Local ex-offender inspires Obama's impassioned prisons speech

JEFF COPELAND prefers to take his runs outside, on the streets of Francisville.

"You get to be a part of humanity that way," Copeland said last night. "You get to see what's going on."

It's an appropriate observation, given the last four years - the time since his release from prison.

Copeland, 39, was thrust into the spotlight yesterday when President Obama met with him and then mentioned him by name as an example in his address to the NAACP national convention at the Pennsylvania Convention Center. The president also met with three other ex-offenders in the city.

Copeland says he has tried his hardest to become part of humanity: He kicked the drinking habit that led him to six DUI arrests, the most recent of which, in 2009, put him away for 18 months.

He picked up a hobby that clears his mind and maintains his body. He buried his head in the books and will graduate with a bachelor's degree in criminal justice from Temple University in December.

The Frederick, Md., native spoke of his achievements last night during an interview with the Daily News at Mugshots Coffeehouse, on Fairmount Avenue near Uber Street in Francisville. The irony of its name was lost on him, still reeling from the day's events.

Having a conversation with the president and then hearing him speak your name in front of a national audience can do that to a guy.

"They asked me to find a student who was making great strides in post-release success," Tara Timberman, the founder and coordinator of the Re-entry Support Project of Community College of Philadelphia's Fox-Rothchild Center for Law and Society, said of the mayor's office, which in turn took its orders from President Obama's aides.

"Right away, I thought of Jeff."

Timberman had met Copeland through the program, which provides academic advising, counseling and other services to former inmates seeking a college education at the school.

His ambition and focus, she said, exemplify the program's goal.

With that endorsement, Obama used Copeland's story during his speech.

His meeting with Copeland helped underscore what he called the nation's criminal "injustice system" and the success that the people it spits out can achieve in spite of it.

"I got emotional, a little bit," Copeland said of his cameo in Obama's remarks, which he heard in person, a few rows back from the stage.

"It's one thing to tell your story, but when the president comes out in front of a convention center filled with people, and he speaks it better than I can, that's a whole different animal."

Copeland, along with the three other former inmates, met with the president early yesterday inside the convention center.

"It was all off-the-cuff," Copeland said hours later, as he sipped green tea in the setting sun. "It was cool, it just flowed; it wasn't like I was talking to the president."

The discussion was equal parts serious and silly, with thoughtful debates about prison policy interspersed with banter about basketball: Copeland, noting that five men were sitting together, offered to take Obama down to a court in South Philly, where he "was sure we could find five guys to take us on."

But what Obama really wanted to know was what had brought the men to that room, the experiences that had forged them.

For Copeland, that story began in Maryland, where, at 15, he watched his father get convicted of a "violent offense," one he doesn't like to talk much about.

His story continues to two DUIs in Frederick, a town where he says he was on "a path to destruction."

Seeking a change, he drove a few hours north to Philly, where he settled into Northern Liberties, which, he proudly mentions, wasn't the gentrified playground for suburban expats that it is now.

Different streets gave way to similar behavior, however, and he was hit with four more DUIs.

He was in and out of facilities on State Road, the Northeast Philly street where several prisons stand.

Finally, after his 2009 sentencing, something clicked.

"I went in living an unhealthy lifestyle," he said. "I didn't have any real purpose."

That's when he started running, started going from unhealthy to healthy.

He got a job as a teaching assistant at the Cambria Community Center's GED program, grading essays and reviewing math problems.

That's where he met Timberman, who was recruiting inmates for her program at the community college.

Education became paramount for him, just as running had.

He was released in 2011 from Cambria, on 17th Street in North Philly, strolling right past Temple University's campus.

It was a glimpse into his future: After a stop at CCP - where he still volunteers for Timberman's program - he matriculated to the university.

Now, Copeland's toughest decision is deciding what discipline he wants to pursue for his post-bachelor's degree: his major in criminal justice, or his minor, social work.

But he's taking it one day at a time.

"You can't look too far ahead in life, and that's how running is," he said, referring to the analogy that Obama "borrowed" for his speech at the NAACP conference.

"If you put one foot in front of the other, you'll finish the race; you don't look for the finish line when you're at the starting line."