Marco Murillo was 12 when he joined a gang, following his mother's death from cancer. He thought it was the only thing he had left.

"I wanted to be involved in whatever was going on," the 19-year-old Los Angeles man said.

Thanks to the Rev. Gregory Boyle and Homeboy Industries, he now knows better.

"I gave the gang-bang stuff up," Murillo said. "I don't want my daughter to grow up with a father who's a jail bird or a drug addict."

Boyle, a Jesuit priest, started Homeboy Industries as a way of addressing LA's growing gang-violence problem. The organization gives jobs and life skills to former gang members, along with other services such as counseling and tattoo removal.

Boyle, Murillo and another former gang member, 18-year-old Juan Requejo, visited Carroll College on Monday night to share their stories in a Martin Luther King Jr. Day presentation titled "Putting a Human Face on Gang Members."

"It's about -- How do we connect with each other so there's no 'them,' there's just 'us,' " Boyle said. "How do you stand with people on the margins, so the margins are erased?"

About 1,000 people walk through the organization's doors each month, seeking a chance to change their lives. Homeboy employs 120 people, 80 of them former gang members.

Rival gang members work together at various businesses: Homeboy Bakery, Homeboy Silkscreen, Homeboy Landscaping and more.

It's the largest gang-intervention program in the country, and Boyle calls it a rehab center for gang bangers who want to better themselves.

Like Murillo, Requejo thought being a gang member was all he had.

"I thought I was part of something ... I was just fighting over a piece of land that was never mine," Requejo said.

"It's a life I'm just ready to give up," he added. "It's really not worth it."

The program was born in two housing projects, in the city's poorest parish. It initially served an area controlled by eight gangs, but since has expanded to cover all of Los Angeles County and the area's 600 gangs.

Society can't arrest its way out of the problem, Boyle said. The concept of giving gang members jobs and skills is taking hold, he said.

"What's changed, I think, is the idea of intervention," he said. "We've helped thousands, but what's changed the most is how to address this issue."

The employees often have a difficult time -- at least initially -- getting along, he said. Gang members will agree to work alongside each other as long as they don't have to talk to each other. Over time, the dynamics change.

Boyle said the organization holds a company picnic once a year, where members play baseball. In one instance, the runner at third base had once shot at the third baseman. But here they were, playing ball together.

"It was just so powerful," Boyle said.

"You watch their hatred dissipate," he added. "It's hard to hate someone you know."

Murillo and Requejo are both thankful. Boyle, they said, gave them jobs and helped them get an apartment together.

They met each other at a juvenile detention center. Some time later, they met up again, and Murillo convinced Requejo to join Homeboy Industries.

Murillo works at Homeboy Industries headquarters. He started as an office clerk and since has advanced to become a supervisor, overseeing juveniles in the organization's after-school program.

He wants to be a good father for his daughter, stay out of trouble and get a good job in order to provide for his child and his girlfriend.

Requejo works as a clerk, answering phones and directing callers to Homeboy's various services.

"It's a challenge," he said. "But I'm willing to go through it ... it's really something."

He wants to go back to school and get his diploma before enrolling in a community college. He wants a house for him and his girlfriend, and a stable life -- to "have everything I've never had. A family, you know."