As a troubled teenager coming of age in north Moorhead, Adam Martin says he knew every cop here and across the river by their first names. He was in and out of foster homes, juvenile detention and programs like Thistledew. As he got older, his problems only got worse. Offenses largely fueled by alcohol turned into a series of felony convictions and serious jail time.
Each time he was released from jail, he says, his future seemed ever more hopeless: no job, nowhere to live, no resources to get on track … no contact with his sons. He’d get out, struggle to find a place to sleep, perhaps land a job in construction or food service … then drink to drown his troubles and slide back toward the next alcohol-fueled crisis.
When he reached rock bottom after his fifth go-round with the criminal justice system, a fellow felon reached out his hand … and Adam finally grasped it. Now, after nearly a decade of hard-won sobriety, he says he’s finally living the positive, productive life he’d once thought was out of the question. He’s spending time with his two sons, earning a good living, forging friendships with peers who can barely imagine his personal story … and looking to share what he’s learned with others.
Under the banner of a new organization he calls F5, Adam, 35, is gathering others who’ve overcome similar backgrounds. Their goal is to offer men caught in the downward spiral of alcohol, drugs and crime a solid path to achieving success in the straight life.
“They’re at the bottom now. They have accepted that they’re failures, they’re second-class. They don’t think they can get out,” he says. “I’m living proof that they can. Everyone deserves a chance.”
Adam, who works as a sales and business development specialist at High Point Networks in West Fargo, has been quietly counseling men who are serving time or were recently released from jail. Sometimes the connection has come about through contacts in recovery groups; or ex-felons have heard about him and reached out directly via social media or even the telephone in a jail lobby.
With the blessing of his boss, High Point founder Tom McDougall, Adam has been quietly mentoring the men as he himself was encouraged – building their confidence by his own example, offering advice and helping them find their reasons to turn their lives around.
In September, though, an unexpected opportunity set into motion a series of events that is turning into an organized effort on behalf of ex-offenders reentering the community. He was invited to share his saga at the kickoff meeting of the United Way’s 2016 campaign. “I just shared my own story,” he says of his moving speech. (It’s posted on YouTube; search for “Adam Martin + United Way.”) “Afterwards, people who wanted to help started reaching out to me, along with guys who’d heard about it.”
The result? Adam calls the “healthy mentorship” program that’s taking shape F5 – a reference both to the computer function key for “reset” and to his own criminal record. Starting with his own ad hoc relationships with several individuals at a time, it has turned into a nonprofit corporation with a board of directors that holds organized weekly meeting for inmates at the Cass County Jail. The group is talking about similar platforms in Clay County and at Churches United, where ex-felons who cannot find housing and jobs often end up.
In the meantime, he and fellow volunteers Eric Hatch, Mark Hedlund and Jake Joraanstad are holding regular Wednesday meetings in the Cass County Jail that ostensibly focus on job skills – but also address far broader concerns shared by those trying to establish stable lives on the outside, often for the first time.
Attendance has grown from a tentative seven attendees the first week to the maximum capacity of 45. Most are jailed because of alcohol- and drug-related offenses; though ages range from 18 to 60 or so, the majority are in their 30s.
“They’re no different from me and the other guys with records who are stepping up to help,” Adam explains. “When we share our background, they can see it’s the same as theirs – and it inspires hope.
“Their past doesn’t have to dictate their future. When they get back out into the world, they can choose which of two groups they’ll belong to: Those who try, or those who give up.”
Adam wants F5 to become a central point for gathering resources for moving forward. He cites many connections already made with service providers and individuals with expertise in employment assistance, housing, business and communications, all critical steps toward independence that may present huge barriers to getting reestablished.
Volunteer mentors will be trained to work one on one with men trying to get back on their feet. “They have to have a criminal background themselves to be successful with this population,” he predicts. “They have to be someone an ex-con can identify with. If a doctor needs to get a surgical consult, he doesn’t get a second opinion from a plumber. Why not do the same with felons? People who’ve worn the same shoes will always go the extra mile to help because they know personally what it’s like.
“Our only goal is to find out what kind of life these men want to live and what they need to achieve it,” he says of his emerging program, which isn’t affiliated with any religious, social service or law enforcement agency. “As long as they’re willing to do everything they can to succeed, we’ll give them all the support they need to reach their goal. But they’ve got to have skin in the game. They have to be willing to keep trying.”
Though his formal schooling ended at eighth grade, Adam is convinced that knowledge businesses like IT, where he himself has succeeded, hold excellent opportunities for the men he’s known behind bars. He cites the occupational trends toward fewer jobs in the trades but exploding demand fueled by the high-tech revolution. “I see a huge demand for people who can code, who can design websites,” he observes.
“Some of these guys have insanely awesome social skills. They may be good at building relationships, winging it, knowing how to hustle. If you can fill in some other huge gaps to get them ready for the work force, there are jobs where they could do more than just get by. They can flourish and thrive.”
He credits McDougall of High Point Networks for giving him that same chance. He applied there four years ago based on the recommendation of a Facebook friend. After a background check that generated plenty of results, McDougall told him, “We don’t usually hire felons, but we’ve decided to give you a chance.”
Adam was signing the proffered contact before his new boss finished that sentence. He faced another problem, though. Living in Horace at the time, he had no car, no driver’s license and no way to get to work. One of his own mentors who shared a felony background picked him up every morning and drove him home every night for three months until he finally qualified to drive again.
That’s what he aspires to do with his F5 project – not chauffeur hires to their jobs, but find out the specific stumbling blocks that stand in the way of achieving the goals they’ve set for themselves.
Not all will succeed, not the first time. There will be stumbles.
“They don’t disappoint me,” he says. “It’s like writing code. When the program isn’t working, it’s a matter of finding out where the hang-up lies and doing what you need to do to get it right.
“Everyone deserves a second chance. The only way to do this wrong is not to show up at all.”
