As Charles "Duke" Tanner sat in a prison cell serving a life sentence, he found the resolve to not give up hope for freedom, or for the ones he loved. He realized that his dream of being a free man, let alone fighting again, was in the hands of lawmakers and politicians and could die in the cell, but that the dreams of his son and his nephew could still be nurtured by him.

In 2004, Tanner was arrested and two years later, given a life sentence for a non-violent drug offense, conspiracy to distribute and possession with intent to distribute. At the time, Tanner was a 19-0 cruiserweight, having just signed a $150,000 managerial deal and with a date on ESPN already booked. Tanner has said that he had made some financial promises to friends and family, and with fight purses not coming in quickly, made some decisions he regretted. Nonetheless, never could he have expected the sentence he was handed.

Nephew, Breyon Gorham, followed in his footsteps into the squared circle. Gorham spent many of his formative days with Uncle Duke in Gary, Ind., and as a child, was in attendance for almost all of his pro fights. In the rare instances that Gorham would act up, his 'punishment' from Tanner was simply to watch more boxing. Gorham was four years old when Tanner went away, but their connection was unbroken. Tanner would send letters, making sure Gorham was on weight and doing his roadwork.

“I just felt like it was something in him. He would just do push-ups. He would do different things. He was just different from all other kids,” said Tanner. “He grew up in it. Some people just got it.”

In October 2020, Gorham was a 5-0 professional, building his record in Mexico, when Tanner was granted clemency by President Donald Trump. At 40, Tanner was given a second lease on life.

"Before he went away, he was like a second dad to me. My mom always just dropped us off at his crib, and he's always been at our house on holidays. Every holiday, he always does something," said Gorham. "When he went away, it kind of hurt us for a little bit. But everybody, we had to live with it and everybody thought he was never coming home, but he ended up coming home and it was back to normal. It's like he never went anywhere."

Last week, Tanner watched as his son, Charles III, received his Master’s degree and later sat in the crowd in Houston, Texas, as Gorham defeated Luis Feliciano in the co-feature of the Overtime Boxing event aired on DAZN. Fittingly, the victory moved Gorham to 19-0, the same record Tanner had before he went to prison.

“It almost felt like a movie for real. My whole life and my family tree life, they can make a movie out of it. It was big,” said Gorham. “He was telling me after the fight, 'Yeah, champ, you tied my record now, you tied my record, you just got more knockouts than me.' It was definitely a special night. I went into the fight thinking about that. I was like, 'I got to get this win.' It was a big moment.”

For Tanner, watching the fight was akin to seeing his son graduate days earlier, in that his nephew had graduated into contender status. Feliciano, a decorated amateur and one-time blue chip prospect in the Golden Boy stable, was an aggressive matchmaking choice by Brendan Segales and Overtime meant to affirm that Gorham was indeed the goods. Gorham won nearly every round on all three judges’ scorecards, which doesn’t reflect the constant adjustments and tactical skill needed to hold off a pesky and motivated version of Feliciano.

“Me and my other brother both box. And I tell everybody, he's better than both of us. And where he's better than both of us at, even if it's not the talent, it's his discipline and him being so humble at that young age," Tanner said. "That's not the talk. You got to genuinely have that and have that in you, and he got that. That's what he got. I feel he's a much harder worker than us, and that's what's going to lead him to become world champion.”

Uncle Duke wasn’t the only one who came away from the Feliciano fight thinking that about Gorham. Shakur Stevenson joined the commentary desk to call the bout, having sparred Gorham and spent many years on the U.S. National Team with Feliciano. As the bout developed, Stevenson’s praise of Gorham became more effusive, and a smile began to grow on his face. Gorham, whom he’d watched develop in the gym before his very eyes, had his coming-of-age performance.

“I want people to know that you’re looking at a future world champion,” said Stevenson around the eighth round of the bout, as he praised Graham's intelligence and timing in particular.

The type of craftiness that would impress a ring genius such as Stevenson would normally be cultivated through a lengthy amateur career and a series of highly publicized gradual step-up fights, two luxuries Gorham did not enjoy. His amateur career capped around the 60-fight mark, and his development as a pro came through an early streak of off-the-radar bouts in Mexico and tough matchups on Red Owl Boxing and Overtime, both series notorious for unforgiving matchmaking.

He also doesn’t come from a glitzy, high-profile gym, training out of Lopez Boxing in Baytown, Texas, a converted garage gym next to a Mexican restaurant, Bocanegra’s Kitchen. What the gym lacks in star power, it makes up for with a veteran trainer in Juan Lopez, and in young talent such as Fabian Lopez and Dariel Duquesne on the brink of a breakthrough, which Gorham feels cultivates a collective humble attitude and one of communal learning, where “everybody does something better than everybody.”

Gorham recently signed a promotional deal with Overtime, which boasts two women’s world champions in O’Shae Jones and Tiara Brown, and may be its male fighter closest to a world title opportunity.

"Those [step-up] fights really helped me get better skill-wise, defense, patience. Every fight leveled me up, I feel like, to the point I'm there now. Coach put in the right people at the right time. [This version of] Feliciano right now, I probably wouldn't even beat him like maybe eight fights ago," said Gorham. "I took those fights and it got me to the point where now maybe I wouldn't have had the patience at the time or the ring IQ at the time of being in there. So everything's done at the right time. I just want to fight the best fighters in the planet, and make my mark in the sport of boxing. I know I can compete with anybody in the world."

Tanner still has his own boxing dreams, in addition to living vicariously through his nephew’s. He’s dreamt of a comeback fight back home in Gary, Indiana, but more recently, has been thinking even bigger. He’d love a fight against one of his heroes, Roy Jones Jr., whom he’s friendly with, or against Jake Paul.

In terms of what’s next for Breyon, he and his nephew expressed the same ideas independent of one another.

“I definitely feel like I'm ready for a step up. Pitbull Cruz or Rolly Romero, those type of guys. I'm ready for those guys right now. We keep leveling up from there,” said Gorham.

As influential as Tanner was to Gorham in his upbringing, he finds his nephew’s success as motivational as he works to keep his own fighting dreams alive.

“He came from a troubled background that was supposed to destroy him, but it made him so much better and stronger," Tanner said. "And that's what I love about him. He never complained, always putting that smile. He always keeps working. This guy be making me emotional sometimes."

In a dream scenario, Tanner says he would love for his comeback and Gorham’s world title shot to come on the same night. It might sound far-fetched, but in a family life that has already been like a movie, how could you tell either of them that anything is an impossibility when the impossible has already happened time and time again?

“I think we can really pull that off,” said Tanner. “We go to training camp. I get to work with him on some things and show him some things. He can show me some things. He can motivate me. I motivate him. We go in there and have some fun.”