LA BELLE, Pa. — Wayne Smith walks into a classroom wearing a chestnut-colored jumpsuit and white Nike sneakers. Those shoes give him a small sense of normalcy, but on this day, so does seeing and hugging his brother Jonnu.

Wayne then lets out a "MUUUTH!" cheer when he sees Pat Freiermuth, which gets everyone smiling.

Jonnu Smith and Wayne Smith are just barely five years apart, raised in the same inner-city Philadelphia home with the same mother, same four sisters and same father who died in 2000 when the kids were young.

But now one wears No. 81 and plays tight end for the Steelers while the other is inmate No. LY3912 at the State Correctional Institute at Fayette.

"I'm him and he's me," Jonnu tells five of his teammates and 11 other inmates. "Our bond was never broken."

Not even through 15 years of incarceration for Wayne, the last 10 of which have been served at SCI-Fayette in Luzerne Township, which sits on the edge of Fayette County near the borders of Washington County and Greene County. Wayne has never seen Jonnu play football in person. He's never worn an NFL jersey with SMITH on the back.

But he remembers his younger brother watching NFL Network all the time growing up. When he was sitting in the county lock-up, he got to see Jonnu's highlight reels and knew his own flesh and blood could be a dominant player. The day Jonnu was drafted in the third round by the Titans in 2016, Wayne dropped to his knees on the prison floor and cried.

"He had a vision and brought it to fruition," Wayne told an audience Tuesday afternoon. "That's what we can do."

'Bad choices'

Wayne was speaking to his peers during a visit to the prison spearheaded by Jonnu and the Steelers. Jonnu had been to the complex countless times to see Wayne, getting to know some of the guards and staff there.

A small group of Jonnu Smith fans turned much larger in June when he was traded from the Dolphins to the Steelers. What used to be a five-hour drive from Philadelphia is now less than a third of that. Pittsburgh used to just be the largest city on the signs they'd see headed west to La Belle. Though he used to get grief from security, now he has most of them on his side.

"I know this place well — unfortunately," Jonnu said as he walked in Tuesday, past the bright walls of murals painted by prisoners of bridges, star athletes and more.

Wayne was convicted of third-degree murder, aggravated assault, possession of an instrument of crime and carrying a firearm on public streets. According to court filings, Wayne was involved in a street fight June 5, 2010, that escalated and resulted in fatal gunshot wounds to David Dial.

Both brothers insist he was in the wrong place at the wrong time but admit Wayne was lost without their father, who died at 40 in a tow truck accident and left the Smiths' mother raising all six kids as a single parent. Jonnu was just 4 years old when the tragedy struck.

Wayne was "hard-headed," as he puts it, and "making bad choices."

Jonnu was "pretty close" to going down the same path, until his mom moved him out of Philadelphia and sent him to live with an aunt and uncle in Florida when he was 15. He likes to joke that he's the "Fresh Prince of Ocala" but putting his life on the right path was a serious endeavor.

"I always wanted the best for my little brother," Wayne said. "I never wanted him to follow in my footsteps."

Last year, Wayne's case was revisited and his sentence was reduced. He's gone from serving 25 to 50 years to 16 to 32, which means he can get out in July.

As much as Jonnu's journey has been motivated by his mom and the rest of his family, reaching the NFL so he could help his brother afford legal fees to continue striving for his freedom was always top of mind. Every yard gained, every touchdown scored was a log on the fire to fuel his mission.

"One of my driving forces was to make the league and find a great attorney," Jonnu told his teammates.

SCI-Fayette allows contact visits, so he's gotten to meet Jonnu's three sons and daughter, who know him as "Uncle Wayne" all the same. As Jonnu was hitting all his NFL milestones — first game, first touchdown, second contract — the two made use of video calls to stay connected.

Jonnu always holds dear some words of wisdom from his mom that he'll pass on to anyone who will listen:

It can take you a lifetime to build the world you want for yourself. But all it takes is a few seconds to tear it all down.

"I've become a man who is completely transformed," Wayne said. "I can't believe I was making the decisions I was making."

Wayne added that if he can even help steer one young man into avoiding his fate and bettering himself, he'll feel fulfilled once he's on the outside. And that was a major reason for Jonnu's trip Tuesday. It wasn't just to check in with his brother, which he can do more often now.

Team effort

Jonnu was joined by Freiermuth, Connor Heyward, punter Corliss Waitman, backup tackle Calvin Anderson and practice squad tight end Matt Sokol, all of whom took time on their day off to talk to the SCI-Fayette inmates about re-entry and give them words of encouragement. The players heard some of their backstories, held a question-and-answer session and watched as Community Kitchen, a Pittsburgh-based culinary training program that offers transitional employment opportunities, gave a presentation.

"Our upbringings were just vastly, completely different," Freiermuth said of himself and his running mate at tight end. "Just hearing some of the inmates' stories of how they grew up, what they went through, it really tugs at the heartstrings. Definitely eye-opening."

Freiermuth and the others listened intently to other grown men who opened up about their drug and alcohol addictions, gang involvement, mental health struggles and financial hardships. They were able to put a face and name to a statistic.

One of Wayne's closest friends, who's been behind bars for 22 years for third-degree homicide, spoke of "frivolous street codes" that he used to live by and how he now wants to lead a purpose-driven life so that his victim and his victim's family didn't suffer in vain. Another hopes he can find the resources and strength to not relapse again when he gets parole.

"A lot of those guys, they were still taking accountability for their mistakes, even though they may not have had a warm meal every day or a stable household or loving parents to raise them how they were supposed to," Waitman said. "It was refreshing to see. And it's really inspiring because it makes you reflective of where you're at now. I just learned a lot."

When Wayne was afforded the opportunity to introduce Jonnu to the crowd of 100 or so inside the basketball gym Tuesday, he called it "one of the most beautiful moments" of his time there to stand next to his "little big brother." One of the other inmates told the players they needed something like this, as the conversation turned to inquiries about Mike Tomlin and Aaron Rodgers.

Jonnu could not have been more grateful for his teammates' presence. But those who gave up part of their downtime early in the week knew how much it meant to a first-year Steeler. Freiermuth jumped at the chance, and the other tight ends joined. Anderson and Waitman are frequently involved in the Steelers' community relations efforts.

"Jonnu's been a great guy ever since we acquired him," Freiermuth said. "We've built a great relationship. He's a really good dude. Just being there to support him really meant a lot to me."

'Through those prison walls'

While Jonnu laments the time lost with his older brother, the only father figure he had for much of his adolescence, he also has an appreciation for the perspective he's gained. Knowledge that Wayne gleaned over the years from older, wiser men under the same roof was then passed on to a young Jonnu.

He was thinking about that on his drive Tuesday to and from Fayette, how one person's failings can touch another's success. And how Wayne was gone but not forgotten.

"My brother has taught me so much through those prison walls," Jonnu said. "I've been able to become a man today because of the words my brother's instilled in me, some of the life lessons he's given me, some of the core values he's told me. It's a domino effect. Some of those guys may feel defeated, but I'm just hoping we can give them a sense of hope and enlightenment to keep pushing.

Jonnu tells anyone who will listen that there are numerous influences he'll never meet who managed to have an impact on his life from a penitentiary. He wants to pay that forward, from the outreach mission Tuesday to his work with Gwen's Girls, a nonprofit founded in the North Side that provides free year-round programming for young women in communities at higher risk of trauma.

Last month, Jonnu "jumped at the chance" to attend one of their after-school meetings to meet a group of the girls. He presented them all with new pairs of shoes for them to paint and invited them to the Steelers' "My Cause, My Cleats" game in November.

In his discussion with those high schoolers, Jonnu kept it light. When they asked him what position he plays, he explained it in terms of Taylor Swift's fiancee. He told them about how he spent so much of his formative years in an all-female house but didn't get into the reasons for that.

For the first time in a long time, though, there's a light at the end of the tunnel for Wayne. On any given weekday, Jonnu will get out of his stance, run a crisp route and snag a pass on a practice field nestled along the flowing Monongahela. Wayne will sit in a cell 45 miles south, a few football fields away from that same river. Nine months from now, they plan to leave it all behind.

"It'll be the happiest day of my life, bar none," Jonnu said. "The bond between two brothers, man, is something special. I'm just extremely blessed that his time is coming."

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