San Quentin News

Written By Inmates - Advancing Social Justice

Advocates launch #MeTooBehindBars for those incarcerated

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Crowd of participants bringing awareness to #MeTooBehindBars

Sexual violence and transphobia in prisons are still taboo topics of discussion, even in the midst of some prison reform efforts nationwide.

But a group of victims/survivors and advocates launched the #MeTooBehindBars campaign that aims to influence the #MeToo movement and to include the voices of those incarcerated who have or are suffering from sexual harassment or sexual abuse.

This new campaign has found its way to the steps of the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) office in Sacramento. An Oct. 30 protest was held to raise the awareness of transgender, gender nonconforming (GNC) and queer people’s plight within the state prison system, according to the Young Women’s Freedom Center and California Coalition for Women Prisoners (CCWP) advocacy groups.

Nghia from Survived & Punished speaking at the event

Advocates arrived in front of the building in vans. The participants arranged themselves in a circle and laid out the words “Me Too” on the ground and lined them with flowers. Many of the speakers shared their stories of being sexually assaulted behind bars, as each spoke from the building steps.

“There is so much violence against trans women inside. The culture is to blame women for the violence,” said Attorney Jen Orthwein, who represents transgender women in California’s men prisons, to SQ News.

“Many of the women I’ve worked with are gone. There was Allie, who was sliced in her neck and placed in solitary confinement. Her cellmate was constantly harassing her, and she begged to be moved.

Sister Warriors advocate letting her voice be heard

“Another one of my clients was beaten by cellmates and correctional officers, then…a noose was left in her cell. She was denied surgery and committed suicide the next day,” added Orthwein.

In a call and response cry of “Me Too,” “behind bars” activists walked in a circle chanting and holding protest signs.

“I was harassed and sexually harassed because I was GNC,” said Stacy Rojas, who is formerly incarcerated and spoke at the rally. “People thought they could make me want to be a woman or show me that I am.

Participant holding up sign to free Kinzie Noordman

“From the very beginning of me stepping foot in jail and having them telling me to put on a dress—it’s all in the way they say it, the way they tell me to turn around and spread it. [They would] laugh at me. They would tell me that they would make me like it.

“There was so much sexual violence because of me being masculine presenting and being GNC,” Rojas added.

Rojas understands the importance of speaking out and bringing awareness to the #MeTooBehindBars movement.

“It’s not just my story, believe me. I have friends who would not speak out at first. They’re embarrassed and ashamed,” said Rojas. “Now they’re standing up next to me screaming it out. It’s not that we’re happy, but we’re not going to…keep secret(s) anymore. I want them [people in authority] to understand that sexual assault happens, period.

“[It] runs so deep—trans women are looked at in a f@#ked up way,” reflects Rojas. “Toxic patriarchal men look at them and are upset that they believe in their heads that they are men and can’t believe that they want to be a woman.

“They can’t understand what trans is at all,” said Rojas.

Young Women Freedom Center’s Amita Mota and Stacy Rojas at the event

Victims of sexual assault in prisons are encouraged to report incidents to their state’s correctional internal affairs department—this includes if someone has been threatened with sexual assault or has experienced retaliation for reporting an incident, according to PREA posters within U.S. prisons.

In 2003, the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) was signed into law. The goal was to create a zero tolerance policy around rape in prison. To date, San Quentin, along with most state or federal prisons in the nation, has PREA posters on the walls in all areas of the institution.

The “Shine the Light on Sexual Abuse” posters provide telephone numbers and addresses for reporting incidents. The phone numbers accept collect calls from incarcerated people.

SQ News has received mixed responses about PREA’s effectiveness. Some people reported that it worked and others said they experienced some form of retaliation or no action was taken for their claims.

There have been various lawsuits filed against correctional departments nationwide, including CDCR. Also there are ongoing investigations into abuse claims by correctional departments, according to some court filing records.

Changing a culture of violence toward the LGBTQ community within prisons is one of the main priorities of the protestors.

YWFC member speaking

“When you hear about sexual assault in the workplace, everyone is freaking out about it and saying that this has to stop. People are appalled while they are watching [it on] the news,” said Rojas. “But there’s thousands of people who can’t complain at all.

“You’re stuck in a place where nobody worries about you. There are thousands of people going through this and it’s kept a secret.”

Madeleine Gregory, a student at UC Berkeley, contributed to this article.

SB 136 goes into effect on Jan. 1, 2020

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Oct. 8, the Repeal Ineffective Sentence Enhancements (RISE) Coalition celebrated Gov. Gavin Newsom’s signature on SB 136: The RISE Act. The legislation, authored by Sen. Scott Wiener (D-San Francisco), dismantles a sentence enhancement that adds an extra year to an individual’s base sentence for each prior prison or felony jail term they already served.

“Our coalition has been doing work to reduce the state’s budget on Corrections for the last 15 years. Draconian sentencing policies, like enhancements for prior convictions, have been key in filling the 33 prisons we have in California, wasting resources and tearing families apart,” said Amber-Rose Howard, Statewide Coordinator at Californians United for a Responsible Budget.

Consistent with disparities at every other stage of the criminal legal system, individuals, communities and families of color are disproportionately burdened by the one-year enhancement, proponents of SB 136 state.

“This is about moving toward more justice for incarcerated people and their families and righting the wrongs from California’s draconian sentencing laws that disproportionately impact Black and Brown communities,” said Emily Harris, Policy Manager of the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights. “We know that this one-year sentence enhancement does not make our communities safer or deter crime, but tears families apart. Reining in this enhancement will help ease the emotional and economic toll that this has taken on incarcerated Californians and their loved ones.”

According to the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR), there were more than 15,000 counts of the one-year sentence enhancement added to incarcerated individuals’ base sentences as of December 2018. This is a conservative estimate, as the CDCR’s assessment does not consider felony jail terms served at local county jails. California currently spends more than $80,000 each year to imprison an individual.

“Every year a parent spends incarcerated causes significant trauma to their child. Children with incarcerated parents are more likely to experience depression, anxiety, poor academic performance, school absenteeism/drop out, poverty, homelessness and physical health problems. We are proud to have the support of Governor Newsom on SB 136, it’s divestment from punishment,” said Romarilyn Ralston, Policy Director with the California Coalition for Women Prisoners. “The majority of incarcerated women have children under the age of 18. Every year a mother spends away from a child has layers of collateral consequences. I am proud to be part of this historic effort and know our incarcerated mothers will be returned to their children sooner rather than later, said Ralston.”

The one-year enhancement addressed by SB 136 is but one among a myriad of enhancements available under California law. The new law will not alter an individual’s base sentence for their current felony charge or change any of the longer enhancements designed to further punish people.

SB 136 goes into effect on Jan. 1, 2020.

# # #

SB 136 is sponsored by the RISE Coalition, which is comprised of the ACLU of California, California Coalition for Women Prisoners, Californians United for a Responsible Budget, the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights, the Drug Policy Alliance, the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, the Friends Committee on Legislation of California, Legal Services for Prisoners with Children, Pillars of the Community, and Tides Advocacy.

They risk their lives for as little as $2.90 a day

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California’s prisoners firefighters receive little benefit for their service on the fire lines

More than 3,000 California prisoners help fight the state’s wildfires and are paid well below minimum wages.

Inmates who work on active fires are paid between $2.90 and $5.12 a day, and get an additional $1 an hour during an active emergency, according to Fortune.com.

The major incentive inmates choosing to volunteer to serve their time at one of California’s 43 fire camps is the time off their sentence. When legislation was introduced in 2014 to include two—for—one credit to all inmates in CDCR, it met huge opposition according to a November article by Fortune.com.

“The extension of two-for-one credit to all (minimum security facility) inmates would likely make fire camp beds even more difficult to fill, as low-level, non-violent inmates would choose to participate in the (Minimum Support Facility) program rather than endure strenuous physical activities and risk injury in the fire camps,” said Sen. Kamala Harris (D-Calif.)

The article also stated an affidavit from Vimal Singh, CDCR official, in which he points out extending early release credits would deplete the fire population.

“Prison is a uniquely coercive environment,” said David Fathi, director of the ACLU. “There is very little in prison that is truly voluntary. There is a power differential between prisoners and their captors and employers that creates a significant risk of exploitation and abuse. and we need to be alert to that.”

The Conservation Camp Program was established in 1945, and is estimated to save the state of California $100 million dollars each year, according to Fortune.com.

Statistics show that over the past 35 years six inmate firefighters have died from injuries sustained from fighting a fire. This notion beckons the call as to what price is an inmate willing to pay for freedom.

“Prisoners should not volunteer to fight dangerous fires, simply because the alternative is being locked in a prison cell,” added Fathi.

There were two memos produced regarding inmate fire fighters pay. In one memo there was a suggestion that the inmate pay would increase from $1, which has been the pay rate for the last 40 years, to $2 an hour. The memo stated that even at this rate it would still save the state over $24.6 million dollars in lieu of hired firefighters. The memo also cautioned that, “Less inmate fire crews would result in the reliance of federal, county and private fire crews during periods of high fire activity. These costs per 24 hour shift range from four to eight times higher than the cost of a comparable inmate crew,” according to the article.

“Prisoners are largely unprotected by the occupational health and safety laws that protect all other workers from dangerous working conditions,” said Fathi. “They’re not covered by OSHA,They can’t unionize for safer working conditions. When you put all those together it makes a prisoner a uniquely vulnerable workforce compared to everyone else who fights fires or does any other work in this society.”

Prisoners when released are unable to put their skills to use. Most firefighting jobs require employees to obtain an Emergency Medical Technician or paramedic license. In California most convicted felons can’t obtain this type of license until they have been free from custody for 10 years, according to the article.

When you couple the very high risk an inmate assumes it has created a decline in the amount of inmates willing to go to fire camp. A memo obtained by Earther from CALFire and California Department of Corrections

states that, “prisoners working in camps have declined by at least 1,000 people over the past 12 years,” the article stated.

CDCR has recently partnered a $26.6 million dollar firefighter certification and training program in Ventura County. The program will create an 18—month program which provides advance training to former inmates. The program can enroll 80 parolees but doesn’t give EMT licenses upon graduation. CAL FIRE has offered positions to two of the recent graduates.

Reyes introduced a bill in the legislature that would allow former inmates to join the California Firefighter Joint Venture Apprenticeship program. “Reyes believes that a criminal conviction should not be a life sentence, but rather that folks that have made a mistake, and demonstrated commitment and efforts to rehabilitation should have the same opportunities as everyone else,” said an official working for California Assemblywoman Eloise Reyes. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eloise_Reyes

California Professional Firefighters, a union of more than 30,000 members, has fought against this plan, according to the article.

What happens when the power goes out in prison?

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The power went off at San Quentin State Prison, leaving thousands of prisoners and custody staff together in a dark and perilous situation in October.

In the prison’s North Block and West Block, about 1,500 men were moving around outside of their cells inside the two five-story buildings when the power outage caught them and about a dozen correctional officers off guard.

Some inmates were taking showers when they became enveloped in darkness. Initially, everyone waited for the power and lights to be restored in a few seconds as a matter of routine, but it did not happen.

In the prison’s H-unit dorms, prisoners reported a ratio of two correctional officers to one hundred prisoners in the dark.

According to the California Code of Regulations, Title 15, Article 4 Disorders and Emergencies, Section 3301, Emergency Operations Plan, “Each warden must have in effect at all times an Emergency Operations Plan, approved by the Emergency Planning and Management Unit, to assist in the preparation for response to and recovery from ‘All Hazards’ incidents. All hazards incidents are defined as any disrupt institutional operations or programs.”

PIO Statement: Gardea waiting for plant operation’s. He emailed them and has also said that Lt. Robinson has the answer.

There are no battery powered emergency flood lights activated in the West and North Block housing units because they don’t exist, and the backup generator system failed to provide standby power as it was inoperable for more than six hours.

The correctional officers in West Block had to use small handheld flashlights and one portable floodlight to help guide hundreds inmates to their cells with limited visibility in pitch black darkness.

As the building grew silent, correctional officers’ radio transmissions could be heard: “All officers are instructed to walk in pairs or groups of three or four.”

The power went out around 8:40 p.m. and didn’t come back on until shortly after 3:00 a.m.

When the power went out, inmates who required CPAP machines for breathing couldn’t use them. Toilets in the cells at San Quentin could not be flushed because they’re connected to timers that control the number of flushes per hour. The water in the showers and sinks went cold within minutes.

What appeared to be a dangerous and volatile situation for correctional officers and inmates ended without a major incident or injuries. In the first minutes, some inmates shouted and made jokes, but as it became apparent the lights were not turning back on, they found their way to their cells on their own as the public address was de-energized and of no use.

Some inmates assisted others by taking their portable battery-operated reading lights out on the tiers and to the shower area to help each other see their way safely back to their cells.

“I waited an hour for the generator to kick in,” said Lonnie Morris. “I just knew the power was going to kick back in. After an hour, I knew the generator wasn’t coming on, so I went to sleep.”

The stalled generator response to the power outage came several months after the Associated Press reported on a state-commissioned study that said California’s 12 oldest prisons are in “need of major repairs or replacements if they are to continue housing a third of the state’s inmate population…”

“What the state has done is ignore the need to routinely replace some critical infrastructure for decades,” said Don Specter, director of the Prison Law Office, a nonprofit organization that works on lawsuits involving the welfare of inmates. “Decades of deferred maintenance have led to this.”

An unidentified inmate who was returning from another area of the prison outside could be heard in the cell block saying “the hospital stayed lit.” Others speculated that the hospital must have a backup generator that works separately from the rest of the prison’s backup power.

“I don’t know who lives in those houses out there, but they’re all lit up,” said a volunteer at San Quentin who did not want to be identified. He said the houses on the right-hand side of the prison entrance all had their lights on. “Even the post office was all lit up.” He said he went to pick up his mail there the following day and that the generators at the prison could be heard.

Forty-eight hours after Pacific Gas & Electric cut the power to San Quentin, the prison was still running on generators. Even then the power cut off at least three times but came back on seconds later. At about 8:00 p.m., after the third time, however, the prison did an institution lockup, recalling prisoners back to their cells.

A governor's commutation gives Laverne Shoemaker a second chance

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Laverne outside CCWF women’s prison

Laverne Shoemaker overcame what some prison reform activists call “a living death sentence.”

Shoemaker was serving life without the possibility of parole (LWOP) until her sentence was commuted by then-Gov. Jerry Brown. After 26 years, Laverne (Dej) DeJohnette Shoemaker walked free in June.

“I am a ‘DROP LWOP’ advocate. I will not ever stop advocating for LWOPs and lifers. LWOP is a ‘Death

by Incarceration sentence,’” said Shoemaker. “When you are given that sentence, what they are saying is, you are irrelevant, you’re irredeemable, you’re beyond redemption. And that’s just not true.

“Look at me. I have 19 arrests, 16 convictions, three prior prison terms and the fourth was the life crime of murder. Sure it took over 10 years, but I did change. Now I’m a taxpaying citizen. We are all capable of transformation,” she added.

Shoemaker did not sit on her heels when she walked free. She began working with the California Coalition For Women’s Prisoners (CCWP), where she was named the first Charisse Shumate Fellow.

The Shumate fellowship highlights the life and legacy of Shumate, who suffered from sickle-cell anemia. She died in prison. Her supporters say her death was due to negligence on the part of the California prison system. Shumate was one of the founding members of CCWP. She was a lead plaintiff in the 1995 lawsuit that challenged California’s women’s prisons health care system. She also helped start The Fire Inside, the organization’s newsletter.

“I was blessed to live with this woman as a roommate. I was fortunate enough to see her in her high highs and her low lows,” said Shoemaker in correspondence with SQ News. “I saw her in action and witnessed her determination to make a change. She was famous for saying ‘It’s not a me thing; it’s a we thing.”

Shoemaker was resigned to living out her life in prison. But she credits Shumate for being one of the inspirations who helped to educate her about the need to stand up for the rights of everyone inside.

Laverne eager to get her ID

“In the beginning I did what most did. I jumped right into the criminal elements inside. I got involved with the prison politics. I racked up many 115’s (disciplinary write-ups) and SHU (administrative segregation) terms,” said Shoemaker. “I had seen people change and grow. But I had two dilemmas: one, I didn’t think change was possible for someone like me, and two, I didn’t know ‘why’ I should change.”

Shoemaker’s change came when she started being honest with herself and addressing all her childhood traumas.

“I began to see a human with value and worth under all the tarnish,” said Shoemaker. “The LWOP was not a factor. In all actuality, receiving the LWOP sentence saved my life. The truth is I was a very dysfunctional, unstable substance abuser.

“I was very dangerous and an extremely violent individual. But after a few SHU terms I changed my thought process. I went from I don’t care if I live or die and I’m a piece of sh#*t anyway to…..It doesn’t really matter ‘where’ I die, in the free world or prison, I’m still going to die,” she continued.

What began to matter to Shoemaker was what type of person she was going to be and what her quality of life would be like.

“My motto became, ‘When shall I live if not now?’” she said. “I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d ever get out. So every group, program, workshop facilitating, curriculum I created was for me and my community. Not for anyone else.

“I definitely learned who I was and who I am today. I’ve grown and learned the impact that we have on our victims and communities,” said Shoemaker. “I learned that by taking a life I have committed the most serious crime of humanity.

“I’ve learned that changing my behavior is the only acceptable atonement. Living today and every day for your victims is not just words you tell the BPH (Board of Parole Hearings).

That is what you have to you live by,” she added.

Shoemaker shared her re-entry experiences and goals for her fellowship.

“What I see is that we (lifers) are impatient and want to hit the ground running. We think we have the formula that we know it all,” she said. “I get it—we have sat decades and planned what we wanna do. But the hard truth and the reality is this is a different world.

“I began to see a human with value and worth under all the tarnish,”

“We need to take it one day at a time. The adjustment period is tough. We are new to the free world. The technology alone is mind-blowing. Some days I feel like a refugee. I guess the hardest part of being out is missing being back inside.

“Most will read this and think I’m crazy. But it’s true while inside you spend all your time thinking about freedom, but when you’re out here you spend a considerable amount of time thinking about back inside,” she added.

Shoemaker knows and understands her responsibilities. She is in the process of creating a curriculum for the LWOPs.

“I will spend my last breath advocating for the LWOPs,” she said. “We are always left behind, overlooked, or at the bottom of every list—that is, if we even make the list at all.

“Yet we (LWOPs) are the pillars of the prison communities, we are the glue that holds the yards together.”

Her plans and goals for the fellowship are to honor her friend Shumate and not stop or back down.

“Charisse didn’t just com- plain or just file a grievance—no she went up against a system. And she got that system to listen. She made a difference,” she said. “She left some pretty big shoes to fill but I think collectively together we all can fill them. I promise to do her name justice!”

Twelve CDCR prisons are in dire need of repair

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Don Spector, Director of the Prison Law Office: “Prisons are literally crumbling”

San Quentin’s West Block

Twelve of California’s oldest prisons are in need of repair or replacement, according a state-commissioned study recently made public.

San Quentin State Prison, California’s oldest prison, built in 1852, is one of the 12 prisons that has “exceeded (its) expected useful life,” the private consultant, Kitchell CEM said in its initial report to the state.

The study also included Folsom State Prison, the second oldest prison in California built in 1880, and prisons “repurposed” after use as military housing during World War II.

According to The Associated Press, the Kitchel CEM study does not provide an estimated cost to repair the 12 prisons. It did say, however, that “the projected cost to fix one prison built in 1955 was estimated at more than $763 million.”

“Do the math—11 other prisons,” said Donald Specter, director of the Prison Law Office, a nonprofit that works on major lawsuits concerning inmates’ welfare. “Prisons are literally crumbling.”

“The state committed $260 million over four years to repair leaking roofs at more than two dozen of the state’s 35 prisons, where the cost of overdue maintenance is estimated at more than $1 billion,” the AP reported.

California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) spokeswoman Terry Thornton said the department initiated the study three years ago. “It’s to guide future planning and investment in the department’s infrastructure needs,” she said.

AP reported, “…while a majority of prison buildings and other infrastructure are ‘beyond their useful life,’ they may still be in operational condition,” adding the completion of repairs would allow the prison to operate in the future.

“Decades of deferred maintenance have led to this,” said Specter. “What the state has done is ignore the need to routinely replace some of these critical infrastructure for decades.” He expressed concern that some areas at facilities are possibly uninhabitable, AP reported.

“These prisons have been put through the ringer,” Specter said. “Many of them have not only been inhabited past their useful life, but they put thousands more people in them than they were designed for, so that takes its toll as well.”

Many of the prisons are needed for the CDCR to remain below a population cap of 137.5% of design capacity imposed by federal courts, according

to the AP. “The consultants recommended repairing some buildings but said others, including some housing units, should be replaced.” The AP said California Medical Facility in Vacaville was the only prison provided with a completed estimate of $763.5 million for repairs, and a CDCR medical facility opened six years ago in Stockton had an estimate of $839 million for repairs.

Spending for improvements would have to first get approval from state lawmakers and budget officials, according to the AP.

“Three-quarters of a billion dollars just for one prison,” said Spector, the AP reported. “The price tag is enormous.”

A journey of recovery and reclamation for Officer Calvo

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Correctional Officer Calvo with his kitchen crew

Before coming to San Quentin, Correctional Officer Calvo was homeless and living on the streets, alcohol ruining his life.

Calvo described himself as a functional alcoholic, who held a job, but was drunk all the time. Due to the progressive nature of alcoholism, his problem got worse over time. Calvo, who is retiring after 18 years at San Quentin, shared his insights about life’s struggles in an exclusive interview with San Quentin News.

“I didn’t care about the consequences of my drinking,” said Calvo, “ I was a slave to alcohol.”

Antwan “Banks” Williams, co-creator of the popular podcast Ear Hustle, worked in the prison’s kitchen with Officer Calvo.

Williams remembers an incident that changed his viewpoint about correctional officers.

“I worked night shift, and we had just got done cleaning up. Officer Calvo and I were standing around, and he opened up to me about his addiction problem and how he has been clean and sober for 20 plus years,” said Williams, “That was the first time ever that a staff person has ever shared something like that with me. What it did for me is it made me look at him as a person outside of his occupation.”

“He didn’t have to treat us the way he did, with the utmost respect,” said Williams. “I find that to be admirable, and I enjoyed the two years working with him.”

Before coming to San Quentin, Calvo said, he was on a downward spiral. After several blackouts and waking up in hospitals, his family and friends decided they could no longer help him.

He was forced out of the house and began living on the street.

It was during this period of homelessness that he had a spiritual revelation, a moment of clarity that made him question his lifestyle.

“I finally surrendered and asked God for help,” said Calvo, “I turned myself in to detox. From detox I turned myself in to a 90-day treatment program, and it changed my life.”

Several San Quentin prisoners said Officer Calvo did not just have respect and professionalism for his kitchen staff, but for all incarcerated individuals.

“I first met Calvo during Ramadan of 2017,” said Abdul Halim, a mentor for the Coalition for Justice and incarcerated computer coder with The Last Mile program,” He came and found brother Rashad and I to figure out how to make sure that we didn’t run into any problems receiving our first meal to break our fast during Ramadan.”

During the Islamic holiday of Ramadan, observant Muslims incarcerated in California prisons receive their food at special times because they may only eat before sunrise and after sunset.

Halim said that timing the meals can be problematic.

Calvo made sure that the kitchen was properly prepared to fulfill the needs of the participants in Ramadan.

“I learned afterwards that he (Calvo) does that every year,” said Halim.

Outside of work, Calvo volunteers his time helping to feed the homeless and helping others overcome addiction.

“Over the past several years the prison system has made more changes toward rehabilitation. Education and training is important, but if an inmate has an alcohol or drug addiction, the issue has to be worked on first on a daily basis or they relapse and lose everything,” said Calvo, “I know this from my own life experiences.”

Calvo has a sponsor and helps new participants in AA work through the Big Book and the 12 Steps.

He understands the importance of a strong support net- work. Sergeant Hasan, one of Calvo’s supervisors, helped him through difficulties in his life such as losing his father and a divorce. “It was hard working in this prison environment and going through those life experiences, but Sergeant Hasan made sure I got the help I needed, and for that I’m truly grateful,” said Calvo.

Prisoners as well as the correctional staff say they will miss Officer Calvo.

“I want to thank him on be- half of all of the people who live in H-Unit for always being a genuinely caring and respectful individual,” said Halim, “Shukran (Arabic for “thank you”), Officer Calvo.”

No More Tears violence prevention program originates from the heart

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No More Tears’ Lonnie Morris right) and members of Healing (center) with Mattie Scott (center for Our Families and Our Nations

As the sun was setting on San Quentin, dozens of incarcerated men and Bay Area citizens gathered in the Protestant Chapel to break bread, on Sept. 14, in celebration of No More Tears, a violence prevention program.

Mick Gardner, executive director of the program established in 2002, revealed that in the last three years, 43 participants of No More Tears returned to the community and none returned to prison.

Pointing to the incarcerated men, Gardner said, “They put it together— the idea came from the heart and mind of Lonnie Morris. The sincere passion that this man has for this organization—he deserves an award, and with that said, this certificate is for the shining success of No More Tears.”

Morris accepted the award as Gardner chanted, “We are community—stop the violence,” and asked the audience to respond with, “We’re community stopping the tears.”

The give and take was repeated several times.

“When I received the appreciation award, I felt overwhelmed,” Morris said later. “We don’t work to stop violence because we look for awards or recognition but because it is work that is de- signed to save lives. However, it’s good to know that your peers recognize the work you do.”

Morris has served more than 40 years in prison on a 7-year-to-life sentence. He was recently denied pa- role in May 2019. His next parole board appearance is scheduled for 2022.

“We recognize the unique perspective of former perpetrators and value their ability to bring solutions to the communities where they once contributed to the problem,” the event program read. “Our work is made possible by the support of community leaders, correctional staff, concerned citizens, and families impacted by violence and crime.”


No More Tears’ inside and outside facilitators with participants

Alameda County Supervisor Keith Carson, who regularly visits the program, talked about seeing people who once participated in No More Tears walking around or working in the community.

“We continue to struggle to come in here on a regular basis to provide services for housing and employment,” Carson said. “My instruction and learning is what can I do for your return to be successful. I’m blessed to work with other elected officials that listen to you to understand what you need to return you back home.”

Returning citizen Joey Mason with volunteer Chérie McNaulty in the audience

Joey Mason, a former No More Tears participant, left San Quentin to freedom about a year ago.

“One thing that struck me here is that there was a lot of empathy in this room,” Mason told the audience. “We know to keep showing up, keep doing the work. Our lives are being enriched by being here.”

Incarcerated No More Tears facilitator Dwight Kennedy added, “Doing the work—that means getting to know yourself. Don’t do it for the board, do it for yourself.”

While everyone feasted on hamburgers with cake and cookies for dessert, musical acts provided entertainment.

The hip-hop vocals of Jennifer Johns and keyboard of Kev Choice were inspired by “love, humanity, love and community,” Johns said.

Rafael Banskton on stage

Rafael “Nephew” Bankston performed spoken word, highlighting how the No More Tears philosophy affected his incarceration experience by focusing on its workshops aimed to put “a face on violence.”

What no more tears means to me, truthfully
All the workshops combined confined in my sleep Reflecting who I was— not who I be
Allow me to express my no more tears dream.

Ear Hustle podcaster Antwan “Banks” Williams acknowledged the people who inspired and mentored him throughout his incarceration.

“The way that these men have treated me has changed the way I treat others,” Williams said. “It was the people who told me that I was some- body to them. Now that I am somebody, I want to tell somebody that you’re some- body to me.”

Williams then went into a spoken word performance repeating the lines:

I never really felt like somebody
Till somebody told me that I can Be somebody
Now I’m somebody who just wanna tell Somebody that you’re somebody, you’re Somebody to me!

Pelican Bay inmates break down barriers of stigmatization

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The PEACE Group By Little John Perry

Over the years, Pelican Bay has been considered the worst prison in California. Since
its establishment in 1989, the ‘Bay’ has been infamous for housing the most hardened
criminals the state holds– hence the even more infamous Security Housing Unit (SHU).
There are countless tales of violence on both small and large scales. However, having grown weary of the endless cycles of bloodshed and indefinite terms of confinement—not to mention the way society viewed mediation between races, them— a group of prisoners, along with men who had been confined to the SHU for decades, came together in 2016 with a common goal: find a way to improve how we live in prison.

Thus, the PEACE Group was founded. PEACE is an acronym for “Prisoners Embracing Anti-Hostility Cultural Evolution.” The idea for the PEACE Group came from Jessie Perez, who had been housed in the SHU for many years. Although Perez transferred to another prison before he could reducing interracial violence, how to communicate more effectively, how to reduce tension on the yard, how to reduce the risk of violence, as well as other similar discussions—all for the purpose of creating a positive and less anti- social environment. The group also facilitates sports tournaments; teams are made up of men from all different races and associations.

The PEACE Group on B-yard has been up and running since 2017. Group meetings consist of five or so men from each ethnic segment coming together and having conversations on topics such as mediation a maximum security GP yard, but in these events we see that we actually can put aside our differences and biases for a greater common good. We also want to learn and use proven conflict resolution methods to improve individual quality of life, including etiquette and the proper treatment of women, learning how to respect and appreciate different cultures and backgrounds, and how to engage in productive conversations with different kinds of people.

The ultimate goal of the PEACE Group is to put an end to racial violence in prison. Many wars in the past were due mainly to a lack of communication, knowledge and understanding. We want to prevent these things.

Don’t get me wrong. Prison won’t become peace- ful overnight, but no goal can be achieved if we don’t try. At this time I would like to thank everyone at Pelican Bay who has put real effort into making things work. Without y’all, Pelican Bay would be the last place any- one wants to be.

Special shout outs to Ms. Silva and Ms. Roberts and the members of the PEACE Group.

Local television station honors three with the Jefferson Award for their public service at San Quentin

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San Quentin employee Raphaele Casale has been presented The Jefferson Award for Public Service for her behind the scenes community work.

Raphaele Casale

Casale is an office technician who works in the San Quentin warden’s office.

She also runs the prison’s music program and is one of the staff sponsors for the SQUIRES (San Quentin Utilization of Inmate Resources Experiences and Studies) program that allows inmates to mentor at-risk youth. “I love kids,” she commented.

Allen Martin from KPIX channel 5 interviewed Casale for a news broadcast in September.

“I get to work with a lot of wonderful people,” said Casale. “I was blessed to be assigned to two differ- ent groups. I want to make the groups better.” She said there’s therapeutic value in both programs.

UNSUNG HERO

Casale also provides support to staff in other parts of the prison, to volunteers, and to inmates who work in the prison’s media center. To many, she’s one of San Quentin’s unsung heroes, or in her case “Shero.”

As a sponsor, Casale is recognized by many inside and outside of the prison for the work she does beyond the scope of her day job.

“How can you put money on things that change someone’s life?” said Casale. “How could I not support that?”

Casale said inmates who work with youth in the SQUIRES program become aware of why they made a choice to commit crime and get to know themselves better. She said the kids open up to the men.

By talking to the kids “they (inmates) get a snapshot of their life,” said Casale. The men feel good about being able to help the kids. “It’s really healing. It’s a win-win for both.”

“There are people here at San Quentin who work traditional prison jobs … She is one of those people who looks beyond the eight hours and gives more of herself”

“Just one person can make an absolute difference in their (the kids) life,” said Casale. “Many of them have experienced being beaten or worse.” Because many inmates have suffered the same type of early childhood trauma, “when these kids come in, they’re talking to men who already know them.”

“There are people here at San Quentin who work traditional prison jobs,” said Lt. Sam Robinson, the prison’s public information officer. “She is one of those people who looks
beyond the eight hours and gives more of herself.”

Robinson said Casale, affectionately known as Raphie, “brings all the energy to these programs that she brings to the warden’s office.”

NOMINATION

Brian Asey, the inmate who nominated Casale for the award, said, “She’s a very unique person. I can only imagine what it’s like being in her shoes. I know that she does a lot around here.”

Asey said during a recording of a Youth Offender Program (YOP) audio mix, he observed Casale leave on a Friday night and re- turn on a Saturday morning for another project.

He said he wanted her to know that what she does is appreciated by the inmates at San Quentin.

Inmate David Jassy, who produced a mix tape for some of the YOP inmates, said to have Casale come from the warden’s office and sit with them gets them enthused, and her support means everything. “When they see that she likes what they’re doing, it adds to their confidence,” he said.

Casale explained that the YOPs, like those who participate in SQUIRES, have to be honest with themselves and vulnerable. No negative content, derogatory or abusive language is allowed in recordings. “It takes a lot of bravery,” she said. “A lot of people don’t have that or the humility.”

The SQUIRES youth program takes place on Saturdays, so Casale wasn’t able to demonstrate her hands-on approach with the kids. The KPIX news crew was able to follow her to the loft above the prison’s Arts in Corrections building. There they observed a typical rehearsal with the hip hop band Contagious, where Jassy and the band performed three original songs.

“It’s been really important to be able to build that program,” said Casale. She said there’s a lot of stress in prison and music can re- lease the stress. “It opens your mind up to some things you’ve never thought of.”

Casale started working at the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation as an offsite medical scheduler and was later hired to work in the war- den’s office. She’s worked at San Quentin for 11 years.

“Being a self-help sponsor, I do get paid for it, but that’s not all of it,” said Casale. “I’m becoming a better person, too. I’m learning about myself. If I were to get another job, I would always come back as a volunteer.”

By Kevin D. Sawyer Associate Editor

The Jefferson award is given annually by local television staion KPIX.

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Helaine “Lainy” Melnitzer

By teaching the incarcerated men of San Quentin high-end culinary skills, Lainy Melnitzer and Lisa Dombroski earned the Jefferson Award for Public Service on Aug. 28.

The program they founded, Quentin Cooks, will help the men find gainful employment upon their release. “Our receiving the Jefferson Award is more a testament to the grassroots nature of this program,” said Dombroski, “I feel we, as volunteers, get as much out of the program as our students. While we are solely volunteers, it is the men we serve that continue to make our program successful.”

Dombroski developed a true appreciation for food while traveling through Patagonia in South America. She realized that at each mealtime, conversations, stories and community were all centered on the food.

Lisa Dombroski

Later she was inspired to bring her love for the culi- nary arts to those who are often overlooked and underserved.

Teaming up with Melnitzer, who was already volunteering at San Quentin with a group that connects inmates with the local community and a reentry program, they decided to start the Quentin Cooks program.

“My vision for Quentin Cooks is that there will be a continuous flow of graduates from the program that we are able to place in meaningful employment,” said Melnitzer, “I feel that the program is so good due the Chefs Huw and Adelaar who teach the class.”
“It’s so humanizing to be in the Quentin Cooks class. They really treat us like we have the ability to succeed,” said Nathaniel Reichert, a current participant in the program, “I’ve always loved good food, but I never knew I could make good food. Being a part of this class is helping me realize my potential.”

The 12-week class meets on Wednesday mornings for five hours.

Throughout the class, the men democratically decide the dishes that they will make. Chili, curries and homemade cheeses are just a few of the dishes that the student cooks learn to make.

The Chef’s Warehouse donates dry goods and equipment for the program, while VegiWorks donates all of the produce and meat.

The class culminates in a graduation banquet, during which the incarcerated cooks prepare a several course meal for visitors from the Bay Area culinary community.

“I go into all of this believing that one person can help the world. If you’ve helped one person, you’ve helped the planet,” said Melnitzer, “You never know the extent of the ripples from a pebble that you throw in the pond.”

By Aron Kumar Roy Staff Writer

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