Holland shared a similar story in a seminar for mission presidents in April 2016:
In our many discussions at the seminar, Elder Holland shared an account, not too dissimilar from that of the prodigal son we read about in Luke 15. He told of a man that was born and raised in Southern Idaho, who had grown up in the Church, and had all the blessings of the gospel laid before him. In his late teens he decided he wanted his inheritance, of which there was none, jumped on his motorcycle, and moved to the Big Apple to find a more thrilling and better life. Never to think of family and home again, he was done with what he was taught to be true. Upon arriving in New York City, he began to sow a lifestyle of immorality, drug abuse, tattoos, and worldliness beyond reproach. While not necessarily happy, he supposed it was better than anything better he could be doing, so he sank deeper and deeper into a pit.
One morning he woke up and decided he'd had enough of New York and that he'd make a new start on the sunny beaches of Southern California. He rode his motorcycle on the long journey and intentionally drove as far away as he could from his small town in Idaho. Along the way he hooked up with a new motorcycle gang, and upon arriving in California, continued the party lifestyle, added more tattoos, and distanced himself further and further from who he had once been.
A few years went by and he made his home in a shabby part of town, guarded by his two Rottweilers, up to no good. One day a pair of Mormon missionaries were walking past his house, and as trained, the two vicious dogs leapt from the front porch and raced towards the sidewalk, only being held back by long chains around their neck and a fence that surrounded the yard. The dogs came barking, with teeth baring, saliva flying, and eager to keep all away. As wise missionaries, they of course avoided this particular house, no need to risk life and limb on trying to get into this door.
As they walked down street, some thirty yards down the road now, the senior companion looked at the junior and said, "we have to go back to that house." The junior companion, thinking his senior companion was absolutely insane, reluctantly followed his companion back towards certain death. As they approached the fence, the Rottweilers sprang from the porch and went into their usual attack mode. This time however, instead of trying to break the chains that held them back, they came to the fences edge, turned around, and went back and sat on the porch.
Seeing the dogs retreat, the emboldened elders passed through the gate, walked up to the porch, and knocked on the front door. The now heavily tattooed, twenty years older, and worn down by life man, opened the door and stared down the two missionaries. Unfazed by the image of the man in front of them, the elders began with the message they had come prepared to share and before they could get much out, he asked them where they were from. The junior companion said he was from a town in Utah, and the senior companion said he was from a small town in Southern Idaho. Surprised that this Idaho missionary was from the same part of the world he was from, he asked the missionary the name of the town, and was even more surprised to hear they were from the same town! Now interested, the man asked if the missionary knew about such and such a man from this small town. The missionary responded that he did know him. The man then said, "that is my father", and then the elder smiled and said, "he is my father too."
Elder Holland then went on to tell us that he's kept track of this man. He's now returned to Southern Idaho, tattoos and all, married, and soon to be sealed in the temple.