My name is Hunter Isaiah Hobbs. I go by Isaiah, my middle name, because Hunter is not who I am anymore. Isaiah in Hebrew means “God saves,” so I recognize Him in everything. I’m 24 years old, I’ve been in prison since I was 19, and I have a life sentence. But I am doing everything possible to assure that these walls don’t define who I am.
I grew up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, around a great deal of negative influences. But the most destructive forces were my big brother and my parents – the people who should have served as my role models. My mom did drugs and my dad drank heavily. The substances they pursued were more important than I was. My older brother (one of seven siblings, but who had the most impact on me), followed in my father’s footsteps, both in terms of his drug sales and his gang activity.
I began struggling with my identity and role in life when I was 12 years old, and that was when everything began to unravel. I became sexually active with a female who was into Satanism. I watched her make pentagrams with her own blood and never realized that it had caused significant trauma.
I started smoking Newport cigarettes, and while that may seem minor, it was a downhill spiral from there: weed, alcohol, mushrooms, LSD and then cocaine a few times. Fortunately, I never got into harder drugs because I saw firsthand the effects of crack, meth and heroin on my family and community.
My dad was around very little, although the stories he told on the phone and that I heard about him did not offer a good role model. So, I lived with my mom only off and on; when I wasn’t with her, I stayed with my godparents and others. Eventually, a court order removed me for good; she blamed everything and everybody but herself, leading me to blame myself for not being good enough. At 16, I was officially adopted by a couple who had been my babysitters, and I now consider them my real parents.
Shortly after I started smoking weed, I began hanging with individuals who I couldn’t trust with information as basic as where I lived. But I was addicted to the rush of the lifestyle. I was envious of those with “finer things,” and took what I could without caring. I walked around the city like I was the toughest person alive, with the false sense of security that comes with high-powered firearms. I got suspended for fighting at school numerous times, forcing me to graduate from the alternative program at my high school. (But…I am grateful that I at least graduated! In fact, I was the first in my immediate biological family to complete high school.) When I look back, I realize that everything I did was a cry out for help. But no one was listening, not even myself.
I became more and more reckless, from street racing to breaking and entering. I didn’t believe in God, even though I researched many different religions. I had intelligence; I just didn’t apply it.
And then in 2021, I was arrested for the violent crimes that sent me into prison. In the county jail, I continued to get in fights over the dumbest things, simply because I couldn’t let small things go. But then And came a ray of light. A couple weeks after being locked up in a county jail, I was outside for recreation when I met an older gentleman named Turk. Because of the group he was affiliated with, prison rules dictated that I was supposed to harm him. But he was a big man and had no interest in fighting. He tried to divert my attention, saying, “I’m not trying to hear that or have a conversation about that with you.” With a balled fist, I shot back, “Whatchu tryna hear den?” I was all ghetto-sounding because I hadn’t learned to articulate well. He replied, “Young man, I meant no disrespect. It’s just that this is not the type of conversation I’m trying to have with you.” He looked at me hard, then said, “You are meant for more.” It hit me hard, like a brick. Turk had brought me back to God.
A week after that pivotal conversation (in September of 2021), I was moved to a different county to fight my case. As I went to trial and then was sentenced, God permitted me to teach a Bible study class for two years. At this point, I had never felt more free. And since then, God has completely changed every aspect of me from the inside out. I now know that I can’t ask for mercy from God when I don’t show mercy and love to others.
Today, I am a peer-support specialist, I teach GED and social studies (I’m an avid student of history), I lead two drug education classes and I have begun to research several business ventures. (I sell a clothing line on Facebook called Forever Fly and Saved.) Real estate and dog breeding (I grew up around both big and small dogs, and love them all!) are my passions. I also found out I can sing and write music! I’ve been discovering talents I never knew I had, to God be the glory.
I wouldn’t let my pride go, after a couple months I started to understand truly that I’m not the only one going through something
The boy I was at 13 isn’t the man I am at 24. My plan now is to be an example for my 15 nieces and nephews, demonstrating that there is a different way to live our lives. I have tried to reach out to my biological mother multiple times, yet over the last four years, I’ve only received one letter of three sentences. Neither do I talk to my big brother. But I am still close to people I’ve known since I was a baby, and I thank God I have a support system.
I also want to be a mentor to other men, helping them understand that life is more than your mistakes. I have realized we are defined instead by the wisdom we gain and what we do after. I wake up with a light in me everyday, and a passion for sharing it. God willing, I will have the opportunity to show who I am now to the world.
