MAN DOING TIME WITH EYES ON ETERNITY

BUTNER -- Asleep in his bed behind the towering chain-link and razor-wire
fences at the Butner federal prison, Darryl Harris dreamt a prophetic dream.

In his dream, Harris spiraled through space "like the Twilight Zone" as
stars floated past with Bible verses written on them. The stars moved too
quickly to read, but one slowed down just enough.

"It was Acts 5:25," Harris says. " 'And someone came and told them, "The
men whom you put in prison are standing in the temple and teaching the
people." ' "

"It was such a sign," he says.

Four years after that revelation and seven years into a 15-year sentence
for selling cocaine, Harris is living that dream. The 33-year-old is on
track to become a minister through correspondence classes with a Bible school.

In The Belly Of The Beast

"The church is right here inside the prison walls," Harris says. "My
ministry is already started."

And he says he's found a willing audience in his fellow inmates. "We're not
perfect, but we have so much time to learn the word of God."

But instead of a pastoral robe, Harris spreads the Word in his prison-issue
olive uniform. "Harris, D. No. 15968-056," his nametag reads.

Harris hones his leadership skills as director of the prison choir, which
performed last weekend at the second-annual Crime and Incarceration
Conference at the prison camp.

The Rev. Michael Smith, chaplain and pastor at the Butner prison complex
and founder of the conference, says he believes in the fledgling member of
this prison congregation.

"He's been faithful and focused," Smith said. "He's been a motivator for
others around the camp."

That's not to say the journey has been easy, though. Harris yearns for
parole, which he could receive in 51/2 years. He's eager to begin his
ministry in Durham's impoverished neighborhoods.

"But my walk in Christ is not based on me going home," he said. "I'm
prepared to do the next five and a half, if that's what calls."

To see how far Harris has come, it's necessary to take a step back.

The son of a local high school basketball hero, Harris grew up in Durham
intent upon playing pro ball -- a dream that depression and drugs stole
from his father.

Harris honed his game under Hillside High School coach Chet Mebane and
became an outside threat to complement the inside muscle of a good friend,
the New Jersey Nets' Rodney Rogers.

Blessed with quickness and a nose for defense, Harris drew the attention of
Division I recruiters. But poor grades kept him from playing his senior
year. Still, Harris pursued his dream and enrolled in St. Augustine's
College in Raleigh.

During his one-year stint as a Falcon, Harris caught his first glimpse of
the "fast life." A teammate and good friend seemed to have it all, the
clothes, the money, the women.

"Even though I grew up in the 'hood, I was still ignorant," he said. "I
just thought his parents were wealthy. I just never sensed it."

Harris moved on to Montreat-Anderson Junior College in Black Mountain
where, he says, "I could step outside and look directly at Billy Graham's
front yard."

At the Christian school, the spiritual lessons rubbed off on Harris. He
played basketball, became a resident assistant at the dorm and graduated
two years later with an associate degree, the first in his family to earn
more than a high school diploma.

"It was good for me," he said. "I went camping out, kayaking. Doing things
I would have never done. I got cultured."

Harris continued to pursue his dream of playing professionally and had
begun to think about a career overseas. He would visit the old friend from
St. Aug's occasionally, still impressed with the wealth he had attained by
selling drugs.

"I remember so clearly," Harris said. "All I saw was the money. We were
sitting in a club, and he told me, 'Don't never [sell drugs].'"

"I remember saying, 'OK.' No way was I gonna do that."

Forbidden Fruit

Harris moved on to Greensboro College, earned team MVP awards his junior
and senior years as the team's shooting guard and defensive stopper.

He began working at UPS to support his pregnant fiancee, waking at 4 a.m.
to unload boxes from trucks. But the work took its toll on his back.

Playing through pain his senior year, Harris went to the hospital after his
final game and found out he had a ruptured disc in his lower back that
required immediate surgery.

"It was a crushing blow, and it all happened at once," he said. "My career
dreams were wavering. It was a bad time."

Intent on getting a pro contract, he decided to go back home to Durham to
rehab his back. Harris worked for IBM in Research Triangle Park. He
delivered papers for the Durham Morning Herald. But he ached for more
money. He wanted to provide for his young daughter, to pursue the success
his father had never attained.

"I was so eager to succeed. I was 25 years old, thinking, 'I need to do
something,' " he said. "That's when I began seeing that forbidden fruit."

He thought about selling marijuana, but an uncle suggested cocaine.

"It was easy," he said. "I had no addiction to the drug. It was like dirt
on the ground to me. My addiction was the money. I thought I could
out-think Satan."

Selling a kilogram of cocaine "here and there" bought cars, jewelry and
clothing. Women gravitated toward Harris like never before.

"I was living what I thought was looking and feeling successful," he said.
"But I could look like a million bucks and not have a dime in my pocket."

During his year of "living large," Harris said, he still had God in his
life. "I'd pray, but I was disobedient." Time soon ran out.

"I realized I couldn't outsmart Satan," he said.

The realization was slow in coming.

First, Harris fell asleep at the wheel, tired from hustling all night, and
he totaled his new Volkswagen Jetta. Then he was kidnapped and robbed by
three teen-agers during a drug deal. A few months later, he was robbed
again on Liberty Street by a guy who stuck a .38 in his chest.

Harris moved to a cushy apartment in Cary, looking for more security. After
counting his money one night and taking off his gold and diamond jewelry,
he knelt down to pray.

"I said, 'This is where it stops. I don't want to do this anymore, Lord.' I
fell asleep on my knees that night."

Two weeks later he was arrested in an undercover sting. Possession with the
intent to sell and distribute. Nine ounces. Fifteen years.

The Word Sustains Him

Harris looks back on that moment as the first day of the rest of his life.

"I'm not advocating for anyone to come to prison. But I've seen all walks
of life change right in here. We love God also. We just had to get to know
him."

He wants to take his message and his ministry to Durham's poorest
neighborhoods, to "use my authority God gave me" to minister to at-risk youth.

Last year, when his father died, Harris was let out long enough to attend
the funeral and say the eulogy. On his way to the funeral, he noticed the
fancy cars, the hustlers, the telltale look. But these drug dealers were on
an even higher level than he remembered from his days of hustling.

"[The lifestyle] is so empty," he said. "Twenty-inch rims, jewelry and
cars. I can't wait to get out. It's time to plant and water the seed. God
will [make it grow]."

And he wants to atone.

"What I want to say is that I'm sorry to the whole Durham community,"
Harris said. "I was one of many, but I was blind."