Revolution Is a Second Chance

-

Part 7 of the Second Chance Chronicles

By Chaddrick Thomas



They say revolution is loud—marches in the street, fists in the air, fire in the sky.

But sometimes, revolution is quiet.

It’s a letter written from a cell.

A business born behind bars.

A father calling home.

A man reclaiming his name.


I’ve served 22 years of a 91-year sentence.

But every single day, I’ve fought for one thing:

A second chance.


And what I’ve come to realize is this—a second chance is a revolution.



Liberation Is Not a Theory—It’s a Practice




You don’t need a degree in political science to feel what this system does to people.

Cages don’t rehabilitate. Poverty isn’t justice. Shame is not accountability.


And yet, we’re taught to accept it.

To believe that the cycle is natural.

To believe that once convicted, we are forever condemned.


But I’ve seen the opposite.

I’ve seen brothers build tech companies from prison phones.

I’ve seen fathers raise kings through Plexiglas.

I’ve seen women write books with shackles still on their wrists.


That’s not theory. That’s practice.

That’s power.



We Are the Blueprint

We’re told to wait for freedom. Wait for policy. Wait for permission.

But what if the revolution isn’t coming—because we already are it?


  • Every time we hold space for someone returning home
  • Every time we hire a system-impacted leader
  • Every time we disrupt the narrative and say, “They are more than their charges”
    That’s the revolution in motion.


We don’t need to ask the system for another chance.

We need to build the world where second chances are the standard—not the exception.



None of Us Are Free Until All of Us Are


I might be behind this wall—but I am not behind in the fight.

Because when I rise, I rise for the voiceless.

For the forgotten.

For the ones still waiting for their shot.


You can’t have liberation for some of us.

We need freedom for all of us.


That means abolishing prisons that profit off pain.

That means ending parole systems designed to trap, not release.

That means fighting for healthcare, housing, healing—and not just for the “deserving.”


Because we’ve all been harmed.

And we all deserve to heal.



CALL TO ACTION: Build the Legacy


1. Live Abolition Daily

Choose people over punishment in your relationships, your work, your conversations.

Start small. Keep showing up.


2. Build Power, Not Just Programs

Support system-impacted entrepreneurs, creators, organizers. Don’t just donate—invest.


3. Tell the Truth Out Loud

Challenge language, policy, and culture that keeps us in cages. Say what needs to be said—even when it’s uncomfortable.


4. Make Second Chances a Movement

This isn’t about one man’s story.

It’s about a community, a generation, a future that refuses to be written off.



The Revolution Has Already Begun


If you’ve read this far, you’re part of it.


This blog started as a way to tell my story.

But it became something bigger.

It became a declaration.

A demand.

A second chance for all of us.


This is the end of the first wave.

But the work doesn’t stop here.

The voices get louder.

The message gets sharper.

The future gets closer.


We are the revolution.

We are the second chance.

And we are just getting started.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Lawyer Fell Asleep During Trial—And the Justice System Let It Happen

-
Image
  By Chaddrick Thomas In the fall of 2003, I sat in a federal courtroom in Tampa, Florida, on trial for bank robbery. It was United States v. Chaddrick Thomas, Bobby Lamar Albritton, and James Range. Three of us on trial. Four former co-defendants turned government witnesses: Scotty Carpenter, David Vicker, Ava Jackson, and Nene Burns. The odds were already stacked. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for what happened next. My court-appointed attorney, Thomas Ostrander, fell asleep during trial. Repeatedly. Not Just a Quick Nap—He Was Snoring He didn’t doze off for a second. He wasn’t just tired. He slept. Hard. He snored in open court. He missed witness testimony. He missed cross-examinations. He missed pieces of my life being carved away one statement at a time. At one point, I nudged him awake and he jumped up shouting, “No questions for the witness, Your Honor!” But there was no one on the stand. The U.S. Marshal, Lisa Alphonso, saw it. The Court Security Officer saw it...
Read more

The Church That Never Let Go:

-
Image
  A Love Letter to Antioch Missionary Baptist Church By Chaddrick Thomas There’s a scripture in Proverbs that says, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity” (Proverbs 17:17). After more than two decades in prison, I can tell you with every fiber of my being that these words are not just poetry—they’re a living truth. For me, that truth has a name. It’s not just an idea or a concept. It’s a place. A people. A home. That truth is Antioch Missionary Baptist Church in Plant City, Florida. I grew up in the pews of that little church on Horton Road. I sang in the choir, my voice cracking as a young boy trying to keep up with the seasoned saints. I didn’t know then what that church would come to mean to me. Back then, church was just Sunday tradition. It was fried chicken after service, choir rehearsal during the week, and Vacation Bible School in the summer. But now, as I sit in a cell surrounded by concrete and steel, I realize something I didn’t see befor...
Read more

“Survival for Sale: How Colorado’s Prison System Turned Human Needs into Behavioral Currency”

-
Image
  By Chaddrick Thomas When you think of prison incentives, you might imagine rewards: extra phone time, a bonus commissary item, maybe early access to rec. But in Colorado, incentives don’t enhance your life. They determine whether or not you survive it. This isn’t a system built on growth. It’s built on control. And the DOC’s weapon of choice? Necessity. The Bait-and-Starve Blueprint Let’s be clear: nothing about this is accidental. Years ago, incarcerated people across Colorado’s prisons had access to basic, humane standards of living: Decent food with some variety and nutrition Mattresses that didn’t destroy your spine Educational programs that were hard-earned but fairly accessible A basic expectation of medical care—even if flawed Then came the Incentive Pod system. Quietly, strategically, and systematically, the Department began to strip these essentials from general population units. Food quality declined. Mattresses were replaced with glorified g...
Read more