Reborn, from hate to faith - Former Aryan Brotherhood leader transformed by belief

MARYVILLE - At 6-feet-9 and 350 pounds, Jim Tull would be hard to miss, even if he weren't tattooed all over with fearsome symbols and messages of - to put it mildly - ethnic intolerance.

But a conversation with him reveals an apparent seam of gentleness that is sharply at odds with his outward persona.

Tull talks about God and about the cable-channel storyline that has brought him from what he says was a life of hate and crime to a total submission to the will of the Lord.

His former world was one populated by some pretty unpleasant people, he says, people who would willingly - eagerly - violate all of the Ten Commandments; people Tull says he has to watch out for every day because, "I know too much."

Jim Tull's former life was that of president of the East Coast chapter of the Aryan Brotherhood, a "secret society" that espouses hatred of minorities and holds seditious beliefs about who should be running the country and, for that matter, who should be living in it.

Tattooed on Tull's skin, from the top of his shaved head down, are colorful words and images that validate his claim to 17 years in what he calls "The Brotherhood."

His story is one of a man who has seen both extremes of humanitarianism's spectrum. His words indicate who he is. His skin indicates who he was, and if his saga is not true, he has undergone a lot of pain to create a myth.

Tull readily acknowledges his past as both a member and leader of The Brotherhood and an association with a motorcycle gang known for its cruelty and criminal activity. He declines to name the biker group out of concern for his personal homeland security.

But his focus nowadays, he says, is not on his former life or even his present one, but on the one that he believes comes after that - an eternal one.

And "brother" is a word that comes out often when Tull speaks, whether it is about the sinister organization he says he used to be part of or the Restoration International Outreach, a rapidly growing near-megachurch in Blount County where Tull worships.

Tull is a fairly eloquent Maryland native with penetrating pale blue eyes who is quick to offer his testimony to anyone who will listen, because, he says, today's youth need to hear his message that the life he lived before is not cool, it does have bad consequences and it is a dark road that is avoided by the wise.

Tull, now 39, grew up in a section of Baltimore where, as a white boy, he was a minority.

"I got beat up every day for being a white boy in a black city," he said. "It turned me into the racist I was."

At 16, he was recruited into the Aryan Brotherhood, which, he says, exploits people's needs to feel like they belong to something. He says he embraced the message of intolerance and its creed of securing "the existence of our people and the future for white children."

On his body is the abbreviation of a Brotherhood tenet, "G.F.B.D" - God Forgives, Brotherhood Doesn't.

There are also swastikas, flames, a kill switch in the "on" position, the words "White Power" and an image on his left chest of his heart being cut out with a knife, symbolizing a man who is heartless.

But Tull's conversion has brought a couple of new tats, one of which says "Born again Jesus freak" and a brand-new one that says "Only God knows why."

"Only God know why he has preserved me," Tull said. "If God can preserve somebody like me, what can he do for the common person who has never done anything wrong?"

Tull says he is out to "reach the unreachable, to touch kids that are starting down that path I went down."

He says young people won't listen to what he refers to as "the common person," but be hopes they will heed him when he tells them about the perils of his years of hate and shows them the scars of 17 stab wounds and three bullet holes.

"I walked away from more money than most people make in 10 years," he said. "I was in the club world 100 percent."

But, he says, "I cut every tie, burned every bridge. I couldn't go back now even if I wanted to.

"I died when I found God, I was changed. Now he is using me to focus on him and help kids. I want to stop kids from ever becoming part of that."

Unlike some underworld organizations, Tull said, it is possible to exit The Brotherhood alive, as long as there is a promise never to speak against it afterward.

"And I was allowed to keep my tattoos," he said, "and not have them repossessed."

After leaving The Brotherhood, Tull says he went through a family crisis that cost him his wife and contact with a daughter and two stepsons.

They now live in Pennsylvania, and it is primarily their safety he fears for because he says his enemies - particularly in the motorcycle gang - would not think long about hurting them to get to him.

The fear in the biker organization is that he would "turn state's evidence" and give up their criminal activities.

There is "a big war" going on in the biker world, Tull says, and it is his hope that their preoccupation with that will divert bikers' attention from him.

And, he says, the passage of time may erode their desire to find him. He now is employed in the construction trades.

"If I can save one or two kids from falling into this life," Tull says, "then my life will be worth something.

Tull, who came to Blount County to pursue a romantic relationship that has since dissolved, now makes himself available to speak - "I do not ask for money; I want souls" - at churches in the area. He can be reached at 865-385-3024 or through Restoration International Outreach at 865-681-2763.

At a flea market a couple of years ago, he met Restoration International Outreach member Raymond Woods, who is exactly the type of person Tull says he would have persecuted in his previous life.

Woods is a black man married to a white woman. But he persuaded Tull to come to Restoration International Outreach, where, Tull says, his transformation was completed.

At the church, Tull says, he is being mentored by Pastors Ronnie Hepperly and Doug Tipton.

RIO Executive Pastor Christi Prater, agreeing that Tull's saga is a fantastic one, says he is the real deal.

"That is what our church is all about," she said. "We are open to the lost, and sometimes the lost look like Jim Tull."

Jim Tull’s body bears the marks of his former life and his transformation. Once a member of the Aryan Brotherhood, Tull says he has rejected his past beliefs and turned to God, reflected in the recent tattoo on the left side of his head. "Only God knows why He has preserved me," Tull said. "If God can preserve somebody like me, what can He do for the common person who has never done anything wrong

Jim Tull wears a Jesus necklace that his father made for him, which hangs over tattoos from his former life.

2 posted on 01/21/2006 10:17:52 PM PST by SmithL (Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.)

This is why tattoos are such a bad idea. Sooner or later you're going to break up with that girl whose name is tattooed on your arm. Or you'll get God and really regret the swastika on your forehead.

He has so many, I wonder if he could even have them removed at this point. Very unfortunate to have a reminder of your past like that with you for life. I also wonder if other people, not knowing his story, see his swastika tattoos and then see his Christian tattoos and conclude that they go together, that Christians are white-supremacists.

Mark.

6 posted on 01/22/2006 6:52:55 AM PST by ovrtaxt ("I've noticed that everyone who is for abortion has already been born."- Reagan)

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