Jerome Dixon on Finding Freedom
“The greatest prison is the prison of self.”
Dear Soul Strivers,
This week on the Soul Boom podcast, we’re honored to share a powerful conversation between Rainn and a remarkable guest, Jerome Dixon. As a teenager, Jerome was coerced into signing a false confession, leading to a conviction that cost him more than two decades of his life. Yet, despite this profound injustice, Jerome never gave in to despair—even in the face of unimaginable hardship behind bars.
While Jerome is careful not to implicate all police or prosecutors, he is deeply aware of the ways race has shaped experiences like his—and statistics bear this out. Racial disparities continue to pervade the U.S. criminal justice system, impacting Black individuals disproportionately. Across sentencing, wrongful convictions, police stops, searches, and coerced confessions, Black Americans are affected at higher rates than white individuals. For instance, Black men receive sentences that are, on average, 19.1% longer than white men for the same offenses. And when it comes to wrongful convictions, innocent Black individuals are about 7.5 times more likely to be convicted of murder than their white counterparts.
At Soul Boom, we’re dedicated to exploring both the collective journey and the journey of the individual. While it’s important to understand the statistics that illuminate the ongoing reality of institutional racism, let’s also be fully present with Jerome’s personal story. His most profound struggle wasn’t just for physical freedom, but for internal peace. In this essay for the Soul Boom Dispatch, Jerome’s reflections offer us a moving reminder of where true freedom lies.
Jerome’s perspective reminded us of the words of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, one of the seminal figures of the Baha’i Faith, who himself endured decades of wrongful, harsh imprisonment. Yet ‘Abdu’l-Baha always felt free. “Freedom is not a matter of place, but of condition,” he said. That’s why, as he also wrote, “The greatest prison is the prison of self.”
So here’s to freedom, both in the world and in our hearts,
The Soul Boom Team
There was this guy on the yard
By Jerome Dixon
There was this guy on the yard who said “you is a stupid mutha fucka for confessing to a crime you didn’t do, now your whole life is fucked off! Welcome to our party.”
Those words put me into my own prison. More than the cell I was physically in, that statement, and the way I carried it, was my prison. That was my crime - confessing to something I didn't do. And I had to figure out how to get out of this prison. Where was my redemption? My rehabilitation, because I confessed to something I didn't do.
To give you some background, my name is Jerome Dixon. When I was 17 years old I was kidnapped by the police and put in a small room. I use the word kidnapped because that is what I truly believe happened. They told me that I had to admit that I was involved in a murder robbery and after 24 hours of mental torture, I caved in. I said what they wanted me to say so that I could finally make my first call and I could go home. If you are thinking that my first call should have been in the first hour, you’re right. But the cops in the Oakland, CA Police Department in the 90s did not think so.
I never went home that day. I went home 21-and-a-half years later.
Now that you’re caught up, let me go back to my story:
I was in prison, the California Youth Authority to start with, and then I was transferred to other adult prison institutions. But the real prison was the one in my mind. Why did I do it? How do I face myself? Or more importantly, how can I distract myself? I am in a tiny cell and everywhere I look, I see my reflection. There was no escaping it.
I was forced to deal with my prison reality. I was forced to confront this 17-year-old child. I was forced to relive those traumatic 24 hours which led to me signing an incriminating statement. I was forced to grow into a man at 17 years of age.
To face all of this, I walked into my cell with my inner 17-year-old child to have a conversation. I asked that child, “Why did you do it?” He said, “I was scared and I didn’t know what else to do and I wanted to go home. The only way I saw myself coming out of that police interrogation room, was telling them what they wanted to hear, and that's why I did it.” That was hard to hear. And it was also hard to acknowledge. Why? Because I had to admit that I had a part to play in this nightmare.
I then embraced him. We cried together. How does one embrace their 17-year-old self, you ask? By looking in the mirror and talking to him. I said, “I forgive you.” I said, “I’ll be your man now, your protector, and we're going to get through this and we are going to walk our way into freedom together.” I later found out from my wife that she paid thousands of dollars to learn how to communicate with her 17-year-old self. I didn't have that luxury. But I had uninterrupted time to myself to figure it out.
After this conversation with myself, I had been freed from my own prison. All that was left was showing the parole board who I had become - so that they could understand how a 17-year-old child was put in an adult situation, forced to confess to a crime he did not do, and is now a 38-year-old man, fighting for his freedom. With my personal freedom in hand, I was able to do this. “We choose to believe you,” the parole board stated in my final hearing. They let me go home because they believed that I did not belong in prison, and they were right.
You don’t have to be incarcerated to be in prison. There are many people walking in the free world who have not had those hard conversations with their younger selves. They are physically free, but mentally locked up. I hope that my story encourages everyone to look into that mirror and free themselves from whatever is holding them back. It’s painful, but trust me, the freedom is indescribable - and I want that for you.
Jerome Dixon is a dedicated advocate, public speaker, and the vice-chairman of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition, a nonprofit organization committed to ending cycles of incarceration and promoting justice reform. Through his experiences of resilience, self-reflection, and personal transformation, Jerome has emerged as a powerful voice for change. If you’re in the U.S. and want to support the change Jerome is championing on a national level, consider backing the Protecting Miranda Rights for Kids Act. Contact your Representative or Senator to support this bill, which would require police to notify and contact a parent or guardian if a minor is detained or arrested. You can also support the work of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition at antirecidivism.org, and if you’d like to assist Jerome in his effort to achieve full exoneration, you can Write to Governor Gavin Newsom's office at pardons@gov.ca.gov in support of a pardon for Jerome. Email and be sure to put Jerome Dixon's name in the subject line.
Thank you for this beautiful piece. What a powerful story.