Rescued Not Arrested now a Prime Selection at Amazon.com! Prayers for Book's Success in Supporting Bible Distribution to God's Lost Behind Bars

God continues to bless the distribution of" Rescued Not Arrested."  Our prayers continue that readers will make Rescued Not Arrested a leading seller on Amazon--and with each purchase, God will continue His blessings to the incarcerated as the Rescued Not Arrested ministry uses 60% of book sale proceeds to purchase and deliver Bibles to the incarcerated.

View the Amazon.com "Rescued Not Arrested" link at   Rescued Not Arrested at Amazon Prime  

First Author Interview--Hometown Newspaper.

Check out the first Author Interview. Freelance writer, Mark H. Stowers, was my partner in crime when I was first writing and producing dramas for children's ministry. A faithful man of God, Stowers has been an awesome Brother in Christ of mine for over 15 years. The Rescued Not Arrested ministry continues to be blessed with the God-given gifts of such faithful followers of our Lord Jesus Christ!

Read the article at:  Local author’s novel to fund prison ministry 


  

The Book, Rescued Not Arrested, is Now Available!

The Book Rescued Not Arrested is now available online at Lulu! 

Click Here to Purchase

Location Research Begins—God was about to use Book Research into Understanding His Word on a Deeper Level

I am big on location research. Even when I am not currently working on a writing project yet find myself in a town or location that has potential in a future story, I start snapping pictures, taking video, and scrawling notes.

My location research for Rescued not Arrested started here in Phoenix on a Sunday drive with Roger. Sitting in the passenger seat, camera pointed out the windshield, I videoed his route along the I-10 freeway to where he’d rolled his Mercedes into the median wall on that fateful morning, September 25, 1997. Approaching the curve where he’d lost control of the vehicle, I zoomed in on the sign that read 45 mph.

“I must’ve hit this curve doing over a-hundred miles per hour,” he told me.

Close. Police forensics clocked him at 88 mph, according to the report. Traffic zooming by, I videoed the black mark on the median wall across the four lanes of highway, still there after more than twelve years. We then drove over to the Sixteenth Street Bridge, a mile-long trek to where Roger had limped after his failed suicide attempt when he couldn’t find the gun that had been spewed from the car—along with his two female passengers, bloody and lying in the street. Knowing that Roger had covered that distance in a mental fog and on a broken leg, I was amazed human spirit’s determination—even when that determination is to end one’s own life. At the bridge, Roger did a re-enactment of his partial leap over the rail, the attempted jump to his death before the police dog caught his pant leg and dragged him back to street side.

Next on the agenda was a trip to L.A. where I followed Roger down memory lane, tracing key moments of his youth. He showed me the tiny apartment complex where he grew up just outside Little Armenia. He showed me the driveway where he’d watched a friend take his last breath—a toke on a crack pipe laced with a bad batch of dope. The kid had taken the first draw on the pipe laced with something lethal. It was the first hit on a shared pipe—one that Roger usually took. The heart that ceased beating night should have been Roger’s.

We climbed the sixteen-foot high chain link fence of his old high school and walked the grounds. He showed me all the nooks and crannies of good ol’ John Marshall High: the dirt-clogged field where he practiced football; the graffiti scarred tables of the lunch area; the staircase where the lethal street gang, Armenian Power (AP) claimed a small area of turf. Climbing back over the fence and leaving school grounds, he showed me the street corner where he’d TKO’ed a member of the AP, a pivotal moment that started a revenge spree—leading to his eventual flight to Phoenix.

We lunched at his favorite restaurant as teen, a greasy Greek dive at corner of Santa Monica and Hollywood Boulevard. I had the chicken kebab. Delicious. Watching my carbs, I skipped the rice. We then drove up Hollywood Boulevard while I filmed his approach to the gas station where the revenge fest with the AP culminated in a shootout. In an insane salvo of gunplay, a bullet that took the life of a friend—a bullet meant for him.

The rest of the locations I uncovered on my own. Digging through the paper trail of Roger’s criminal past, I traveled to locations noted in the reams of arrest and police reports that recorded the State of Arizona’s never-ending beefs with this thug Armenian. One of the thickest reports I read detailed the shootout between two rival gangs at the business of Roger’s parents—Choo Choo’s Deli. The shooting resulted in the death of a sixteen-year-old boy. Roger would open the place on the weekends as an after-hours “speakeasy” for his teen friends. The parties attracted gangs donning all colors. It was just a matter of time before two rival turfs collided at the kegs. The police report was as thick as a phone book. Using the police narrative, I sketched on graph paper the exact locations of the parked cars and shooters hiding behind them as the parking lot turned into a shooting gallery. I videoed in great detail for my own narrative. I even filmed Roger’s path to the local liquor store where he would buy his kegs. Taking video footage of the small strip-long party store caught the suspicion of the current owner. He came storming out and said,

“Hey, what you do taking the filming of my place, huh?”

What I do? I do get out of here—that’s what I do! I am sure he took my license plate number down as I retreated from the parking lot.

Having never been incarcerated, I became a badged volunteer with the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office (MCSO) in order to get into the jails so I could gain crucial perspective of life behind bars. I also wanted to get a first-hand view of Roger’s ministry. I shadowed Roger on my first visit on March 11, 2009. I still have all of my original MCSO Visitation Logs. I was only planning on visiting the jails a few times, but God had other plans.

It wasn’t until my second visit, March 24, to visit an inmate named Jason, when Roger said, “Okay, I am assigning you to Jason. Be sure you see him once a week.”

What! I thought. No, no, no. I didn’t sign up for this. Me? Mentoring guys behind bars? Like, with a Bible? No, no. See, I do children’s ministry. My expertise is creating goofball characters like Professor Eugene J. Nerdwhiler and his sidekick Waldo Irving Crabtree. Mentoring the incarcerated is serious business. I’m not equipped to do this!

But the ministry was young, and Roger made me aware of the dozens of mentoring requests he was getting per week. There were too many of God’s lost that need to be reached. He said he couldn’t do it on his own, and he was actively recruiting a team.

I soon found myself drafted into God’s mighty army—re-stationed from the stage to behind cinderblock walls and bolted chains.

It wasn’t until my third or fourth visit to Jason before God gave me my life-changing revelation—a revelation that was going to be the cornerstone of my survival and trust in Him for unseen events rapidly coming my way. God directed me to Hebrews 5:12-14: “In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God’s word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.”

For over fifteen year in Children's Ministry I was "drinking the milk" rather than "eating the solid meat" and understanding the depth of God's Word. That day God started me on a journey I called “Leading a Hebrews 5:12 Life”. Mentoring the incarcerated meant more than just reaching the lost behind bars. God had launched me on a journey to understand Him and His Word at a deeper level than I had ever experienced before.

I soon learned that this was not just God’s time of teaching. It was God’s time of preparation—preparing me for events ahead that were about to turn my world upside down.

Discovering the Process of Discovery…

After returning from the trip to the Caribbean, the work began. Every writing project entails detailed research. Even in fiction, where poetic license gives you fudge room, I am a stickler for truth and reality where hard facts are concerned.

I had the basics for Roger Munchian’s story: He was a drug lord, mid-level management in a drug cartel moving dope all over the country. Wow. Good stuff for the mystery/suspense writer in me. Driving drunk in the early morning hours of September 25, 1997, he hit a 45 mph curve at 88 mph. After the wreck and an unsuccessful attempt at suicide, he found himself strapped to the ‘crazy chair’ in the Madison Avenue jail, booked on two counts of Vehicular Homicide. Wow. I could really write some major suspense with that!

From his jail cell, he called out to God. The next morning, he learned that is his charges had been reduced to Assault. Sometime after he’d been booked on murder, signs of life had been found in his two victims.

Goosebumps.

Roger Munchian’s walk with God had begun, and he got out of the drug business.

After hours of personal interviews with Roger, and a location trip to California where I videoed reams of footage of the neighborhood where his life of crime had begun, I still needed to know more. Roger’s past had caught up to him when the Feds infiltrated the drug cartel shortly after he had broken free from his life of crime. According to Roger, Feds had rounded up at least 18 coconspirators. Researching the case through Superior Court documents, I confirmed that of the 18, there were 13 indictments. Roger had been fingered by plea bargaining cartel members, and he was arrested and charged with numerous counts of conspiracy and drug trafficking despite the fact that his life as a drug dealer was long behind him.

Needing to know more about the case, I took my first trip to Superior Court Records down in the bowels of the Courthouse. Case number in hand, I followed suit with others in line and filled out the request sheet using the little golf pencil provided at the information table. Handing my sheet to the clerk, she typed some information into her computer. Staring at the screen, she said to me,

“What documents do you want on this case?”

Huh? Documents? I’m doing research here, lady. I need them ALL. I said, “The whole case, please.”

She pulled her eyes from the screen and looked at me as though my head had just done a 360 and was now floating above my shoulders.

“Sir? All of them?”

“Yes please.”

With a puzzled look and a sigh, she said, “Ok. Have a seat. Someone will bring them right out.”

I sat down on the hard-wood chair of a large round table littered with more of those tiny golf pencils and discarded information sheets. Thirty minutes later I was puzzled as to why others who’d been in line behind me were reading their documents and case books but my request had not yet been processed. Soon I saw a clerk step from the records room, rolling two library carts stacked with case folders as thick as telephone books.

“Here you go, sir. Good luck.”

Uh…one, two, three, four…twenty nine volumes!

What? Me worry?

I stared at the mountain of legalese in front of me. Twenty-nine volumes, thick with cover-to-cover lawyer speak. Files loaded with words like petition, motions, and discovery.

Perhaps, yes, me should worry. Perhaps I had bit off a little more than I could chew. The discovery process alone was several volumes worth.

I was soon to find out that this was only the beginning of my own discovery process. I was about to learn that God had far more in mind for me in the writing of this book. I was about to discover the volumes that He had yet to teach me about His unfailing love, myself—and my trust in Him

How the Enemy Tried to Make My Decision to Write Roger Munchian’s Powerful Testimony into Turning Me into the Modern-Day What, Me Worry? Kid

I remember my youthful days of childlike faith and big dreams. With aspirations of becoming the next Ernest Hemingway, I was a first-degree nerd, spending the time of my free-wheeling you’ful days sitting behind a typewriter rather than out swinging from trees and terrorizing school girl friends with snakes, bugs and other crawly things.

My first typewriter was “donated” to me by my step-father, who found it in some storage closet in the office of his auto parts store, probably hidden behind a case of Pennzoil and un-sold Christmas tree air fresheners. It was a large, clunky job as heavy as a Volkswagen with manual type that took the strength of Hercules to push the keys. And it only typed in caps (yes, this thing has NO lowercase letters). I remember saving money earned bussing tables to buy my very first typewriter, an Olivetti Selectric. It was the high-tech kind with the Correct-O-Tape ribbon and push-button carriage return…$499.99 at Sears. Nowadays you can buy a tablet for that kind of money, one that types telepathically, does your spelling for you, slices, dices, and makes Julianne salads.

I’m not sure what most people thought about my prospects as an aspiring writer, what, with being a protégé of that great literary genius Alfred E. Nueman of Mad Magazine. For those not acquainted with A.E Nueman, he’s the freckle-faced “What, Me Worry?” Kid and the “cover girl” of Mad Magazine. He was also the 1970’s kid-popularity equivalent of Justin Bieber. But eventually I discovered classic authors of young adult fiction. S.E. Hinton became my favorite author, and the Outsiders was the great inspiration for me to start writing gang and crime-related books. I did not realize at the time that this would be the foundation for my ministry 33 years later.

I will never forget the day when I first heard Roger Munchian’s testimony. I was sitting in the congregation at my church, Christ’s Church of the Valley (CCV), and he was on stage, Pastor Don Wilson interviewing him about his past life of drugs, violence, and death. He was so knew to the scene at that time that Dr. Wilson mispronounced his name, “Roger Moonshon”. Wilson asked him, “How in the world did you begin to change? What was it that got your attention?”


Munchian responded: “I never thought that I could shake off my bad habits. But you know, God is good. As stubborn as I was, stuck on self, He got ahold of me through a car accident. I was driving drunk, and I was told that I killed two ladies that were in my vehicle. I was charged with vehicle homicide…two counts. I was being booked at Madison Street Jail and strapped in the ‘psycho chair’. I struggled all night, fighting the situation, and I saw my life basically being taken out of my hands in a moment’s time. I was brought up in an Orthodox religion, and the only god I knew was three letters: G.O.D. But I turned to Him and I asked Him if you are real—I need your help. I had reached my end. My back was against the wall…”

But it was the following words gave sent chills throughout the auditorium: “Immediately the next day, I get a reduction in sentence to two-count’s aggravated assault with a deadly weapon because they found life in the ladies, even though they were in comas. So that to me was an answer to prayer. I knew that something had happened—that God had done a miracle in my life.”

I never anticipated that our paths would cross. However, several months later I joined a neighborhood group through CCV and every week there was this short Armenian man who shared his powerful testimony about his former lifestyle as a drug lord. One evening he shared his vision that his life-story would one day become a book or movie, I realized who he was. Being an un-published writer, it took tremendous courage for me to approach him. I figured with such a powerful testimony, certainly he had professional writers lined up to write his story. But he informed me that one writer had made an attempt at it, but abandoned the project. He gave me a copy of the partially-written manuscript and asked me to review it and let him know if I was interested.

Economically we were reaching the financial meltdown of 2008, my business as an Executive Recruiter was failing, we were about to lose our home, and I knew my marriage was heading for hard times. “What, Me Worry?”

Yes, Me very worried. Me very worried.

Despite the economic mess facing me, I wasn’t looking for a financial windfall or another means of income. I was simply passionate about the gift God had given me as a writer, and I wanted to give it all back to Him.

I took the thin manuscript with me on vacation to the Caribbean. Pressure in my business and home was reaching maximum load, and I needed a retreat to sit back and absorb the project. Although the manuscript was not my style of writing, it gave me details of Roger’s story that I did not have from listening to him talk in group and on stage. Sitting in the tranquility of the lapping waves and surrounded by white beach sand, a sudden peace came over me. Suddenly the worries of my collapsing business, my struggling marriage, and our financial crisis were worlds away. God gave me a vision not only for writing Roger’s book—but for surrendering the writing talents back to Him.

When I returned from vacation, I immediately started the project.

What, Me Worry?

Of course not. God had given me a vision and a mission—and I was determined to conquer it.

Little did I know that the enemy also had plans. The enemy did not want for this powerful testimony of God’s grace and hope for the lost to be told. I soon found out that the enemy wanted me to worry…yes, me worry…and he was about to give me plenty to worry about.

The Book Is Coming Soon...!

We are very excited to announce the book Rescued Not Arrested is now at the publisher and will be released soon!