Tony was in solitary confinement in a South Carolina prison. At 17, he had been charged with murder and armed robbery in an incident that went terribly wrong.

“From the bottom of my heart, I am responsible,” he said of the incident that “was an accident” and not premeditated.

Tony began paying for his crime in 1994. But even in prison, he fell out of favor, so authorities threw him in solitary.

“I was a kid, and I had childish ways. I would get in trouble and go to segregation,” he said of his penchant for wrongdoing.

He called solitary confinement brutal. It could last one to two years, he said. Sometimes it would be six months.

“They would just slam the door and lock you in.”

Tony said being there for so long with just your thoughts isn’t healthy: “I felt so much pressure. I was alone, depressed and scared.”

He said he knew of prisoners who would harm themselves and even commit suicide because solitary destroyed their mental health.

“You either adapted or went down,” he said. “All types of thoughts crossed my mind when I was alone in there,” he added, calling solitary “a prison within a prison.”

Forced into those conditions, Tony started to pray.

He knew how. He had grown up Catholic, but his family went to Mass infrequently.

Still, it was enough. Something took hold. Tony said he was tired and worn down by life in prison and something had to change.

It did. God showed up.

“I kind of felt it immediately when I prayed,” he said. “I felt the presence in the back of my mind. I felt like I was being spoken to in my mind. I didn’t feel freaked out. I felt somebody was on my team, backing me. This was an inner voice. It said, ‘Have the faith, pray, believe in me,’ and I did. It was awesome.”

Authorities placed him back in the general population, where he could communicate and socialize with others.

Life began turning around bit by bit. When prison gang members robbed and harassed him, law enforcement took his side. “I couldn’t believe it,” he said.

Tony started volunteering in the library and other prisoners started coming to him for advice. He would help.

“I was going to educate myself” while in prison, he said.

In 2014, Tony met Deacon Carl Johnson, and the incarcerated man’s faith deepened.

Deacon Carl said Tony was very attentive and articulate and would always take the lead in Bible discussions on both the Old and New Testaments.

“The other Catholic inmates looked up to Tony,” he said.

Deacon Carl gave each Catholic inmate a Bible, and they started a Bible study on their own.

“I believe he was one of the organizers,” he said of Tony, and that the young man was on fire with his faith. The deacon taught the prisoner more about being Catholic and took him through RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults).

Tony was confirmed in prison.

When Deacon Carl baptized other men who were incarcerated, Tony was there for support, and when Tony had questions, the deacon was there for support.

“He came to me many times,” Deacon Carl said, adding that when he had problems of his own, Tony was a solid sounding board.

“A lot of times, I was going through some change, and he sat me down and brought me up,” he added.

That is friendship.

Tony, and others, learned that they could rely on Deacon Carl.

“He would bring the sacraments, Communion, weekly liturgy. Without Deacon Carl … it would have been very, very, very difficult.

“We were the smallest of the religious groups, and he kept it together,” Tony said.

The deacon even showed up at parole hearings for Tony. Then the pandemic hit, and prisons closed the doors statewide to outside visits.

Still, Deacon Carl found a way to stay involved, and he sent a letter of support during Tony's fourth parole hearing.

That fourth time was a charm. After 27 years in the penal system, Tony was paroled in March 2021.

He earned his associate’s degree while behind bars and is actively employed.

Solitary was tough. It was terrible. But it brought Tony to a quiet place, and there he learned to pray, trust and have faith in the God who can bring good from all things.