The pursuit of life after prison

Of the 2.1 million individuals incarcerated in jails and prisons, 548,300 are African-American men between the ages of 20 to 39. The number of Black women in prison increased 2.6 percent, according to the Department of Justice. Once released from prison, studies show that most former inmates will return to prison and continue to fuel the socioeconomic cycle that includes single-parent homes (African-American children are nine times more likely to have a parent in prison), foster care and generational poverty. But some former inmates have turned their lives around in a big way.

Author and publisher Vickie M. Stringer was once known as "the cocaine Queen" of Columbus, Ohio. Motivational speaker Victor Woods first went to federal prison for organizing an armed robbery ring, and then went back to prison for manufacturing $40 million in credit cards. Jeff Henderson made $35,000 a week selling drugs in San Diego and faced a 20-year sentence in federal prison before taking the culinary world by storm. And Relentless Aaron, incarcerated for check-cashing fraud, used his time behind bars to write most of his urban novels.

Chef Jeff Henderson, 42 Time served: 9 years Job status: Executive Chef/Cafe Bellagio Location: Las Vegas Web site: www.chefjeffcooked.com

In 1986, Jeff Henderson was 21 and dealing cocaine for a living in San Diego. Like many young Black men, the drug game, with its promise of fast money, cars and women, was a powerful lure. "It was my meal ticket out of the 'hood," says Henderson, who grew up in the South Central area of Los Angeles.

After his arrest, he was shipped to Terminal Island, a federal prison in San Pedro, Calif., where he was side-by-side with Wall Street executives and white-collar criminals. While assigned to dishwashing duty in prison, he developed an interest in cooking. Other than the fried bologna sandwiches he and his sister would make in the kitchen of his mother's apartment, Henderson admits that his only other cooking experience had been manufacturing cocaine as a drug dealer. "I never wanted to be a chef in my life," Henderson says.

Once out of prison, Henderson pursued a cooking career and was turned down frequently due to his prison record. Then he caught a break and began turning out culinary masterpieces that eventually earned him the title of "Las Vegas Chef of the Year." In 2004, he joined the Bellagio and was eventually promoted to executive chef. He has written his memoirs, Cooked: From the Streets to the Stove, From Cocaine to Foie Gras, has an Oprah appearance, and he is working on his own television reality show. He also tours the country to speak with at-risk youth about the dangers of succumbing to crime. He's brutally honest whenever he does speak, often giving uncomfortable details about prison life, including the abrasive toilet paper found there. "My nickname on the street was Hardhead," he recounts. "I tell them that whatever comes down, no matter how bad they think they are, how sophisticated or intelligent their plan is, they will get caught."

Vickie M. Stringer, 35 Time served: 7 years Job status: Author and CEO/Triple Crown Publications Location: Columbus, Ohio Web site: www.triplecrownpublications.com

Vickie Stringer's son was 2 when she was arrested for selling cocaine after she was caught with $275,000 in cash in the trunk of her car. It was an unlikely scenario for Stringer, who came from a Huxtable-like family in suburban Detroit, where her mother was a teacher and her father worked as an engineer for an auto company. "My goal was to be a drug dealer's girlfriend," she says, recalling those days. "because drug dealers had all of this disposable income."

Stringer got pregnant and her drug dealer boyfriend walked. Using his connections, Stringer began selling drugs herself--as much as $30,000 a day. That was until she was caught and locked up. "It was awful," says Stringer of her time in federal prison. "They made you take off your weave and your fingernails."

Then they took something even more valuable--custody of her young son was given to her mother. While in prison, she penned a book about her life to deter other young girls from going down the same path. After she was released, she found herself without a college education and with no work experience. She tried to get her book published and was turned down by 26 publishers. "I knew that either I would have to let my book die, or publish it myself," says Stringer.

She gave birth to Triple Crown Publications on top of her dining room table while wearing her house shoes. She did extensive marketing research and formed an aggressive sales team, that included her brother and sister. Together they sold her book, Let That Be The Reason, at hair salons, offices, on street corners and from the trunk of her car. She later began publishing authors who had also been turned down by larger publishing houses. Triple Crown Publications, founded in 2001, has made more than $1.8 million and has 27 authors writing under its label, Stringer says. She also has regained custody of her son, now a teenager, and has a new baby, Amon, 7 months. "Nothing is impossible," she says. "I asked God to take my life and do something with it. And He did!"