Ford, 41, was adopted as a baby by his grandmother; his father was never in the picture and his mother was lost in drug addiction. His grandmother still lives in the modest Austin home where she raised him. As a young man Ford considered the priesthood, then taught elementary school for several years. When he was 20 he bought a building in the neighborhood, rehabbed it, and sold it for a profit, and within a decade he had a prosperous real estate business.
But he was still drawn to community work, and in 2006, on his third attempt, Ford beat incumbent state representative Calvin Giles, whose family had been entrenched in west-side politics for years.
In Springfield Ford has established a reputation as a criminal-justice reformer willing to buck the Democratic hierarchy. In 2010 he and colleague John Fritchey called for the national guard to deploy in Chicago to help quell street violence; the idea was promptly rejected by then-Mayor Richard Daley. Two years ago Ford, along with Fritchey, was among the first elected officials in Chicago to publicly declare his support for decriminalizing marijuana, which led to a new city ordinance allowing police to issue tickets rather than locking up low-level users. He’s repeatedly sponsored legislation to help ex-offenders find work and stay out of prison.
But Ford has been mired in his own legal problems since November, when he was indicted in federal court on 17 counts of bank fraud. Prosecutors allege he falsified records to increase his real estate loans from now-defunct ShoreBank, then used some of the funds on personal expenses, including car payments, political campaigning, and checks to the Horseshoe Casino in Hammond.
The charges prompted headlines about yet another Chicago politician headed to the courthouse, if not prison—but also sympathy from Sun-Times columnist Carol Marin and constituents who showed up at his first court hearing.
Ford says he’s still reeling from the indictment. “They hit me right in the gut,” he says. “I hope I don’t become an ex-offender.”