Youth at risk. This is a true-crime story that you most likely have never heard before.

I am going to go back in time and tell you my life’s story as far as I can remember. You can look into the whole story, not just the one tragic event. It’s been a rough ride along a rocky road, which has me currently confined to a cell behind the walls and fences of an American prison. Though I am still breathing, I am serving a life without parole sentence.

A familiar car came pulling up to the store, my heart sank, and I knew it was over. There was a sense of relief, though, at the same time. I knew I would be sleeping in a warm bed and getting a good meal tonight. Well, that’s what I thought; in reality, they drove me to the juvenile courthouse. I went before a judge and was sentenced to spend a week in juvenile detention. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Come to find out, my mom went and got me put on the youth at-risk program. Now, I would be sentenced to do juvy time whenever I did anything wrong. The worst part was that my mom had the power to put me in there, and she used it.
That was when I decided I would take off and live with my cousins. Only it didn’t last long, and I ended back up in juvenile. I couldn’t stand to be at home and would leave whenever I could. I went and lived with my dad as much as possible, which only worked when it was convenient for him. What I was able to do with my dad was go fishing and earn extra money. I always was about getting money. I took and invested in more herbs, and things were going well with sales. Plus, I could stay on and get my chew and smokes. The problem was I kept getting in trouble, but I finally got the youth at risk thing done and could hold it together while I started to go to Alaska fishing in the summer. My first season was after my seventh-grade year in school. I had a good time; it was a lot of work but well worth it.
When I returned, I bought a motorcycle and loved taking it out in the woods. I was also stacked up to get on with more herbs that year. Things seemed to be going well, but then it all went sideways. Somebody told on me; this was my first experience with being told on. I can assure you it wasn’t the last; that’s how it always seems to happen when you doin dirt. The crazy thing is, I never even got caught with anything. Just somebody saying what I was doing, which was speculation. However, the school didn’t care, at eighth-grade year, I was expelled. Once again there I was a troubled youth, in trouble.