Building Second Chances: Sean Stegeman's and Lee Loveall's CMC Journey

From Rock Bottom to Real Leadership

Okay Nightmare Success lifters, I just finished talking with Sean Stegeman, and this conversation hit me differently. Sean’s story isn’t just about getting out of prison and finding work. It’s about how someone who spent years cycling in and out of the system figured out what real leadership looks like, and how that transformed not just his life but the lives of 187 other people getting second chances in Springfield, Missouri.

Sean grew up in Jefferson City with divorced parents. His dad struggled with alcoholism and wasn’t around much after the divorce when Sean was in second grade. His mom worked night shifts at a factory, raising Sean and his brother mostly on her own. “As long as we didn’t have the police knocking at the door or people complaining about it, she really didn’t know what we were doing most of the time,” Sean told me.

By his freshman year, Sean was skipping school and smoking weed. He ended up at a juvenile boot camp called Show Me Challenge where he got his GED. But at 17, everything changed. Sean was drinking and driving with his 15-year-old best friend Zach when they wrecked. Zach died. Sean got involuntary vehicular manslaughter and a five-year sentence. He did two and a half years.

The Pattern That Almost Destroyed Him

Sean got out at 21 and stayed clean for over a decade. He started a residential tree business with his brother, got married, had four kids. But he was living what he calls a double life. “She worked. She was with the kids. And then I worked. And then I did what I want. And she didn’t really question it a whole lot,” he said about his ex-wife.

The partying escalated. Pills led to heroin, then meth. By 33, Sean had pushed everyone away. His wife had restraining orders. He picked up assault charges and stalking charges for violating those orders three times. “I was at the end of myself. I have a charge that is a 25 year sentence up to 25 85%. I got a bunch of other little charges that are strung out into three different judges,” Sean explained.

Sitting in Cole County jail facing decades, Sean finally broke. He’d been running from God, he said, even though he could feel Him there. “I said, all right, listen, Lord, I’m going to give you one. I’m going to read this Bible one time. I’ll read the whole thing. And you got to do something. If you don’t show me something, I’m taking my life.”

The Transformation in Prison

Sean opened to Proverbs, looking for wisdom. What he found convicted him completely. “It was so convicting of the reason everything my life looks the way it is because I’m a fool, because I shook my fist at God, because I wouldn’t listen to him, because I chose my own path,” he said. He read the entire Bible in under 40 days. The nightmares that had been plaguing him stopped.

This time in prison was different. Sean became a chaplain. He stopped talking about his case in the yard because he realized everything that came out of his mouth was either a lie or playing victim. He journaled instead. When it came time for release, every instinct told him to go back to Jefferson City to try to win back his family. But he felt called to Springfield, to a recovery ministry called Freeway Ministry run by a guy named John Stroop.

Sean wrote John a letter explaining his situation. Three days after his ex-wife served him divorce papers, cutting that tie to Jefferson City, John’s acceptance letter arrived. Sean never even filled out an application.

Building Something Real in Springfield

Sean spent six months at Freeway’s house in Marshfield, working part-time at Mom’s Kitchen. When COVID shut everything down, Freeway asked him to lead their main house in Springfield. That’s when the ministry connected him with a custom sheet metal shop called Architectural Design Concepts. The owner was Lee Loveall.

Lee and Sean hit it off immediately. Sean’s leadership skills, grounded now in something solid rather than manipulation and shortcuts, impressed Lee. When Sean suggested they could help more people coming out of prison, Lee was all in. They pivoted the company to focus on reentry.

Today, Creative Modular Construction employs 187 people, most of them formerly incarcerated. They do fabrication and installation for Seven Brews Coffee, a national chain. It’s not charity work or a social program. It’s a growing business that happens to give real second chances.

What Real Second Chances Look Like

This isn’t inspiration talk. That’s concrete results from treating reentry seriously. Sean learned something crucial in prison: real leadership isn’t about being the smartest guy in the room or cutting corners to get ahead. It’s about serving something bigger than yourself and helping others do the same.

The recidivism rate stays high partly because we expect people to figure out reentry on their own. Finding housing, getting work, learning basic life skills after years inside. Sean got lucky. He found Freeway Ministry first, then Lee Loveall, who saw past the conviction to the person.

“I’ve learned in the treatment program, I learned those foundational principles and then what God wants that to look like, as we’re all called to be leaders in some form or fashion,” Sean said. The difference now is his leadership serves others instead of just building his own reputation.

Sean’s four kids, who barely knew him when he went to prison the second time, are back in his life. His youngest was seven months old when he got locked up. She’s a teenager now. The family he thought he’d lost forever has been rebuilt on a foundation that won’t crumble this time.

Programs like this should be everywhere. When someone gets a real shot at rebuilding their life, with stable housing, meaningful work, and a community that believes in second chances, it works. Sean and Lee proved that in Springfield. The question is whether we’re serious enough about reducing recidivism to replicate it.