Finally Free (21 page)

Coach Dungy says he remembers me being uncertain about whether NFL commissioner Roger Goodell would reinstate me
and, if so, whether any teams would be interested. While Coach Dungy talked football with me, he tried to focus our conversation on a much broader scale, and we eventually came to the conclusion that the best thing for me was to continue turning my heart back to the Lord and make decisions that were best for my family. I needed to get my personal life, spiritual life, and family life back together—not worrying about the football side—because that would take care of itself if it was in God's plan.

In the months ahead, Coach Dungy became a close mentor to me. Because of what he heard and saw that day at Leavenworth, he says that he believed I was serious about changing my life. And I was. He felt like I was leaving prison as a different person.

Coach Dungy is one of the most widely respected sports figures in the nation, but his involvement with me drew criticism, including from some supporters of his Family First organization in Tampa. However, he says he was encouraged when he and his wife met an ex-convict working at a Tampa-area restaurant after word of his visit with me was publicized.

He and his wife were ordering take-out food, and the guy behind the counter told him, “I just have to tell you that I'm so happy with what you're doing with Michael, because I came out [of prison] four years ago and nobody would give me a chance. The only person who would was the owner of this restaurant, and I'm still here and still working hard for him. I just want to show him he did the right thing, and I'm not going to let him down. We need people to take a chance on us.” This helped Coach Dungy know that he was doing the right thing. It didn't matter whether I
would play in the NFL again. I was just a person who needed help launching a fresh start.

Let me tell you, Coach Dungy's visit and follow-up involvement with me were essential to my new beginning. Coach told me, “Walk out of here with your head up high. Walk out of here knowing that your future is bright and that you've got God on your side, and you'd better keep Him close.”

When he said that, a totally different spirit overcame me.

Another special guest who visited me during the latter part of my stay at Leavenworth was Wayne Pacelle, the president and chief executive officer of the Humane Society of the United States.

I was surprised that he wanted to see me, considering the fact that two years earlier I had been viewed very negatively by his organization. I was nervous, but at the same time, excited to meet with him. I was also impressed with how sharp Wayne was and how he presented himself. I wasn't expecting to see the type of person I saw: he was clean-cut and came in with a suit on. Immediately, I thought he was a guy who was there to help.

His visit was a great opportunity for me to hear what the Humane Society was all about and to learn more about their mission and how I could potentially help. Right there in that prison visitation area, we forged a partnership. We agreed that once I was released, I'd begin to speak at Humane Society functions. Wayne told me he believed in me and that he was going to give me a chance to change a lot of lives of both people and dogs around the
world—to change the perception of pit bulls and to help eradicate dogfighting. It was a great opportunity that I appreciated more than words can express.

The days seemed to get longer as the time drew near for my release to home confinement after eighteen months in prison. I could hardly wait for the day when I would be allowed to leave, and I frequently battled concerns that something would happen to prevent it.

I was so scared going down the stretch. Those were the slowest days ever. My friends inside prison helped me through those days and were sad to see me leave.

My fellow inmates and I had so much respect for each other. You get together every day. You develop bonds. You experience the same emotional roller coaster. One guy may be up one day and down the next, and you've got to keep his spirits up.

About two days before I expected to be released, I was startled when guards suddenly began a shakedown raid of the pod where I lived. They were looking for contraband or any sign of trouble. I had worked late and had just gone to bed.

I hurried to put clothes on so I could leave with the rest of the men, but was ordered by a guard: “You! Stay over there in the corner.”

I was like,
Aw, what did I do?!
I was two days from going home, and I was afraid I had done something wrong. But it turned out to be a false alarm. They just held me back to tell me they were going
to let me go a day earlier, to avoid the media and all that. I was allowed to call Kijafa, and she arrived the next day in time for me to make a 4:00 a.m. departure.

I used my last evening there to say good-bye to the friends I'd made and to exchange contact information with them for future reference—once we were all released and off probation.

The other prisoners were happy for me—happy that I was getting out, and happy that I was going home. I just wanted to make the most of my life going forward.

Most of the men were sleeping when I turned in my prison jumpsuit and was given civilian clothes that next morning. Kijafa was led to a special entrance, where I met her.

Kijafa says it was like a movie. She ran to me and hugged me. Everything felt right. We were together again—finally free.

And we quickly headed out for what would be close to a twenty-four-hour drive home to Virginia.

Chapter Nine

Mad Money

“The bottom line is, I just wasn't ready for it.”

 

T
his wasn't Monopoly money anymore.

It's worth pausing from the story of my homecoming to reflect on one of the most profound things that happened while I was in prison—a personal bankruptcy that turned my financial world upside down.

Things were much different when I was released from prison than when I first went in. Some of it was my fault. Some of it was because people I trusted let me down.

It was the culmination of a larger economic crash that resulted from mismanagement, but also from the costly effects of my legal troubles. In a span of four years, I went from being the NFL's highest-paid player to an imprisoned ex-player filing for bankruptcy and having to reach out to former teammates for loans.

As a result, I look back and see myself as a cautionary example for other athletes who suddenly go from poverty to riches. The transition can be such a fleeting experience if sound money management, good stewardship, and trustworthy people aren't in place.

Even before I faced dogfighting charges, I struggled with how to handle millions of dollars. Sometimes I may have tried to do too much for other people. I meant well, but I probably shouldn't have taken out loans to purchase luxurious cars, houses, boats, and jewelry for family, friends, and myself.

The bottom line is: I just wasn't ready for it. I had all the money and all the cars, but I was giving away too much money. I was getting $500,000 checks each quarter from my endorsement deal with Nike, but by the end of the quarter, I was dipping into my bank account to pay bills because I had so many expenses.

I was at a point where I was starting to get worried:
Man, I can't have all these bills. I'm taking care of all these people. I have a house in Virginia, I have a house in Miami, I have my mom's house, I have my son's mom's house. I have, like, fourteen cars, paying car notes on all of them. That's $30,000 here, $40,000 there. I have a whole lot of other stuff I've been doing, and all types of bills coming in.
Every time I looked up, I was paying some sort of property tax.

Once I landed in prison, everything spiraled completely out of control, and I ended up filing for
Chapter 11
bankruptcy protection. Eventually, I'll have to repay creditors around $20 million. But I felt that was better than filing for
Chapter 7
, because it shows accountability for my debts.

I just took my lawyers' advice in the situation and tried to do what was right. I didn't want it to seem like I was trying to stiff my
creditors or anything like that, because I knew I owed them. I also knew I had a lot of assets I could liquidate as well.

I don't want it to seem in any way that I'm bragging about money, but I think it's important to look back at the money I made in the NFL and what eventually happened to it.

I received an initial $3 million bonus upon signing my rookie contract with the Falcons. Four years later, I signed an eight-year extension on Christmas Eve that turned the revised contract into a ten-year, $130 million deal, making me the NFL's highest-paid player.

It was a huge contract. I had earned more than $7 million before I got that deal. It was what I made off my first rookie contract.

This was extra money for me. It was money I wanted to put away to be safe. I wound up investing it, but if I could do it all over again, I would have taken that money and just put it in a bank.

Things happen for a reason, though. While my legal troubles took a toll, I still had a lot of money to pay off creditors and money that I had borrowed from banks. It would've been more than enough. I could've served my prison sentence and never filed bankruptcy—if I had just put the money in the bank like I had planned and not invested it.