My Mistakes, Your Lessons

From a Life of Crime to a Mission of Change

Ricardo London’s My Mistakes, Your Lessons is a raw and powerful memoir that traces a life shaped by pain, violence, and redemption. Beginning in childhood and spiraling into decades of incarceration—including an astonishing 43-year prison sentence—this story is both a stark warning and a message of hope. Ricardo pulls no punches in recounting his descent into crime, fueled by early abuse and a volatile relationship with authority, eventually leading to gang life, addiction, and long-term imprisonment.

Yet this memoir is more than just a chronicle of crime and punishment. It’s a heartfelt call to action for parents, educators, and mentors—anyone in a position to guide young lives. Ricardo’s journey highlights the transformative power of love, accountability, and adult support. His story aims to prevent others from following his path, showing how even the most troubled past can be redirected toward purpose.

A deeply human story of regret, growth, and resilience, My Mistakes, Your Lessons offers more than reflection—it offers a roadmap out of darkness and toward healing.

Read the memoir that’s inspiring change—one life, one lesson at a time. Order your copy of My Mistakes, Your Lessons today.

Excerpt from the book

Criminality Is Born

Juvenile detentions, probationary camps, youth authorities (CYA), countless county jails and numerous prisons (DVI, San Quentin, Folsom). What dark hole in hell have I not visited? Time locked up, time wasted, time separated from family and loved ones.

Psychologically and physically abused and terrorized as a young boy, to seeking belonging and identity in the dark shadows of the criminal world. Lost, wandering and confused, the disease of criminality took hold and I became a gang member and a murderer.

It was a typical Saturday when the Correctional Officer came to my cell to inform me I had a visit. I was stripped out, shackled up, and escorted by two COs to the visiting area. What happened next was unusual but part of the CO’s disrespectful harassment I experienced daily. Standard practice was to be unshackled outside of the visiting room to shield visitors from the shock of seeing a loved one in chains. That day, the COs opened the door first so my twelve-year-old son could see me in chains.

At this point, I had never talked to my son about my being in prison or why I was there. Whether he knew the truth or not, it should not have been a forced situation due to the CO’s actions against me.

When I sat down on the other side of the glass and grabbed the phone to talk to my son, I looked into his terrified and distant eyes. The first thing Galen said was, “Why did you have all those chains on you Papa?” I was at a loss for words. Then, my soul talked to me and told me I needed to be completely honest and tell him everything about myself. I proceeded to tell my son how messed up his dad was.

I explained that I wasn’t a nice person. I broke the law and was involved in killing two people, so I was punished and sent to prison. Why the shackles? Because I was still being punished, but also because I belonged to a gang and was considered a very violent man. I apologized for lying to him.

Galen had a thousand and one questions, which kept tearing at my insides, but the one that really floored me was when my 12-year-old son asked, “When are you going to be good and get out of those chains?” Our half-hour visit passed too quickly, ending with me saying, “I love you son and miss you, and I promise I’ll try to be good.”

Back in my cell, the night passed as I tossed and turned with racing thoughts and feelings all related to that visit with my son. I dug deep into my soul. It wasn’t easy for me to admit that I’ve been thoroughly and completely wrong about life and needed to make some serious changes. I kept seeing my son’s face, a child disappointed and confused. I thought about how the pain and damage my imprisonment and criminal actions impacted Galen, and I began to cry in the silence of my prison cell. How did I get here?