San Quentin News

Written By Incarcerated - Advancing Social Justice

Wardens Broomfield, Allen Describe Their Journeys

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San Quentin’s acting warden, Ron Broomfield, recently accepted an invitation to sit in and speak directly with the incarcerated participants of Power Source, a San Quentin self-help program designed for young adults.

But more than talk, Broomfield and Chief Deputy Warden Trent Allen also came to listen to the voices of the young individuals sent to SQ as part of its Youth Offender Program (YOP).

“You learn stuff in prison. Everybody learns stuff,” said Broomfield. “But what do you do with it? What path are you going to choose?”

These are questions he had to ask himself over the years while working for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR).

Broomfield paralleled his own journey with the situations youth offenders face when they hit their first prison yard—particularly when deciding whether or not to follow what everybody else seems to be doing.

“Treat everyone as an individual and be your own man,” he said. “You can clique up with positive groups or negative groups. It’s absolutely critical to start thinking as individuals.

“I love the YOP program because it allows youths a chance to associate with strong individuals—positive individuals.”

One of the first things Broomfield did when he entered the Power Source meeting on Feb. 29 was ask who had been at San Quentin the least amount of time.

Mekhi Williams raised his hand. “It’ll be a year in April,” he said.

Broomfield later called on Williams to speak about his YOP experiences in the system. “What’s it done for you? What do you think?” he asked the 21-year-old.

“The only benefit I’ve seen is that I’m at a lower level prison—that’s it so far,” answered Williams. “I’m on wait lists for all the programs, but I’m not in any yet.”

A prisoner’s security level is based on a point system determined by CDCR. The more points, the higher their security level. CDCR designates its prisons from Levels I through IV.

Level IV prisons usually offer very few positive programs, yet most youth offenders enter the system with Level IV points. Being classified as YOP lets them be housed at Level II facilities like SQ.

“It’s easy to get in trouble if there’s nothing here for you to do,” Williams told Broomfield. “There ought to be a mandatory YOP group right when we get off the bus. “That way we’d have somewhere to go.”

Because SQ’s current reputation as a progressive programming facility revolves around a wide range of innovative self-help curriculums, non-YOP prisoners throughout CDCR make an effort to get here and work on their rehabilitation.

Demand to get into programs is high, and wait lists are long. It’s a problem Broomfield and Allen are all too familiar with.

Much of the interaction between Broomfield, Allen and the Power Source participants focused on the issue of getting YOPs (as they’re commonly referred to) more immediate access to programs they need now.

But Broomfield appeared to draw the line at the mention of offering YOPs preferential treatment.

“I like to treat everyone the same, give everyone the same opportunities,” said the acting warden.

Ayoola Mitchell, the volunteer facilitator who helped bring Power Source to SQ, continues to advocate for more programming aimed specifically at youth.

“It’d be really great for programs like VOEG [Victim Offender Education Group] or GRIP [Guiding Rage Into Power] to have a YOP component,” she suggested. “YOPs’ needs are different. The way I facilitate with them is different. We’ve got to meet them where they are.”

Broomfield and Allen were bombarded by positive ideas about peer-to-peer mentorship programs, a formal YOP orientation and, basically, finding more spaces to run more programs.

“We bug everybody we can about workable space,” said Allen. “If we can find a way to make it work, we’ll make it happen. This homegrown stuff is the best for us because it comes from the people here doing it.”

Bloomfield described how at one point in his career he was ready to retire. He’d had enough of walking in and out of prisons day in and day out.

“It was exhausting,” he said. But then he took a job assignment at SQ two years ago.

“San Quentin restored my hope that people can change. It put the wind back in my sails,” said Bloomfield. “It blew my mind that a prison could be so hopeful and full of opportunities.

“You know, the system’s changing. Our officers are getting better education. Before, it was all about disturbance control. Now, we’re learning de-escalation techniques; how to talk to people.

“Things are definitely changing under Ralph Diaz’s leadership, but you guys may not fully see it for a couple more years. The old ways are dying off slow.”

Bloomfield also talked a little bit about CDCR’s ongoing plans for YOPs.

“The state, as a whole, is reimagining its YOP program,” he said. “As we speak, Valley State Prison is becoming the YOP model facility. It’s a good prison, mellow.”

Brian Holliday, a Power Source participant, told Bloomfield what it meant for the acting warden to come sit in on the group session that day.

“Usually, the way we see wardens, like in a prison movie, it’s not good,” explained Holliday. “I’ve never seen no warden come down like this. For you to come and intermingle with us, it really gives us a chance to see who you are.”

“You’ll see a whole lot more of me,” Bloomfield assured the incarcerated individuals. “Being able to facilitate opportunity; that’s the part of my job I really enjoy.

“And it’s not just me. My staff, too. We want to know you, understand you and get you where you need to be. The ‘R’ in CDCR is there for a reason.”

Allen voiced his agreement. “Listening to the boss, he makes me want to stay here.” Looking around the room, he said to everyone, “This passion—it excites both of us.”

“I want to see what’s best for everyone here. The goal is to get everybody out of here and back on the streets as better men.”

Part of the agreement YOPs make to come to a lower level prison includes losing that privilege when they get a disciplinary write-up. They’re often seen as taking this for granted, as young troublemakers.

One YOP spoke up about the way he perceives some officers’ treatment of the younger prisoners.

“A lot of the time, it’s like we have a target on our back—especially from staff,” he said. “We’re picked on and messed with because it’s easier to get us out of here. “That’s not right. It doesn’t give us a fair chance.”

“I’ll give you a fair chance. I can’t speak for another man,” Bloomfield told him. “If you experience someone with a bad personality, take it upon yourself to impose the 15-foot rule.

“There’s good cops, cops that care. Just like guys at this prison, men in blue. Believe me, there’s plenty of them. I don’t paint anybody with a wide brush.

“And I ask that of you, also. Don’t paint all of us with a wide brush.”

Williams later shared how he felt when Bloomfield asked him about the YOP experience.

“He just seemed like a regular person. He didn’t seem stuck up or nothin’ like that,” said Williams. “He gave honest answers about what he was capable of—you know, a genuine person.

“Wardens, we usually look at them as a–holes—you know, cruel. He didn’t seem like that.”

Mt. Tam College Is Born at San Quentin

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For the first time in history, an incarcerated community has an independent, accredited college program all its own. Newly named Mt. Tamalpais College (MTC) has established residency at San Quentin State Prison.

“Everything happening right now is an affirmation of the unique challenges and questions we’ve faced. Every prison should have a college.”

PUP spent 2018 and 2019 preparing itself for evaluation by the Association of Community Colleges and Junior Colleges (ACCJC). Near the end of January, the ACCJC accepted PUP as a Candidate for Accreditation.

Mt. Tamalpais College can now operate as an independent academic institution and completely break free from PUP’s longstanding affiliation with Patten University. For years, the partnership allowed PUP courses and degrees to be accredited.

“Patten actually did us a solid [favor],” said Lewen. “They’re fully shut down now, but they stayed open until we received accreditation. They didn’t want our students to be harmed.”

Under ACCJC guidelines, MTC has a two-year window to get its program fully in compliance with accreditation standards. The required improvements will mainly focus on data tracking and assessing student outcomes.

Lewen started teaching at San Quentin in the Spring of 1999 and reflected back on the decades she’s devoted to bringing higher education to her incarcerated students.

“I’ve always asked the questions: What quality of education can we provide, based on our resources? How many people can we realistically serve? How much money can we raise? What kinds of careers will our students use their education for? How will we develop strategies to carry our voices out onto the public sphere?”

“To me, achieving our independence seems like an overwhelmingly positive response to all these questions.”

For most PUP students, Amy Jamgochian became a familiar figure as their Academic Program Coordinator for the last five years. She’s always remained accessible and ready to listen to each student’s individual needs.

“I knew very little about the accreditation world,” said Jamgochian, now MTC Chief Academic Officer. “We have to up our game in demonstrating the value of our program and the rigor of our education.

“We’re the first of our kind—pioneers. That’s exciting! It’s gratifying to know that so many of our students support our independence.”

Corey McNeil sees things from the students’ perspective. As a PUP graduate and now an education clerk for MTC, he interacts with his peers daily and fields questions from them about upcoming changes.

“Everyone’s excited about a whole new gamut of classes becoming available,” said McNeil. “So many students have suggestions and ideas. It’ll be really interesting to see how that all plays out in the future.”

By most accounts, it will be business as usual for now. Learning Specialist Allison Lopez said MTC will continue providing the same high quality education that PUP has for years.

“We’re doing what we’ve always done,” said Lopez. “The biggest thing right now is a symbolic change, with branding our new name and establishing ourselves as an independent program. It’s a big statement, of course, but for our students everything mostly should feel the same—in a good way.”

Lewen said one of the biggest challenges continues to be planning for financial sustainability.

“Our program has no wealthy alumni,” she said. “We’ve never charged our students any fees or tuition. And we receive zero funding from the state or federal government.

“What’s our plan? We’ll have to develop and broaden our donor base of individuals and foundations, but it’s not just about money. It’s about community support.”

Kathy Richards currently serves as Secretary on the MTC Board of Directors. “Some people think it’s insane for prisoners to get a free education,” she said. “Some think I’m insane for coming in here.”

“Fortunately, a lot of folks see the value—see how amazing it is. The more people that come in here and say, ‘Wow, this is cool,’ it changes that view.”

Richards also teaches English and coaches the Ethics Bowl team, which stands undefeated through three years of league competition.

“Society as a whole is better off when they meet the individuals who are actually here,” she said. “People have ideas on what a felon is, then they’re surprised to see their ideas are wrong.”

In September, David Durand joined the MTC faculty as Director of Student Affairs. He started out volunteering as a PUP instructor almost a year ago.

“Now that we don’t have any limitations, it’s like a blank slate of opportunities,” said Durand. “That excites me. I love being involved in things from scratch.

“Coming into our own identity and seeing our students learning what they’re truly capable of doing, we’re building a roadmap for other institutions.”

Durand recently helped launch mentorship program where students and nonstudents can all come together to, hopefully, forge organic and collaborative relationships.

Swati Rayasam first got involved in Jan. 2019 as a volunteer research assistant for English 204—the requisite course where students complete a notoriously daunting research paper as their class project.

Rayasam, who co-teaches this semester’s 204 class, sees herself as a “research challenger” and “growth opportunist.”

“Being recognized as independent and accredited—that just validates the PUP model of education as a form of empowerment,” she said. “It’s a real win. Education should be more than teachers lecturing at students.

“In a growth-minded environment, I learn as much from you as you learn from me. It’s incredibly powerful. Now we’ll be able to box this program up and give it to other facilities.”

MTC Communications Associate Jared Rothenberg definitely has his work cut out for him. “My role will be to focus on communicating our new identity,” he said. “We’re literally a new entity now.

“PUP’s history and reputation’s going to continue, but we’re going to be known as something else.”

Rothenberg said he sees MTC’s independence as a real opportunity to educate the public by amplifying the voice of the student body.

“Incarcerated people are just as intellectually capable as anyone else,” said Rothenberg. “We can show how to lead the field—not only of higher education in prison, but of higher education in general.”

USC Law Professor fights to give lifers a second chance

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Law professor Heidi Rummel fights to give thousands of men and women a second chance—many of them sentenced decades ago to life-terms for crimes committed as youths.

As co-director of the University of Southern California’s Post-Conviction Justice Project (PCJP), Rummel teaches and leads a team of certified law student interns. They represent incarcerated clients in courtrooms and parole boards throughout California.

“I fell in love with the work,” said Rummel. “I first started working with women at CIW [California Institute for Women] back when no one was going home.

“We’d take these women to the parole board and hear their stories, and I could see for myself that they were just amazing human beings—truly amazing people.

That’s when Rummel started to realize the systemic hurdles she was up against statewide. The legal battles weren’t simply case by case—there was fierce legislative advocacy work that needed to get done.

“You can’t just keep denying people parole forever—based on their crime,” she said. “That’s essentially LWOP [life without the possibility of parole].”

Together with Elizabeth Calvin of Human Rights Watch, Rummel committed herself to “heavy policy work.”

They came and sat side by side with KidCAT members for the first time at a San Quentin symposium in 2012.

Original KidCAT member Nou Phang Thao remembers the impact Rummel made.

Rummel with Elizabeth Calvin and artist Ruben Ruiz

“Heidi’s an exceptional person,” he said. “I’ll never forget hearing her say she believes every child who commits a crime—any crime—deserves a second chance.

“That meant so much to me—to know there was someone out there who believes in us, even before we learn to believe in ourselves.”

Calvin and Rummel spent hours listening to the stories of youth offenders, who, at the time, faced little hope of ever getting released.

Since then, PCJP has co-sponsored or authored almost every juvenile justice reform bill in California.

Thanks to Senate Bill 9, SB 260, SB 261 and SB 394, youth offenders sentenced to LWOP and life-term sentences are now allowed the chance to appear before the Board of Parole Hearings (BPH) after serving 24 years.

“These laws recognize that young adults should be treated differently,” said Rummel.

When Rummel spoke to KidCAT about her experience as a parole attorney for PCJP, the guys half-joked with her that she should represent their fellow member, Gary Scott, who was approaching his first BPH.

“She took down his information and promised us she’d do it,” said Thao. With Rummel’s guidance and support, Scott was found suitable for parole later that year.

PCJP’s co-director Michael Brennan currently oversees students working to get Thao successfully through his own BPH difficulties.

“The best piece of advice Heidi gave us was ‘Do not buy a cell phone,’” said Thao. “Man, later I had to write her a letter apologizing for getting caught with one.”

Rummel holds workshops at prisons all over California to help youth offenders who never believed they’d be offered any legitimate chance at freedom prepare for their BPH.

Because they thought they’d be locked up for the rest of their lives, many of these youth offenders spent much of their incarceration not caring at all about positive programming or rehabilitation.

“They never thought about parole,” said Rummel. “At the higher security prisons, they simply had no access or exposure to anything but violence, gang activity and substance abuse.”

Rummel mentioned one of her clients, Ruben Ruiz. Involved in gang activity from the age of 13, Ruiz entered the prison system with LWOP for a murder committed when he was 17.

Despite his record of violence and illegal behavior behind bars, Ruiz became eligible for parole and earned his release—with Rummel’s help—in 2017.

And after 25 years of incarceration, Ruiz became one of the men who returns to prison with the PCJP workshops.

“These guys need to share their experiences with each other,” Rummel explained. “We bring them together in our workshops so they can open up and see their own vulnerability.”

Bringing formerly incarcerated LWOP and life-term youth offenders face-to-face with their currently incarcerated peers might be the most powerful component of the workshops.

“It’s amazing when they see someone who survived the process and was able to go home,” she said. “They can’t believe this is true until they meet one in person.”

One incarcerated participant met Ruiz and called him a “unicorn”—something people talk about and hear stories about, but never see. Rummel brings these unicorns into prisons to show the real possibility of second chances.

“She’s one of those unsung heroes who does so many things that impact so many other people,” said Anthony Ammons, a KidCAT member and one of Rummel’s PCJP clients at San Quentin.

Sentenced to 102 years-to-life for crimes committed when he was 16, Ammons had his sentence commuted by then Gov. Jerry Brown in 2018 and appeared before a BPH panel in 2019.

Rummel visited Ammons several times to prepare him for the board’s scrutiny.

“She gave me the confidence to start believing in myself,” said Ammons. “Just having her tell me that she believed in me—that helped a lot.”

But when Ammon did face the BPH, they issued him a three-year denial.

“Heidi was so angry when she heard the decision,” he said. “I think she was even angrier than I was at the time.

“That made it a whole lot easier for me to feel okay with what happened.”

Rummel wants all her clients—and, really, anyone going before the BPH—to have a firm grasp on what they’ll be required to speak on.

“There are three questions you need to answer—simple questions with really difficult answers,” she said. “What did you do? Why did you do it? And how have you changed?”

In the workshops and one-on-one visiting sessions, Rummel and her team encourage the deep introspection necessary to achieve full accountability and honesty.

“Fully own your part and understand your crime,” she said. “What was the impact? What was the harm? The board already knows, more or less, what you did.

“They’re trying to figure out, ‘Are you going to do it again?’ There’s always the assumption—right or wrong—that if you don’t know why you did it, you’ll most likely do it again.”

Rummel says it’s ultimately about understanding the choices one made and being able to take responsibility for those choices.

“What happened while they were growing up?” she continued. “Why did they have a gun, join a gang? Was there some underlying shame that led them to commit their crime?”

When Rummel sits down with her clients to prepare them for the board, she never lets them skirt around these issues.

“She made me see my crime and really myself from a clearer perspective. Now I understand why I did what I did,” said Ammons. “I can connect all the pieces that contributed to my thought process at the time, my belief systems.

“Having the eyes of an ex-prosecutor, Heidi catches everything—and calls you on it. Nothing slips past her.”

Rummel chuckled at what she called her “deep dark secret.”

“I was a federal prosecutor for the first half of my career,” she said. “And, I felt good about my work as a district attorney. We prosecuted a lot of hate crimes and police misconduct.”Rummel spoke fondly of her time working with Eric Holder in the U.S. Attorney’s Office.

“At the beginning under [President] Clinton, we were taking over a very Republican office,” she said. “Holder always told us, ‘If you don’t think it’s just, go to the next level. Go to me.’

“I’m not going to say I did it perfectly, of course. But, I like to say we were fighting for justice.”

Calvin and Russell recently went to Sacramento to voice their opinions at an Assembly Public Safety Committee hearing on Jan. 14.

Two proposed bills, AB 665 and AB 1641, aimed to bring back LWOP sentencing for juveniles and demolish the Youth Offender Parole process.

“The committee voted them down, so those bills are dead,” said Rummel. “Last year, it didn’t even reach a committee vote.

“But there’s a lot of interest in Sacramento right now to roll back the gains we have made.”

League MVP listens to the incarcerated

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Giannis Antetokounmpo Coaches Play For Justice participants

The Milwaukee Bucks and league MVP Giannis Antetokounmpo entered a Wisconsin prison facility with a lot more at stake than just basketball. They came to listen to the voices and stories of the incarcerated.

Organized by film producer Scott Budnick and the NBA’s Play For Justice initiative, Wisconsin Gov. Tony Evers and Lt. Gov. Mandela Barnes joined members of the Bucks organization inside the Racine Correctional Institution Dec. 17.

“The whole point is to humanize the people behind bars,” said Budnick, founder of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition (ARC) and producer of Just Mercy. “That’s how we get the voters and legislators to change laws.

“It was great to see the governor suit up and play ball with the men in prison.”

NBA Great LeBron James shares a moment with Michael B. Jordan

Gathering first in a prisoner visiting room, everyone sat in a healing circle with incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals for a heartfelt discussion on criminal justice, prison life, rehabilitation and hope.

“Just coming here, listening to them, going through what they have to say and listening to the pain they have—it’s amazing,” said Antetokounmpo in a television interview with WTMJ Milwaukee.

After sharing their personal stories, participants formed teams to play a scrimmage game coached by Antetokounmpo and his Bucks teammates Sterling Brown, Pat Connaughton, George Hill, Kyle Korver and D. J. Wilson.

The NBA players got to turn the tables and draw up plays for their own Head Coach Mike Budenholzer, who played on the all-inclusive squads along with other Bucks coaching staff.

“We care about you,” Budenholzer said to Racine’s incarcerated community. “We’re waiting for you when you get out,” reported the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

Gov. Evers said the Play For Justice event “shines a light around issues of criminal justice reform.”

One participant, Tommy Brown, was about to be released from Racine three days later, after spending almost 30 years behind bars for an armed robbery conviction.

“It will be strange, almost like stepping out of a spaceship to a new dimension,” he said.

Another man, Donald Jackson, entered the criminal system at age 12. “Today I’m thankful,” he said to everyone around him in the circle. “I see a lot of idols here. Man, it’s overpowering.”

Milwaukee Bucks guards at the Play For Justice Event

Antetokounmpo opened up about his own misdeeds as a youth, things he admitted he was not proud of. He shared insight into his own family history and memories of his late father.

“Even when you’re still in here, you want to do better,” said Antetokounmpo.

Wesley Griffin won’t be released for several more years, but he felt moved by Antetokounmpo’s words. “We’re human beings, and everyone makes mistakes,” said Griffin.

“Sitting down in a circle like this, you stop judging. You start seeing how it is,” said NBA champion Korver, before speaking directly to one man, who revealed his own painful struggles with incarceration.

“I’m sorry, brother. I’m sorry,” Korver told him. “I don’t know what the answer is. We have to keep sharing our stories.”

Hill, another NBA champ, told the circle about his own rough childhood on the streets of Indianapolis before saying, “You’re not a monster. You’re a human. You were going down the wrong path at the wrong time.”

“I’m sorry, brother. I’m sorry,” Korver told him. “I don’t know what the answer is. We have to keep sharing our stories.”

Many of the participants talked about the aspects of outside life that their incarceration deprived them of—missed holidays with their families, graduations they couldn’t attend, children they couldn’t watch grow up.

John Casper shared how his son had asked him, “When are you coming home?”

“I don’t have an answer to that,” said Casper.

“For me it has always been important to see the good in people,” said guard Connaughton. “I believe in second chances.”

Bucks guard Brown described the problems with his arrest in January 2018 that resulted in his current lawsuit against the city of Milwaukee for excessive use of force and civil rights violations.

“A lot of work needs to be done with the criminal justice system,” said Brown. “I need to do my part.”

Play For Justice also sponsored events where the Sacramento Kings entered Folsom State Prison and where the Los Angeles Lakers and LeBron James welcomed youth offenders from the Ventura Correctional Facility into their practice gym.

Budnick said he has high hopes to bring WNBA organizations and Play For Justice to a women’s facility in California.

One formerly incarcerated individual, Jacob Brevard, participated in both the Folsom and Racine dialogues.

“This is a university,” he said. “You can learn a lot here.”

Budnick launched Play For Justice in partnership with the Represent Justice Campaign and the film Just Mercy. The movie stars Jamie Foxx in the true story of a wrongfully convicted innocent man on Alabama’s Death Row.

Michael B. Jordan and Brie Larson co-star as Bryan Stevenson and Eva Ainsley, the legal team that worked to free Just Mercy’s real-life protagonist, Walter McMillian.

“It’s going great right now,” said Budnick in late January when Just Mercy was in its third week of national release. “It’s all about showing folks the injustice in the criminal justice system.

“Governors, district attorneys—we’re making sure all kinds of prosecutors and stakeholders see this film.”

Film producer and social justice activist Scott Budnick visits San Quentin

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Scott-Budnick

Film producer and social justice activist Scott Budnick kicked it with youth offenders and spoke to Kid-CAT members about his efforts to put the human face on America’s broken criminal justice system.

“This is my favorite group in the whole state,” said the famed producer of The Hangover and the recently released Just Mercy. “It’s good to be back here.”

Budnick slid into San Quentin for a couple of hours Dec. 12 before heading to Folsom State Prison, where the Sacramento Kings were set to christen a renovated basketball court for Play For Justice.

“I’ve been coming to Kid-CAT for years,” Budnick said as he looked around at about 30 prisoners in SQ Education’s B-Building. “I literally don’t recognize anyone—only a couple of faces.

“It’s nuts. Everyone in KidCAT’s going home.”

Budnick came that day with longtime SQ volunteer Ayoola Mitchell to speak with and meet youth offenders who may have heard of him but have never seen him face-to-face.

New KidCAT member Rafael Bravo, 28, introduced Budnick to the room.

“People say, ‘Who the hell is Scott?’ Well, I’ve known him since I was 16,” said Bravo. “If anyone in the world believed in me, it’s this man right here.

“He appeared one day when I was in YA [Youth Authority]. ‘Are you Rafael? Your cousin told me to come find you.’”

Bravo told everyone how Budnick eventually got him a job on a movie set.

“He offered me the best of opportunities I could possibly have,” said Bravo. “But I wasn’t right.”

Bravo ended up committing second degree murder and being sentenced to 16-years-to-life.

“While we’re incarcerated, this is the time to get right with ourselves right now,” said Bravo. “We have to be there for each other and lift each other up.”

Budnick then explained to the guys about his experiences seeing the inequities of the criminal justice system firsthand.

“When I was working on Old School, a friend of mine took me with him to Juvenile Hall. We volunteered for Inside Out Writers, working with a group of 10 kids—all facing life sentences.”

Budnick recalled asking one of the young men how their week had been. “‘It was a bad week,’ the kid told me. He said he’d just got sentenced to 300-years-to-life. ‘They stacked everything—I got washed.’

“And, this kid looked like he was 11. I thought, ‘Oh, they’ll have a good time with him in prison. This is awful.’”

That was one moment Budnick says changed his perspective, changed his life. “How do I live in a country that would do this to a child?

“I could not comprehend in my mind how we, as a country, think this is okay. Our system’s so incredibly racist and unfair. There’s like no White kids in Juve- nile Hall.”

Budnick related it to his own children. “My kid would get bailed out, have the best attorney money can buy and get a deal no one could have gotten.

“If you have money, you’re not going to get washed. I couldn’t just teach a writing class and feel like I’m giving back.”

Budnick went on to found the Anti-Recidivism Coalition (ARC) in 2013, an organization committed to offering guidance and help to the incarcerated and recently released, as well as advocating fiercely to affect policy change.

“Getting laws passed, we’re 4 for 4 so far, with Governor Newsom,” Bud- nick said. “And, I think we were like 13 for 13 with Governor Brown.

“Our policy work through ARC, that’s all done by you guys—because you guys are up there on Capitol Hill telling your stories.”

Budnick talked about how the lessons he’s learned as a filmmaker tie into affecting social change.

“Conflict, struggle, a happy ending — that’s what makes a great story, a great film,” he said. “And you guys have some of the most powerful stories on earth.

“No matter who I bring into prison, everyone changes when they meet you guys and see you as human beings.”

According to Budnick, it’s all about being able to humanize the incarcerated through storytelling.

“There’s such a beautiful light inside all of you,” he said. “That’s the lesson. Talking about you guys as human beings got voters to say ‘Yes.’

“The criminal justice system’s all about scare tactics. Think about that — we just need to make sure juries aren’t scared, right?”

Budnick is intent on using his Hollywood platform and success to illuminate the human faces stuck behind the walls of mass incarceration.

With Black Panther and Creed star Michael B. Jordan, Budnick produced Just Mercy, the film version of Bryan Stevenson’s nonfiction account of freeing Walter McMillian, a wrongfully convicted prisoner on Alabama’s Death Row.

McMillian spent years on Death Row due to a conviction based solely on the testimony of a jailhouse informant. And although his jury sentenced him to life, the trial judge intervened and ordered a death sentence.

Stevenson founded the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) to fight for people like Mc- Millian.

“The entire movie is about humanizing all the people on Death Row,” said Budnick. “There’s a pretty graphic execution scene in there, where we show it all.

“By the time the audience gets to that point in the film, we know the guy’s guilty — but they all cry when he’s put to death.”

In conjunction with Just Mercy’s January release dates, Budnick explained how he and Warner Bros. partnered to launch Represent Justice, “the largest political social impact campaign for a movie — ever.”

“We’re using our social media to send people to websites on criminal justice reform,” he said. “They’ll be able to see Juvenile Hall information where they can go volunteer.

“We want to try and immediately activate people—engage them to get in- volved.”

Budnick also expressed his excitement for Play For Justice, where the Sacramento Kings, Milwaukee Bucks and other NBA partners are visiting prisons to interact with incarcerated communities, bringing them basketball — and hope.

“I’m driving from here straight to Folsom,” he told the SQ guys. “Some people might think basketball fans don’t know anything about criminal justice — we’re go- ing to change all that.”

Ayoola Mitchell spoke about how she first crossed paths with Budnick. “I met Scott four years ago, when we both were speaking before the Legislature in Sacramento.”

“It really struck me, because, you know, I was dressed all in my adult clothes,” said Mitchell. “But him—I swear he had flip flops on and was there to address public officials just like I was.

“Something Scott said that day really resonated with me. He said, ‘I just don’t give a f–k.’ Me, as a Black woman—how I look matters. When I go in there, I know I’ll be judged.”

Budnick chuckled slightly. “Everyone already sees me as ‘the Hangover guy,’ so I can get away with it.”

Mitchell continued. “A few years later, I was visiting the ARC offices in Los An- geles. It’s all about that six degrees of separation—the way people’s live intersect.

“There was a guy who’d gotten out and was working for Scott, a guy I’d known since he was 16 in Juvenile Hall,” she said. “He told me he was going to the Oscars that year.

“I’m like, ‘I’ve never been to the Oscars. What about me?’”

Mitchell’s career in criminal justice reform spans more than 38 years, and running. “I’ve been fighting for y’all before some of you were even born,” she said. “So much needs to be done out there.

“I have such a heart for you guys.”

Budnick asked Mitchell what organizations she works for. “It’s just me—Ayoola. No non-profit. No organization,” she said. “I’ve always believed in redemption.

“I’m old as Hell, but I can’t retire until all y’all are free.” Budnick commended Mitchell for her continued effort and passion, particularly since she does it mostly on her own without all the fundraising and support networks he has access to. “It’s easy for me to do this work,” he said.
Some of the SQ guys had questions about what kind of reentry support ARC provides once they’re released.

“We got you,” said Budnick. “You’ll have a very stable place to live and people around you who care. If that keeps you up at night or gives you pause, don’t worry about it.”

A big question was about getting Budnick involved in spreading KidCAT’s First Step curriculum to other facilities.

“The model that was started here—that should be at High Desert, at these hopeless places,” he said. “There’s what, like 35 prisons in California?

“Your program should be available at all of them— anywhere there’s youth offenders looking for hope.”

SQ keeps tradition of giving

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Veterans’ Toys for Tots continues to warm the hearts of many

One-and a-half-old Zy’ir Lewis chooses a toy

The cheer of Christmas giving filled the San Quentin State Prison visiting rooms as children celebrated the holidays with their incarcerated loved ones in December.

“We got absolutely excited!” said 11-year-old Omar Elias, who came to the prison to visit his uncle Ramon Ruelas. Elias and his younger brothers Ismael and Danny were three of about 100 children who got toys during San Quentin’s Annual Holiday Toy Program.

“You should visit me more and get more presents,” said Ruelas, laughing with his nephews. During his 10-year incarceration , they had visited before but this was their first time getting toys.

The other prisons where Ruelas was before coming to San Quentin in 2018 didn’t have toy giveaways for children, but incarcerated veterans at San Quentin have kept the Toys for Tots tradition of holiday giving alive for 31 years.

“It’s a really great act. I really appreciate it!” said nine-year-old Danny to the veterans who gave them the toys.

“Seeing the little kids’ eyes light up when they see the toys really gives me hope,” said Marine Corps veteran Carl Raybon, the new chair- man of the Veterans Group at San Quentin (VGSQ). The 35-member group of incarcerated veterans organizes the toy giveaway each year.

Raybon was one of six veterans wearing pointy red and green striped elf hats and blue VGSQ hats who offered toys and holiday cheer to every family with children visiting during the weekends before Christmas and on Christmas Day.

Vincent O’Bannon, with daughter Autumn, holds his grandson Zy’ir and Zorion
Ramon Ruelas with his nephews Omar, Danny and Ismael

A banner hung across the main visiting room declaring “Merry Christmas.” Snow- flakes, lights and garlands with red bows adorned the walls. Incarcerated fathers, uncles and granddads brought their visiting little loved ones into the children’s playroom to pick out toys to take home.

The tables were full of toys to choose from, including puzzles, charades, trivia games, Candy Land, Frozen II character sets, Marvel Avengers Black Widow and other hero figures, Vibe metallic spinners, watch and wallet sets and “Make Your Own Slime.”

A giant skee-ball game was the first toy to go. “Thank you,” said the smiling little girl. The first boy chose a Spalding NBA basketball and said, “Thank you, Merry Christmas.”

“I have so much fun do- ing this,” said Army veteran Kevin Brinkman, a VGSQ member since arriving at The Q in 2015. “It’s not just giving back, It’s giving forward.” Brinkman helped decorate and gave out toys for his third year.

“It’s all about the children,” said 33-year-old Marine Corps veteran Brian Corder, the new VGSQ Vice Chairman. “It’s a beautiful thing that even here

in prison children and families can get a Christmas experience, or at least something close.”

“It’s a blessing,” said Sergio Alvarez, who was visiting with his sisters, nieces and nephew. “We’ll do this next weekend too, so all the family can visit.” Visiting with his family is the highlight of his holiday season. Alvarez was visiting with his nephew for the first time in his seven-year incarceration.

“Woo woo!” said 2-year-old Jaylah, Alvarez’s niece, smiling and laughing as she grabbed a toy unicorn that began playing music and flashing lights. “It’s a nice surprise,” said Javyn, Alvarez’s 11-year-old nephew. It was the first time they and 13-year-old Aiyana got toys in prison.

Festively dressed families smiled for photos in front of a 7-foot Christmas tree deco- rated with garlands, balls, and a star on top.

“Every visit is a celebration, but today is a real joy,” said Jemain Hunter. He was celebrating his first Christmas together with his wife Kenya and their 19-month- old granddaughter Nayani.

“It’s a true blessing to see what lights her up—just like on the outside,” Hunter said, enjoying his granddaughter’s excitement. Nayani ran back and forth in front of the playroom and toys, smiling and giggling, and delivering sodas from the vending ma- chines to “Papa.”

“Santa Claus is coming to town,” sang a stuffed rein- deer with red bows and bells on its antlers. “Merry Christ- mas!”

VGSQ staff sponsor Rachael Murray walked in with dozens more toys, including LiteBrite, Chutes and Ladders, KerPlunk, Battleship, dolls, Legos, Transformers’ Bumblebee, and Hot Wheels. She said that the San Bruno Marines Toys for Tots program donated hundreds of toys for this year’s San Quentin event.

VGSQ member Earl Orr gave out the toys in the other visiting room in The Q’s H-Unit. Children visiting loved ones on Death Row also got to pick out toys to take home.

“Seeing the smiles on the kids’ faces brings me happiness,” said Army veteran Adam Sinegal. “It brings back good memories of Christmas with my children. I wish I was with them now.”

Danny “Heavy” Pita Jr. was visiting with his fiancée Shawna, and his little sister Harmonie. “I’m happy because I’m with my sister for the first time in about two years,” he said with a smile.

“Getting a toy was a nice surprise, but getting to see my brother is my favorite Christmas gift,” said 10-year- old Harmonie, leaning on her big brother.

A few of the Toys for Tots given to the visiting children

After five years at San Quentin, the Holiday Toy Program is something of a Christmas tradition for Vin- cent O’Bannon and his family. He was celebrating with his wife Cynthia, daughter Autumn, and grandsons Zorion and Zy’ir.

“This family time is so happy, and toys add to the excitement,” said the boys’ mother Autumn. Three-year-old Zorion shook his head yes, smiling and said, “I love my paw paw.”

Maria, a teenager, and 4-year-old Frida came in with their mom Maribel to visit their brother Jose Sanchez.

Maria helped her little sister pick out toys: “Cuál quieres” “Cuál otro” “Segura?” (Which do you want? Which other one? Are you sure?)

The Sanchezes said that be- ing together at Christmas time is important for their family. The Christmas before, Jose was in county jail. “Me siento mejor hoy porque el año pasa- do no pudimos abrazarnos por la ventana,” said Maribel. (I feel better today because last year we couldn’t hug through the window.)

By the end of the day’s Christmas excitement, 1-year- old Ja’Mal was sound asleep

in his father Jonathan Weems’ arms. Big sister Ja’Leia said, “I’m just happy to see my family.” When her mom Danisha asked about getting a toy in prison, the 4-year-old replied, “Yep, I got a Magic Mat.”

As the visiting hours ended each day at 2:00 p.m., the children came back to the play- room to pick up their toys to take home. There were many smiles, many thank you’s, and even more Felices Navidades.

Families hugged and kissed once more and parted with toys in their hands and the warmth of the holiday spirit in their hearts.

Sergio Alvarez with his sisters Mona, Maria, nieces Aiyana and Jaylah and nephew Javyn
VGSQ veterans Adam Sinegal, Carl Raybon, Brian Corder and Kevin Brinkman

When sports turn an eye toward prison

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Scott Budnick, Vivek Ranadive and Trevor Ariza inside Folsom housing block

The Sacramento Kings showed love to Folsom State prisoners during a special night of community healing. In a circle within the prison chapel, they shared life experiences before celebrating Folsom’s newly renovated outdoor basketball court.

Kings players, owner Vivek Ranadive, coach Luke Walton and others joined filmmaker-turned-social activist Scott Budnick to hear personal stories from incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals at the Play For Justice event Dec. 12.

Vlade Divac hugging an incarcerated person

“My recent visit to Folsom State Prison hit me in the gut in a wayI have rarely felt before,” Ranadive wrote in a Sacramento Bee op/ed. “140 years of captivity, fear and hopelessness hung in the air.”

Similar to San Quentin State Prison’s style of public tours, the out- side visitors, including Sacramento City Council member Steve Hansen, walked through one of Folsom’s housing units—to see for themselves how California treats its prisoners.

“The men—two to a cramped cell that looked like a cage—stared at us with hollow eyes,” Ranadive wrote. “I know there are victims on the other side of the equation…

“But seeing men in such conditions is something I will never forget.”

What seemed to move Ranadive the most, however, was the time spent in the circle listening to voices of incarceration.

“Each person spoke with honesty and integrity—more than I encounter in daily life,” he said. “There were no excuses.

“Each took complete responsibility for their actions and—even when the hope of leaving prison was slim— worked hard every day to better them- selves.”

Organized through Bud- nick’s REPRESENT JUS- TICE, the Play For Justice group also featured former Kings center Vlade Divac, current Kings forwards

Trevor Ariza and Marvin Bagley III, developmental coach Rico Hines and others.

Ariza pointed to prisoners in their cells and noted how some were physically bigger than him yet unable to fully stand up within their own living spaces.

The Represent Justice Campaign launched itself alongside the Budnick- produced film, Just Mercy, which co-stars Jamie Foxx, Michael B. Jordan and Sacramento native Brie Larson.

Larson and the cast intend to participate in future Play For Justice initiatives, reported The Undefeated, an online publication.

King’s forward Marvin Bagley III loving every minute with the Folsom crowd

“We know that showing the humanity, resilience and transformation of those be- hind bars leads to more empathetic and humane laws— and a system more rooted in justice and rehabilitation,” said Budnick, as quoted by The Hollywood Reporter.

Represent Justice and Budnick later delivered a Christmas treat to 11 young men and women housed at the Ventura Youth Correctional Facility, taking them by bus on a field trip to the Los Angeles Lakers’ practice gym Dec. 23.

Lakers forward LeBron James and Just Mercy ac- tor Michael B. Jordan hung out with all the youths and joined them in a roundtable discussion.

Later the kids split up into 5-on-5 Play For Justice teams, coached by former Laker Champions Robert Horry and Metta World Peace, and played ball on the training facility’s hard court.

“Many of the [visiting youth offenders] said it was the first time they felt free in years,” said Budnick. “The day was a reminder that people cared about them.

“They felt heard, loved and had a sense of hope and inspiration for their futures.”

The Kings’ Folsom event had also included a Play For Justice basketball game— right there on the prison yard. The game showcased a restored outdoor court under a newly added pavilion roof complete with full-scale lighting.

“We’re proud to be the first participant in the Play For Justice initiative, which is shining a bright light on the unique issues facing incarcerated people in communities around the country,” said Ranadive.

The Milwaukee Bucks plan to bring Play For Justice to correctional facilities throughout Wisconsin, starting in February and featuring Bucks guards Sterling Brown and George Hill.

Brown currently holds a civil lawsuit against the city of Milwaukee, after the po- lice used a stun gun on him during a publicized arrest for allegedly double-parking in a disabled person spot.

“My teammates, coaches and I are honored to take part in this unique criminal justice initiative to hear the stories of our community members and the challenges they face on a daily basis,” said Brown.

Nike also came on board to donate shoes and other gear to the incarcerated Wisconsin athletes, whose families will be allowed to come watch them play.

“We are looking forward to sharing in this experience with them while also identifying how we can further this important conversation nationwide through basketball,” added Brown.

World renowned magicians tour and perform at SQ

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Kayla Drescher reveals Brandon Riddell-Terrell gets no “date”

An international squad of escape artists, grand illusionists, mind readers and tricksters descended on San Quentin State Prison for a special Nov. 26 performance right before Thanksgiving.

Set to make their Broadway San Francisco debut later that night, Champions of Magic chose to first visit SQ and dazzle prisoners with theatrical wizardry and humor.

“On paper, I’m sure a room full of 300-plus criminals seems terrifying,” said Los Angeles magician Kayla Drescher. “But we didn’t view anyone we met as their crime or their number.

“We were just happy to meet and perform for a great audience of human beings.”

The British duo Young and Strange opened the SQ show with their original signature illusion.

Mentalist Alex McAleer reading Brian Holliday‘s mind

“We weren’t sure what equipment to bring inside the prison,” said Richard Young. “We came up with this trick when we were two broke teenagers—nothing but cardboard and some sharp wood.”

With a bit of slapstick and comedic flare, Sam Strange got Young squeezed into a standard-looking cardboard box.

“Caution—Heavy Load,” Strange read the label, taking a jab at his partner’s somewhat portly girth.

Sam Strange puts Richard Young into a box Strange thrusts wooden spears through the cardboard box Strange removes all the spears and Young comes out Kayla Drescher revealing one of the four “date” cards with volunteers

Strange then thrust 17 spears, one after another, straight through the box from all sides. Young’s hand popped out the top—waving a white flag in surrender.

Strange drove one last spear smack down the center, a maniacal grin across his face. The standing-room-only chapel crowd “oohed” in amazement at how Young could be in there.

Young gladly emerged after Strange pulled each and every stick out. It was clear the holes left behind went through-and-through.

Mentalist Alex McAleer, another Brit, took the stage next. “I don’t read palms or talk to the dead,” he said. “I talk to the living.”

He selected Tony DeTrinidad and Brian Holliday from the audience.

“I can see you wondering, ‘How can this British guy read my mind? Will it hurt?’”

McAleer turned his back to each prisoner while they answered specific questions on slips of paper. DeTrinidad was asked to think of one simple word.

Holliday wrote down the name of someone he cared about. “Put some other personal information about them on there, too,” said McAleer. “Not too fast—nice and slowly for me. I’m a performer. I’m very needy.”

The answers were placed in envelopes and sealed behind McAleer’s back then handed to Tommy Wickerd in the front row.

McAleer soon voiced DeTrinidad’s word choice—“pasta.” Wickerd tore open the envelope to confirm it.

McAleer then focused on Holliday. “This is a bit more difficult. Close your eyes,” he told him. “I can tell you’re picturing it. The name starts with a ‘K.’ Am I right? And I think you gave the age, too.”

The mind reader then told the crowd about Holliday’s 21-year-old sister, Karen.

“I’m still trying to figure out how he did it. There’s no way he saw me writing any of that stuff,” Holliday said later. “Guys on the yard keep asking me if I was in on the trick.”

Fernando Velasco, the 21-year-old magician from El Grullo, Mexico, was up next.

“There’s a number of things you need to be an escape artist,” he said.

From her front row seat, Lisa Strawn volunteered to help bind Velasco securely with plastic wrap and duct tape.

“Don’t worry—I got this,” said Strawn. “I’ll make sure he’s good and tight.”

The other magicians began raising a four-sided curtain, yet almost instantly Velasco stopped them before they could finish. He’d gotten free—with the plastic and tape all still hanging there intact.

“The single most important thing you need to escape is luck. Lots of luck,” said Velasco, surrounded by applause.

Drescher’s expressive eyes set the tone for her boisterous, cheeky performance. Reliving her teenage days as a policeman’s daughter, she called “three young gentleman” from their seats to compete for a date.

“No way. That’s the name of the guy I went on my first date with,” she said coyly after asking Brandon Riddle-Terrell his first name. “Ooh, and look at those big muscles—just like him, too.”

Each man answered questions, trying to merit the one sealed envelope out of four with a “date” card inside. “Sorry, you didn’t pass my dad’s background check,” Drescher said, dismissing them one by one.

The crowd sat in anticipation, enjoying Drescher’s personality as much as her magic. Of course, the “date” card remained in the final envelope that no guy could obtain.

Young and Strange closed the short set by having the entire audience participate in a final illusion. Asking everyone to put their hands together and interlock their fingers, the pair demonstrated the same.

Lisa Strawn wrapping Fernando Velasco in plastic

“This is crazy, but we’re going to totally blow your minds,” said Strange. “Lock your fingers up tight—and don’t let go.”

In front of everybody, they asked the participants to twist their hands around without releasing. Young and Strange accomplished the feat easily, but no one else could unravel from the awkward position.

The true magic, however, may have taken place after the performance. The four magicians, along with their producer Alex Jarrett and Broadway SF’s Scott Walton, received their own special tour of SQ’s North Block, Death Row and Main Chow Halls.

“My cast mates and I are really passionate about politics, documentaries, etc.,” Drescher told SQNews. “I remember watching, with my dad, trials of some of the people whose cells we passed on Death Row.

“That was an amazing experience, but also understanding that the justice and prison system in this country is… well… a mess. I was excited to learn from people who’ve experienced it firsthand.”

When Champions of Magic were inside North Block, Jerry Drawhorn, barely at SQ for two weeks, had to tell them what it meant to catch their chapel performance.

“I’ve never seen a magic show in prison,” said Drawhorn, incarcerated for the last 26 years. “Being down all these years around bad, ugly, evil—it’s hard to keep your humanity when you’re around stuff like that 24/7.

“I’ll always attend beautiful events like this because it keeps me grounded—keeps me going without going crazy.”


Sam Strange puts Richard Young into a box

While in Chicago on the next leg of their tour, Drescher and Jarrett both emailed about the visit’s impact on Champions.

“San Fran shows were good, but I can honestly say we all enjoyed our performance with you more,” said Jarrett. “We’ve told many people what a positive experience it was for us. I hope it will inspire other performers to make themselves available if permitted.”

Drescher added, “Growing up with a dad that’s a police officer, you’d think I would view criminals as ‘bad guys.’ I was lucky to learn from him that one bad decision doesn’t mean someone is a horrible human. The visit to San Quentin certainly showcased all of that.

“Later that night [in San Francisco] was the first time in a while our show hadn’t gotten a standing ovation. I just yelled from the stage, ‘THEY STOOD FASTER IN SAN QUENTIN!’

“We’d do a show for all of you every day if we could — haven’t stopped talking about how lucky we are to have had this experience.”

Q & A: Chairman Si Dang opens up about himself and KidCAT

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Si Dang just completed his first full year as KidCAT Chairman. He turns 44 on Jan. 17 and approaches his 25th year of incarceration for first- degree murder and attempted murder.

Dang sat down with SQ News for a Q&A about himself and his vision of KidCAT.

Q: So many people ask— what’s KidCAT really all about?

A: Inspiring humanity. We use those words a lot lately, but just think about what that truly means. It’s about service— giving back and connecting with our community.

We’re always here to support our youth and youth of- fenders—to encourage, inspire and remind them that people really care about them.

Q: What’s the most valu- able lesson you’ve learned over the last year?

A: Always have an open mind. Working with our members, I’ve learned to listen more and take advice. Being able to communicate and work to get her as a team to get things done—that’s what counts.

I’m amazed by the ongoing support from all our partnerships—The Beat Within, Huckleberry House, Project Avary. Their dedication and commitment inspires all of us.

Also, I want to send my deepest thanks to our incred- ible volunteers and all our members for their hard work.

Q: What’s the biggest les- son you’ve learned through- out your entire incarcera- tion?

A: The value and strength of family. I’m so fortunate that my family’s always been there for me through thick and thin—my mom, sisters and brothers.

That’s why I emphasize and foster that same sense of fam- ily in KidCAT. All of us ben- efit when we support and take care of each other.

Q: What’s the most im- portant thing young lifers need to know as they do their time?

A: They need to understand that it’s okay to ask for help. Don’t be afraid to reach out and admit your vulnerabili- ties. The strongest people are those who understand they’re not alone.

Q: If you could visit and speak to kids in juvenile halls,whatwouldyousayto them?

A: There are many people who care and love you. Don’t ever give up hope. Stay strong, believe in yourself and go to school—don’t turn your back on education.

Q: What can you say to all the folks who’ve requested KidCAT’s First Step curriculum and are looking for guidance?

A: First of all, I want to sincerely apologize for the long delay. I know how committed so many youths around the system are about trying to learn our curriculum.

My biggest vision for 2020—we will get First Step out and into the hands of all those who asked.

Q: What’s your biggest hope for 2020?

A: Reaching out to more supporters and advocates in law enforcement, the judicial system, and higher education—and continue to raise awareness of youth issues.

Q: What can you tell our readers about the impact of newly signed legislation?

A: Especially with Senate Bill 965 and the po- tential to earn credit off of their

minimum parole eligibility date, that’s going to bring a lot of hope to youth offenders.

I think of all the possibilities and potential to not just gain freedom—but to gain a sense

of hope and to motivate and encourage the youth to better themselves.

Q: Who’s one celebrity you’d love to invite to a KidCAT meeting?

A: That’s gotta be Gov. Gavin Newsom. He’s such a strong leader, and I totally respect that. He stays with integrity, compassion and heart.

Q: What’s one thing you’d say to Governor Newsom?

A: As a youth offender—we can change and become better people. We have the ability to heal within ourselves within the community.

Q: Why is a second chance so important?

A: Nobody’s perfect. People can change. To give them a chance to do something better—why not give that?

Instead of always locking them up and throwing away the key, give them that chance to grow and give something back to society.

Q: Why do you believe you deserve a second chance?

A: Honestly, I don’t think I do. Andy Tran, the innocent person I killed—he didn’t get a second chance. I’m just grateful to serve others and continue do- ing what I do.

Andy Tran and Sen Dang (no relation), they were both in- nocent victims. I always try to honor them, their families and the community of Stockton for all the harm I caused.

Q: Who’s made the biggest lasting impression on your life?

A: My mom, Thu Pham. From day one, she never gave up on me and was there when I was at my most vulnerable. She’s my true hero—the stron- gest person I know.

Any final thoughts for all of KidCAT’s returned citizens out there?

Thank you for continuing to represent KidCAT in the best possible way—even after you got out.

All you guys continue to advocate for the youth, and we love you.

SQ Transgender Day of Remembrance

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Participants hold up trans lives matter sign

For the first time in its history, San Quentin State Prison joined the nationwide movement on Nov. 20 to memorialize 22 transpersons killed by hatred across the U.S. in the last year.

“Just because I’m not a part of society doesn’t mean that as a transwoman I don’t matter,” said incarcerated trans activist Lisa Strawn, who spearheaded the Transgender Day of Remembrance ceremony in the SQ chapel.

“I am still a person and so are the 22 transpeople we are remembering today.”

Many voices from the packed crowd responded, “That’s right, Lisa.”

Officer M. Hauwert in attendance

“They deserved better than this,” she continued. “To have been shot, stabbed and burned beyond recognition at the hands of murderers—it makes no sense.”

Audience members for the groundbreaking SQ event included California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) officials Kris Applegate and Amy Miller, trans Corrections Officer M. Hauwert and California State Senator Scott Wiener (D-San Francisco).

“This is a really beautiful community of people who are supporting each other to make San Quentin—and the world—a better place,” Senator Wiener told SQNews after the event.

“It’s really moving to hear from incarcerated persons about the need for more love, less violence, more peace and less hatred.”

Wiener and his policy team wrote Senate Bill 132 and are working to get it approved. SB132 aims to improve housing options for incarcerated transwomen—whether they’ve had gender reassignment surgery or not.

Although the first two rows of pews were reserved with signs for “outside guests,” Senator Wiener and his aides sat in the third row with SQ prisoners.

“Thank you for being a part of what inclusion looks like today,” Strawn said to Wiener and the entire chapel.

CDCR mental health clinicians J. Lopez and C. Spohn helped establish SQ’s first transgender support group in May. They followed that up soon after with another group for the entire LGBTQ+ community.

Michael Acosta

“Guess what—San Quentin got it right this year,” said Strawn as she welcomed Lopez and Spohn up onstage.

“It’s hard to be out at San Quentin,” said Spohn, who moderates SQ’s Queer Support Group. “It takes a lot of bravery. You’re going to see a lot of brave people up here today.”

The afternoon event featured a diversity of performers and speakers who took turns honoring the fallen members of the trans community.

“Today is not just about these 22 people,” said Father Donal Godfrey from the Society of Jesuits. “It’s about the hundreds around the world who’ve been killed for no reason.”

Godfrey asked everyone to join him in a prayer for inclusion, compassion and nonjudgment.

“I believe each of us is beautiful. Each of us deserves to be treated with dignity and love.”

Calif. State Senator Scott Wiener, Lisa Strawn and Max Hickson after the event

Nah.na Reed, with James Villa beside her, spoke the names of 2019’s transgender victims while lighting electric candles. Throughout the event, the chapel’s video screens continuously ran individual photos.

With most of the victim’s being nonWhite, Strawn made sure to highlight awareness for the heightened risks and extra discrimination Black transwomen face daily.

“Racism is a key factor that pushes transwomen of color to be homeless and in part leads them to prostitution in order to survive,” she said.

When Michael Adams walked onstage, he pointed to the video screens and said, “Looking at those faces, what I saw was beauty—but the struggle inside was not revealed.

“They walked in a courage that I didn’t have. LGBTQIA—all of that—call us the alphabet people. What matters is that you just be true to yourself…”

“…because some people just don’t wanna know,” he said, introducing his song.

Adriel Ramirez sang “Amazing Grace,” but first she said, “By God’s love I’m still here today to represent the trans community.”

Thanh Tran spoke before performing. “Lisa said to me, ‘It’s so important for men who identify as cis and straight to stand in solidarity with us,’” he said. “And that made me stop and think…

“Why would anyone who feels marginalized want to marginalize anyone else?”

For those who don’t yet know, cis is the adjective now used to describe a person who identifies with the same gender they were biologically born.

Azzaraya Rodriguez

Soon to be released Azzaraya Rodriguez said she came to show solidarity for all her trans sisters who’ve died or been killed.

“I am going to let the world know who I am before the world tells me,” said Rodriguez.

Gouda Preston, a Black trans woman new to SQ, personally addressed the issue of violence against transwomen of color.

“Many times we are killed because of people who don’t know who we are,” said Preston. “But in complete darkness we are all the same.

“Hatred can never do anything but take good people away.”

Michael Acosta gave a poetic and scathing indictment of toxic masculinity. “You love to hate and hate to love,” he said. “So go ahead and call her a fag again.

“But like Taylor Swift says, ‘Shade never made anybody less gay.’”

Michael Mackey and Tim Young brought the crowd to its feet with their original song, “Why Me?”

With Young plucking away melodically on guitar beside him, Mackey rapped, “This for every transgender that done passed away,” and later his hook incited raucous cheers: “I hope me and Gavin Newsom get to play this song together,” the crowd responded in raucous cheer.

Max Jackson met Strawn almost two years ago and has cared for her deeply ever since.

Chris Wallace holding a Black Trans Lives Matter sign

“It’s been a lot of long days and long nights putting this event together,” he said. “I’m overwhelmed by all the support—the attendance, the laughs, the cheers, the messages that were given today.

“To take an hour or two and hear this message about our community, they see us in a more positive way—see us as human.”

Hauwert, now on special assignment for CDCR in Sacramento, experienced many personal hurdles herself as a transwoman corrections officer at SQ in 2014.

Gouda Preston in the crowd

“I was very emotional and upset by my treatment at first, but they got better,” Hauwert said about her transition. “Now, all I’m feeling is an influx of love and acceptance.

“They’re trying hard—not just to me, but to the entire trans community.”

Amy Miller serves as an associate director for CDCR’s Female Offender Programs and Services/Special Housing.

“The support for the transgender community from the non-trans inmate population and from staff makes me believe that as an agency, we are moving in the right direction,” said Miller for Inside CDCR.

Asst. Secretary for CDCR’s Office of Legislation Kris Applegate agreed.

“What the women of San Quentin put together was remarkable and emotional,” said Applegate. “Seeing their dedication and the support of the rest of the incarcerated people and staff who attended was inspirational.”

J. Lopez moderates SQ’s Trans Support Group.

“They’ve been amazing,” she said about Applegate and Miller. “I’m blown away by how supportive they’ve been.”

Strawn said Applegate and Miller have become her “new pen pals—whether they like it or not.”

James Villa with Nah.na Reed on stage

“We planned this Transgender Day of Remembrance on only three weeks’ notice,” said Lopez. “It literally took us 100-150 hours of work and rehearsals.

“All the hatred and prejudice comes from a place of not understanding what it’s like to be transgender, to be different from the norm. It’s just biology—your brain.

CDCR Mental Health Primary Clinicians C. Spohn and J. Lopez

“Gender dysphoria, it’s scary for them to face. We all need to show empathy and understanding for what they’re going through,” added Lopez.

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