Jerrica’s Story: How Resiliency, Resolve, and Ready To Work Helped One Woman Overcome

Jerrica’s Story: How Resiliency, Resolve, and Ready To Work Helped One Woman Overcome

Ready to Work is a Bridge House program that focuses on “providing adults experiencing homelessness a unique opportunity to rebuild their lives through work.” The organization provides case management support, a safe place to live, and paid work for its clients. Upon graduation, clients have a full-time job and stable independent housing.  The Aurora Ready to Work Outdoor Crew partners with the Colfax Ave Business Improvement District (BID) to keep the streets clean through the Colfax Works program. We are proud of this partnership and excited to feature one of Ready to Work/Bridge House’s many success stories. Have questions or feedback for our writer, Eliza? Drop her a line at eliza@colfaxave.com.


As I wait for the 8:00 AM #15 bus outside the Colfax Ave Business Improvement District’s office, I often chat with the Ready to Work team as they prepare to start their morning of street cleaning. It’s easy to see why they love their supervisor, Jerrica. Her calm demeanor, quiet radiance, and quick laugh are magnetic. Jerrica’s story is tumultuous: with all forces working against her, it took pure resolve and strength—as well as unique community support—to free herself from destructive cycles that perpetuate social inequality by ensnaring the most marginalized in our society. 

Jerrica’s childhood was trauma-filled—from abuse to the foster care system to gangs and drugs. Each chapter made her more vulnerable. Jerrica ran away from foster care when she was 15. After awhile, the state dropped custody. By that time, she was separated from her siblings and in and out of juvenile detention. “I caught my first drug case on Colfax and Pennsylvania when I was 15,” she says somberly. “I got in trouble for a long time. That’s all I knew—my mom and dad were both drug addicts and drug dealers and that’s all I knew.”

“My mom ended up getting her rights terminated in about 1996. The state was basically my guardian from the time I was 8 years old.”

Jerrica recounts the events of her childhood steadily and without visible emotion—it’s clear that she’s had to retell this story over and over. But when she starts talking about Bridge House and Ready to Work, her voice swells with emotion. Tears roll down her face as she explains the impact of the organization on her life. 

Over the years, the Bridge House team has shown support by being there—from court dates to baby showers to her daughter’s dance competitions. They’ve provided jobs and a safe space for her family members. “Bridge House changed my life completely,” Jerrica says through her tears. “They rooted me on when I thought I just wasn’t going to make it and was ready to give up. If not for them, I’d probably still be getting in trouble, be in prison, not have custody of my kids…”

“I graduated from Ready to Work in 2014 and then I got sentenced [in a federal indictment] at the end of 2014. Isabel, Chef, Chad, Tim, pretty much everybody came and supported me at court. I was looking at ten years and, with the support of Ready to Work, I ended up getting three years. I left here and went to Arizona for 36 months. I did a drug program there as well, and they ended up taking 18 months off my sentence—I only did 18 months. Two days after getting out of prison, I started full-time as the driver for the Ready to Work Kitchen. By the time I got pregnant with my youngest daughter, I was working full time, had my place, had completed the halfway house, and ended up getting probation ended early—I completed one year with flying colors so they let me off four years early.”

After working at the Bridge House location in Boulder for a few years, Jerrica moved to the new Aurora location. It wasn’t an easy switch. “They miss me,” she says with a laugh. “The reason I wanted to transfer is because this is my community—this is where I grew up, and I want to be there for the people in my community.”

Jerrica’s experiences connect her to Bridge House clients. “They know what I’ve been through,” she says. “I don’t try and hide that from them. I don’t hide my tattoos. I let them know that at a time I was exactly where you are, or maybe even worse. I let them know that you can change—you can come from that.”

When Jerrica gets on a roll, she speaks at a rapid-fire pace. The emotion and truth behind each syllable makes her words potent and compelling. I ask her if she’d ever run for Mayor. She laughs. “People who are regulars in this area are like ‘Hey, Ms. Colfax!’ and I’m like, ‘That’s not my name, but Hey!’”

“I have to stay humble because I know how things can get—I have to remind myself that the street stuff just isn’t worth it. I’ve lost a lot of friends because I don’t live that lifestyle anymore… I don’t do drugs and I don’t sell drugs no more. People say, ‘You’re changed up… you’re different now.’ I have two kids, and I just can’t leave them. I can’t. I just have to make sure I’m there for them.”

Jerrica’s relationship with her mother, Dee Dee, is a constant thread throughout our conversation. Even through the hard times, Jerrica held on tight to her relationship with her. “I was really stuck on my mom,” Jerrica recalls. “I would run away to try and find her. And that wasn’t good either because I was getting into all kinds of trouble and not going to school. I just wanted to be with my mom. I tried everything to be with her.”

Ready to Work and Bridge House played an important role in Jerrica’s mother’s life, too. Dee Dee became a Bridge House client and now, nine years later, serves as the housing coordinator. She’s housed 157 clients so far. “I’m so proud of her,” Jerrica says. “I’ve never seen her be clean for this long, ever. She’s a better mom and a better grandma. Even though she wasn’t there as much for my life, she’s there for my kids, and that’s all I could ask for.”

“Parenting is hard. I think [my siblings and I] are rocking it. There’s no manual and we didn’t have an example. We’ve been winging it for all this time. But truthfully, I think we did good. I have 18 nieces and nephews in total and all of them have graduated thus far. We rocked it.

I just figure out what interests [my daughter]. Even when I was in the halfway house, she was watching this show called “Dancing Dolls,” so I’d watch the show so we’d always have something to talk about. We read a lot—we spend a lot of time at Barnes & Noble. We go there and she reads to her sister. That’s what we do. That’s how we stay connected.”

Jerrica’s story teaches us about the endless traps that can capture children born into rough situations—the foster-care-to-prison pipeline, the school-to-prison-pipeline, the jail-to-homelessness pipeline. It teaches us about the power of an individual’s resolve to change. It teaches us about how personalized, organized, and unconditional support can make a difference. Lastly, it underscores the unique capacity of people like Jerrica—those who have seen and lived all sides of an issue—to give back and to break these cycles for others.

As Jerrica and I walk back towards the office, we spot her crew waiting for her return. They light up when they see her approach. Sanchez shows her his broken glasses, which she promises a fix for. They chat about their morning, and Jerrica makes everyone laugh with silly poses for my photos. As I watch them, I feel hope wash over me. This story isn’t over, but it’s the beginning of something important.