The campus police officer blew into my office. They’d just nabbed a drug dealer unloading a substantial stash of illegal substances on the back hall. When I got to the scene, four cops were wrestling to constrain a bear of a man–close to 6-feet-tall and more than 300 pounds. Like a trapped animal, he broke loose and bolted for his car. The entire police force pursued and yanked him out of the vehicle.  

Lauretta Hannon

Automatic weapons were found on the floorboard, and he was identified as one of our students. I’ll call him Brian. Once they got him handcuffed, he was transported to what we called “Rice Street,” the location of the Fulton County Jail. 

As the college conduct officer, I expelled him and placed a hold on his student account. He was forbidden from coming to campus without my prior approval. Further, he was put on the college’s Be On the Lookout List, and I thought that was the end of it. Surely he’d be in jail and serve time for his crimes. 

A year later, my phone rings. It is Brian. He wants permission to meet and says he’s changed. “Sure he has,” I thought but agreed to hear him out, even though I was skeptical. Two officers escorted him to my office and stayed outside the door. 

As Brian explained what happened after his arrest, I was floored. First of all, he was released from jail on a signature bond and spent less than 24 hours behind bars. There would be no prosecution for the drugs or weapons. I was ready to spit nails over this but knew it was common practice. 

Next, he said the arrest and brief stint in jail scared him to death—and motivated him to go legit. He confessed he knew what he was doing was wrong, but the money was right. Finally, he asked me to remove the hold on his account so he could finish his degree at a different college. He then laid out a plan to continue on for a master’s degree in business. 

So I’m trying to read this guy. Is he genuine or a menace to society—highly skilled in “getting one over” on people? If I don’t remove the hold, he cannot move forward at any college. If I do release the hold, he could find another campus to exploit. He had deposited dope on the back hall numerous times before getting caught. 

I said a little prayer and asked for discernment. The message I got was unambiguous: Brian is honest, worthy and different now. I released the hold and hoped I did the correct thing.  

Fast-forward about two years later, Brian called again. He reported that he’d stayed straight and was in his first semester of graduate school to obtain his MBA.  

This experience, like dozens of others, has convinced me of the following: do not, I repeat—DO NOT—give up on people. Sometimes the one nobody would put a bet on ends up the best redemption story.