowed to avenge his brother's murder.

The Youngs taught T.J. about repentance and forgiveness. They taught him about grace. They taught him the Bible story of Saul, the Christian killer who -- by the grace of God -- became the Apostle Paul.

T.J. felt like a new man.

"What you see in T.J. is an example of a transformed life," said Bishop Young. "I've seen a lot of guys who said they've changed, but this guy is genuine. He shows he has changed."

Now, T.J. is pastoring the church in Bolivar, which was founded by the Youngs. He's trying to be a father to his 18-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter. T.J. and his wife, Lisa (they were married in 2004), have formed the Wake Up Youth Foundation. They have a van, recently donated by WREG-TV, Dobbs Ford, City Auto and vanwraps.com.

They also have a mission and a message.

T.J. has taken that message all the way to the Washington. He spoke earlier this year at a conference for the President's Help America's Youth Initiative. In recent weeks, he has spoken to children and adults in Denver and Atlanta and several other cities.

It's a message he used to deliver all over Memphis and Shelby County. Late last year, the city, facing budget shortfalls and shifting away from community policing, pulled the plug on the Juvenile Violence Abatement Program. Dorsey was appointed to another position. T.J. was let go. But T.J. still speaks to kids and adults every chance he gets.

"Most of the kids I deal with today, they say, 'My mama be tripping' or 'My daddy, I don't know where that sucker's at.' They're angry. They're raising themselves. ... No wonder we've got 14-year-old kids having kids. That 14-year-old girl is on her own and she's easy prey for men. That 14-year-old boy has a friend who's 21 and you wonder why you've got a Glock in your house.

"I know. That 14-year-old boy was me. That man preying on the girls was me. We've got to raise our children. They can't raise themselves, and that's where the problem is. A lot of men, especially black guys, we say we're not with our baby's mama because of what that woman did to us ... .

"My point is this," said T.J., taking a long breath before he said it.

"See, it's the black man who has to go back and get his child. We've got to take care of our families. I mean the black man. If you don't raise your child, another man will and it will be the wrong man.