Interview with Robert Clark
Imprisoned at 13: An Interview with Robert Clark
Introduction
When I first read Robert Clark’s story, I kept pausing. It wasn’t because it was hard to follow, but because it was hard to fathom. Imprisoned at 13 and never released, he has lived his entire life behind bars, yet still finds the clarity to reflect, the courage to take responsibility, and the strength to keep reaching forward—even as the weight of forgiveness, especially self-forgiveness, remains with him.
Robert Clark’s story is told in full in Imprisoned at 13, his account of entering the prison system as a boy and never getting out. This interview doesn’t retell that story. It adds to it. I sent Robert a letter with a list of questions. He responded, by hand, from prison. His answers are succinct, but they reflect the same honesty, humility, and insight that define the book. He doesn’t ask for sympathy. He doesn’t claim innocence. He just tells the truth.
What follows is a conversation with Robert, in his own words, shared with those who haven’t met him yet.
Childhood & personal journey
Q: What was your perspective on justice and incarceration before this happened? Did it change as you got older? How?
A: My perspective on justice and incarceration came at an early age. I watched my father get arrested and sent to prison when I was seven years old. It had a lasting effect on my life. As I got older, I saw a different side—some negative, some positive
Q: Having experienced it firsthand, what can you share about the differences between being imprisoned as a child versus as an elder?
A: Being imprisoned as a child robs you of any natural way of being raised like a normal child. You have to grow into an adult overnight. As an elder, you’re still vulnerable to the young. So to me, there’s really no difference.
Q: It’s hard to imagine, but were there any moments where you felt hope, even in the darkest times?
A: In my darkest times, I felt hope didn’t exist. So actually, the hate I carried in my heart helped me survive.
Q: Imprisoned at 13 is, at times, a raw and unflinching account. Were there any particular parts that were difficult for you to write?
A: A lot of things were difficult—the beatings of my mother, at the hands of my dad. All the years of solitary confinement.
Q: If you could go back in time and speak to your 13-year-old self, what would you tell him?
A: That you never had to be someone you weren’t. Just be yourself—go to school, learn, and be a normal child.
Writing & Reflection
Q: What inspired you to write Imprisoned at 13, and later, Imprisoned as an Elder?
A: What inspired me to write Imprisoned at 13 was to get a message out to the youth not to make the same poor choices I made. I still want to help anyone that I can. As for Imprisoned as an Elder, I wanted to write God a daily letter to try and find answers about why my life turned out the way it did, and I wanted to change. I wanted to have compassion and be more humble.
Q: Did writing these books help you process and better understand your own experiences? How?
A: Books were always my avenue to being free. I could always express my emotions with a letter. Books took me places where I wanted to go. I never had a chance at freedom—except through writing.
Q: Is there anything in particular you would want people to take away from your story?
A: All I ask is for forgiveness for my acts in prison, and to help in any way I can.
Q: If you could sit down with someone who has the ability to get your message out to a large audience, what would you want them to understand and take away from it?
A: I would want them to understand that going into a prison at a young age—13—I processed everything wrong. I take full responsibility for all of my negative actions. I hope someday I can be forgiven. This is all I have left: to help anyone who will listen to me. Please don’t take the path I took.
Q: What’s next for you? Do you have more stories, or projects you hope to share?
A: I’m currently finishing a manuscript titled 365 Days With Jesus: My Daily Prayers. I hope to get it published someday.
Justice System & Reform
Q: What do you think people misunderstand about juvenile incarceration?
A: That juveniles need love and care more than a cage.
Q: If there was one thing you could change about the justice system, what would it be?
A: To be applied more fairly. Some people are actually lost in the system. The justice system is political; it applies to the poor and uneducated in unbalanced numbers.
Q: If you had the chance, what would you say to policy makers about prison reform? What would your message be?
A: Not to over-incarcerate. When you over-incarcerate, it’s counterproductive.
Q: How, in your opinion, can people support justice reform and those who are still imprisoned?
A: By listening to both sides. Both have knowledge. Although, until you experience prison firsthand, there will be different solutions and ideas.
Q: There seems to be a slew of television shows and films that portray incarceration, and they seem to have gotten more popular. What are your feelings on how incarceration is portrayed? Is it realistic, or does it seem to glorify it?
A: The prison documentaries usually give an accurate account of prison. Television shows and films aren’t as factual.
When I asked Robert if there was one thing he hoped people would take from his story, he didn’t hesitate. “All I ask is for forgiveness for my acts in prison, and to help in any way I can.”
It’s not just a final answer—it’s the clearest evidence of who he is now: a man who accepts the weight of his past, who mourns the boy he never could be, and who still dares to believe in the possibility of forgiveness. For what it’s worth, Robert—I forgive you. I hear you. And I’m still listening.
His voice—clear, steady, and human—continues to speak, even from behind bars. He’s one voice among many, men and women still inside, navigating systems built to forget them. What we choose to do with that voice—how we hear it, carry it, and respond—is up to us.
Interview conducted and edited by Richard Leighland. Responses provided by Robert Clark through written correspondence.