The Road of Redemption: How TLM Alumni Brett Buskirk Transformed His Life Behind Bars

At 18, he entered prison with a 60-year sentence. Against all odds, Brett became a programmer, mentor, explorer, and a living testament to the power of second chances.

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The steel doors clanged shut behind Brett Buskirk. He was just 18, staring down the weight of a 60-year sentence.

“You have to understand,” Brett recalls. “Most prisons are designed to store people, not rehabilitate them; you’re not given resources to become better. You’re left to rot, and if you try to rise above that, the system often pushes back.”

For many, incarceration strips away any sense of possibility, replacing hope with survival and dreams with daily routine. For Brett, it was the beginning of an extraordinary transformation.

A System Built to Contain, Not Rehabilitate

Brett Buskirk grew up in Indiana, born to a teenage mother and placed in the foster system as an infant. He was adopted at four and a half, only to experience a turbulent home life shaped by divorce, emotional manipulation, and violent abuse. Living in a state of survival at any cost, Brett was ultimately incarcerated at the age of 18. In prison, the reality of his 60-year sentence set in quickly– the environment was not designed to prepare Brett for a second chance. 

For many justice-impacted individuals, the lack of education, job training, and mental health support creates a revolving door. Recidivism rates remain high because people leave prison without the skills or opportunities necessary to rebuild their lives​. Brett was determined to take a different path.

“I had to face the possibility that I might die in prison,” Brett told us in a recent interview. “So I asked myself: if that’s my fate, who do I want to be until then? And if I do get out, what kind of man do I want to be?”

Learning Against the Odds

Inside prison, resources were scarce. There was no technology, few educational programs, and even less encouragement for self-improvement. The prison library offered books, but not the kind of structured learning Brett needed.

He began teaching himself mathematics and physics, solving equations on whatever scraps of paper he could find.

“Math was logical,” he says. “It didn’t change based on opinion. It was something I could build on, and it gave me a goal.”

As his understanding grew, his curiosity led him to computers. Without internet access or formal instruction, he searched the prison’s outdated systems for anything he could use.

“I started reading the help files on the prison computers,” he says. “They weren’t much, but they gave me a foundation to understand how databases worked. I used those tiny bits of information to build something from nothing.”

He and a fellow incarcerated friend began building functional databases using Microsoft Access and the primitive systems they had access to. “We didn’t have manuals or tutorials. We taught ourselves how to build databases with help files through trial and error.” Brett recalls. 

His progress was short-lived. When prison staff discovered his self-directed learning, they saw it as a potential security threat and revoked his access to computers entirely.

“They didn’t care that I was just trying to learn,” Brett says. “They just saw ‘inmate’ and ‘computers’ and assumed I was doing something wrong.”

A New Opportunity To Learn

Years into his sentence, Brett heard about a program offering coding education inside the prison. The Last Mile sounded like an impossibility at first—a computer lab with remote instructors, teaching incarcerated individuals how to become software engineers, in a place where even book access was limited.

“At first, I didn’t believe it,” he says. “A real program that taught modern technology in prison? It sounded impossible.”

The Last Mile was real, and Brett found that the program offered training in highly employable, in-demand fields like software development and digital production​. More importantly, it provided a direct pathway to employment after release.

There was just one problem—Brett was still banned from using computers.

Discovering The Last Mile

He fought for the chance to enroll. After an extensive period of advocating for himself and proving his intent was solely to learn, he was finally accepted.

“For the first time, I was in a room where I was allowed to think, to build, to be more than just another person serving time,” he says.

The Last Mile’s coding program was rigorous, structured like an elite coding bootcamp. Students had to write real code, work on real projects, and meet industry-level standards. Brett thrived.

Brett poured himself into the work, writing code late at night on paper in his cell, then testing it on the classroom computers the next day. His persistence paid off—after completing the program, he was invited to stay on as a teaching assistant, helping others who were just beginning their journey.

“Everything changed when I became a teaching assistant,” Brett says. “I wasn’t just learning for myself anymore, I was actually leading and teaching others. I think being a TA helped me grow more than anything else.”

During COVID lockdowns, Brett even handwrote a javascript lesson plan for struggling students at other facilities—contributions that earned him attention from TLM leadership.

The Key To Changing Recidivism? Employment

For most justice-impacted individuals, the greatest hurdle is building a stable lifestyle after incarceration. Without housing, employment, and community support, the risk of recidivism skyrockets​.

Brett had an opportunity to apply for the Community Transition Program (CTP)—a form of in-home detention allowing him to leave prison early under supervised conditions. But there was a catch: securing approval required proving that he had a job waiting for him on the outside.

For most justice-impacted individuals, that is where the application process falls apart. Employers rarely take a chance on hiring someone with a criminal record before they’ve even been released. 

Without a job offer, many remain incarcerated until they’ve served the maximum time allowed, delaying their transition back into society and increasing the likelihood of reoffending due to a lack of support.

Brett’s story was different. Before filing his application, The Last Mile had already extended a job offer.

A Job Offer That Opened the Door to Freedom

With a guaranteed job in place, Brett received approval on his application. Brett was able to transition from prison directly into employment, skipping the months—sometimes years—of job searching and rejection that many formerly incarcerated individuals face.

His first day of freedom didn’t begin with uncertainty or desperation. It started with logging on for work.

“I sat down at a real desk, logged onto the internet, and started coding,” he says. “For years, I had been doing everything on paper. Now, I had the tools I had always needed.”

The significance of that moment wasn’t lost on him. Most people leaving prison face an impossible paradox: to rebuild their lives, they need a job. But they need someone to look beyond their past to get a job.

Why Fair Chance Employment Matters

Brett’s success is proof that Fair Chance Employment changes lives. Research shows that securing stable employment within the first 30 days of release halves the likelihood of reincarceration. Yet, most formerly incarcerated individuals struggle to find work, often encountering outright rejection before they even get the chance to prove themselves.

Companies like The Last Mile are changing that equation.Hiring justice-impacted individuals based on their skills rather than their past creates real pathways to reentry.

“If I didn’t have a job waiting for me, I would have had to stay in prison longer,” Brett says. “I would have had to go through all the same struggles that keep people from moving forward after they get out. Instead, I got to start my life over immediately.”

Brett had the opportunity to gain marketable skills while incarcerated. He had a network of people who believed in his potential. And most critically, he had an employer willing to bet on him before he even walked out of the prison gates.

A New Kind of Freedom: Brett’s Journey Across America

In the last couple of months, Brett made a bold decision: he hit the road full-time, living in a self-sufficient camper he built with a friend. Solar panels power his setup, and Starlink keeps him connected. Brett now lives a mobile life that embodies the independence he had dreamed for decades.

“This is the ultimate manifestation of freedom,” Brett says. “I spent years locked down, unable to go anywhere, and now I can choose my direction daily.”

He earned this lifestyle through the technical training and remote job he landed with The Last Mile. Brett calls it his ‘work and wander’ philosophy: a fully remote career in tech that funds his journey through America’s national parks, forests, and open roads.

“TLM gave me the tools to live this life. They trained me in a skill always in demand, helped me build confidence, and offered me a job before I even walked out the gate.”

To others still inside, Brett sends a clear message: “Don’t be afraid to dream big. It’s going to be hard. Change is painful. But it’s possible. I’ve bet everything I have on this life—and I believe in it 100%.”

Brett’s Story Should Be The Norm, Not The Exception.

Fair Chance Hiring is about recognizing potential where others refuse to look. Brett’s story proves what happens when companies are willing to invest in people who have worked to rebuild their lives.

The Last Mile proves that rehabilitation is not only possible, it is also practical. Justice-impacted individuals who complete programs like TLM are significantly less likely to return to prison​. Employment is the most critical factor in reducing recidivism​, and The Last Mile provides a direct bridge between incarceration and sustainable careers.

How different would our justice system look if rehabilitation were the goal, rather than punishment?

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By Robert Roche, VP of Marketing at The Last Mile.

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