August 18th, 1992 was a miserably humid day, which made leaving Maryland –for what I was certain would be the rest of my life– an easy task. So I took my seat on an American Airlines flight bound for Louisville International Airport and, after takeoff, watched Maryland shrink away into oblivion.

I was 19-year old, socially inept, black-sheep-of-the-family, misguided, angry, reckless, friendless , know-it-all running to get as far from everything I’d known as quick as possible. Naturally I joined the Army.

Five thousand five hundred seventy seven days later (15 years, 3 months, and 7 days), I returned. And despite being a totally new person, I found myself immediately answering for old crimes, reconciling old misperceptions, and avoiding the old pitfalls.

This is my mostly true story.