Years ago, while in county lockup, I came across a Dylan Thomas poem I didn’t fully understand. It read: “Do not go gentle into that good night… Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

I liked the rhythm and the urgency of it. But I didn’t yet know what it meant to rage from within the belly of the beast.

I would learn soon enough.

When education isn’t enough

I began studying law while in solitary confinement at the Hudson County Correctional Center in Kearny, New Jersey. At 25, I was educated, street-smart, well-travelled, well-read, and owned and ran a successful business selling phones and laptops. And still, I couldn’t follow the jargon in court. It sounded like a strange language that everyone else spoke fluently. I asked my lawyers some questions, but I didn’t press. I was ne

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