From the streets, a new leader emerges

David Cogger

His name is Truesee Allah, and as fortune would have it, he is back in his old stomping grounds, walking the streets of Roxbury and Dorchester.

But instead of revisiting his former life ripping and running with the old Castlegate crew during the crack epidemic in the 1980s, he is now working for the Suffolk County Sheriff Department as director of the Boston Re-entry Initiative, a joint venture with the Boston Police Department (BPD) designed to help ex-offenders adjust to life on the outside. He started two months ago.

Allah, 36, knows all about adjustments, transformation and, ultimately, redemption. His earlier days on the streets resulted in him serving nearly nine years in prison.

As an outreach worker, Allah today draws on his own experience. He knows firsthand that the reality of street life seldom lives up to the glamorous image often portrayed in music videos.

“Just hanging in the streets and using drugs and selling drugs, it’s inevitable you’ll get caught as I did,” he said.

In his new role, Allah acts as point man for law enforcement officials trying to prevent people from making the mistakes he made.

“Truesee is a very smart guy who can make great contributions here,” said Suffolk County Sheriff Andrea Cabral. “You can’t outthink him, you can’t outwork him and you definitely can’t outdress him. Because he has been a gang member and served time, he has enormous credibility.”

Allah also volunteers as an outreach coordinator for the Nation of Islam trying to improve the neighborhood he once menaced. His work with the Nation is “from the heart,” he says, and involves looking out for at-risk youth.

He was once of them.

Like many young city boys, Allah dreamed of playing in the NBA. He idolized Muggsy Bogues, the elfin 5-foot-8-inch point guard who played for four teams during a 14-year pro career.

Allah’s athletic skills helped gain him admission to Catholic Memorial, a private Catholic boys prep school in West Roxbury and a perennial powerhouse in Boston schoolboy sports. He played football, basketball and baseball on teams made up of mostly white kids. He decided after his freshman year to focus entirely on basketball.

Allah made up for his 5-foot-6-inch height with hard work. He never missed a practice, and he was never late. His infectious team spirit and work ethic helped gain him the respect of teammates and coaches.

He was the kid who was going to make it and, according to current headmaster Richard Chisholm, the last kid they ever expected to run afoul of the law.

All of that changed one late fall afternoon during his sophomore year when Allah was cut from the varsity basketball team. The rejection was devastating, and triggered what can only be considered a personal rebellion.

“When I was cut,” Allah recalled. “I began to come to school late, or not at all.”

Allah was later suspended from Catholic Memorial, but that didn’t really matter. He had stopped showing up months before.

The former athlete craved a new identity. He needed to be a leader again. He found that opportunity in the projects.

“I took the things I learned through athletics — commitment, teamwork and fearlessness — to the streets,” he said.

Allah was 16 when he started running with the Castlegate Crew. Selling crack cocaine on the block was the activity that defined his rebellion. It was lucrative and dangerous, calling on all of the skills Allah had developed as an athlete, including speed that came in handy when he was running from the cops.

And rival crews.

He was all right for a while, but even the best get caught.

His beating took place when he was 18 years old. About 30 members of a rival crew jumped him at the Dudley T station.

“My pride, my reputation [and] ego all got smashed. That’s what led to the shooting,” says Allah.

Soon after the attack, Allah and a Castlegate associate went to rival territory, seeking revenge. They encountered MacArthur Williams, an innocent bystander who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Williams was shot three times with a 9-millimeter revolver, the third bullet lodging in his back, paralyzing him from the waist down.

It didn’t take long before Allah — then known as Troy Watson — was standing before a judge facing charges of assault with intent to murder, among others. Though he maintains that he was not the triggerman, Allah received a 15-20 year sentence at the Massachusetts Correctional Institution Norfolk. He was 19 years old, and would not be eligible for parole for 10 years.

At Norfolk, he studied the Koran and met a man named Glorious who became his spiritual mentor. Together they studied and prayed daily.

“The teachings made me realize that nothing happens by chance. It was meant for me to be away, because the way I was ripping and running the streets, it could have been worse,” said Allah. “So I chose — or should I say, I was guided — to the idea that I’m not serving time, time is serving me.”

Allah began work on his GED and studied small engine repair, knowing that he would have to build a resume form behind the walls of Norfolk.

While at Norfolk, he also had his first taste of outreach work when he became a part of the Nation of Islam Project Youth Program.

Allah developed public speaking skills visiting and talking with Department of Youth Services (DYS) and at-risk youth from different high schools. For Allah, the outreach work was therapeutic and redemptive, because he was allowed to tell his story while hoping some of the kids would not make the same mistakes that he had.

By this time, Allah had already served eight-and-a-half years of his original sentence. Based on a legal error, a judge reduced Allah’s sentence to the time he had already served.

Allah was released in 1998, and, more important, he was ready.

“I just wanted to come out of Norfolk different than when I went in,” Allah said. “The good thing for me was that I had some family support. I had saved a few pennies while I was away. I had the teachings of the Nation of Islam.”

Pointing to his own experience, Allah says that spirituality is a huge part of success on the outside.

“Getting a job is important, but if an inmate comes out without his heart and mind pointed in the right direction, he is likely to end up back behind bars,” he said.

It wasn’t easy. Allah struggled finding work through temporary agencies, and made ends meet by selling newspapers on the street and working as a day laborer.

Allah found that CORI — the Criminal Offender Records Information law — was his biggest challenge. Under the law, it takes 15 years before a record can be swept clean from one’s record, and reviewing CORI files has become standard procedure for many pre-employment screenings.

Allah says that even though he was clean-cut and qualified, he was given “phony excuses” for why he wasn’t hired for many jobs.

When Allah applied for a job at a Reebok store at the Roxbury Mall, he was turned down. The CORI check showed he was an ex-offender.

“I asked for an opportunity to meet with the guy who makes the decisions,” he said.

Allah arranged a meeting with district manager Dean Hurdle. According to Allah, when Hurdle heard about Allah’s past, he said he was not interested in what he had done; he was interested in what Allah was going to do.

Convinced that he had turned his life around, Hurdle took a chance and hired Allah.

He worked for Reebok for two years, eventually becoming the store manager. At the same time, Allah started volunteering with DYS and the Boston Re-entry Initiative.

In 1999, Allah was hired as a full-time re-entry coordinator when the initiative received funding from the city and Suffolk County.

“My passion, my calling has always been to kind of give back to the community in a way that would be redemptive,” he said.

Boston Police Superintendent Paul Joyce, who has overseen the initiative since 2001, was pivotal in securing the funding. Joyce, an athletic enthusiast who competes in ultramarathons and occasionally plays basketball with some of the neighborhood kids and outreach coordinators, started his work with youthful offenders in the 1980s as a detective with the BPD’s gang unit.

“The whole thing with re-entry is to work with individuals to help them transition effectively,” said Joyce. “Truesee is a mentor who has sat in the same chair; he has the credibility to get through to the group, where I wear a uniform.”

Joyce thinks Allah serves as a great role model. “The voice of an ex-offender is an important one, but they have to have legitimately turned their lives around,” he said.

Allah has gained Joyce’s trust. At one time, the two men were on different sides of the law when Joyce was a detective and Allah was running with Castlegate. Joyce does not hesitate when he says that Allah was an “impact player” with Castlegate.

Allah has changed, and is now a valuable asset in the city’s efforts to help rehabilitate young ex-offenders. Joyce has witnessed how Allah’s work has changed the hearts and minds of many drug dealers, street thugs and just clueless kids — a group that he says stands a 100 percent chance of re-offending upon release.

Joyce says 300 young ex-offenders, mostly convicted for drug and firearms offenses, are released from prison per month, and most have been in and out of the system three or four times. He worries that the Re-entry Initiative is stretched too thin, and he thinks that Allah and others like him could burn out.

The re-entry panel is made up of correctional officials, clergy and officials from the Suffolk County District Attorney’s office and ex-offenders, like Allah. Most panel members bring some form of street credibility, either through law enforcement or from having served time.

The eight-week program includes classes in Microsoft Office, resume writing and life skills.

When Allah addresses young offenders, he always wears a suit that speaks to the changes he has made in his life. He explains to the young men that re-entry is different for everyone, but he tells them that support is available.

The panel’s goal is to leave as little to chance as possible. Knowing the great temptations most young ex-offenders face, the panel supplies such basics as a ride home, groceries and cosmetics.

Allah tells the inmates that many of the problems ex-offenders encounter stem from a lack of a support system, adding that they must try to avoid the urge to go back to the neighborhoods where they found trouble in the first place, even though it may be all they know.

He knows his message may not sink in, but Allah is unfazed. Having been there, he knows that change takes time and commitment.

“Like with me, you know, there was a spiritual awakening by way of the Nation of Islam that caused me to respect myself like I never had in the streets,” he said.

“Everyone is tired and frustrated with the recent spike in violence, but I’m proof positive that good results can occur — it’s just a matter of coordination.”