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Brodheadsville, Pennsylvania

The former pro boxer opened this gym here for precisely this reason. He thinks of himself as having a dual role: physical-fitness guru and mental-fitness guru.

Jesse set up the gym to offer local people who’ve given up—teens, mostly—hope. Purpose. Anyone who’s failed in life can make it in Jesse’s gym: Boys looking for brotherhood. Girls looking for sisterhood or to learn self-defense. Anyone who’s prepared to work. To train.

Jesse is proud of his results. There are regular stories in the Pocono Record about the correlation between the work done in his gym and the reduction of crime in the area.

Years after they’ve trained with him, people stop him in the street or wave him down in his car to express their appreciation. It makes Jesse feel great.

Today, the lumbering kid who barely makes eye contact lets his dad do the talking. The man introduces himself as Michael Kohberger and says with forced brightness, “This is my son, Bryan.”

He says Bryan wants to lose weight. He’s changing his habits, his life. He’s going to start a vegan diet, but he needs to build muscle, speed up his metabolism.

The father’s clearly a nice guy, Jesse notes, but a talker. Hardly pausing to breathe.

He tells Jesse he’s got his own HVAC business. Works for the Pleasant Valley School District. He glances around the gym and tells Jesse he’d be happy to help with any maintenance issues for free—fix a refrigerator, that sort of thing.

Jesse says he can help Bryan—as long as Bryan is prepared to help himself.

He tells Bryan, whose eyes stay glued to the floor, that he can use the gym daily for as long as he wants.

The other guys in the gym look at the fat kid and roll their eyes. They’ve given up on him already. He’ll never fit in, they are thinking.

Jesse wonders if they are right. He, too, isn’t sure about this kid.

But the next day, right after school, the kid appears, swinging his backpack off his shoulders. The gym is in easy walking distance of the high school, but his dad drops him off.

Jesse’s regulars ignore the kid as he gets to work. No one else in the room is anywhere near that size. He must be more than a hundred pounds overweight.

Jesse shows Bryan the gloves, and they do basic pad work. Jesse stands on one side of a face-size ring hanging from the ceiling and Bryan stands on the other. Pow. Pow. Left. Right.

Though his bulging eyes can’t seem to stop moving, the kid looks focused. His considerable body weight goes into the punch. Jab. Jab. One, two. And then one, two, three.

Jesse can tell that the kid likes the rhythm of punching. They all do, Jesse thinks. That’s why boxing is better than therapy.

The kid is surprising. He’s back the next day. Jesse shows him the power pad. The kid stands on it and pulls the bands up to his sides. If he keeps at it, Jesse tells him, he’ll be able to pull the bands over his head.

And the kid comes back. Again and again. Every day the dad drops him off, coming in to chat with Jesse if the coach has the time. He mentions that Bryan’s had trouble in school. He’s been bullied. Doesn’t like their new house. His friend Jeremy was a bad influence, and they’ve had to separate them.

Jesse notices as the days pass that Bryan is getting leaner. And more focused. He spends two to three hours at a time in the gym.

It’s almost as if he’s got nothing else to do, Jesse thinks. He probably doesn’t.

Now when the dad comes in, he tells Jesse he’s proud of his kid. Jesse tells him he’s proud of Bryan too.

The kid’s no bother, not to Jesse or anyone else. Keeps to himself. Works out, then leaves.

The regulars start to acknowledge him. “Hey, Bryan!” He’s one of them.

For now.