Tucson entrepreneur and
The Comeback Method author begins an ambitious effort to help 100 people rebuild their lives through accountability, employment, sales training, skilled trades and entrepreneurship.
TUCSON, ARIZONA — Bryan Templin has set an ambitious goal for Tucson:
100 people. 100 opportunities. 100 comebacks.
But this isn’t an initiative waiting for its first participants.
Three comebacks have already begun.
Paul Roman. Gilbert Tahy. Andres Salazar.
All three are convicted felons. All three have battled addiction. And all three are now working toward something much more important than the labels attached to their past:
Their future.
The men are among the first participants on Templin’s roster for 100 Tucson Comebacks, an initiative under his broader Comeback Movement designed to help people overcome significant barriers and move toward employment, valuable skills, entrepreneurship and economic independence.
For Templin, who is himself a convicted felon and has experienced homelessness and significant adversity, the mission is deeply personal.
He doesn’t want to simply tell people that a comeback is possible.
He wants to help create the opportunities that make one possible.
For Paul Roman, the road back follows a battle with fentanyl addiction and a felony conviction.
Fentanyl once controlled much of Roman’s life.
Today, he is trying to build something different.
“There was a point where fentanyl controlled my life,” Roman says. “I can’t change the decisions I made or everything that happened because of them. What I can change is what I do today. Bryan isn’t asking me to pretend my past didn’t happen. He’s expecting me to prove that I’m capable of something better.”
That last sentence captures an important part of Templin’s philosophy.
The Comeback Movement isn’t built around pretending mistakes didn’t happen.
It’s built around what happens next.
Gilbert Tahy’s comeback follows his struggle with alcohol addiction and felony convictions stemming from DUIs.
His story highlights one of the more difficult realities surrounding addiction: someone’s actions can affect far more than the person struggling.
For Tahy, moving forward therefore requires accountability—not excuses.
“I have to own the decisions that got me here,” Tahy says. “My comeback isn’t about asking everybody to forget what happened. It’s about becoming the kind of man whose actions today show that I’ve changed. Having somebody expect more from me makes me expect more from myself.”
That expectation is intentional.
Templin doesn’t believe giving someone a second chance means lowering the standard.
He believes it means giving them an opportunity to rise to one.
For Andres Salazar, the battle involved methamphetamine addiction and a felony conviction.
His comeback is increasingly about identity.
“When you’re deep in addiction, you stop thinking about the person you could become,” Salazar says. “You’re surviving from one moment to the next. Now I’m thinking about my future again. I want people to eventually look at what I’ve built instead of only looking at where I’ve been.”
That transformation—from being defined by a past to becoming known for what someone builds afterward—is at the heart of 100 Tucson Comebacks.
Templin’s connection to these men isn’t theoretical.
He knows what it means to have the word “felon” attached to a name.
His own story includes incarceration, homelessness, business successes, failures and personal adversity.
Those experiences ultimately contributed to his book, The Comeback Method, and eventually to a larger question:
What if the lessons behind one person’s comeback could be used to help someone else create theirs?
That’s how the Comeback Movement began evolving from an idea into something Templin wants to make tangible.
“I don’t believe your worst decision has to become your permanent identity,” Templin says. “You still have to own what you did. You still have to do the work. But if somebody is genuinely willing to change their life, I believe there should be people willing to show them a path forward.”
100 Tucson Comebacks isn’t intended to function simply as traditional charity.
Emergency assistance matters. Someone who is hungry needs food. Someone without shelter needs somewhere safe to sleep.
But Templin is particularly interested in what happens after the immediate crisis.
How does someone become independent?
How does someone who has struggled with addiction become employable?
How does someone leaving incarceration develop a career?
How does someone experiencing homelessness transition from surviving to earning?
How does someone without a professional background learn to communicate, interview, sell or develop a trade?
And eventually:
How does the person who needed an opportunity become someone capable of creating opportunities for others?
Templin believes those questions require more than money.
They require skills.
One of the central components Templin wants to bring to the Comeback Movement is sales education.
To Templin, sales isn’t simply about convincing someone to purchase something.
It’s communication.
Listening.
Confidence.
Handling rejection.
Following up.
Understanding another person’s needs.
Presenting value.
Developing discipline.
Learning how to walk into a room and communicate with people who may know nothing about your past.
For someone rebuilding their confidence after addiction, incarceration or homelessness, those abilities can have value far beyond a sales job.
They can help someone sell the most important thing they may ever have to sell:
Their own potential.
Templin also sees skilled trades as an important pathway.
Construction.
Automotive work.
HVAC.
Electrical.
Plumbing.
Welding.
Maintenance.
And other hands-on professions where skill, reliability and craftsmanship can create economic value.
Not everyone needs a traditional four-year college degree.
Some people need an opportunity to discover that they’re good at building, repairing, installing, creating or selling something.
A trade can become more than employment.
It can become an identity built around capability.
For someone whose identity has previously been dominated by addiction or a criminal record, being able to say “I’m an electrician,” “I’m a welder,” “I’m a technician,” or “I’m a salesperson” can represent something profound.
It’s a new answer to the question:
Who are you?
The initiative is also intended to reach people experiencing or emerging from homelessness.
Templin knows from personal experience that homelessness isn’t simply an economic statistic.
It’s a condition that can make almost everything else harder.
Employment.
Transportation.
Communication.
Appearance.
Sleep.
Confidence.
Stability.
Planning beyond tomorrow.
Someone can desperately want to work and still face a collection of seemingly small obstacles that together become overwhelming.
Sometimes the barrier between a person and employment could be transportation.
Work boots.
Tools.
A certification.
Professional clothing.
Training.
A phone.
Or simply an employer willing to be first.
100 Tucson Comebacks aims to look at the individual rather than assume every person needs the same solution.
Templin is careful about one distinction:
This isn’t about saving people from themselves.
Paul has to do the work.
Gilbert has to do the work.
Andres has to do the work.
Templin can teach.
A tradesperson can train.
An employer can provide an opportunity.
A mentor can give advice.
A community can open a door.
But the participant still has to walk through it.
Again and again.
Show up.
Stay sober.
Learn.
Work.
Accept criticism.
Develop discipline.
Become dependable.
Repair relationships where possible.
Build stability.
And keep going when the excitement of receiving a second chance wears off.
“The easiest thing would be to tell somebody everything is going to be okay,” Templin says. “That’s not what I’m interested in. I want to be able to look somebody in the eye and say, ‘I believe you’re capable of more. I’m willing to help you get there. But you’re going to have to work for it.’”
Templin’s ultimate vision doesn’t stop at employment.
He wants some participants to eventually become entrepreneurs.
Imagine someone entering the Comeback Movement after incarceration.
They learn a trade.
They obtain employment.
They establish stability.
They become excellent at what they do.
Eventually, they start a small company.
Then something remarkable happens.
They hire someone else who needs a second chance.
One comeback has now created another.
That’s the multiplication effect Templin hopes to eventually demonstrate.
The person receiving help today could become the mentor, employer, tradesperson or entrepreneur providing it tomorrow.
Templin doesn’t envision reaching 100 people by himself.
The larger ambition is to involve Tucson’s business community.
Employers can interview qualified participants.
Tradespeople can provide mentorship.
Business owners can teach.
Sales professionals can train.
Entrepreneurs can explain what it actually takes to build a company.
Companies can identify entry-level opportunities.
And community partners can help address barriers outside the expertise of the business community.
Templin believes Tucson has enough successful people to make a significant difference if knowledge, connections and opportunities are shared intentionally.
The question he wants local entrepreneurs to consider is simple:
What do you know that could change somebody else’s life if you taught it to them?
For Templin, philanthropy doesn’t have to begin and end with writing checks.
Money can help.
But knowledge can compound.
A skill can produce income for decades.
A job can create stability.
A business can create jobs.
And mentorship can change decisions someone makes for the rest of their life.
Templin still believes in wealth creation.
He’s an entrepreneur.
He wants to build companies and make investments.
But he’s increasingly interested in another measurement of success:
How many people became more capable because you succeeded?
That’s the philosophy behind 100 Tucson Comebacks.
The number 100 sounds impressive.
But Templin doesn’t want the initiative to become about a number.
Every number represents a person.
For now, the story starts with three.
Paul Roman, rebuilding after fentanyl addiction and a felony conviction.
Gilbert Tahy, taking accountability after alcohol addiction and felony DUI convictions.
Andres Salazar, building a new identity after methamphetamine addiction and a felony conviction.
None of their stories are finished.
That’s precisely the point.
A comeback isn’t something someone announces.
It’s something they prove over time.
There will be difficult days.
There will be accountability.
There will be expectations.
And ultimately, their actions—not an article—will determine what their comeback becomes.
But today, all three are moving forward.
Templin knows helping 100 people won’t solve homelessness, addiction, recidivism or unemployment across Tucson.
He isn’t claiming it will.
He’s trying to demonstrate something smaller—and potentially much more replicable.
Start with one person.
Find the barrier.
Teach the skill.
Create the opportunity.
Demand accountability.
Measure the result.
Then do it again.
If the model works, the first 100 don’t have to represent the end.
They can represent proof that the idea deserves to become bigger.
And perhaps someday Paul, Gilbert or Andres will stand across from another person at the beginning of their own difficult journey.
They won’t have to tell that person that change is possible.
They’ll be able to show them.
They’ll be able to say:
“I’ve been where you are. Now let’s get to work.”
That’s when Templin believes the Comeback Movement will have accomplished something much bigger than helping one individual.
It will have created another person capable of helping the next.
100 Tucson Comebacks
Paul. Gilbert. Andres.
Three comebacks have begun.
Ninety-seven to go.