Staying Drug-Free, and Providing for His Son the "Right Way" Justen Henderson, 25, at the East River Development Alliance, where he enrolled in its Workforce Development program. It has taken a while, but Justen Henderson, 25, has learned from his mistakes. His teenage years were a period of prolonged rebellion, defiance, drug-dealing and petty crime. He chalked up his delinquency to his thrill-seeking nature. "I always had to touch the fire," Mr. Henderson said. "No matter how many times someone says "It's hot," I just have to touch it." His behavior began taking a turn for the worse when he was 8 years old, shortly after his father walked out on the family. By age 16, Mr. Henderson had been a guest at numerous group homes for troubled youths, and had recorded several brushes with the law, including being charged with the criminal possession of a firearm. Mr. Henderson took a plea and was jailed at Rikers Island for 12 months. While he was behind bars, he decided to take the state Regents exams. "Why take the G.E.D. when I'm going to be home soon?" he reasoned. I was ambitious to get a diploma. When Mr. Henderson was released from prison in 2007, he had passed his exams, but still needed to complete class credits to get his high school diploma. So he attended night classes while he worked a day job, and lived in an apartment his mother had found for him. He was awarded a diploma in 2010, the same year his son, Zyir, was born. In need of extra income, Mr. Henderson turned to a proven, though illegal, method of making money fast. A month after Zyir's birth, Mr. Henderson was charged with the criminal sale of a controlled substance. After his arrest, he was ordered to complete a 12-month outpatient program at Phoenix House, a nonprofit rehabilitation organization, or face prison. That encounter with the law, Mr. Henderson said, will be his last. "I just got tired," he said. I got tired of running around. I got tired of getting into trouble. I didn't want to be in and out of jail. I just want to be a good father to my son. I want to eventually attend college. That drive brought Mr. Henderson to the East River Development Alliance, where he enrolled in its Workforce Development program to better prepare himself to find employment. The alliance is a partner of the Community Service Society of New York, one of the seven organizations supported by The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund. Mr. Henderson was given a $300 grant to buy professional-looking clothing, including shoes, ties, slacks and shirts. "I don't want a rap sheet dictating where I can work, and I don't want to limit myself," he said. In April 2013, Mr. Henderson was hired for a clerical position at a law firm. He also works an overnight shift at a grocery store, stocking merchandise. Both jobs are essential for him to make ends meet. "I like to make money the right way," he said. His new ambitions include pursuing a business degree. Mr. Henderson said he is also considering a career he believes will be forever lucrative. "There aren't a lot of male nurses," he said. I would like to break that barrier, challenge myself. Mr. Henderson rents a room at the house in Queens where Zyir and his son's mother lived until recently, before she moved to Pennsylvania for a job opportunity. He no longer sees his son every day, but still has regular visits with him. Temptation to resort to old habits tugs at him, he admitted. "Things get tight," Mr. Henderson said. Here I am used to making fast money. But now it's like, "Wow, got to pay this bill, phone bill, my son needs this, rent is due," and I'm not making a great deal of money. There's that thought, "What if I was still hustling?" " Two things, he said, keep that impulse at bay: the odious thought of returning to prison, and the thought of what might happen to his child. "My biggest fear is to not be able to provide for my son," Mr. Henderson said. I want to stay out of trouble, stay drug-free. You can slowly start inching your way back into the streets and around the wrong people, with just a simple bag of weed. Mr. Henderson said the personal changes resulting from his newfound discipline were already apparent. "I feel different," he said. I talk different, I walk different. I'm just living different.