San Quentin News

Written By Incarcerated - Advancing Social Justice

Marin’s Chief Probation Officer focuses on restorative justice

by

Marin County Chief Probation Officer Mike Daly

Mike Daly, the chief probation officer in Marin County, believes in restorative justice, something he’s put into practice instead of talking about it.

During an interview with SQ News in January, Daly discussed pro-social thinking and how to “rewire’ people to be the best they can be after becoming involved in the criminal justice system.

“I want people to know that restorative justice does work, and there’s data to prove it,” said Daly. “It should be part of a forward thinking criminal justice system.”

To successfully undertake restorative justice as a model, he said, there has to be input from district attorneys, victims, offenders and other stakeholders.

In Marin County, “Cases are referred to the probation department for restorative justice only after being cleared by the Marin County District Attorney’s Office and the Marin County Public Defender’s Office,” the Marin Independent Journal reported

For three years, Daly’s office has been innovative in its approach to criminal justice.

“I think I’m the first in Marin to hire someone to do restorative justice,” he said. “We offer that if the victim is okay with it. We want to be careful not to re-victimize…”

Citing some of the failures mass incarceration has produced over the last 30 years, Daly said a change in the culture of corrections needs to take place as well. He acknowledged the increase in California’s prison population didn’t happen overnight but said the legislature was asleep at the wheel for two decades.

Between 1990 and 2005, a new prison opened in the United States every 10 days,” wrote Bryan Stevenson, attorney and founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, in his book Just Mercy. “Prison growth and the resulting ‘prison-industrial complex’ – the business interests that capitalize on prison construction – made imprisonment so profitable that millions of dollars were spent lobbying state legislators…”

“We didn’t examine or make adjustments,” Daly said of the years California’s recidivism rate was at 70%.

He said it was there for a long time, and every year the state budget kept going up. Eventually a federal three-judge panel stepped in.

When that happened, the courts instructed California to reduce and maintain its state prison population at a cap of 137.5% of design capacity in order to deliver adequate medical care to all inmates.

Shortly thereafter, in 2011, California lawmakers passed Assembly Bill 109, Public Safety Realignment, and implemented it to manage the state’s unprecedented growth in its prison population.

Other significant reforms followed in California’s criminal justice landscape. Changes in the law such as Proposition 57 are changing the situation, he said, while admitting it’s not perfect, “but it’s a start.”

Daly said he’s worked with Ralph Diaz, secretary of the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.

They’ve established a Skype program that allows inmates headed for post-release community supervision (PRCS) to communicate with their probation officer before leaving state prison.

Daly was president of the Chief Probation Officers of California in 2014. According to the Marin County Probation Department website, “(former) Governor Brown had placed a tremendous amount of responsibility on the shoulders of probation departments across the state. You don’t do that unless you have trust and confidence in your partners.”

Daly said he felt that trust.

“We will work with Governor Newsom and hopefully create the same trusting bond that we had with Governor Brown,” the probation department website states.

“We’re not a ‘lock ‘em up county,’” said Daly. “I’m happy that Marin has adjusted to Realignment very well.”

He said all of its criminal justice leaders who voted to allocate funding feel that strong rehabilitative programs are the best for public safety.

Assembly Bill 109 provides funding for many of Marin County’s support systems such as finding shelter for those on probation.

“We will pay for that free, for the first six months,” said Daly.

Daly noted that Senate Bill 678 also provides funding for programs that offset prison.

“This bill was introduced around 2008, and it’s still active today,” he said.

The Edward Byrne Memorial Justice Assistance Grant Program also funds Daly’s restorative justice service, the Independent Journal reported. Daly stressed that defendants who participate in this program are less likely to reoffend.

Daly was appointed as Chief Probation Officer in 2009 by the Board of Supervisors, but confessed he wasn’t ready to deal with the politics that came with the job. Since Realignment, the management of lower-level prisoners was shifted from the state prison and parole system to the county jail and probation system.

To promote justice, Daly said “We’re proposing that the age of jurisdiction for juveniles be 18 to 19,” citing the science behind brain development and the foundational reasoning that the brain is still in a stage of development between the ages 18 and 25.

“We all have our points of change,” said Daly. “What I’m trying to develop [in them] is intrinsic motivation. Sometimes guys don’t care about themselves so it’s hard to make those changes. When you make that move intrinsically you have a much higher likelihood of being successful.”

“I’ve seen guys who’ve turned the corner,” said Daly, adding “Extrinsic motivation doesn’t work on guys from the hood. You have much more success when you develop intrinsic motivation.”

Daly said statewide, 8% of those on PRCS violate their probation and return to prison, but in Marin County the number is 2%. “We’re considered a high performing county,” he said.

In 1990, Daly received his bachelor’s degree from Cal Poly in Social Science with a concentration in criminal justice—the same year he started his career with Marin Probation. In 1999 he earned a master’s degree in public administration from Golden Gate University.

“I’m super proud about (restorative justice) and I’m looking to expand,” said Daly. “I’d like people to know that we are the first department in California solely to conduct restorative justice for offender and victim. I’m pretty proud of the footprint we have in Marin.”

Bread & Roses perform for Death Row

by

Entire concert was videotaped for Death Row viewing

Prisoners and outside guest Tony Saunders played a concert for the 700-plus men housed on the world’s largest Death Row inside San Quentin State Prison.

More than 30 prisoners from the general population did musical performances in the prison’s Catholic Chapel, but due to the security level of those on Death Row they were not allowed to attend. Instead, the entire concert was videotaped by the men who work in the prison’s media center.

“Keep your head up and believe in better days,” said Allison Watson. He spent 31 years on Death Row before his sentence was overturned. He’s now serving his sentence in the prison’s general population.

The diverse show opened with a rap performance by Rasheed Zinnamon, who was well received by the unusually high attendance of more than 100 prisoners and a few volunteers during the broadcast of a Sunday night football game.

“We are Banda Esperanza, and we send our regards to our brothers and sisters on Death Row,” the band leader said.

The all-Hispanic band was joined by the audience with claps as the men sang, played three guitars, bass and drums. A loud roar, applause and whistling from the crowd followed their performance.

“I’m grateful to the administration for letting us have the music,” one of the band members said before they performed. They were Jose Diaz, Martin Y. Vincente Gomez, Jose Vieyra, Senor Figueroa, Guadalupe Aranda and Adriel Ramirez.

“Tonight is all inclusive as you can tell,” said Lisa Starbird of the organization Bread & Roses, which sponsored the event. Starbird looked for men willing to say on the microphone what they were grateful for. “If you’re not involved in some kind of program (at San Quentin), there’s something out there for you.”

“Christ and Me Arrived” was performed by members of the Catholic Chapel Choir that included the music, lyrics and harmony of Gino Sevacos, Dwight Krizman, Rick Evans, Daniel Lee, John Krueger, Kelvin Ross, Bill Harwood and Alan Brown.

“I’m grateful to Bread & Roses for bringing us the gift of music,” a prisoner in the audience said. “One love!” he shouted out to the men on Death Row.

“We all support you and send our love,” a prisoner named Dennis said to the men on Death Row.

“I’m grateful for the blood and resurrection of Jesus Christ,” said another prisoner.

The jazz band Free Fall, consisting of Greg “D” Dixon (guitar), Lee “Jazz” Jaspar (bass),

Mark Kinney (piano) and Dwight Krizman (drums) performaned a convincing selection that sealed its dominance as the go-to jazz ensemble.

Jaspar played the bass effortlessly as Dixon picked notes on the guitar and scatted note-for-note, in key with the music. As the music pushed on, each musician locked in and improvised with each other. They received a standing ovation.

A small technical problem with the audio stopped the show for about a minute, so Starbird improvised by passing the microphone around to give others an opportunity to speak about gratitude. The comments kept pouring out as the men encouraged the men on Death Row to stay positive.

“There’s always hope,” a prisoner in the audience said. “I thank God for the mercy He has shown me. We can all make better choices and be better people.”

Starbird thanked the SQ media team for coming out to cover the event because it was a Sunday night, which typically receives little media coverage.

The band Quentin Blue performed a number of songs including an original tune called “Chamba’s Mountain.” It had a country vibe as singer Richie Morris and the rest of the men sang backup and played three guitars, piano, bass, mandolin and percussion instruments.

The ensemble was made up of Morris, Dwight Krizman, Joe Thureson, Bill Harwood, Andrew “Boots” Hardy, Ray Simpson and Chris Thomas.

“That was one of the funest gigs I ever played,” said Simpson, who played guitar.

Later, Starbird introduced Tony Saunders. She said he’s “pretty amazing” for all the things he does like coming in to the prison to help. She also expressed gratitude to Father George Williams for allowing them to use the chapel for the event.

Saunders said he was happy to be able to play for the men on Death Row. “Know that you’re thought of,” he reminded them. “Don’t think that nobody notices.”

Using prerecorded music tracks on the first song, played over the chapel PA system, Saunders played the bass lines on his custom-made five-string bass. The melody of the song could easily be identified by his phrasing on the bass. He made the instrument speak to the audience. Then he used his voice to scat with every note as he thumped and plucked the instrument to the delight of the crowd.

“Don’t try this in your cells alone,” Saunders said with a big smile.

Then he did a solo and didn’t spare any tricks as he made the bass growl. His fingers crisscrossed every octave of the bass fret board. Then he played “Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix as the audience clapped before he returned to his R&B, jazz improvised solo. The crowd applauded and shouted.

An appropriate song selected and performed for the men on Death Row was Saunder’s song “Always Thinking About You” from his 2016 album Uptown Jazz, produced by Saunders and Larry Batiste on the label SFRecords.

The show didn’t end there. Jaspar, Krizman and Saunders performed an improvised piece that sounded like they’ve been playing together for years. Krizman led with a drum rhythm as Saunders and Jaspar followed on bass and piano, respectively. Saunders’ facial expressions let everyone know he was into the music.

“Two years ago, he (Jaspar) taught me some stuff,” said Saunders of the first time they played together. He said that performance lasted about 40 minutes because they had so much fun.

After Saunders and friends, The Prodigal Sons took the stage by storm with a memorable gospel sounding piece. They were Michael Kirkpatrick, Greg Thompson, Calvin “Sincere” Carter, Michael Bootae and Derry “Brother-Dee” Brown. The lyrics and harmony were inspiring as the men sang: “Well, I went to the church last night, and my heart felt alright, ‘cause Jesus got a hold on me.”

The audience clapped and sang along as they performed this gospel/spiritual piece. No matter what one’s faith, this song was very moving – reminiscent of civil rights freedom songs and marches for civil rights — think Eyes on The Prize. Their harmony was magic, and the crowd stood up and applauded to let them know it.

After the show, volunteer Molly Kittle said, “I was struck by the love in the room. The quality of how every man – performers and audience – chose to use their voice to lift all of us higher.”

“I love rap, ‘80s music, and gospel,” said volunteer and guest Katie Burke. “The concert started with rap and ended with ‘80s and gospel, so I was happy. Thanks to all the musicians and to the camera people who covered the event.”

Recording the “Concert for Death Row” was the SQTV video crew of Brian Asey, Eric “Phil” Phillips, Jerry Welsh, Jaspar (show producer), Joshua Burton, and supervisor Skyler Brown.

The full concert will appear on San Quentin’s institutional television channel in the coming weeks.

Golden opportunities arise from California’s recent changes in sentencing

by

Craig “Qadree” Birch, 53, was serving a term of 40-years-to-life under California’s Three Strikes Law before his sentence was recalled by the sentencing court for his “exceptional conduct.” Under the newly passed Assembly Bill 2942, he was re-sentenced to 27 years and paroled from San Quentin in May.

Birch was arrested in September 1994 in Sacramento County and convicted in March 1995. He served 24 years and eight months for a first-degree burglary with enhancements for prior prison commitments.

“It’s a learning experience on how I was able to go into the court system with no thought of what I was facing.” He said he didn’t think he’d serve that much time under the Three Strikes Law, but admitted, he wasn’t fully aware of the law when it passed.

“At the time, even though they had the law, I didn’t care because I was going to continue on the path of committing crimes,” said Birch. He was 28 back then and was think- ing and acting as a person who was in favor of crime. He never considered the consequences. “I was in that mode (don’t care about self, law and order, rules and regulations) and I wanted to stay there.”

While serving time in another prison, he said it was an older inmate who convinced him to take a look at his life and asked him if he wanted to be a hardened criminal, or change the way he thinks, “into a positive, a constructive individual.”

“I was introduced to one of my first programs in Lancaster State Prison called Self-esteem,” said Birch. “It built up my confidence level because I had low self-esteem about myself. From that point, I went into the substance abuse program to learn about my past addictive behavior, to get knowledge about why I was committing crimes.”

Along the way, Birch said he took the course Office Ser- vices and Related Technology, and then a computer technical course at Lancaster. He said he kept going to prison libraries to read and research the law, and he became a practicing Muslim to follow the tenets of Islam.

“Those played a major role in my transformation,” said Birch, who wasn’t a follower of Islam before he came to prison. His Islamic name, Qadree, means “One who can achieve.”

Birch continued to focus on self-development. “At Folsom [State Prison], I continued on the path with motivational development, and Tai Chi. I took peer education, healthy living, and I started my first college course.” He said the prison had an Employment Development Department course that taught him how to write “winning resumes,” and how to communicate in interviews with potential employers.

“It continued on when I came to San Quentin,” said Birch. “I’ve participated in the ARC program, Making Good, Anger Management, CGA, and Restorative Justice.” He also took a class in investment planning.

“I stayed working in different assignments to keep me busy,” said Birch. At 3:00 a.m., he got up to work in the prison’s kitchen, but it was his education that consumed his time.

Through Lassen Community College, Birch completed Sociology I & II; Psychology I, II and IV; Philosophy/World Religion; Anthropology; Humanities I & II; Pharmacology; U.S. History (before and after the Civil War); three English courses; three Math courses; Food & Nutrition; and a Health class.

“If you don’t have your high school education, get it and choose a career other than prison.”

Coastline Community College offered Birch courses on Introduction to Business, Personal Finances, Management, and Organization Skills.

“I’m going to continue to work and continue on with my college education,” said Birch. He’s one class short of earning his Associate of Arts degree. “I still have plans to run a small business that deals with retail and clothing. I’m just a little nervous.”

Initially, Birch said he filed for recall of his sentence directly to the district attorney’s office in Sacramento County where he was convicted. “I didn’t receive a response from the DA,” he said.

Believing the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) and the court that sentenced him would recognize his effort to rehabilitate himself, Birch said he wrote to the CDCR Secretary to ask what the procedures were to file for a recall of sentence under Penal Code 1170(d).

“The secretary of CDCR, without my knowledge, filed an 1170(d) about me being re- sentenced,” said Birch. “My counselor advised me of it by calling me in to advise me of it in the month of February.”

Before going back to court, Birch said two correctional officers wrote him letters of support, and four CDCR staff members wrote him letters. This, he said, was because they’d viewed his behavior and conduct over the years and got to know the man and not his crimes.

Birch was a young man when that OG [slang in prison vernacular for “original gangster”] convinced him to redirect his path on a positive course. Now he’s following the old mantra “each one, teach one.” His advice to the younger inmates: “If you’re in society, either go to college, learn a technical skill. If you don’t have your high school education, get it and choose a career other than prison.”

San Francisco adopts free phone calls for inmates

by

Inmates in San Francisco county jails will be allowed to make free telephone calls, which is expected to reduce these costs passed on to their family and friends.

In June, the city’s mayor, London Breed, and sheriff, Vicki Hennessy, announced plans to cut costs of phone calls and commissary items sold to inmates, the San Francisco Chronicle reported.

In a statement, Breed said “This change is an important continuation of our efforts to reform fines and fees that disproportionately impact low-income people and communities of color.”

San Francisco’s Financial Justice Project, an organization inside the treasurer’s office that analyzes fines and fees imposed on the poorest residents in the city, reported nearly 80% of telephone calls made by inmates from its jails are paid for by families and friends, mainly low-income women of color.

“These practices are predatory and disproportionately affect poor people,” said Public Defender Manohar Raju. “Reducing the financial burdens of phone fees for incarcerated people will allow them to stay better connected with their loved ones and gives them a better chance going forward after their release.”

The city reported that it costs $300 in a little over a month for someone to accept two 15-minute calls a day.

“When people are in jail they should be able to remain connected to their family without being con- cerned about how much it will cost them or their loved ones,” said Breed.

According to the mayor’s office, San Francisco will be the first county jail system in the nation to get rid of such costs. The city expects to make the changes within a year.

“Breed set aside about $1.7 million in the city’s two-year budget for the Sheriff’s Department to eliminate the fees charged for phone calls and the sometimes dramatic mark- ups placed on jail commissary merchandise,” the Chronicle reported.

“I’m really proud that San Francisco is putting people before profits,” said State Senator Holly Mitchell (D- Los Angeles). “When people can stay in better touch with their families and sup- port networks, it eases their reentry and it reduces recidivism.”

California’s dark secret: prisoners sentenced under prior guidelines have little hope of ever being released

by

Some men serving life sentences in California say they’re “political prisoners.” While there’s technically no legal definition for the term, some facts and evidence suggest they may be right.

At San Quentin State Prison, there are men who have served 40-plus years, continuously. These men are survivors of carceral Darwinism, having lived through changes in state politics, parole laws, parole boards, restructured prisoner classifications, a prosperous prison guards’ union, crime victims’ influence on laws, changes to the death penalty, and the most violent period in California prison history.

They’re called “7 Ups” in prison vernacular, a slang term for those sentenced to life and eligible for parole after serving seven years. That was be- fore 1977, when Senate Bill 42 passed and was signed into law by former Gov. Jerry Brown, the first time he held office from 1975-’82.

Seven-ups are serving life sentences under California’s old Indeterminate Sentencing Law, where judges imposed indefinite time. Under this law, different prisoners convicted of the same crimes spend fluctuating lengths of time in prison. Today, some 7 Ups have no idea when, if ever, their sentence will end.

Changes in California politics and the policies of all governors since Brown have politicized parole deci- sions. “They use this against all life prisoners,” said Johnny “Zakiy” Arafiles, 66. He’s been incarcerated since age 25.

Arafiles was sentenced to a 7-Up term for murder and was found suitable for release by the parole board in 1991. But Gov. Pete Wilson reversed the decision beyond the time allowed to do so. California’s Court of Appeals upheld that decision.

“This is bad law,” said Arafiles. He’s appeared be- fore 16 different parole boards while his sentence lengthens and his chance for freedom diminishes. “There are so many in here being illegally detained because they don’t know the law, and they’re (parole board) taking advantage of it.”

From 2000 to 2008, the parole board denied 98% of cases. The remaining 2% of cases that the parole board granted release during that time were overturned 60 % of the time by Gov. Gray Davis and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, accord- ing to author Keramet Reiter’s book 23/7.

“It has been clear to me that there is a general conspiracy to prevent life prisoners from paroling, especially those whose offenses include murder,” wrote Albert M. Leddy in a July 2000 declaration. He’s the former district attorney of Kern County, Calif., and for- mer Board of Prison Terms chairman.“I am in formed that Gov. Gray Davis has expressed his policy that no murderer offender will be paroled on his watch.”

Parole boards have become more punitive over the years, many 7 Ups say. When some of them were sent to prison, parole was granted by the Adult Authority. It later changed to the Community Release Board, then to the Board of Prison Terms (BPT). Today it’s the Board of Parole Hearings.

Allen “Squirrel” Ware, 64, was arrested in 1974 and sub- sequently convicted on a first- degree murder charge. He was the lookout on a burglary, not the actual killer. Still, he was given a 7-Up sentence under the rescinded felony murder law, changed last year by Sen- ate Bill 1437.

“Today we find you credible,” the transcript from Ware’s 21st Board hearing reads. He said the parole board apologized for not believing him sooner.

Ware was incarcerated at the peak of California’s prison violence, when between 1970 and 1974 there were 82 murders, 11 prison guards and 71 prisoners, according to Reiter.

“…there is a saturation point in practically every man’s servitude beyond which every additional hour is wasted and destructive punishment”

Tough-on-crime posturing, 7 Ups said, placed them in the cross hairs of political intrigue. In Leddy’s declaration, he wrote, “After Governor Wilson’s election in 1990, he substantially intervened to reduce parole grants; in actual effect his policy practically eliminated paroles. He accomplished this, first, by appointing and re- appointing BPT Commissioners known to disfavor parole or to favor a ‘no-parole’ policy.”

“Convicted murderers don’t deserve any more breaks,” Wilson said in his 1992 State of the State speech. In his 1994 speech, he said, “We can’t let killers walk out of prison early just because they’ve done a good job folding shirts in the prison laundry.”

“The most you would do is 11 to 12 years,” Arafiles said about the 7-Up sentence. “If you did 13, you were messing up.”

Terry “Duck” Alexander, 73, has been incarcerated nearly 43 years after his conviction for a 1977 murder in San Jose, Calif. He received a 7-Up sentence and has appeared before different parole boards at least 13 times.

“There’s no set guideline for what it takes to be rehabilitated in California,” said Alexander. “When you go to the Board and they read about you, they’re looking at past tense. They like to dwell on the past.”

Under the Indeterminate Sentencing Law, a prisoner’s individual conduct and rehabilitation was what the parole board considered to deter- mine who was released. But rehabilitation was expunged from the state’s Penal Code by Governor Brown in 1976, replaced with the Determinate Sentencing Law, which stated, in part: “The Legislature finds and declares that the purpose of imprisonment for crime is punishment.”

“Although the reluctance to grant parole began in the early ‘80s under Governor Wilson’s regime, BPT panels denied parole in over 99% of cases by employing procedures that violate the parole statutes and regulations,” Leddy wrote.

Some 7 Ups say for the state to release them now would be to admit its past wrong, which was to deny them parole for so long, because they’re intricately tied to past underground political decisions.

More than 30 years after many 7 Ups arrived in prison, Governor Schwarzenegger added the word “Rehabilitation” to California Department of Corrections. 7 ups say nothing has changed.

As former San Quentin warden Clinton Duffy wrote in 1952, “…there is a saturation point in practically every man’s servitude beyond which every additional hour is wasted and destructive punishment.”

Arizona rethinks its ban on prison literature

by

The state of Arizona lifted its ban on the book Chokehold after gaining national attention for banning the book written about the US criminal justice system policing Black men.

“An uproar over the ban of Chokehold: Policing Black Men, including threats of a lawsuit from the American Civil Liberties Union, prompted Arizona prison officials to review a publication blacklist and reverse suspending the book,” National Public Radio (NPR) reported.

A growing number of state prison systems, including California, bans prisoners from possessing certain books, deeming them contraband.

Chokehold was written by Georgetown University criminal law professor and former federal prosecutor Paul Butler. His publisher notified him in March that the book was “un- authorized” in Arizona prisons.

“The notice did not specify what led to the decision,” The Associated Press reported.

The ban drew criticism from a number of prisoner and First Amendment advocates, including the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU).

“In order for them to ban a book, they have to show the restriction is related to a legit- imate prison interest,” ACLU attorney Emerson Sykes said. “There’s no interest to keep inmates from learning about the criminal justice system and policing.”

Sykes challenged the book ban in May with a letter written to Charles Ryan, Arizona’s director of corrections, the Arizona Republic reported.

“The very people who experience extreme racial disparity in incarceration cannot be prohibited from reading a book whose purpose is to ex- amine and educate about that disparity,” Sykes wrote.

In a blog, Anne Branigin said, “America is taking more and more books out of its prisons…” She said books critical of mass incarceration are often banned.

Chokehold is “the metaphor of the deadly police tactic used to force people into submission,” Branigin wrote.

Five years ago, Eric Garner, a Black man died after Daniel Pantaleo, a White New York City police officer, used the choke hold to subdue him.

“I can’t breathe,” were Garner’s last words before he succumbed to cardiac arrest, the San Francisco Chronicle (Associated Press) reported. “The medical examiner ruled (his) death a homicide caused by a police choke hold.”

“To prohibit prisoners from reading a book about race and the criminal legal system is not only misguided and harmful, but also violates the right to free speech under the First Amendment of the US Constitution and…the Arizona Constitution,” wrote Sykes.

The U.S. Supreme Court case, Turner v. Safley, makes an allowance for banning certain books in prisons if the ban serves penological interests such as preventing violence, riots, resistance, a work stoppage or anything that may jeopardize the safe- ty, security or orderly operation of an institution.

“Corrections does not have a blanket list of prohibited magazines, newspapers, books, or music,” the Republic reported.

The California Code of Regulations, Title 15, section 3134.1 (e), contains the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation’s (CDCR) Centralized List of Disapproved Publications. Books not included on the list are sometimes banned by officials arbitrarily and later challenged in court.

“Under certain circumstances, it is permissible to prevent incarcerated people from reading materials of their choosing,” Sykes wrote. “However, it is unconstitutional to censor a book that educates prisoners on how legal, penal, and other institutions have shaped their own lives and poses no threat to the safety and security of the facility.”

Butler, who is Black, wrote Chokehold after he was falsely accused of assault and arrested, “an event that dramatically changed his view of the justice system,” the Republic reported.

“During the trial, I experienced for myself a lot of things that defendants I’d prosecuted said were evidence of how unfair the system was: Police lied, witnesses who knew what happened didn’t come forward,” the Republic reported Butler telling The Guardian in 2017.

Butler said he was acquitted in ten minutes because “I could afford the best lawyer in the city, had legal skills and social standing, and because I was innocent.” But he said “the experience made a man out of me. It made a Black man out of me.”

When Chokehold was banned, the ACLU said Arizona corrections officials gave no explanation for it.

“I am concerned that many people in custody are subject to other illegal and unfair acts by jailers that most people on the outside never hear about,” Butler said to NPR. “Providing books to inmates promotes literacy, rehabilitation and civic engagement.”

According to Branigin’s blog, Sykes’ letter “points out that Chokehold explicitly dis- avows violence…” She also pointed to Georgia, North Carolina, Florida and Washington forbidding free books sent to prisoners.

After the ban was lifted, Sykes wrote a letter stating he is pleased Arizona corrections officials removed the ban on Chokehold. He did, however, state the long fight over what books prisoners can access is far from over, NPR reported. “These bans are taking place in prisons and jails around the country,” he told NPR.

In 2015, Prison Legal News sued the Arizona Department of Corrections for censorship after the department stopped allowing the monthly publication into its prisons. The department spokesman at that time, Andrew Wilder, told Capitol Media Services the department’s action was ensuring “the safe, secure and orderly operation of (its) prisons.”

“If rehabilitation is taken seriously and preparation for a life after prison is taken seriously, then prison officials have every interest in promoting education among those who are trying to understand how they got to where they are, and how to make sure they don’t come back,” Sykes said.

Bob Goff returns to San Quentin with friends

by

Bob Goff speaking to the crowd about ambition
Bob Goff speaking to the crowd about ambition

Bob Goff refers to him- self as a “recovering lawyer” after practicing law for 25 years. In May, he returned to San Quentin, along with some friends, to speak with the inmates who assist the many guests who tour the prison.

Goff met these inmates when he toured San Quentin, and he wanted to speak directly to them. He first engaged them in the Protestant Chapel with dialog that involved comedy. Then he asked about their ambitions.

“When people know what you want they want to help you,” Goff said. He said people who know what they want will do what it takes to achieve their goal, and he warned that, “Hoping is not a strategy.”

One inmate named Jerry said he wants to be a sound engineer. “Jerry wants to be a sound engineer,” Goff repeated. “Tell everyone what you want,” said Goff.

Inmate Brian Asey said he wants to change the perception of how people view the incarcerated. Goff responded by acknowledging how the rehabilitative programs at San Quentin allow men to “get to know the man under the hat.”

Kevin Neang with Singer Lauren Daigle

“You’ll never honor God if you don’t honor each other,” said Goff. He advised the men to surround themselves with people who have good character because it’s a reflection of who they are. “I’m big on the idea of love thy neighbor.”

“You’ll start seeing the opportunity when you know what you want,” said Goff. “When you have an opportunity, take the next step.” He said there are also people outside who don’t know what they want.

That’s the same kind of advice and motivation Goff delivered in the form of comedy to a larger audience at the prison in February. His message both times was “Love Does.” It’s also the title of a book he wrote that’s a best- seller. He uses the money from the millions of books sold to build schools around the world.

“God doesn’t pass us messages, he gives us people,” said Goff. On this evening, without sounding preachy, he told the men “You were for- given before you were even born.”

Like his last visit, Goff told jokes to keep the audience engaged. But the laughter didn’t dilute his positive message. “It starts by knowing what you want,” he repeated. “Know yourself.”

Goff’s friend and fellow comedian who goes by Michael Jr. took the stage after he spoke. “He knows how to be a friend,” said Michael Jr. about Goff. “I read people for a living.” He explained, to do comedy he has to pay attention to people.

Comedian Michael Jr. performing on love thy neighbor
Comedian Michael Jr. performing on love thy neighbor

Making the men laugh was only a small part of Michael Jr.’s act. He also discussed the art of telling jokes. He said a good story and joke comes from the setup, using resources. He explained that hardship, tragedy, skill, talent, and other abilities are what everyone receives, but the punch line is what’s delivered from all of it.

“Setbacks,” Michael Jr. said, are also the key to the setup for a good story or joke. He said bouncing back from adversity and setbacks is like being placed in a sling shot: The further you’re pulled back, the further you’ll reach. “Where will you aim?” he asked, and said, “Where ever that is, focus.”

Later, Lauren Daigle, a mentor and voice coach for contestants on American Idol took the stage.

“There are people who are not looking at you as your crime,” she said, explaining some people’s point of view about the incarcerated.

In her clear strong voice, Daigle sang her song “You Say” to the men over a prerecorded CD that played the music on the chapel’s PA system.

The final performance came when a local father and daughter duo, Pastor Zach and Abby, sang together. Zach finger-picked arpeggios on his acoustic guitar as Abby sang Reck- less Love and other songs. Zach joined in later vocals.

Abby ended the evening with a prayer on the stage as those in the audience bowed their heads. Before the crowd dispersed the men mingled and got auto- graphs from Goff, Michael Jr., Daigle, Abby and Zach.

Goff said he plans to come back to San Quentin, probably in the fall.

Prison to Employment Connection prepares men for the workforce

by

PEC staff and inmate volunteers
PEC staff and inmate volunteers

Prison to Employment Connection (PEC) at San Quentin graduated 44 men from its ninth session in June. The week before graduation, more than 40 business, career and education professionals attended Employer Day at the prison to do one-on-one interviews with the men.

PEC’s 15-week program prepares men to be “job ready” before paroling. According to statistics from Diana Williams, PEC executive director, 210 men have graduated from the program since 2015. Of that number, 96 have paroled and only one has returned to custody.

PEC volunteers, employers, career and education professionals at Employer Day
PEC volunteers, employers, career and education professionals at Employer Day

“We’re all here this after- noon to connect with each other,” said Williams, who discussed how recidivism rates run between 31% and 71%. For those who find employment after prison, the numbers are 3% to 8%. PEC outdoes those figures with its 1.41 % recidivism rate.

“At the beginning of the program, we promised you that we’d meet you halfway,” Williams said to the graduates. “I expect each of you to come see us when you get out because we’re here to help you.”

Inmate Norman Willhoite, 57, is serving a second prison term. He served 28 years the first time. With no clear direction when he was released, he went back to what he knew. He said the employers coming in give inmates an opportunity that wasn’t here 10 years ago. “It (PEC) gave me back self-confidence.”

“It’s a good program,” said inmate Jesse Buruca, 27. “I feel they (PEC) do provide the information you need to be able to prepare to be job ready.” He learned how to conduct himself at a job inter- view, “to be comfortable and be yourself.”

Prison to Employment Connection graduates and volunteers
Prison to Employment Connection graduates and volunteers

Inmate Jaryd Newton, 31, said he recommends all in- mates take the class. “They’ve dedicated their hard work and time, and I can’t be more ap- preciative,” he said. “You guys (guests) didn’t look at us as inmates.”

West Oakland Job Resource Center interviewed inmate Hamisi X. Spears, 46, and discussed employment opportunities. The center provides apprentice training programs, job referrals and other services. “I really en- joyed this class,” said Spears. “It prepares you for the future. And it gives you the skills to help you get a job.”

“I learned there are more job opportunities than I thought for the formerly incarcerated,” said inmate Lemuel Brown, 57, who has been incarcerated for two years. “If you have to be here (in prison), don’t make it a total waste. I don’t see any other way to make an opportunity.”

Michael Erickson of SF Made attended PEC’s employer day for the first time. “This is incredible,” he said. “I’m absolutely blown away by this, I’m really glad I came up today.” His organization prepares people to interview who are involved with manufacturing, and holds careers in manufacturing workshops.

Mark Kidd, 35, an inmate who volunteers for PEC, participated in the program about two years ago. “When I went through the program, I saw how beneficial it was for us in- mates to parole with a job.” He returned to volunteer because he saw how much it helped him. He said looking at many younger inmates wasting time doing nothing, compared to those he’s helped, “is really a good feeling to give back.” He said PEC was genuine about helping the men. “I wanted to become one of those guys” (who help people).

“I think I have something to offer,” said inmate Robert Pol- zin, 43. He’s a PEC volunteer who graduated from the program in 2017. “It’s just been a great opportunity to offer my experience,” he said. “It seems like the job world is a little more liberal than it used to be.”

Jennifer Rudd from City College of San Francisco said she’s happy to represent its culinary arts basic train- ing and management, baking and pastry, and culinary and service skills training certificate programs. It was her third PEC appearance. “As usual, I’m super impressed with the preparation of the men,” she said.

Lisa Trustin, a first-time PEC volunteer, attended the workshops, employer day and graduation. “It has all the right elements to help someone get a job,” she said. She has a career counseling background, with 15 years as a career counselor. She learned about the program while volunteering with California Reentry Institute.

“I like helping the under- dog,” said PEC volunteer Gabrielle Nicolet. It was her fifth session. “This is the most inspiring place I’ve been.” For three and a half years, she’s volunteered at San Quentin. She said people always talk about helping others, but they’re generally not referring to incarcerated people be- cause so many people dislike prisoners, but no one needs help more than the incarcerated. “I like helping people who need it.”

Over the years, Nicolet has worked in different areas of the criminal justice system. She currently works as a defense paralegal. She received training from the University of the Pacific and is currently pursuing law school.

Other organizations that attended Employer Day were the Workforce Development Board of Contra Costa County, the District Council 16 Apprentice Program of Northern California, Saved By Grace, Positive Resource Center, Goodwill Industries, and CEO Works.

Oakland’s Private Industry Council was there to assist the men with reentry programs. Part of its stated mission is to “support the journey toward equitable sustainable employment.”

Before the men received their certificates at graduation, they offered comments and feedback to the PEC staff and inmate volunteers:

“I always thought I wasn’t employable.”

“I learned proper etiquette when talking to employers.”

“You’ve pushed me and helped me through this process.”

“Sometimes I gotta swallow my pride.”

“It takes a lot of courage to ask for help,” said Robert Frye, who often speaks at PEC graduations, to encourage the men. “It’s always bittersweet to see new and old faces,” he said. He paroled from San Quentin about five years ago after serving 25 years in prison. “I’m no better than you,” he told the men. “I just got lucky and got out.”

Frye did a quick question- and-answer session fielding inquiries such as how long did it take him to feel like a citizen? How’d you feel about technology? He said he felt normal in about six months, especially when he started paying bills. Because he was allowed to use computers in prison, he “adapted well” outside.

The men applauded Frye after listening to his inspirational speech and stories of his accomplishments after he paroled.

“Good luck is when preparation meets opportunity,” said Angel Falcone, an inmate PEC facilitator. “When you do the best you can, people won’t forget that and will help you.” He advised the men to think about the future, get a Roth IRA, to not depend on Social Security, and get medical insurance.

Clif Bar of Emeryville, Calif., worked with PEC again this session. Its human resources and other departments helped the men with resume writing and interview skills.

“It kind of humanizes the (prison) experience,” said Kim who works in HR at Clif Bar. “It really is about building partnerships.”

Alicia who works in marketing at Clif Bar didn’t know what to expect coming inside a prison. “It was really cool to see the growth and confidence built,” she said. “It’s very moving.”

Salesforce recruiter and volunteer resume writer, Laura Pedersen, heard about PEC through someone who comes in to play basketball with the inmates at San Quentin. “I like people to have hope,” she said. “I think it’s awesome.”

Williams said of the nine PEC sessions, this was only the second time that 100% of the men interviewed the same or better than people outside of prison. “You were better than the class that came before you.”

Williams provided inter- view statistics ranging from 1 as poor, 2 below average, 3 average, 4 above average, and 5 excellent. She said there were no scores of one or two. The men received the following ratings from employers:

1= 0%
2= 0%
3 = 19%
4 = 39%
5 = 42%
The height of the last four months came when each graduates’ name was called. One by one, they walked to the stage area, shook hands with the volunteers, and were handed certificates and packets of useful employment information that will help them transition back to society and enter the work force. Everyone applauded to support each other. At the end, Williams yelled, “Job.”

The graduates all responded with “Ready!” as part of PEC’s customary mantra.

Program helps at risk youth through music

by

John Wallace at his studio

John Wallace went to jail and prison19 times, starting at age 18. Then he was sent to San Quentin, where he served two terms and started writing rap lyrics on his last trip there in the prison’s West Block.

An initial opening to a career in music happened by chance when Wallace and other inmates created what he described as a “radio show” called K-FU** Radio in the cell block where they would sing, rap and tell jokes at night. He said it was like comedy night in the cell block, and it inspired him to write music.

“We made the best of our time,” said Wallace, now 41 years old and nearly a decade removed from criminal activity.

Wallace said when he paroled, he experimented with drugs and got involved with gangs and later left both alone. “I didn’t want to come back” (to prison), said Wallace. “I was exhausted and wanted to make some changes.”

When he ran the streets, his family used to tell him he was disgracing himself. But what made him enter recovery was something his daughter said to him on Father’s Day. “I don’t want to bury my father,” she told him.

Feeling humiliated, embarrassed and shame, Wallace decided to deal with his addiction.

Another change came in the form of music. After serving time at California Rehabilitation Center, California Medical Facility- Vacaville, and the ranch at Folsom State Prison, Wallace paroled for the last time in 2008 and discharged from parole in 2011.

John Wallace and David Jassy at SQ media center

Getting out of prison, Wallace said it made him realize his real friends didn’t offer him drugs or try to invite him to commit criminal activity. His good friends, he said, encouraged him to go to school.

Wallace returned to San Quentin in May. But this time he wasn’t wearing prison blues. Dressed in all black attire with red, high-top Timberland boots, he visited the prison’s media center to dis- cuss his nonprofit Surviving The Odds Project, STOP for short, where he is the founder and CEO.

Wallace’s wife, Melissa Greene, is the co-founder and executive director of STOP. She said “John is the face of the program,” and she works behind the scene. We’re “so opposite but (we) work well together,” she said.

“I was trying to hold back tears,” said Wallace. “It was emotional coming back. It’s eye opening to come here.”

“STOP will improve the lives of local youth through engagement in therapeutic self-exploration and self- expression by providing an innovative music and video production program to the underserved and margialized…population in Marin County,” its website says.

Wallace learned about equipment and video production at Community Media Center of Marin. While in the Marin county jail, he learned about a grant for mental health. He said funding was available for people to write about life experiences, so he applied.

Wallace said it was Cesar LaGleva of Behavioral Health and Recovery Services, who clued him in on available funding for kids. LaGleva’s wife, Liz Prior, is the principle viola player for the Marin Symphony.

STOP participants at the studio headquarters

STOP targets at-risk youth who attend Marin County schools, such as Marin Oaks High School, Madrone, and San Andreas. “The kids are really getting an opportunity by coming through our program,” said Wallace. He built a multimedia studio at Marin Oaks, where he decided to make the studio a one-stop shop.

“Kids hear about the program through word of mouth,” said Wallace. “And no experience is necessary for kids to participate in STOP.”

Youth participants of STOP program

The program starts with a group of about 15 kids. Wallace said about 11 to 12 finish the program. which meets twice a week for several months. There, they feed the kids, teach them song writing, recording and videotaping skills.

Wallace does on the outside what artist and producer David Jassy does with youth offenders on the inside of San Quentin. The two met in the prison’s media center and shared some ideas. Jassy extended an invitation to Wallace to participate in the 16 Barz Behind Bars project at the prison.

“I think it’s cool for you to come back to do 16 Bars Behind Bars,” said Jassy.

Jassy said “Some people don’t understand the impact this music has on kids.” He said Wallace’s influence will help make a difference.

Jassy prepared Wallace to record a few rap lyrics. After Wallace selected music created by Jassy he was ready to record.

On playback they overdubbed some ad lib tracks and layered the previous vocals with a duplicate track to expand the dynamic presence of the sound. The two of them discussed the possibility of STOP, YOP mix tape inmates and San Quentin’s SQUIRES program collaborating to help youth inside and outside of prison.

“I’m super excited to work with you, especially from prison,” Wallace told Jassy.

Two Marin professional classic musicians join Zuill Bailey to perform at San Quentin

by

Jeremy Constant, Zuill Bailey and Jenny Douglass performing at San Quentin Protestant Chapel

Grammy Award winning cellist, Zuill Bailey, returned to San Quentin State Prison’s Protestant Chapel for a third time to perform for an audience of inmates, staff and outside guests.

“Thank you for taking me out of prison for a while,” an inmate in the audience said.

It was by far the best turnout for one of Bailey’s performances. The audience kept growing during the performance as inmates and staff trickled into the chapel for the noontime show.

It was a sunny afternoon at the prison, so Bailey was competing for attention with men playing basketball and activities on the Lower Yard while others waited for the performance to begin.

Bailey opened with a solo performance of the The Swan by Johannes Sebastian Bach, written in 1717. He followed with a piece by Tchaikovsky, and the audience quietly listened as they watched the emotion Bailey displayed as he played his 326-year-old Stradivarius cello.

Cellist Zuill Bailey for the third time at SQ

“Thank you,” Bailey said in a humble greeting to the audience. “It’s really great to be back.” Remaining consistent with his prior engagements at the prison, he spoke candidly on the stage about his path to music.

“I didn’t ask to play the cello,” said Bailey. “It was destiny.” He shared a story of his first run-in with the cello at age four when he accidentally knocked the instrument out of a girl’s hand at a concert and broke it.

Moving through his selection of songs, he played faster and used more of the instrument’s fret board to demonstrate the auditory range of the instrument from high piercing notes to low bass tones.

“You smoked Eddie Van Halen,” one inmate in the audience called out, arousing laughter.

“Don’t tell him,” Bailey responded with a smile.

Some parts of his next slowly played melodic composition sounded sad, then picked up with quick striking phrases that morphed into a range of what sounded like an ensemble of musicians. When he was done, the applause that filled the room was anything but obligatory.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Bailey asked the audience. “The slow parts are the hardest to play,” he said.

At age 19, Bailey said he was told by an accomplished musician, “Congratulations, you can play the cello. Now go get a life so people will care.”

Because of his age and years of dedication playing the cello, Bailey said he had not experienced hardship and “didn’t even have a girlfriend.” He said unlike many kids of that age, he didn’t know loss, suffering and other things life brings to someone, so he had to get some life experiences to play some songs well. Now he says: “It’s not what I do but how I feel is what sticks with me.”

Halfway through the show, Bailey welcomed Jeremy Constant, Marin Symphony’s concert master and Jenny Douglass, Marin Symphony’s principal violist to the stage to play violin and the viola respectively.

The trio performed three parts of a five-piece movement, reading from charts. The first movement opened with a strong attack, filling the chapel with centuries-old sounds; the second was a pleasant piece played with single low notes from the cello that supported the high notes played by the violin and viola.

In the third movement, the cello growled as Constant and Douglass played the violin and viola, at times in what sounded like a call-and-response style. “You have to be able to read together,” said Bailey.

“The key is to let yourself go there,” explained Bailey. “Music lets me know I’m alive.”

“Have you named your cello?” an inmate in the crowd asked during a brief question and answer session after the show.

“I’ve considered calling it Rose,” said Bailey, referring to the rose painted on the centuries-old instrument. He told the audience they’re lucky to hear such an old cello because most are in museums.

Constant played a 1850 violin. “It’s amazing to be able to play borrowed instruments,” he said. “In a sense, these are our voices.”

It was Douglass’ fourth visit to the prison and her second time performing at San Quentin with Bailey. She is the Director of Education at Marin Symphony. She said the program trains children, ages 8 to 19, in orchestral ensemble. She’s been playing the viola since age four.

“When the three of you played, it seemed like there were more of you,” an audience member told the group. “When are you coming back?”

“This is my personal third time,” said Bailey. “I guarantee we’ll be back.”

Translate »