From criminal to Christian: ex-gangster becomes youth minister

By Jennifer Voelker

William Portillo, a former gangster turned youth minister, spoke about God’s amazing grace Oct. 26 at Braun’s Bar & Grill in Denver.

Portillo’s talk was sponsored by Theology on Tap, a program of the Denver Archdiocese’s Young Adult Office that provides opportunities to hear inspiring lectures about the faith and enjoy fellowship. 

“Christ can change lives,” Portillo told the crowd. “Redemption is possible.”

In 1990, Portillo was released from prison for three armed robberies. He credits God with shortening his 16-year prison sentence to only a year. Portillo experienced conversion while in solitary confinement. He promised God he would turn his life around.

Portillo said he never planned to join a gang. The gang found him—a Hispanic kid struggling to fit in during the 1980s in Los Angeles. For the first 10 years of his life, Portillo grew up in El Salvador with his mother and grandparents. His father had abandoned his mother before he was born in Los Angeles in 1972.

Portillo fondly remembers the lush green farmland of El Salvador, his family, friends and the freedom of a happy childhood. Although he received the sacraments of first holy Communion and confirmation, he recalls having a superficial relationship with God.

Suddenly, civil war erupted in El Salvador. Portillo remembers riding his bike and seeing dismembered bodies along the road. Friends died. A curfew was enforced and movement restricted.

Portillo’s mother returned to Los Angeles for a better future. Portillo experienced culture shock. Gone were the lush farmlands and Portillo couldn’t speak English. U.S.-born Hispanic kids mocked him at school. He isolated himself and struggled to be accepted by his peers.

His mom worked two jobs to pay the rent, so he learned to cook and spent hours playing Pac-Man. His mom warned him to avoid gangs.

Struggling to fit in, Portillo began imitating the style of the “cool” boys. He convinced his mom to buy him baggy clothing. He got in a fight at school and won. Surprised he had won Portillo began to earn a reputation as a fighter and the “cool” boys took notice. They invited Portillo to ditching parties. He began drinking beer when he should’ve been in class.

As a teen, Portillo found it hard to have a relationship with God after witnessing the horrors of the civil war and abuse from his mom.

On the street, a group of El Salvadorian kids started a group to defend themselves from the U.S.-born Hispanic kids. The gang became the MS Stoners (now MS-13). Portillo began stealing.
At 16, Portillo became initiated in a gang. He said he finally felt like he belonged and had a family. He carried a handgun everywhere. His life became a cycle of fights, drugs alcohol and sex. The gang life became Portillo’s life and his future.

Portillo got his own clique, a branch of the gang. He sold drugs, controlled a group of 50 people and controlled his territory. The teen had a $1,000 in cash at any given time. He dropped out of high school his sophomore year.

Portillo said he drove his mom crazy. He said she tried to convert him by having everyone from missionaries to Alcoholics Anonymous speak to him. 

A close friend of Portillo’s got murdered and his gang sought revenge. Portillo ended up in jail.

Conversion in prison
With a lengthy sentence staring him in the face, Portillo thought his life was over. His reputation as a fighter brought the Mexican Mafia knocking. Portillo controlled dorms and instigated several prison riots. He now sat with enemies from other gangs. It became Latinos against African Americans.

While in solitary confinement for starting a prison riot, a chaplain handed Portillo a copy of the New Testament. Portillo read it because it was the only book allowed in “the hole.”

He read the Gospels and experienced reconciliation for the first time. He cried over the wrong he’d done and experienced the healing power of salvation for the first time. He dedicated his life to Christ.

Once out of solitary confinement, Portillo continued reading the Scriptures and praying. Several Latino inmates joined Portillo’s prayer group, as did some black inmates.

“What is impossible for man is possible for God,” declared Portillo.

Once out of prison, Portillo took his friends and prayers to the street when a mother asked him to look for her son. He never found the young man, he said, but while he searched, the Word of God found prostitutes, gangsters and drug dealers—and saved them, like it had him.

Eventually, Portillo established Prevention and Rescue, a ministry to help youths leave gangs. Over the years, Portillo’s mission has grown to encompass nine churches in California and other states. His missionaries are former gang members. His message for them and for the youths he encounters is the same.

“God is here today. God has a place for you today.”

The Denver Archdiocese’s Hispanic Ministry Office is in the midst of raising money to bring Portillo’s program here, Hispanic Youth Coordinator Liliana Flores told the Denver Catholic Register.

“We are working to bring some missioners from California to work with a group of volunteers here in Denver and give them formation to do the program,” she said.

Those interested in supporting the program are invited to call the Office of Hispanic Ministry for more information: 303-715-3267.