Jerry Cox is dedicated to helping others. Specifically, he aims to provide a path toward success for individuals reentering the workforce after incarceration, as he knows firsthand how challenging the process can be. To achieve this, he founded a nonprofit organization called JLC Second Chance Trucking.
“You know, coming from like myself, I was wrongfully convicted back in 2008, and coming out of incarceration after my case was overturned—thank God—I’d already had experience in the trucking industry. But it was still hard for me to find a job. Then a big cattle outfit out in Amarillo gave me a chance. So I know from both sides of the fence how hard it is and how people put the stigmatization on you, because if you’re this, this, this and this, then you’ve got to be this kind of a person. And that’s not true. The most hardworking people and the people that really want a second chance in life—you cannot find a better employee. You can’t. Because they already know what it’s like being at the bottom. They don’t want to go back to the bottom. They want to be able to build their family, take care of their family, and, like for me, I want to leave a legacy for my children and my grandchildren.”
He recently changed his organization’s name to JLC Second Chance Opportunities to better reflect what he can offer to people.
“So by rebranding and renaming myself, that opened more doors for me to be able to help people that want to get into nursing, people want to get into electronics, diesel mechanics, different things. I’m not just specifically stuck with trucking, because when you have that, you know, name, that’s all that people call you about—is trucking. And there are more opportunities. And especially now that I’m trying to work with—or I’m not trying to work, I’m actually starting to work with—people that are coming out of the rehabilitation centers and rehab centers.”
The process of starting a nonprofit has been arduous, but with help from mentors, Cox is learning to navigate it. He knows that building something meaningful takes time and says he’s committed to seeing it through. He founded the nonprofit in part to support his son, who is serving a 20-year sentence for aggravated assault.
“I wanted to have something for my son when he got out of prison. I didn’t want him coming out and going through what I’d went through when I got out. I wanted to have something in place for him, so when he walked out of those gates, he could come home and say, ‘Okay, hey, Dad, I’m here. Let’s go from here.’”
Cox is 63 years old, and time doesn’t stop. He will be older when his son is released. He wants JLC Second Chance Opportunities to be well established by that point. And he’s on his way. Nearly two years after opening his office in Siloam Springs, Cox has already sent someone down the path toward a career.
Ricky Hernandez was the first person the nonprofit supported through the reintegration process.
“With Ricky, I tell you something—and I’m so proud of that kid. I call him a kid. He’s a man. But when he came into my office, he had been turned down to go to the trucking company up here in Tiny Town. They—for some, you know, his background—they wouldn’t take him. And so I reached out to Cops.”
Cops CDL Academy is a trucking school in Alma. Cox and the owners work together to get his people certified and ready to start their careers. The school is run by former law enforcement officers and former truck drivers, so Cox says he feels that they are the best people to influence formerly incarcerated individuals as they learn the skills necessary for their trade.
Hernandez was the first to benefit from this unique opportunity.
“And they said, ‘Hey, if we can get him down here.’ And just so happened, he has a brother that lives right there in Van Buren. So we got him down there. And once he got his grant—and he had made a promise to me—he said, ‘If I get this chance, I won’t disappoint you.’ And I can say Ricky has been a man of his word. It took him a little bit because he was one that had kind of a learning disability, and they worked with him. And he got through the school. And August will be a year that he has been at Coca-Cola.”
While he’s committed to the organization for his son and clients, Cox’s dedication to JLC’s mission stems from those who served as role models throughout his life. He says his grandfather provided the mold for who he wanted to grow into.
“My grandfather, he was a stern man. He was a hard man, and he was a no-nonsense man. And when he said something, he meant it. And his word was his bond. And he would always say, ‘Your word is your bond, and that’s what you live by. If you tell a man or a woman you’re going to do something, you move heaven and earth to do what you said you were going to do.’”
Cox has faced hardship since childhood.
“My biological mother was not a nice person. There was two of us—me and my biological brother. He’s two years older than I am, and the difference between us is night and day. We did not have the same father. I never knew who my biological father was. I found out later on, after my mother passed away—and this was actually after her funeral—the reason that she treated me so bad, and she—I don’t want to use the word hate, but just, you know, she just abused me at every chance she had. It was that I reminded her of my father. Because one of my relatives had told me she didn’t know what his name was, but she knew he was a truck driver, which is where I got the love of trucking, I guess, and that I looked like my father. And so every time she looked at me—for whatever reason they split—he left. She saw him in me, and she took out her hatred for my father. She took it out on me.”
He was eventually able to exit his living situation and found himself welcomed into a new home.
“I gained an, you know, a mother that taught me how to love. And it took a while because I was a broken child. I mean, when I tell you I was broken, I had anxiety issues. I had the worst things you can think of that a child had at that point—I had them. The only trouble I knew how to get into was bad trouble, because even when I did nothing wrong, I got beat for it. And it took, you know, Mom some years. But when I finally realized that these people wasn’t going to throw me away—and if she wasn’t going to give up on me—and my father, which is Mom’s husband, man, you couldn’t—I couldn’t have asked for a better father. Couldn’t have asked for a better father.”
Through the support of his adopted family, Cox poured himself into athletics but still says he struggled with a remarkable challenge he needed to overcome. Everything came to a point when he left high school before his senior year.
“I was completely illiterate. I could not read, could not write, could not count. I was completely illiterate. But they passed me through all of my classes because having me on that football field, having me on that baseball field, having me on that basketball court, was more important than me getting an education. And, you know, at that time I didn’t realize that I needed to learn these things. I joined the Army out of more of a rebellion against my biological mother. And she actually signed the affidavit for me to go into service when I was 17 years old. And that is where I actually learned how to read, write and count. I had to learn, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have passed. You know, basic training was easy. But I was a radar technician. And if you didn’t have those skills, you couldn’t sit there and read a radar. You couldn’t read. You know. And I was blessed to have a sergeant that understood. And he worked with me on his off time. And he, you know, he started with, you know, the basic things. And he got me to a point where I could get through it. And then—and I’ll never forget his name—his name is Sergeant York. And we ended up in Korea together. I went to Fort Hood because I went to radar school in Fort Sill, Oklahoma. And then my first duty station was Fort Hood, Texas. And then in 1981, I was sent overseas to Korea—my first overseas duty station.”
In Korea, Cox’s life changed again.
“That is where I suffer from my extreme anxiety and PTSD, which PTSD is 70% of my 100% disability through the VA. Seventy percent comes from that. And it comes from that because on June 5, 1981, just outside of Camp Casey, north of Seoul, Korea, on the firing range was where they had the firing range massacre—where the soldiers killed those people on the firing range. I was on that range that day, and I was two positions down from the last person that got killed. I was 19 years old. I’d never seen anybody die before. Now, you know what my background is, coming up as a child, with all that trauma. I get into service, I go overseas, and this happens. And I’m going to tell you now—and I tell my son, and I tell my grandkids—get that mess out of your head about you want to be a gangster and you want to kill somebody. Because you never want to take nobody’s life. Because after somebody’s life is over, there’s no coming back. And then to see something like that—it messes you up. And it messed me up bad. It messed me up real bad. Which is, I think, one of the reasons when I finally got out of the service, you know, I stuck to truck driving, because it’s hard for me to be around people.”
Since then, Cox encountered more obstacles but celebrated many successes as well. The most recent: JLC Second Chance Opportunities.
“With all the years that I’ve had experience in driving and dealing with a lot of things, when people come to me and ask me questions, I will tell them the truth. And sometimes the truth is a hard thing people don’t want to hear. I’m dealing with that at home now this morning, actually. But it’s the only way I know how to be.
“When I met Scott McClain and his program, Pathway to Freedom, I was his guest at his last fundraiser. And he had me be his guest because he wanted me to meet the governor. That’s how I met Gov. Sanders and actually met her father. And we were talking—Mike and I were talking—and I was explaining to him how difficult it is as a nonprofit and being, you know, a new nonprofit and trying to get people to want to support you. And he gave me the best advice that I could have ever gotten in this world.
“And he said, ‘Well, Jerry, this is what you need to do. You need to build your foundation, and then build your name and your reputation, and then you start building the building around your foundation.’
“I have built a great foundation. I am starting to build the building. And as Mike said to me, you don’t have to go out looking for money. Once your name is out there, and people know that they can believe in you, and they can trust you, and that you will do what you say—then money will come to you. You don’t have to go looking for money. And that’s the thing that—if I didn’t hear anything else that he told me—that was the thing that I took to heart.
“And he explained to me, and that’s why I came to realize that I was biting off too much of a pie. And I had to break it down into sections. And I’ll tell you, the other person that has really, really stepped up to help me a lot—and I’ve had a few—but Randy Torres, my state representative, he has done more to help me than anybody. And he’s helped me with his time. And, you know, time in your life is the most valuable thing you have. And, you know, with him being a state representative, still to stop, take time, have lunch with me, introduce me to certain people that he did not have to do."
“And now, like I said, I think I built a pretty solid foundation. Now I got to put the house on the foundation. And the house is being built by the people that I can get through my nonprofit and get help.”
Cox’s work is far from over, but he’s committed for the long haul. JLC Second Chance Opportunities is steadily growing—one person, one opportunity and one second chance at a time.
