Interview by “D-Man,” CTF Inmate Correspondent
(It’s A Boy)
We all celebrated Christmas this last week. Some with family and friends. Some with coworkers and colleagues. Others chose to be alone, stuck in an inner prison where they lock others out. The men here at CTF are no different. We all made individual choices about how to spend our day.
I was blessed with the opportunity to spend part of the day with Cain, so I took it. I asked him what he wanted to do.
“Let’s work out! I think a lot of people are trying to give me food today.”
He was right. My cellmate was already busy in our cell, cooking three amazing rice bowls as we spoke — one of which had Cain’s name on it. Another group of guys was almost finished with the tamales they had promised Cain. Not to mention the state meal in the chow hall that Cain was excited to receive, despite my warning.
So we went to the gym on Christmas morning.
We used a 50-lb medicine ball for squats and shoulder presses, then switched to a 40-lb ball for curls. After that, Cain and I took turns designing aerobic sets: frog jumps, mountain climbers, squat jumps, ski jumps.
Next, Cain wanted to hit the row machines. We have two rowers with sliding seats and air fans — the harder you row, the more the fan spins, supposedly cooling you down. But after 15 minutes, we were drenched.
Cain wanted to do 15 minutes, but his screen wasn’t lighting up. After going all out for a few minutes, he looked over and said, “It’s been at least five minutes by now.”
I told him it had only been two minutes and twenty seconds. He laughed, paced himself, and we settled into a groove. In the final minute, he barked, “Now give it your all for the last minute!”
I did. When we finished, neither of us could walk straight as we staggered to the water fountain. We cooled down with crunches, and by the time we left the gym, we were more than ready for our Christmas feedbags.
As expected, food was abundant.
My cellmate outdid himself again. The rice bowls were amazing. Cain got so many tamales that he started giving some away. I’ve got a couple chilling outside my window as I write this the next day. I honestly don’t know how Cain ate that much.
We sat together in the chow hall for Christmas dinner — Cain smiling joyfully as we got chocolate milk and apple pie. I had warned him not to get his hopes up. But just like Thanksgiving, it turned out “not so bad.”
Cain ate his pie, drank his milk, then looked at me and said with a grin, “This will be a good reason for fasting,” as he shoved the last bite into his mouth.
There’s one more twist to our Christmas, but I’m saving it for the end of this episode.
Let’s get back to our story — Cain’s story.
Last week, you told the world about your spinal fusion. The first time you had ever spoken publicly about it. You also made a public apology to Dana and to your fellow fighters for not going about your goals the right way.
Take us back to that time. What was it like recovering from such a difficult surgery?
“This year was one of the most difficult my family has ever gone through. I felt like my career was coming to an end. The stuff with my brother — we were helping each other. Worst of all was my mom’s health. She had serious joint issues and trouble managing her diabetes. She couldn’t get up or move around the house.
“That was new for my dad. He didn’t know how to take care of her. So we decided to put her in assisted living. She stayed there for seven or eight months. My dad spent every day with her. He learned by watching the nurses. And we both learned that no one takes care of your loved one better than you.
“He learned about her medicines — the side effects, how some pills treated side effects of others. She was on eight or nine different medications. It was crazy. A lot to learn. We started seeing the flaws in man-made medicine.”
After those months, your dad pulled her out?
“He did. He began in-home hospice care. A nurse came once or twice a day just to give him a break so he could shower and cook, but he was always with her.”
Cain pauses, holding back tears.
“I can never thank my dad enough. He took this as his role. Never got frustrated. He took care of my mom like a newborn baby — changing her, cleaning her, lifting her, dressing her. He was amazing.
“This helped me forgive him for the trauma we went through as kids. He only knew pain back then. But as he grew, he learned to love. I saw a complete transformation in him. That’s the lesson I learned — how much love it takes to care for someone at the end of life.”
Did your brother and sister get to see that side of him?
“My brother couldn’t bear to see our mom like that. He stayed away. My sister was on the East Coast. I don’t know how much she saw.”
Let’s talk about another chapter. Michelle gets pregnant. Did you know you were having a boy?
“I asked Michelle if we could have another kid,” Cain says, laughing. “She said yes — but I only got one shot. I meditated and made a whole ceremony out of it. And it worked.”
How soon did you know?
“We did a gender reveal. We live near a private airport, so we hired a pilot to fly over our backyard with a banner. Blue meant boy, pink meant girl. The plane comes in — and it’s red. But my eyes are good. I read it while it was still far away and yelled, ‘It’s a boy!’ No one else could even see it yet.”
Cain laughs hard. “In the video, someone says, ‘You can see that far?’”
What was that moment like?
“I’d always lived in a house full of girls — Michelle, Coral, Chanel. Now a boy was coming.”
Did you always know he’d be named after you?
“For about a month, we thought about names. The one I wanted got turned down.”
What was it?
“Paco!”
We both laugh hard.
“Only one training partner liked it. Cali still calls lil’ Cain, Paco, to this day.”
About a month before Cain was born, you went on a promotional tour of Asia.
“I was blocking out fight talk. I just said I was promoting Fight Night Shanghai.”
You went to Korea. What’s the red robe picture?
“They called it an Emperor’s robe. It was an honor. The Korean Zombie invited me to his gym. I did a seminar. He’s a legend there and gave me onesies for my son. We posted pictures after Cain was born.”
And China?
“The vibe was different. I ate duck bao, which is a soft muffin-type food filled with various types of meat. But there wasn’t much to do. It was quick. I had to get home. My son was coming.”
We were going to continue the next night. But right before Cain came out, he hit his head.
There’s a new guy a few cells down kicking his door, yelling for help. Cain hears it, gets on his hands and knees, yelling under the door for an officer. One comes.
But when Cain stood up, he cracked his head on the steel rod where the toilet paper roll sits — a rod with a washer welded on it. It gashed his head open.
He came out with toilet paper on it and a hat.
“Can I get stitches here?” he asked.
“For what?” I said.
He showed me. We got him to medical. He’s okay. They didn’t stitch it — not because he didn’t need them, but probably because they didn’t know how. If they were competent, they’d be working in a hospital. But that’s just my feeling.
Until next week, thank you for reading Cain’s story.
It’s a human story.
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