Capella University (0:00)

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Kevin Allison (0:37)

Hey folks, this is Risk, the show where people tell true stories they never thought they'd dare to share. I'm Kevin Allison and every Thursday we release these special episodes where we look back at content from the earlier years of the podcast. This week, it's the Best of Happy Stories number four. Just some feel good stories because we all need those any old time. In a little bit we're going to hear from Jelenta Greenberg. But first, a story from Geraldine Buckley, who told this one at a Risk live show that we did at Howard University in 2016 in Washington, D.C. that was an unforgettable night. And here's Geraldine now with a story we call the Bus.

Geraldine Buckley (1:28)

Thank you so much. Well, When I was 17, I was in high school in Oxford in England, and I got a part in a university production of King Lear. I was Goneril, and the young man who got the part of Edmund was a university student. He was 20 and he was built like a Greek God. And he became my first boyfriend. And so I love to watch him, but particularly watch him rehearse. And there's a part in Act 2 that just thrilled me. He was by himself on the stage and he was talking about Edmund. Edmund is illegitimate. That means that he's always the underdog. And he throws his head back and he cries out, now, God, stand up for bastards. And something happened in me listening to him, because I've been standing up for bastards ever since. Underdogs have always been my thing. Well, many, many years later, I had a Damascus Road experience, a spiritual enlightenment, if you will. I fell irrevocably in love with Jesus, gave up my, went to Bible school and became a minister. And then I got a job as the Protestant chaplain of the largest men's prison in Maryland, a dream job for anybody who loves underdogs. There were 2,700 of them. But it never crossed my mind when I was training for this job that after just a few weeks on the job, I will be sitting in my office across My desk from the leader of the Crips, which most of you will know is one of the most violent street gangs in the history of gangs in America. No, I had no idea. No idea. I'd be sitting across from him and I'd be asking for his help with a problem. Well, when that day came, I did what I do best in those kind of situations. I made him a cup of tea. But I really did have a problem. The midweek Bible service that had about 240 men in it had become a meeting place for the gangs, particularly the Crips. Now, the front part of the chapel was fine. Amazing things were happening. That's when men were opening themselves up to the love and forgiveness of God. So they were able to extend that love and forgiveness to other people. I remember I had one big hunking man in my office, and he told me that he had longed to hear his mother tell him that she loved him. But he hadn't talked to her for 10 years because she wouldn't take his calls. And a group of the men in the chapel prayed for him. And he said that just a few days before his mother had accepted the charges. He'd spoken to her and she had told him that she loved him. And that big man was almost in tears in my office. And then we had sentences that were reduced and people who never thought they'd get parole, that they got that parole. Incredible things were happening at the front of the chapel. It was just at the back of the chapel that we had such a problem with the Crips because they were passing things and they were talking loudly. Well, they were disturbing the service, and I couldn't have that. But there was another level to the problem, and that is that if the correctional officers, the guards, if they realized what a serious gang problem we actually had, they would take away the service from us and we might not get it back for months. They'd close it down. Well, of course, I wasn't going to let that happen if I could possibly help it. Now, I could have taken all those Crip leaders off the list. In other words, ban them from the service. But I didn't want to. I mean, I was the chaplain. I mean, to me, unless they sat under the word of God, what hope would they have of changing? So that's why I decided to go to the root of the problem. And that's how come I was sitting in my office, across my desk from the leader of the Crips. Let's call him El Jefe. He's still There, I can't tell you his real name, but Jefe was about 35. He was African American, he was from Baltimore. And I knew I only had him in my office for 20 minutes because he'd arrived at half past two and he had to leave by 10 to three in order to get back to his cell in time for count. And if he wasn't there in time, he'd be taken off to the segregation unit in chains. So I thought, how am I going to get my point across in such a short amount of time? I mean, after all, we're so different. I mean, for a start, he's a man, I'm a woman, he's been incarcerated for years and he's got years to go. And I'm relatively new at all this. And he's a Crip and I'm a Pentecostal. And then I had an idea. I said, I've got a really soft spot for gangs. Well, at the time, he was slumped back in his chair, he was gently tapping the side of my desk, and he was looking at me through half closed eyes. And he didn't change a thing about what he was doing. So I knew he hasn't bought it. He hasn't bought it. So I said, jefe, let me tell you a story. When I was 21, I went on a bus trip from North Finchley tube station in London to Delhi, India. It was called Budget Bus. It was bright pink, it was decrepit, it was held together with duct tape, but it was cheap. Now, I went for two reasons. First of all, I really wanted something on my resume that would set me apart from my fellow graduates the following year. And secondly, I really wanted to irritate my mother. Well, we were going to be traveling together for six weeks, so I was really interested in seeing who my fellow traveling companions were going to be, because we'd be sleeping in tents by the side of the road, we'd be eating together. And so I was really perturbed when I first got on the bus. And my initial impression was of a strange, strong smell of unwashed bodies. Well, I looked to see where it was coming from. And it was this small group of men. They were very thin, they had hollow eyes, and they had track marks going up and down their arms. Well, these were drug addicts. And at the end of the bus, I talked to someone who'd been on the bus and they told me that one of those guys was going to die on a beach in Sri Lanka. And then there was another guy that I noticed the Moment I got on that bus, he was a small, weaselly little man. He sat right at the back. I knew straight away from his accent that he was Australian. And I found out later that his name was Wayne. Well, from the moment I got on that bus, he kept up this loud, continuous monologue of the filthiest language I have ever heard before or since. And then he was a real charmer. He would hang out the window and he'd spew abuse at women as we were passing by. He would call them by very intimate, female anatomical names. He'd also tell them exactly what he'd like to do to them. You all get my drift? And he did this all the way through Europe. He did it into Turkey, I think he stopped when we got to Iran, thank goodness. But he was horrendous. That was Wayne. Now, there was about 25 or so other men and women on that bus, but there was another group of men that I immediately noticed. They were wearing denim and leather and chains. They were covered in tattoos. They had shaved heads, and they had a really hard look on their faces. These were the Hell's Angels. Now, it must be said these were English Hell's Angels, so they were a little more refined than their American counterparts, but they were still Hell's Angels, and they absolutely terrified me. Particularly their leader, who was called Griller. Griller was this huge man, enormous, and he couldn't read or write. He had his name tattooed on his knuckles, G R, I, L, A. And he had this enormous tattoo of a gravestone on his arm with the names of men. And I looked at the names of those men and I thought, are they the names of the men that he's killed? He absolutely terrified me. Gorilla terrified me. But that bus was far worse than I could have ever imagined. On that first day, Wayne, the Australian, and his new group of friends discovered that down the aisle of the bus there was a trap door. And when the bus was moving, they would have urinating contests. And if anybody objected, they would turn the flow on them. And then, for some reason, Wayne thought it would be great fun to pick on me. So he started up a new loud, continuous monologue, describing in vivid detail what he imagined I did and as extracurricular activity. So if you're thinking the very worst. Yes, you've absolutely got that right. Yes. Well, I was only 21, and this went on for day after day after day. On one of those days, I was sitting near the back of the bus playing Scrabble with Wayne's new girlfriend. She and I had Shared a tent together the first few days of the bus. And he said something disgusting to her, Something really revealed. Revoltingly filthy and stupidly I defended her. Well, he pushed me back on my seat, and then he picked up his big fist to hit me. When all of a sudden, over my shoulder came this enormous hand, and it grabbed Wayne's wrist. And a voice said, no, you don't. You're not hitting women. Not on my turf. And Wayne just crumpled. He said, no, you don't. He said, no, no. He said, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. Well, that night, I was by myself on the bus. All the rest were setting the campsite up, and Griller came to find me. And he was shuffling his feet a bit, and he had his cap in his hand, and he was twisting it, and he kept his eyes on the ground. And he said, geraldine, I'm really sorry I didn't do more to help you on that bus today. He said, but if we men start hitting each other, someone's going to get killed. Well, several things happened because of that. First of all, Wayne kept really quiet at the back of the bus. We hardly had a peep out of him for the rest of the trip. It was wonderful. And then that was the first time that I realized that although it's best for men and women to work together, sometimes you need a man to stand up and do what's right. And when that happens, it's like a key turns in a lock and evil turns to good. And then the other thing that happened was that Griller and his group of Hell's Angels friends, they took me under their wing, and I became the little sister of the gang, all really innocent. So that meant I got to hang with them. I got to see what they were really like. I got to spend time with them. And. And there was one time, I'll never forget this. We had to go through a lot of border stops because of the trip. And so you had to fill out a huge amount of paperwork. Well, if you remember, I told you that gorilla didn't read or write. And so his friend John would go along with him, and he'd always say, well, I've got extra ones, and I've got the pen. I might as well just fill it out for you. And he'd fill out all the forms. And I noticed he would have never known that gorilla was illiterate if you didn't know. It was an incredible honoring towards him. And I discovered in many ways that they really did care for each other. They were Family. And so there was one day I asked Griller about that tattoo in his arm, the one at the gravestone with the rip and the names of men. He said, oh, Geraldine, he said, they're my fallen comrades. They're my dead friends. If we don't look out for each other, who will? Well, at that moment, Hefe, back in my office, shifted a bit in his chair and was. A shadow came across the glass in the door of my office, and it was the correctional officer. And he opened the door and he said, chaplain, he said, you've got three more minutes with this man, and then he's got to get back to his cell in time for count. And I said, thank you, Officer. I thought, how am I going to get my point across, my last point in such a short amount of time? Time. Tick, tick, tick. I don't know if that was my heart or the clock. And then I had another idea. I said, jefe, I said, you and your fellow gang members, you've been teaching me such a lot since I've been here. About gangs, about street corners, about turf. Now, tell me if this is right or not. But from what I understand, you, you'd never let another gang come in and take your street corner. Is that right? Oh, he said, that's right, Chaplain. That's never going to happen. That's never going to happen. Well, I said, jefe, this midweek Bible service, this is our land. The inmate leaders of this church and mine, and by you and your friends doing what you're doing, you're drawing the attention of the correctional officers. And if you carry on doing it, they're going to take it away from us. Now, it would break my heart to take you and your fellow Crip leaders off the list. In other words, ban you from the service. But if that's what I've got to do, I'll do it, because no one is taking this land away from me. And we just stared at each other. Tick, tick, tick. A shadow came across the glass in the door of my office. And Jeffy said, it's all right, Chaplain. He said, I get it. There'll be no more trouble. I give you my word. And you know something? Heffy kept his word. There was no more gang trouble in the Protestant chapel from that moment till the time I left, almost two and a half years later. No more trouble on my turf. Thank you.