Annette John-Hall: The once-starved Jackson brothers today

Seeing them now, it's hard to imagine that these are the same Jackson brothers who used to gnaw on the windowsills of the Collingswood torture chamber they called home, just to quell their hunger pangs.

In 2003, their story made national headlines after a neighbor discovered a disheveled Bruce Jackson rummaging through an overturned garbage can, trying to find something to eat. Bruce, the oldest of four, was 19, stood four feet tall, and weighed a skeletal 45 pounds.

Now 25, and living in a South Jersey state-run home for residents with developmental disabilities, he's matured physically, and has gained 95 pounds and grown 15 inches. But he still has a way to go.

Once neglected and nearly starved to death by the adoptive parents who claimed they loved them, today the three younger Jackson boys are healthy, happy, and thriving with their new parents, James and Amber Parrish, who really do love them.

Talk about change. After spending time with the boys in their Millville, N.J., home, I can see that change is everywhere. In the boys' appearances. Their dispositions.

And, symbolic of a new beginning and erasing their horrific past family ties, they have even changed their names.

They're not Keith, Tyrone, and Michael Jackson anymore. They're Tre'Shawn, Terrell, and Michael Parrish.

Still, sometimes things crop up that remind them of the nightmare they once lived.

Like hearing about the movie Precious.

Or seeing a bowl of pancake batter.

Or, most recently, receiving the news that Vanessa Jackson, 54, their former adoptive mother, had been freed after serving only four years of her seven-year sentence for child endangerment. Their adoptive father, Raymond, died of a stroke before the trial.

All the time refusing to admit her crime, Vanessa Jackson insisted instead that the boys had a rare eating disorder that made them vomit if they ate too much.

"She has to go through her life thinking about what she did to us," says Tre'Shawn, 20, a student at Cumberland Community College. Just 38 pounds when he was rescued at 14, he has grown 16 inches and gained 125 pounds. "At least I don't have to deal with her no more."

Michael, 15, an eighth grader at Bankbridge Development Center, has gained more than 100 pounds. He was 9 and wearing clothes for a 24-month-old when he was found.

He tries not to think about Vanessa Jackson. "I put it behind me," he says.

Terrell, 16, a freshman at Cumberland High School, has grown 16 inches and put on 92 pounds. He weighed only 28 pounds back then.

"She's got a face for a mug shot" is all he had to say about her.

Millville, in Cumberland County, might as well be light years away from Collingswood, where Jackson punished the boys by making them sit on the front steps for hours. The boys say they hardly saw Raymond Jackson, who was always working. They don't believe he knew the extent to which they were being starved.

Here, in their comfortable log-cabin home that sits on 12 wooded acres, you'd more likely find the boys playing with their new brother, Christopher, 10 (James and Amber's biological son), swimming or hunting deer - skillfully, with a bow and arrow.

"We gut them and take them to the butcher," says James, 36, a paid mentor for the New Jersey Division of Youth and Family Services. "We have a freezer full of venison."

James had been mentoring Michael while he was in foster care with another family. Each boy was sent to a different home after being taken from the Jacksons.

Once the Jacksons' parental rights were terminated, Michael's caseworker asked him who he would like to live with. He replied, "Uncle James."

James knew what he wanted to do, but Amber still had to weigh in.

Amber, 30, who was unable to have more children, said, "Babe, I wanted to have more kids, but these are big kids.

"But I had known about the situation and I didn't want to say no. They asked us to; how could I say no?"

The Parrishes adopted Michael in 2005. Terrell followed in 2006 and Tre'Shawn came last year.

The brothers are still coping with their feelings. Sometimes they lash out at older women who remind them of Vanessa Jackson. Other times, Amber catches them wolfing down food, going back to the days when Vanessa gave them two minutes to eat a sandwich. And they still lie, as a survival mechanism.

"I tell them there's no consequence in this house for telling the truth," James says.

And they remember well their starvation menu: dried oatmeal and grits mixed with canned vegetables, uncooked macaroni, and the infamous pancake batter.

"Science-fair food," cracks Terrell.

Today they count cooked macaroni and cheese and fried chicken among their favorite foods.

"ShopRite and Wal-Mart are my best friends," says Amber Parrish, 30, who says she can't leave the grocery store without spending $300 a week.

The three brothers each received a $1.8 million settlement from the state for its lax oversight (nine New Jersey social workers were fired). Bruce received $5 million. Their trust funds are tightly managed by court-appointed executors.

The boys continue to receive counseling, professional and parental. ("We call this the Parrish House of Healing," says Amber.)

Still, they say, it's difficult coping without their oldest brother, whom they haven't seen since 2006, when he came to Terrell's football game - escorted by chaperones.

"Bruce is the one who got us out of a bad situation," said Terrell. "If we got to see him more, we'd tell him how much we love him."

James says Bruce, who was not made available for an interview, is still trying to heal and get the help he needs.

The irony is that while Bruce's defiant act helped place his brothers in a loving home, he was left with no family himself.

"He's angry, but he's angry for a reason," James says. "Everybody needs love. You can have all the food in the world and no love and still be starving."