In June of 1999, Edward Mugica was viciously beaten and left for dead by two young men in an unprovoked attack that forever changed his life. This is his story.

When I received the letter from the Youth Authority telling me that J.T. was possibly going to be released, I knew that I had to go to his hearing to see him. I had to tell him what had happened to me --- he had to see what he had done.

He'd beaten me like I'd never been beaten in my life, leaving me permanently disabled, and stripping away the opportunity of running my own business --- a dream I'd worked my whole life to achieve. I had to show him the pictures that were taken of my injuries --- the terribly graphic and bloody pictures that proved to make everyone in the room uncomfortable. I couldn't believe that I, a strong man of good size, could be so brutally beaten to the point of sheer helplessness in defending myself; now I know what it feels like for a woman to be beaten by a man or a child to be beaten by an adult.

What J.T. and his companion did to me was so unbelievably horrific --- that someone could rip a human being apart like that --- it's beyond words. Survivors are left with scars inside and out, but the scar on my face returns to me every day --- a scar I carry with me all the time. J.T. had to see that scar.

As I thought about it, I returned to that night --- I was celebrating my new job with my friends, when I went outside for some fresh air. The next thing I knew, I was attacked. I vividly remember being kicked repeatedly; they were wearing steel-toed boots and they kept kicking me in the head over and over again. Then they dragged me until they could drag me no further, only to keep kicking me some more. Finally and suddenly, they stopped. I supposed they had stopped only because they were too exhausted to keep kicking me.

I went to the hearing, and I met J.T. I showed him the pictures, and I told him what he did to me. He didn't even know me. I knew he wouldn't. I could've stood right next to him, and he wouldn't have even recognized me. I knew he was tweaking out on drugs when he beat me, but that was no excuse.

I looked right into his eyes and told him what he did, and he trembled --- tears falling down his cheeks. I knew that J.T. had had a difficult life, but as I told him, "Whatever happened to you in your life doesn't give you the right to hurt people. What you did was terrible, and it was wrong." I spoke to the victim in the victimizer and I challenged him.

I didn't go for myself, I went for him. J.T. almost killed me, but because of who I am, I believed it was my responsibility to help him change the way he thinks. It was not about forgiveness --- I forgave J.T. the day he beat me, though he didn't deserve my forgiveness. I knew that if I didn't forgive him, I'd be bitter just like him, and I refused to let him do that to me. Compassion is a Godly quality --- a gift from God that nobody can take away unless you let them, and I refused to have someone take that gift away from me.

I refused to be miserable. I have been to hell and back, and I refuse to let anyone take away the joy I feel in my heart.

I stood before J.T. with the love and compassion that I have, and I thank God for giving me such wonderful gifts --- gifts I know I must share with others, including him. I had to let J.T. know that he was going to be all right if he understood that he couldn't go through life being mad. I hope I helped him change his way of thinking. If I did that, then I will have achieved something.

During our meeting, J.T. told me that he couldn't get something out of his head that I had said. He recalled that while he was kicking me, I yelled "Jesus loves you!" It was then that the beating stopped. I don't know why I didn't say it sooner….

This story is reprinted from www.restorejustice.com.