A gang bullet cut him down. How the worst day of his life began a journey of faith, forgiveness

At St. Francis Medical Center, a Lynwood trauma hospital serving poor, mostly Latino parts of southeast Los Angeles, Father Cesar Galan begins his shift as chaplain in the intensive care unit.

Moving from bedside to bedside, he listens to patients’ fears, prays with them and, if they are Catholic, as most are, offers to hear their confessions. Many eagerly unburden themselves, but some say they are beyond forgiveness. My sins are too bad, they tell him . God could not want anything to do with a person like me.

In these moments, Galan might be tempted to pour out his own life story. He might say he knows they are wrong — not from doctrine or Scripture alone, but from the .38-caliber bullets he carries inside his body, the tattoos hidden under his clerical garb, the gravestone in Orange