It was dark in the basement closet where the 10-year-old boy, forced by his stepfather, would stay for hours, sometimes from 4 to 10 p.m., sitting on the shoes or coats.

He would be put there after the boy's mom, not aware of this, would leave for her swing-shift work in San Jose, Calif.

He doesn't recall crying in there, said Tomas Reis, now 45, and a martial arts instructor in Bismarck. Sometimes, he spent the time listening to the television program that his stepdad was watching in a nearby room. He also recalls spending time talking to God or thinking about his dreams for his life. He wanted to be like Jacques Cousteau, a marine biologist.

Reis said he sometimes knocked on the closet door to ask to go to bathroom. But he generally just stayed put, not wanting to risk a belt or brush beating from his stepdad, who's now dead.

"He liked to spank me on my bare bottom with a wire dog brush,"Reis said.

Reis said he never told his mother about it because his stepdad had told him if he did, he'd throw out both Reis and his mom without money or any place to live.

To escape from this, Reis said that after several months he began sneaking out of the house right before his mom went to work, and then stayed out late, sometimes past 11 p.m.

He would make friends with older boys who called themselves the Eastside First Street Locos.

He said eventually it would be a San Jose police officer and martial arts teacher, Joe Williams, who would save his life.

Reis said that at age 10, he was too young to be a member, to get "jumped into" the gang, but the gang would let him hang around. Reis said it was a small-time gang and the worst thing they did was to steal cars for joy-riding. Reis said they had a couple run-ins with Williams, like the time the gang was throwing tomatoes at cars from an overpass. He remembers Williams chasing them down and chewing them out, telling them it was a dead-end road they were taking.

But the turning point for Reis was a couple of years later. Reis, 12, stole a car for the first time - for the purpose of getting back home from a party on the east side of town.

He picked a Mazda RX7, which, back then, was easy to get into with just a visegrip and screwdriver.

He said he had driven the car several miles with the radio off, watching all around to make sure there weren't cops around. He was close to his neighborhood, and was driving into a commercial area of San Jose to dump the car. In a residential area, people might see him. In this area, the businesses were closed and no one was around.

Except for Williams, apparently.

Right when he was preparing to dump the car and head for home, Williams' squad car came from the opposite direction.

He said Williams had his spotlight on, apparently checking the businesses, which were prime locations for break-ins, and when he passed Reis, he immediately recognized him.

"I knew the game was up," Reis said.

Reis pulled over and Williams did a u-turn.

"He gets out of the car … and starts yelling at me for a good fifteen minutes,"Reis said.

Reis said he kept his mouth shut.

Williams finally started to calm down and have a conversation with him.

"He told me, 'You could spend a year in juvenile hall - and that's the beginning of the end,'" Reis said.

"I felt really bad,"Reis said. "I felt I had disappointed him."

Williams also was aware of who Reis' stepdad was, a reserve officer for the Menlo Park Police Department, and known to be difficult.

"I think he knew that my whole reason for being out … I didn't have any place to go. I needed to be out of the house," Reis said.

Reis said for some reason, Williams decided to give him a chance.

He told Reis he wouldn't arrest him if he would give him one year of his life.

He told him the deal was that Reis would have to stop wearing gang clothing, and every day after school would have to come to where Williams taught jujitsu. Reis would have to bring his homework, do his homework, and then Williams would train him in jujitsu. And he couldn't miss a day.

Reis said he promised. Williams took care of the stolen car and the next day, Reis rode his bike 15 minutes to the Police Activities League Building for his first day of jujitsu.

He would end up winning some trophies during that year. And then he would leave Williams and jujitsu classes when the family moved to the nearby town of Cupertino.

"My whole life changed because of Joe,"Reis said.

He has tried to find Williams to thank him, but hasn't been able to find him, so far.

Reis - who went on to get involved in sports and had a Latin-language teacher who inspired him to "look beyond the walls you are in" - would join the U.S. Air Force. On a visit home, he found out Williams had been right in his predictions about those in gang life.

Of the guys he had been running with, a couple had been killed, a few more were in prison.

Reis, after six years in the Air Force, during which he was a member of a team that specialized in anti-hijack tactics, then spent 11 years as a police officer in California, first with the Solano Sheriff's Department, and was on SWAT and youth gang units.

In the later years, he was in high-crime areas, such as Vallejo, Calif., where he was going from one felony crime in progress to another. He said it was turning him into someone he didn't want to be. One night, he remembers the frustration of getting a call of a rape in progress and being only about 30 seconds away, but then not being able to continue to the call because he was diverted to an attempted homicide involving gang members. The gang member wouldn't die, but Reis wouldn't be able to get back in time to help the rape victim.

He said all this was changing him. He'd go into a restaurant and pick a table next to the wall and face the cash register, expecting a crime to occur. He said everyone became a potential suspect and he was becoming cynical of the human race. When he was injured in 1993 while trying to subdue a suspect high on methamphetamine, he had time to reflect. In 1994, he decided to give up his law enforcement career. He was jobless then, and his wife gave up on him, and they separated.

He moved to where his now-divorced mother lived, in Indiana, and opened a martial arts school.

"I was finally able to relax, recuperate,"he said.

Along the way, practicing meditation and Tai Chi and Chi Gung, moving meditations, slow movements, helped him to heal, too.

And he remembers having little kids in a martial arts class who, after being tested, ran up and gave him a group hug.

"They were thanking me for what I was giving them," he said. "It made me reflect on Joe."

"Now I'm in a position I can start giving back."

"That's what he's done with his life," said his wife, Roxanne Reis, who met Reis in California in 2006. "He has spent his life serving."

He now has three black belts, is certified in seven systems, and has teaching credentials from the American Aikido Institute and the U.S. Black Belt Academy.

Roxanne (Becker) Reis grew up in North Dakota, daughter of Pat and Wes Becker. When she had an opportunity to join her dad here and help him with his insurance business in Beulah, they decided to do it - to leave California for a better place to raise a family.

They bought a home in Bismarck. She's commuting to Beulah for now, and eventually would like to get back into her past occupations - teaching yoga, personal training and nutrition counseling.

He works here, teaching "street-wise self defense based on martial arts science" and also Tai Chi and Chi Gung, moving mediations that reportedly have health and wellness benefits.

"He's just an amazing person," said Kati Schriock, 28, Bismarck, referring to his life experiences. Schriock studies with Reis.

Reis says martial arts was originally developed for spiritual enlightenment, not combat. "They were created to coordinate mind, body and spirit," he said.

"Fighting for the sake of ego leaves emptiness wherever it goes. Creating harmony in the universe and in ourselves is truly the sign of a master," he said.

Now, wouldn't Joe Williams like to hear that?

(Reach reporter Virginia Grantier at 250-8254 or virginia.grantier@bismarcktribune.com.)