When Tyrone’s grandmother first saw his newborn face, she thought it looked a little squishy. A little mushed.
So she gave him the nickname Mush. And it stuck.
In Chicago’s North Lawndale neighborhood, nicknames are part of the culture. They’re community currency, woven deep into family rhythms, each one a hallmark of belonging and familiarity. Nicknames are so prevalent that it’s not uncommon for friends not to use, or even know, each other’s legal names.
But on Tyrone’s first day in court in North Lawndale, the state’s attorney told the court that the nickname his grandmother gave him was his gang name. And in a room full of friends, family, and church members who had all called him Mush since the day he was born, the attorney weaponized his nickname to paint a picture of a threat to society to justify keeping him in prison until his trial.
Tyrone was just 15 years old.
Cliff Nellis, co-founder of the Lawndale Christian Legal Center (LCLC), stepped in to defend Tyrone less than a week after LCLC officially received its 5013C status. “We didn’t have a website, we didn’t have business cards. The office phone was just the cordless phone I’d had in my apartment. We were as new as it gets, and just using whatever we had.”
When Tyrone’s family called Cliff, Cliff called the members of his brand new board. And they all agreed: this is what they were here to do. It was time to start doing it.
“It was my first case. I was a green white guy from the suburbs. And I was shocked by the way the system treated Tyrone and his family. I thought maybe this would be unusual, but I can tell you it’s been almost 15 years of the same thing. The perceptions of our young people are locked in. They heard the nickname Mush, and immediately assumed it’s a gang name.”
“I met Cliff through Lawndale Community Church,” smiles Tyrone, who recently celebrated his 30th birthday and started a new career in commercial driving. “My grandmother enrolled us in the church back in the 2000s. I used to play the drums for the church band, Celestial Ministries. When I met Cliff, my back was against the wall. I thought I was gonna do some jail time.
But when Cliff came, I felt like I trusted him the first time I met him. At first sight, I guess. I trusted him.”
Fifteen years later, LCLC has walked over a thousand young people, like Tyrone, through the criminal justice system. By working with the North Lawndale community to form a restorative justice team that surrounds arrested or incarcerated youth, 25 years old or younger, with resources and support, LCLC has been able to help its clients escape overwhelming odds of going to prison and go on to lead full, thriving lives.
As LCLC’s first client, Tyrone holds a special place in the hearts and minds of the LCLC family.
Carli Taylor, Tyrone’s former Case Manager and current friend, puts it this way: “Tyrone’s case made me see how unfairly people are treated in North Lawndale. I knew there were disparities, but some of the things that he experienced sounded unreal. Things no one would believe. We all think that people we’re supposed to trust won’t be unethical, will do the right thing. It hurt to find out that isn’t true, especially because the person in question at the time was just 15 years old. Tyrone was very young and innocent, and his experience showed me how unfair the world was.”
When asked where he thinks he might be without LCLC, Tyrone exhales with a bit of a whistle. “I’m a be honest,” he sighs, “I probably would have gone down the wrong path. I wouldn’t have got a chance to experience my teenage years, most of my adulthood. I wouldn’t have felt like my second chance was out there.
Once they gave me that second chance, it kinda took a burden off me and everything I had going on. It changed my mindset. It made me think: ‘You got a second chance. Somebody helped you. Now you can try to help someone.’”
Next year, LCLC will officially open the next phase of its vision for restorative justice in Chicago – the Dr. Dennis Deer Community Justice Center. The Deer Center will provide holistic legal services, independent housing, job training, financial education, and mental health care for 20 emerging adults at a time, providing them with a safe and supported space to re-engage with life.
Carli Taylor will serve as the Managing Director of the Deer Housing Program.
“The Deer Center is going to be transformative.” she says. “A good majority of our clients are homeless, or what we call couch surfers, and some of them are so used to living that way they don’t even register the impact it has on them. But people often succeed or fail based on the environments they’re in. Your environment shapes your mindset and your experiences. I think that after spending some time at the Deer Center, clients will be able to contribute more to the community, because they’ll be equipped with the skills and coping mechanisms they need.”
Recently, Carli and Cliff took Tyrone on a tour of the Deer Center facility. “Having your own space like this,” he affirmed after seeing the space, “lets you dictate your pace and how you wanna move. You can stay on top of the things that you wanna stay on. We all need second chances out here, you know?”
The Dr. Dennis Deer Community Justice Center is set to welcome its first residents early in the new year. “I’d love to see this be just the beginning, to see places like the Deer Center built all over the US.” says Carli. “Housing is a critical component to creating thriving individuals and communities. A healthy home is vital. We’re going to be able to welcome people out of incarceration and into a healthy home.”
It’s been 15 years since Cliff and Carli met a young man called Mush, and encountered the lived reality of the criminal justice system for the first time.
Looking back, Tyrone’s story – the hearts it touched and perspective it provided – is inextricably woven into the LCLC’s determined fight to restore justice in Chicago.
Looking forward, the Deer Center is ready to provide hope and safe harbor for a new generation of young adults who might also answer to nicknames, who have emerged from an unjust justice system and found themselves in need of a compassionate place to start their second chance.
When asked what he might say to 15-year-old Mush, Tyrone answers with hard-earned encouragement: “Everything that you went through is for a reason. Don’t be mad at yourself, don’t beat yourself down. It was all a learning experience and it all really helped you get on track, promise.”
“The younger guys in my neighborhood now, they see me moving forward. They say: ‘Man, I see you doing it. Keep going.’ It motivates them. It shows them what’s possible.
When they see me, they’re seeing what LCLC can do.”
