The Dale Ray Smith Story

My Story…

Well here I am, alive, sober and thankful. It might not sound like much to you and perhaps many people live this way, but my journey to get to this place in my life is not typical and I am blessed to be alive to share it.

My Dad was murdered when I was three years old. I never knew him, but from what relatives told me he was a playboy and a gambler. Soon after his death my pregnant mother, brother and I moved from Texas to San Francisco to start a new life.  San Francisco is where my mother met my stepfather, German Woods, and they would have four children together. My stepfather was an abusive drunk who beat my mother constantly. I hated the man.  I would often fantasize about killing the man who was so abusive to my mother.  

My siblings and I could not escape the demons of our upbringing.  My mother, father and stepfather left a legacy of substance abuse and my siblings and I followed in their detrimental footsteps. I have buried three of my siblings and my daughter to drug and alcohol addiction.  Even though I have been completely clean and sober for 20 years, my family legacy of crack and alcohol addiction has now passed on to my own children.  

In order to escape the misery of my home life, I joined my first of many gangs at the age of 14. We were a mix of Blacks, Filipinos and Mexicans. On the streets you are never too young to die and the street is where I lay after being stabbed trying to help my “brother.”  I lost copious amounts of blood and was told I was lucky to be alive. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last time I would hear that. 

I left San Francisco for Hawaii at the age of 18.  I started my own carpet cleaning business and soon my business became a huge success. As the business expanded, a vision for a family business developed.  I sent airline tickets to my five brothers to join me in my carpet cleaning business.  We were cleaning carpets for the top hotel chains and famous movie stars.  I was close to being a millionaire!  Soon a major hotel claimed guests were having items stolen from their rooms. I couldn’t believe my brothers would do this! Before I had a chance to make things right, the manager spread the word all over the island that our company was a fraud.  In a blink of an eye, I  went from prosperity to poverty shrouded in self-pity and despair.  I moved back to San Francisco only to find that my depression and stinging regret led to a cycle of drug abuse, criminal behavior and violence that I couldn’t shake for twenty years.

I met a woman when I returned to San Francisco and we had a baby girl named Mary Ann. However, Mary Ann’s mother and I lived in low-income housing and we were thick into drug abuse and alcohol. There I was charged with burglary and was sent to San Bruno jail for nine-months. Mary Ann’s mother was unfit to handle her and sadly Mary Ann was put into foster care. She would see a number of different foster care homes over her young life. The sins of her father haunted her. She became an alcoholic and drug addict and followed the same pattern of being in and out of jail just as I had. At one point Mary Ann lived in the same gutter that I once called home. My attempts to save her from drugs and alcohol were futile and she died in my arms of an overdose.  It was the most difficult moment of my life. 

In the midst of my drug and alcohol addiction, I obtained a .25 caliber gun and carried it around daily. One night I was drunk and walking around a Greyhound bus station. A cop noticed my weapon and I panicked and began to run. He caught me and a fierce struggle ensued.  My intense emotions fueled by adrenaline and drugs ripped through me. In a moment of total insanity, I punched the bigger officer in the jaw and he dropped. I grabbed the pistol and aimed it at him. Fear rushed over his face. “Click”, “Click”, “Click” the gun jammed. As rage rushed through my veins and a primitive scream exited my lungs echoing off the alley walls, I started beating the officer with the gun. Soon other officers rushed to the scene to aid their fellow officer. As a result, I spent five months in San Francisco General Hospital under constant police watch.

They say that everyone hits bottom at some point. It takes longer for some to get there than others and some hit bottom harder than others. Lying in the hospital bed with a busted rib cage, battered and bruised knowing I had serious jail time ahead of me I thought was rock bottom, however, this was only the beginning. Unfortunately, I was a long way from the hell of rock bottom. 

As soon as I recovered, I received a five-year prison sentence for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon on a peace officer and possession of an illegal firearm.  During my time in jail I was a cook and served dinner to some of the most famous prisoners in history including Sirhan-Sirhan and Charles Manson.

I was released from jail and felt like I needed a fresh start so I moved to Texas. Things were looking great for a while. I started going to church and got a good job while staying at my uncle’s house. I met a lady within the first two months and we got married.  We would have five children together.

On the outside we were living the American Dream, but even with my second chance handed to me on a silver platter the sinister serpent cocaine came calling my name. I was getting high almost daily. During a crack binge, I walked into my neighbor’s house and stole a TV.  I was arrested and now facing a 40-year sentence. 

As I waited for charges to be filed, I met Sheriff Michele Oquest, a woman of strong character. The sheriff liked the way I interacted with other prisoners and how I would try to inspire the younger ones to do better. She started a new program to bring troubled youth into jail to see it firsthand. I would speak to the youth and had a great impact on them. Soon the program expanded to schools. The program made a tremendous impact on their lives and when the judge saw this he dropped the burglary charge and I was a free man again.

The source of most problems is within an individual. The environment can make matters worse or help matters for a while, but it's what's inside of us that determines our success. Running to a new environment with the same attitude and habits brings the same results somewhere else.

Yet, I tried another fresh start moving with my wife and children to St. Petersburg, Florida. We lived in a low-income housing development and crack cocaine was everywhere. The temptation was too much for me and we moved to Los Angeles. I had a new address but my drug addiction followed me from Florida to Los Angeles.  I was on the street looking for money to try to feed my addiction.  My addiction was out of control. I would drive around high with my kids in the car. Sometimes I would leave the kids in the car because I forgot about them. Drugs were the only things that mattered.

My addiction led me to steal from a drug dealer. He shot me in the chest. I pretended to be dead as blood rushed out of me. I was able to crawl on my knees and scream as loud as I could, “Help Me!” Darkness, hopelessness and shame swept over me as I lie on the rough asphalt. I wondered how the embarrassment of the headline, “Another Crackhead Gets Shot,” would impact my wife and children.

 When I awoke in the hospital, I thought I was already dead.  The doctors explained all the life saving measures they did to keep me alive. One intern said to me, “You are lucky to be alive.”

Sometimes we have to hit rock bottom before coming up again. My family moved with me to Las Vegas. We had a beautiful home but it was next to drug dealers.  I had a job and things were good for a while. One night I stole food and I was fired on the spot. I began to plunge towards the final pitch-black bottom depths of hell I had created for myself and my family. I would go on crack binges and stay out for days.  My wife and kids had enough and left me for good. I was devastated.

I moved back in with my mother in San Francisco. However, my pattern of drug addiction would continue and I would rob and steal to feed it. On a night that started like so many others, I was high on crack and stole a TV. The police came, but to evade them I jumped out of a four-story window shattering my ankle and my life was spared by the thinnest of margins. 

Did I learn my lesson? No, I went straight back to Sixth Street to get high on crack. My mother had enough of my foolishness and kicked me out of the house. She gave me money for a bus ticket. I spent it on crack.

Many people think that punishment is the main motivator for people to change, but being placed in jail over and over did not change me. Almost dying on several occasions did not change me. It took hitting rock bottom and making the decisions to do things differently changed me. In reality, it is to be positively inspired by others that change you.

There were several people, including wonderful police officers, who would encourage me to realize that there is something else out there other than crack cocaine. Officer Matt Goodin and his partner, Officer Andy Mehan, would encourage me and talk to me when they were on their beat and I was literally sleeping in the gutter. 

For seven years Officer Matt Goodin and Officer Andy Mehan would visit me in the drug-infested alley that I called home. They tried to help me with words of encouragement, clothing, blankets, food and shoes. They invested their time and believed in me to be better.

One bitter cold night in San Francisco, Officer Matt and Officer Andy saw me passed out in the alley with no socks and no shoes. Somebody had stolen my socks and shoes from me as I lay passed out on the frigid ground. Officer Matt saw this and drove back to the police station and brought me a pair of warm socks and his police issued boots to have. It was the boots Matt gave me that really showed me in word and deed that he cared and loved me. I began to cry and said how can this person care for a drug addict and bum like me? He even told me, “If you don’t stop what you are doing you are going to die like the rest of them. Get up man and when you do I’ll help you even more.” Officer Matt giving me his police boots was the final push I needed to get clean and sober and change my life around.

I had finally arrived at rock bottom. Eventually I was tired of being tired economically, socially, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.  I was finally ready to listen.  The first step was to build a positive support system. I started going to support meetings at Alcohol Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous because I knew I needed them if I was to survive any longer. There were several wonderful people including police officers, my attorney, Brian Peterson, and my parole officer, Randy Krings, who would encourage me to realize there is something out there other than crack cocaine.

I used the words that Officer Matt shared with me every time I saw him, “If you can look up, then you can get up.” These words became my mantra and affirmation for making the jump from addiction to recovery.

Today, I have been clean and sober for 20 years and I am married to the love of my life, my childhood sweetheart, Cheryl. Officer Matt and officer Andy even attended our wedding at the San Francisco courthouse in 2006.  

Tragically, Officer Matt Goodin took his own life in October 2010. I attribute much of my success to Officer Matt and his love and encouragement along the way.  We forget that each life leaves a ripple effect in all the other lives around it.  So much so that I, that same homeless, crack addict, living in the gutter, is now housing and mentoring Officer Matt’s son, Ryan.  I am a chaplain, life coach, mentor and addiction and recovery minister running a non-profit for at risk youth. My bond with Matt has come full circle as I now carry on his legacy in guiding and teaching his very own son, Ryan, who he is not here to guide himself. 

The power of positive, caring people and unselfish love in our life is an undeniable necessity to survive. I know that I would not be sitting here writing these words if it were not for those who helped and encouraged me along the way. The image of the strong independent man standing alone as a rock without need of anyone is a lie. The strongest men are the ones who build teams. Stronger men build teams of teams and work to help and inspire others.

Each of us has a story to tell that can help others in similar situations. We realize that it is not about us; rather, it is about leaving a legacy of truth and wisdom for the next generation.

This is my story. I am lucky to be alive.

Adapted from my book To Hell and Back Lessons of Hope for Those Overcoming Tough Circumstances by Lori Michele David and Dale Ray Smith.  Copyright 2018