More than once he ran, sleeping at a friend's house because it was easier than staying. Outside those walls was a whole world running on the same desperation. He saw prostitutes working corners and grown men fighting in the street. He heard gunshots at night and, more than once, saw what they did — saw people get shot, and was shot at himself. Everyone was hustling something: a scam, a bag, a way to turn nothing into next week. He saw the worst of what poverty pulls out of good people — parents cursing out their kids, neighbors swinging on neighbors, the whole block wound tight and ready to snap.

 

It had its own uniform and its own sound: gold teeth, trap music rattling out of car windows, weed hanging so thick in the air it had soaked into the smell of the place itself. Even the football field wasn't clean of it — the stands filled with dope boys, poverty, and trauma sitting shoulder to shoulder in the bleachers. That was the sea he came up in. And it was on that same field, surrounded by everything he was trying to escape, that football became more than a game. It was a door — the one path that looked like it might lead somewhere else.

 

The change came while he was living with his grandmother, still on probation, when a man named David Estrada introduced him to Jesus Christ. It reordered everything. He became a young man on fire for the kind of change only Christ can bring — and the door that football had cracked open now swung wide. He earned a scholarship to Rice University, where he played Division I football and pursued a triple major.

 

At Rice he was discipled by Patrick Ngwolo, an attorney who led Bible study on campus and ministry in Houston's Cuney Homes housing projects. Under that mentorship, the two halves of his life — the streets he came from and the faith that had found him — stopped fighting each other and started fusing. He began rapping in hole-in-the-wall churches across Third Ward while carrying a full athletic and academic load, and it was there that he took the name Reconcile — after the God who restores all things to Himself.

 

Music became both an outlet and a witness — raw, honest, and unflinching about where he came from. That honesty defined his debut album SACRIFICE, which debuted at #5 on the iTunes Rap charts, portraying the inner-city struggle with clarity: its pain, its injustice, and the redemptive power of faith.

 

The Houston work deepened. In 2011 he joined gang-intervention units led by Dan Hicks, mentoring at-risk youth, and partnered with Patrick Ngwolo to launch a church plant in Third Ward. Out of that came "Church in the Bricks," bringing worship and healing directly into the Cuney Homes housing projects.

 

In 2012 he founded the nonprofit Live Frontline to serve gang-involved youth, quickly becoming an essential partner to the city's probation services and helping young people find a way off the streets. His music rose alongside the work: Sacrifice debuted at #2 on the iTunes Rap charts and #7 on the Gospel Billboard charts, weaving hardship and faith into hope for those still lost in it.

 

Reconcile's influence reaches well beyond music. After returning to Miami, he became Director of Juvenile Justice re-entry efforts for Miami and Broward County, building programs to reduce recidivism and give young people a genuine second chance. His advocacy moved into policy, where he helped draft House Bill #1513 and Senate Bill #1970 — legislation focused on police reform, de-escalation, and mental health support for officers. That work is grounded in an unlikely academic path: a triple major from Rice University and a Master's in Public Administration.

 

In 2020, following the death of his friend George Floyd, Reconcile became a leading voice for justice and systemic change. His collaborations with Miami Mayor Francis Suarez and State Attorney Katherine Fernandez Rundle on policing and juvenile-justice reform established him as a serious figure in the work. In 2022 he took the TEDx stage to confront the failures of the juvenile justice system and the cultural cost of glorified violence in music — continuing his commitment to be a voice for the voiceless.

 

Today he leads We The Revolt, a multi-city initiative advancing civic engagement and social transformation through a Christian lens. His life's work — music, ministry, and advocacy braided together — carries a single mission: to free minds, inspire hearts, and fight for those trapped in cycles of poverty and injustice. He walks the line between the pulpit and the streets, bringing hope to the people who need it most.