BlankHe started going blind in prison. Now he runs a landscaping business in
Detroit.
Angie Jackson , Detroit Free Press
When Leonard Fantroy began going blind in prison in November 2014, he initially
thought the sharp pain in his eyes was a migraine.? Then he stepped outside and
saw
what looked like a thick fog enveloping the prison yard ? but other inmates
couldn't
see it.? After a series of neurological tests, doctors confirmed what Fantroy
feared,
that he was losing his vision.
"I'm sitting there crying because I'm like, I got all these plans when I go
home to
take care of my family because I don? t want to go home and sell dope," Fantroy
recalled.? Transporting and selling drugs in Detroit had landed him in prison
three
times.
Legally blind when he was released for the last time in 2016, Fantroy said he
found a
new determination to not return.? He started a landscaping company in 2018,
rounding
up a crew made up of his teenage sons and guys from his neighborhood on the
city's
northeast side, some of whom also had criminal convictions.? He dreamed up the
idea
after a month of? sleeping on the floor because he couldn't afford furniture
for his
rental home.?
Fantroy, 41, manages the business with help from a small team of supporters.
There's
a longtime friend who handles his paperwork and contributes her own money
toward lawn
mowers and landscaping tools.
There's a man he met in prison who's seeking out entrepreneurship training for
Fantroy.
Running a small business for the first time brings its challenges. Fantroy has
wrestled with broken-down equipment and been targeted by thieves. He hasn't
been able
to get a loan because of his credit score. He pushes forward with urgency.??
"My vision is fading. Every day I lose. So I have to be in a hurry," he said.?
Fantroy's vision is 20/200 in one eye and 20/400 in the other. He can see
objects,
but he can? t discern details.?
"One of my biggest obstacles is not being able to do what I want to do.
Somebody's
gotta drive me around. That's my plight," he said.
Fantroy has optic neuritis, a condition that causes his immune system to attack
his
optic nerves. It's a common symptom of multiple sclerosis, but he doesn't have
MS and
said doctors haven't been able to pinpoint the underlying cause.
He gets an infusion every six weeks that slows down the degeneration of his
nerves, a
treatment he began in prison.
When running his business, Leonard Fantroy's Lawn Service LLC, he stands back
and
lets his crew handle the residential and commercial jobs. He gets his hands
dirty
when the gigs don't call for precise attention to detail, like boarding up
windows
and clearing yards for the Detroit Land Bank Authority.
"I can run every piece of equipment except ride on lawnmowers," he said.
Fantroy relies on his friend Latasha Lockett to keep his paperwork straight.
The two
met in 2003 and were roommates for a time before they lost touch.? They
reconnected
after Fantroy got out of prison.? She bought him his first lawnmower and
started
picking up tools for him here and there.?
Lockett hasn't kept track of how much money she's invested. In all the years of
their
friendship, she said she hadn't seen Fantroy as happy as he was when he got his
business license and bought his first snowblower.?
"I got faith in him," said Lockett, who works in adult home help care. "I
believe
he's come a long way."
One morning this week, Fantroy watched from a curb as a few of his employees
packed
debris into a trailer outside a vacant home that they were readying for the
Lank
Bank. Fantroy mentally calculated how much additional money they could bring in
if he
could afford a few dump trailers. He calls this his "drug dealer mind,"
referring to
how he says he used to rake in thousands of dollars in a matter of days on the
streets.
Now his earnings are much more modest.
"I can go get a pound of weed or a kilo of cocaine right now quicker than I can
get a
loan," he said.
But he won't, he says, because selling drugs again after scraping his business
together wouldn't feel the same. And he wants to be around for his children.
The criminal justice reform organization? Michigan Liberation is trying to
connect
Fantroy with entrepreneurship training and financial assistance. Earl Burton, a
justice fellow with the group,? met Fantroy in prison and cheers on his work
ethic.
"He's not sitting back like, 'Oh, poor me.' I'm losing my sight," Burton said.
"He's like an inspiration to me. ... If he can do it, anybody ought to be able
to."
Fantroy said his father taught him to count drug money at a young age. His dad
also
taught him how to mow lawns.?
"Now I appreciate the struggle. I love being broke," he said.? "I love being
who I
am."
Fantroy may be reached by email at
lf2018lawnservice@xxxxxxxxx or through his business Facebook page,? Leonard
Fantroy's
Lawn Service LLC .