Finally Free (14 page)

So I knew you could get in trouble over dogfighting, but I never
heard of anyone being convicted of a felony because of it, or going to jail or being prosecuted. I figured,
It ain't that bad. It's wrong for the dogs, but this is what these dogs like to do. This is why they're bred.
That was my train of thought—that they're bred to fight.

I was so wrong.

My associates and I were so confident we'd never be caught that we ignored some obvious tip-offs. For instance, one of the neighbors near the property on Moonlight Road came over about fifteen days before the raid and told the guys there, “Listen, state police came by and wanted to put a video surveillance camera on my property. They wanted to see all the traffic coming in and out of your house. They want to know what's going on.” People were hearing a lot of rumors, but we didn't take that as a sign that we were in trouble.

I was not told about the neighbor's visit until it was too late. The other guys just brushed the neighbor off. If I had known that, I would have shut down the operation. It was too close to home.

This, I think, provides a clear picture of the situation I was in—how I failed to lead the people around me.

Just a few days before the raid and that phone call, I was out at the property with Quanis and some other guys. What happened out there that day was bad, really bad.

We had gone out and gotten rid of a lot of dogs. It's a day I would like to forget. But I can't. It will always haunt me. It was a day I wasn't even supposed to be there. It was the day I said to myself,
This is it. I'm not dealing with this anymore.
I had actually already bought some horses and was getting into show horses. I was ready to move on.

That was the day my conscience began speaking to me about the seriousness of the crimes I was committing. I remember looking at a dog and saying, “I wonder if one day I'll be punished for this.” But I said, “You know what? It hasn't happened since we got started in 2001, and look at my life now. Naw, I'm all right.”

Everyone in dogfighting was doing the same thing: killing their dogs and getting rid of them when they lost. I had seen guys take the dogs right out of the fighting box and—
bam
—shoot them in the head.

In January 2010, new documents emerged from the dogfighting investigation that my codefendants and I—among other things—allegedly killed dogs with shovels, but that's not true. Nonetheless, I understand that the killings were, and still are, sickening.

Needless to say, I was paralyzed after the phone call I received on the golf course a few days later. I guess I can't say I should have been surprised; I just let my arrogance blind me from the truth of my life, and my ability to lie hid the truth from many around me.

I had kept that world private for six years, which is amazing considering the sophistication of NFL security, where former FBI agents and the like are hired to keep a close watch over the players. But because the dogfighting world is so underground, so low-key, I was able to stay beneath the radar.

After the raid of the house on Moonlight Road where dogfighting evidence was found, I said publicly, “I'm never at the house,” when in reality I went there regularly, including most Tuesdays during the football season. Three days after police raided my house in Smithfield, I met with NFL commissioner Roger Goodell. I assured him of my innocence and was permitted to participate in a ceremony at the April 28, 2007, NFL draft with other former Virginia Tech players Bruce Smith and DeAngelo Hall, to memorialize students who had recently been killed in a shooting spree on the Blacksburg campus.

I really like Commissioner Goodell. He's a very humble, fair, firm, and stern man who cares about you. He wants to see the right things for the integrity of the NFL and the integrity of the football family. If you cross the guidelines of the conduct policy, he wants to know what the absolute truth is.

I knew how to lie with a straight face. Sad to say, Commissioner Goodell bought into what I was saying, and I think he truly believed me that I was telling the truth. I deeply regret not telling him the truth from the outset.

It was a very nervous time for me. I knew I was going to try to lie my way through the whole dogfighting case and see if money, good lawyers, and manipulating the system could get me out of the position I was in—which was a terrible position. Temporarily, I received a reprieve from the commissioner, but it would be short-lived.

Falcons owner Arthur Blank, and my coach at the time, Bobby Petrino, also believed me and trusted in me. If you had told Mr.
Blank I was fighting dogs, he probably would've told you to get out of his face. He trusted me. So did a lot of people who had no idea I was living a lie.

Commissioner Goodell, Mr. Blank, and Coach Petrino were the three key components to my future and my career. They all had trust in me.

Looking back, I can see that my propensity for trying to lie my way out of trouble only made my consequences more severe. I got used to not being honest in a lot of situations. I got away with it for so long that I started to get into a routine and feel like,
Hey, if it worked last time, it will work again
.

I've figured out since then that if you just tell the truth, it's so much easier to deal with the consequences in the beginning than if you lie and someone else reveals the truth. When that happens, people look at you like,
I can't trust him. He's not honest. He's not loyal. He's not forthright, and I can't believe him moving forward.
It screws up everything. Just deal with the consequences. Be a man and deal with it.

Telling the truth is freeing. I found that when I lied, I put pressure on myself. Maintaining the lie was hard work because I had to pile one new lie on top of another. The truth is the truth, and that's it. In the long run, you will benefit from telling the truth even if it comes with consequences.

As the investigation deepened, my lawyer told me, “If you were involved, you need to tell me you were involved.” That's when it
was on the state, rather than the federal, level. I kept telling him, “No, no, I wasn't involved, no.” The whole time investigators were building the case, my lawyer was saying no, but he was seeing all this evidence saying yes. If I had just told the truth, maybe I would have received a smack on the wrist instead of a lengthy sentence.

If there had never been an indictment, I might have gotten out unscathed, and the full truth might never have been revealed. But when all the lies were exposed, it was tough. When the Feds got involved, they found all the evidence they needed. They had all the components to basically put me in jail, even without me saying anything.

When they indicted me, we all knew I was wrong. Fittingly, the nation was outraged by my dogfighting activities, which I eventually described as “barbaric.” Lots of people wanted to see me severely punished.

In June 2007, a federal grand jury charged me and my three codefendants—Tony Taylor, Quanis Phillips, and Purnell Peace—with conspiring to operate a dogfighting business and doing so across state lines, while also procuring and training dogs to participate in the operation. All four of us originally pled not guilty, but Tony, Quanis, and Purnell eventually changed their pleas and agreed to participate in the case against me. I was implicated not only in dogfighting, but also in helping to kill dogs and bankrolling the gambling part of the operation. Tony, Quanis, and Purnell gave detailed descriptions of my involvement in the Bad Newz Kennels dogfighting operation in which they too were participants.

The evidence was so thorough, so convincing, that I decided to
forgo a trial. On August 23, 2007, I signed a plea agreement and, four days later, pled guilty to a dogfighting conspiracy before US District Judge Henry Hudson in Richmond, Virginia, filing a confessional statement of facts that led to my imprisonment and sentencing. I held a press conference afterward, apologizing and vowing to redeem myself.

I truly was sorry for my actions, as my confidant and pastor of Psalms Ministry, Domeka Kelley, knew perhaps better than anyone. He was probably the first person I sat down with and confessed to about all I had done—before I pled guilty or said anything publicly admitting my fault. He could tell that it was difficult for me to talk about—that I was sincere—and he prayed with me.

After my troubles became public, my first coach in Atlanta, Dan Reeves, said that he never had any reason to think I was involved with dogfighting. “I was surprised, because Mike had a dog he would bring to practice,” Coach Reeves told the public. “He loved his dog. Personally, I didn't think that was something he would do because he was a dog lover…. But he certainly made a huge mistake.”

As would be expected, I was bombarded with negative publicity as soon as the news broke about the dogfighting. However, I didn't expect what I perceived to be a public attack by my father. In interviews with the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
and the
Washington Post
in late August 2007, my father said he warned me to
stop dogfighting and that he believed I got involved in the practice during my college days at Virginia Tech. He also said I used to have dogfights in the garage of our family's Newport News home.

He acknowledged that I had recently turned down his request for money, around $700,000. But what about the fact that he was living in an apartment that I was paying for at that time?

I felt betrayed. I felt like my very own father had thrown me under the bus. What made matters worse is that his information was false. This did great damage to our relationship. We had arguments so severe that we were ready to fistfight.

If anything, those articles with my dad were supposed to be positive, and he was supposed to be very supportive, letting the world know I made a mistake and accepted responsibility for my wrongdoings. But for him to make matters worse was very, very disappointing to my family and mind-boggling to me.

It is absolutely false that I had any involvement in dogfighting while at Virginia Tech. And even though my father attended some of my games there, he certainly wasn't aware of what I did on campus.