Andrew Gibbs-Dabney: Owning His Story and Embracing the Future

From Prescription Pills to Armed Robbery

Andrew Gibbs-Dabney’s childhood looked pretty normal from the outside. Born with severely pigeon-toed feet, he underwent eight surgeries between ages two and eight, spending months in casts that went all the way to his hips. “I was actually casted to my hips both times,” he told me. “You know, at the time in the hospital, and I obviously don’t remember the very first few surgeries, but as I became an older child, and spent a lot of time in the children’s hospitals.”

Those early medical experiences included morphine and pain medication. Andrew thinks that familiarity played a role in what happened later. He grew up in Fayetteville, Arkansas, near Wilson Park, riding his bike and building forts in the creek between surgeries. His parents split when he was six, but they lived on opposite sides of the same park, so he could move between both homes easily.

College changed everything. During freshman year at the University of Arkansas, someone offered him OxyContin. “It was almost an immediate, just, uh, friendly feeling, something that felt natural,” Andrew said. He didn’t connect the pharmaceutical pill to what he knew about heroin. Most people don’t.

The progression happened fast. What started as weekend recreation became daily dependence. “What was a Friday and Saturday night thing is then all of a sudden the Sunday morning hangover cure is then, you know, what you used doing and then Sunday afternoon and then what, what was recreation now becomes defendants and instead of taking something for fun, you’re taking it to, you know, make breakfast or, you know, go to the store and go shopping or go to the bank because you actually can’t physically operate without it.”

The Liquor Store and Its Aftermath

By the time Andrew was dismissed from the university, his habit was costing several hundred dollars a day. He owed money to people you shouldn’t owe money to. In an OxyContin and Xanax haze, he made the decision to rob a liquor store.

The robbery was amateur hour. He browsed the wine section for fifteen minutes, wore a motorcycle helmet as a disguise, and asked for the money instead of demanding it. “I asked for what was in the register, not demanded. Um, like I said, please, I left on a motorcycle,” he explained. His memory of the actual event is fragmented, partly because of the drugs but also because Xanax affects short-term memory.

Andrew was camping in the woods when someone called to tell him his picture was in the paper. He went to the police station the next morning to clear things up, but quickly realized he needed a lawyer. They let him leave, then raided his house that afternoon with a full SWAT team. The most traumatic part wasn’t the arrest itself but worrying they might shoot his dog.

Three Days in Jail, Three Months in Rehab

Andrew spent three days detoxing cold turkey in Washington County jail, locked down 23 hours a day because of an injured foot from a motorcycle crash. His parents made the smart but hard decision not to bail him out immediately. Instead, they arranged for him to go to a 90-day inpatient rehab program in Austin.

This is where Andrew acknowledges his privilege. “My experience is not the same experience that most people in the system have. Like, most people don’t have the ability to go to a three month rehab and have the family support to pay for it.”

In rehab, he made a deliberate choice to feel the full weight of withdrawal instead of using medicated detox. He was facing 40 years to life on an aggravated robbery charge. “I made the choice to feel it, right? I wanted to feel the full detox. I wanted to feel the physical effects of the such and tight on the body,” he said. He wanted reality to hit as hard as possible so he’d never forget what led him there.

Boot Camp and Second Chances

Andrew gathered nearly 20 character letters from family, friends, and community members who knew him before his addiction. He completed community service and stayed engaged in AA. When he went back to the judge, his lawyer presented a case for rehabilitation rather than pure punishment.

The judge reduced the charge from aggravated robbery to theft of property and sentenced him to 10 years with all but six months suspended. That made Andrew eligible for boot camp at Tucker prison in Arkansas.

Boot camp was 105 days of military discipline in a metal barracks housing 120 men. They woke up at 3:30 AM every day and spent most waking hours sitting on cots with nothing to do. Reading was only allowed at certain times. Falling asleep earned a major disciplinary infraction, and three of those meant getting kicked out of the program.

“A lot of time just sitting there exactly like I am now with no backrest for three months, just daring thinking,” Andrew recalled. He developed mental exercises to cope with the boredom, like imagining himself back home making a sandwich in excruciating detail.

Building a Life After Prison

After boot camp, Andrew was released on intensive parole with more frequent drug tests and meetings. He was forbidden from contacting anyone he’d been incarcerated with, but he’d met some brilliant people inside who challenged his assumptions about who ends up in the system.

Andrew got his bachelor’s degree, married, had two kids, and founded Lives in Designs, an outdoor company that connects back to his childhood passion for nature and building forts by Wilson Park. But his past remained a shadow over his business ambitions.

Recently, a potential investor backed out after running a background check. That’s when Andrew decided to take control of his narrative by posting about his conviction on LinkedIn. He spent a week debating whether to hit publish, knowing it could destroy everything he’d built.

The response surprised him. Instead of rejection, he got a wave of support and new investors who wanted to back him specifically because of his transparency about his journey.

Owning the Story

“My past is not my present, but it brought me here,” Andrew wrote in that LinkedIn post. For him, sharing his story wasn’t just about business transparency. It was about refusing to let his past be used as use against him anymore.

Andrew now lives in Bentonville, Arkansas, with his wife and two young sons. He’s working to give them the same kind of outdoor freedom he had as a kid, in a community that values mountain biking and open spaces. His company continues to grow, now with investors who know exactly who they’re backing.

The nightmare of addiction and incarceration shaped who Andrew became, but it doesn’t define his limits. He owns his story now, and that makes all the difference.