Fostering Hope: Ray Davis’ incredible story of survival
Homeless at age 12, Kentucky running back Ray Davis hopes to inspire other children who are lost in the system.
Nine months ago, everybody wanted Ray Davis. Eleven years earlier, nobody did.
“I would sit there for days upon days texting family members, texting friends asking someone to just take me in temporarily, just for maybe a two-or three-week stint. So I could be back in the real world, so I can go to school,” Davis said. “But as the days go on, you start to realize that nobody wants you.”
Davis, one of the nation’s most coveted transfers as a 1,000-yard Southeastern Conference running back, has an incredible life story to share. From two stints in a homeless shelter to Vanderbilt graduate with many more chapters still to be penned.
“You never hear the success stories, you always hear the failure stories,” Davis said. “My goal is to be a successful story. I want to be an advocate for kids in the system, foster kids, because I once was like them. I experienced all the hardship that you go through being in that system, waiting for someone to adopt you or for someone not to want you because of how old you are or the background that you come from.”
HOMELESS AT AGE 12
Re’Mahn “Ray” Davis was raised in San Francisco’s Hayes Valley neighborhood, moving between relatives and friends as his parents, Raymond Davis and Jessica Blazer, were in and out of legal troubles. He was in the foster care system by the time he was eight years old, and he had even been to a homeless shelter. The hardest part, though, was a two-month stay in the shelter when he was twelve.
According to Davis, “I was waiting to be adopted or for someone to look after me temporarily.” It was difficult since I thought no one cared about me. No one desired a twelve-year-old. Everyone desired to have a younger person as their own, someone they could raise.”I gained maturity as a man.”
But other people, guardian angels and all, were starting to move.
After Davis finished the eighth grade, Ben and Alexa Klaus, his former instructors, encouraged him to temporarily move into their apartment. Alexa taught kindergarten, while Ben was his teacher for the third grade.
Davis returned to live with his grandmother as a young adolescent, however it was difficult for both of them. “Unfortunately, I didn’t eat the greatest food or have the appropriate clothing. I lacked the motivation to attend school.
It was then that fate became involved. Davis was a standout athlete who went to Santa Barbara for a tournament with his young basketball team.
I was taken by a coach, but I was unable to return. Why? I’m not
Bradley gave him one last gasp, and his family admitted it—but with a disclaimer.
“I’m going to ask you a hundred questions if you get in the car,” his mother Lora Banks threatened, according to Davis. “I assumed it was a jest. I promise that I assumed it was a prank. I think she asked me close to three hundred questions. In six hours, she discovered everything about my life.”
According to Banks, “there were probably a thousand questions.” He was only another enigmatic adolescent who, up until that point, had no genuine relationship with my son. He was fifteen, so he wasn’t exactly forthcoming.
“I had no idea where he resided. If he had parents, I had no idea who they were. Banks continued, “I didn’t know him from elementary school.
The adolescent was unaware that Davis’ life trajectory had abruptly changed direction.
Davis remarked, “She never gave up on me.” She knew I wasn’t eating, so the following day she invited me to the family dinners. I was able to get assistance from Lora and see my life’s purpose. She would always minimize everything because she never wanted anything back.
Davis continues to choose Greg Ley and Lora Banks as his guardians.
It reminds me of my mom. From the age of 15, she reared me,” he remarked. “I participate in family vacations and group chats.”
Davis’ basketball team received an invitation to participate in a tournament in Reno, Nevada, in 2016, but he was prohibited from leaving the state. Thus, Banks finished the
Although Davis acknowledges that the day he was accepted “changed my life,” it is not surprising considering his past that a significant obstacle still stood in the way of his fresh start 3,000 miles away.
Despite being a child and a state ward, the 16-year-old was unable to leave California. However, another guardian angel entered the picture—a strange selection considering his background.
The boy’s father was getting out of jail about the time Lora Banks was meeting Re’Mahn for the first time during that lengthy automobile ride. Since then, Ray Davis, the all-time leader in single-season touchdowns for Galileo High School Sports Hall of Famer who surpasses OJ Simpson in that regard, had managed to pull together his life and had spent a year cultivating a rapport with the
“I love Mr. Ray,” Banks said. “He never went back in. He has held several long-term jobs, usually two at a time. He has an apartment in San Francisco.
“Mr. Ray stepped up every time he had a chance,” she said. “The two younger siblings were Ray’s half-siblings, so not Mr. Ray’s responsibility, but he took care of them anyway. God bless this man, he makes an effort to have a relationship with and support all these kids.”
At long last, one wound finally healed.
“Me and my dad, we got pretty close by junior year of high school,” he said. “We’ve been close ever since.”
So close, in fact, that should the father be awarded legal custody then his son could make the journey to New York. To do so, the kid who once spent time in a homeless shelter would now have to plead his own case to not only sway a San Francisco judge, but attorneys and social workers gathered that day.
Banks will never forget the scene.
“There were people on his team that were not for him leaving the state, which was shocking to me,” Banks said. “There was even an attorney for the county who showed up. We’re in the hallway, my husband and I, and this attorney said, ‘I just want to let you know, I’m going to oppose it.’ I was horrified. I thought I was going to puke.
“The attorney said this child would be going to another state and wouldn’t have any support and was destined to fail,” Banks recalled. “Ray’s attorney is a child advocate, which is basically like a public defender. They’re not a litigator. They’re not like a high-powered fighter.”
Banks feared the worst once the hearing convened.
“The judge turns to the attorney and says, ‘I understand you’re going to oppose it.’ And the attorney said, ‘Well, it’s just a bad idea all around. This child would never be cared for.’”
The judge turned to Ray, who was only 15, and said, ‘The attorney has raised the argument that you’re not supported. And Ray says, ‘Excuse me, have I ever been?’” Banks said. “It was perfect and he did it without being sassy.”
The judge then let Davis speak for himself.
“He never said, ‘This is my way out. I’m going to do great, I promise,’” Banks said. “He just said, ‘If I have to rely on myself, I’m going to rely on myself because this is where I think I have a chance to be set up for success.’ He said, ‘I want to go to college. I want to get an education. I don’t know how it’s going to work. I don’t know who’s going to be there for me, but I do know what I have here and this is the choice that I want to make. If I don’t take this now, I don’t know where I am a year from now, two years from now. This is what I want to do.’
“He made his case and he never pointed the finger at anybody,” Banks said. “He didn’t say, ‘You guys have all screwed me over. You’ve been horrible. How could you do this to a little kid?’ He never said that. He just said, ‘This is what I want and it’s my choice.’ I mean, he did a fabulous job.”
Banks said the judge then turned to the county attorney for a response.
“He said, ‘Your Honor, we have no response. We would concur.’”
Davis nor Banks could believe what happened next.
“The judge said to me, ‘This is one of those success stories that a lot of kids in your situation don’t get to do.’ And she talked about how a lot of kids like me end up in jail or dead.”
The judge then smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks, and tossed Davis a stuffed teddy bear, the traditional celebration when a child is officially adopted.
“She said, ‘I don’t really get to do this a bunch. But this is one of those moments, I’m glad to do it.’ And she goes, ‘I am excited to grant full custody to your father. You’re going to boarding school.’
“The judge said, ‘You’re going to be fine,’” Banks said, tearing up a decade later when reflecting on that moment. “She said, ‘I believe you’re going to do what you say you’re going to do.’ Then the judge came off the bench and hugged him.”
“It was a celebratory day because I had been in the system since I was 8,” Davis said. “My social workers were there, my therapist was there. But it was all thanks to Lora Banks. She fought hard to make sure my dad got full custody and for me to be able to have a full relationship with my father again.”
He still has the teddy bear, tucked away in a closet at his dad’s house in California.
“I’m just having a big smile on my face,” Davis said of that day, “because I just knew that from that day on, my life started now. My life is in my hands. I’m in full control of every decision that I make. I’m going to school and I’m going take this football thing serious. There’s nobody else to spoon feed me now.”
