After spending nearly two decades in prison under California’s the Three Strikes Law, Chrisfino Kenyatta Leal went home from San Quentin a free man under California’s Proposition 36.
“I knew that one day my number was going to be called and I would have the opportunity to be released,” Leal said.
With that knowledge in mind, he made a commitment to do everything that he could to be prepared for that moment.
“I got my Associates of Arts degree from the Prison University Project while I was in San Quentin and I enrolled in several other self-help programs,” said Leal. “I was involved with No More Tears, VOEG and a few others.”
Leal, 44, was sentenced to 25- years-to-life for possession of a firearm. He was released after 19 years in prison.
Voters approved Proposition 184, commonly referred to as “Three Strikes and You’re Out,” in 1994. It gave longer sentences to certain repeat offenders and mandated that a person convicted of a felony who had previously been convicted of one or more violent or serious felonies be sentenced to state prison. The minimum prison term was an automatic sentence of 25 years to life.
“For a long time I blamed the law, and the way it’s applied, for the problems I was looking at and the time I was facing,” said Leal. “But in actuality, it wasn’t the law that gave me the time; it was me. I’m the one who put myself in the position to be struck out.”
Leal said his confinement in the Pelican Bay Prison’s Security Housing Unit triggered the transformation in his life.
“I thought to myself that I could spend the rest of my life in a prison within a prison, or I could start taking control of my life and move toward freedom — mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically,” Leal said.
“Going to Pelican Bay helped me clearly identify my priorities and develop a program that would help me achieve them on a daily basis,” he added.
One way Leal did that was by committing himself to San Quentin’s program called The Last Mile. It is a program designed to teach incarcerated men about the world of social media, entrepreneurship and teamwork.
“My role has been two-fold — first, as a participant in the program and giving a 150 percent to the process. The second part of that was I work as an evangelist for The Last Mile inside San Quentin,” he commented.
“The Last Mile emphasizes collaboration, cohesion and creativity and all of us who have participated were able to accomplish that.”
On April 18, Leal was honored with a “Shorty Award” in the category of Quora Answer of the Year. Quora is a website that permits users to ask and answer questions about noteworthy issues in society and social media.
Due to his incarceration, Leal could not accept his award in person, so The Last Mile creators Chris Redlitz and Beverly Parenti went to New York and accepted it on his behalf.
“The Last Mile was started when Chris Redlitz came into San Quentin with Kathleen Jackson,” Leal explained. “He did a talk about entrepreneurism, then Chris and Beverly actually came to a San Quentin Trust graduation. From there, the Last Mile was started.”
Leal explained that The Last Mile has helped him develop a fundamental skill set that is going to open doors for a new career in the free world.
“ The name of my tech company is called Coach Potato and one of my goals is to have it in the app’s store soon,” he said.
“ Every man that leaves prison and doesn’t come back serves as an example for those of us that are in here,” said Leal. “Those guys who get out and don’t come back are beacons of light they raise the hope for us.”
“It gives people on the outside a different set of facts to formulate their opinion. It allows people on the outside to see that we have redeemable qualities,” Leal said. “It shows that if given the right opportunities, that we can be productive members of society.”
“I know that there are many men doing life in prison who have done the work necessary to successfully reintegrate back into society,” he said. “Many of the positive lessons I’ve learned were taught to me by lifers. And studies show that lifers have the lowest recidivism rate of all people leaving incarcerated settings.”
After doing 19 years, he said his first goal is to re-connect with his family.
“They’ve done all the years with me,” Leal said. “They never wavered and they supported me every step of the way.”
His other goal is to establish himself in the business community. Leal said he wants to create opportunities for other men leaving prison. As for The Last Mile program, he said he definitely will be working with its leaders.
“Absolutely, yes. The Last Mile is more than just a program; it’s a fraternity of men and women committed to empowerment and success in life out side of prison,” said Leal.

No one who knows Ernest Morgan is surprised that he’s making a successful life in the free world. After all, during 24 years of incarceration – 13 in San Quentin — he founded and co-founded several self-help groups and participated in just about every other one.
“I knew adjusting would be tough, but it was tougher,” he said surrounded by his father, Ernest Morgan VII, and youngest brother, Lance, on a houseboat near where his father lives in Sausalito. (The younger Ernest is actually Ernest the eighth.)
Two years after being released from prison Morgan, 44, is finishing a degree in business management at San Francisco State University, working four jobs and quite happy with his life, appreciating even the smallest of freedoms.
“I told him it was not going to be easy,” said the senior Morgan. “You have to take time to readjust. Don’t expect to walk through the gate and everything will be easy. But, don’t get discouraged.”
“And he was right,” admitted his son. “It’s been great, but it hasn’t been a breeze. It was like having to start all over. You have to change the way you communicate from the way you communicated in prison. You can’t talk that way out here. You have to learn what to keep and what to let go of and relearn about the world you came from.
“The transition was hard. I was a new person, not the little boy I was when I went in, but it could have been a lot worse if I had not had family support.”
Being united with his family is a blessing, he said, causing him to walk a straight line.
In addition to attending school full time, he works part time for the Sausalito Cruising Club, the Prison University Project and Alliance for Change and as a lift driver. When he completes his degree, he hopes to go into business with Lance and his other brother, Louis.
After he was convicted of second-degree murder in 1998, he spent a few negative years at Pelican Bay Prison. His next stop was the Richard Donovan Correctional Facility, where he started participating in programs. He was transferred to San Quentin in 1998.
While in San Quentin, Morgan co-founded TRUST and Alliance for Change, was a facilitator and leader in SQUIRES and VOEG and participated in just about every self-help program San Quentin offers. He has no doubt that the programs helped him turn his life around and are what allows him to have a happy and successful life today.
Along with another parolee and co-founder of Alliance for Change, David Cowan, Morgan attended the 2012 Alliance for Change graduation. Whenever he can, he likes to spread the message to men coming out of prison: “Don’t be afraid to share your story when you come out. Share your insight gained from the time spent in prison. You might save younger men and women from getting into trouble – and maybe a few older people, too.”
To those still incarcerated he advises: take all of the self-help programs available to you.
Lance, who was born after his brother was incarcerated, says, “Anyone who spends time with my big brother becomes a better person.”

San Quentin has many social banquets every year, and the man spicing them up is John “Yahya” Parratt.
Since his arrival to San Quentin four years ago, the 60-yearold Parratt has become the premiere banquet chef.
Parratt’s first opportunity to show his skills off at San Quentin was for the Islamic community. He had earned a reputation as a stellar cook in the previous prisons where he had been housed.
Karl “Ishmael” Freelon opened the door for him to cook at Eids, an Islamic celebration. The word soon spread throughout the prison a new chef was in town.
From that moment forward, Parratt’s cooking became sought after for banquets in San Quentin.
Parratt’s family comes from Mississippi and relocated to Redding, California. He says his cooking skills were influenced by his father, John Parratt Sr.; mother, Maggie Parratt; sister, Lois Parratt, and a family friend, Alberta James
Before Parratt was convicted of his third strike, he cooked professionally at the Harlem Club, Helena’s Club, and Ozella’s Corral in Quincy, California.
Parratt’s banquet cooking crew includes Freelon, Ke Lam, Bori “PJ” Ai, Trent Chappell, and Billy Allen.
Being in prison greatly reduces the kind of food they can cook, but they manage to produce a myriad of creations from the food available to them.
“It doesn’t bother me because I have always been the type that can take a little bit of something and can make a lot of something out of it.”
Parratt used to work with a security firm, and he sees similarities when it comes to his cooking career. “It is my responsibility to protect the people who put their trust in me,” says Parratt.
Parratt’s dream is to open up his own restaurant. He already has two job offers from the community to cook upon his release.
If he is able to open up his own restaurant, he would concentrate on a soul food menu.
Parratt likes working with smoky flavor, chicken, ribs, collard greens, and homemade bread.
His banquet clients include the Islamic community, Christian community, Latter-Day Saints, ALLIANCE for Change, IMPACT, SQUIRES, Kid-C.A.T., VVGSQ, and the San Quentin News.
Parratt says there is a lot of red tape that is associated with these banquets. He typically sits down with group coordinators to figure out timing, institutional menu availability, oven space, and other factors that are essential to a banquet’s success.
Parratt says, “I really enjoy seeing the smiles on the participants face when they taste my cooking.”

It’s a new and strange world for Gary Scott, who was arrested for second-degree murder at the age of 15 and recently paroled after spending 15 years in prison.
“It’s surreal,” Scott told and Oakland Tribune columnist Tammerlin Drummond. “The first night I couldn’t sleep because I was afraid it was a dream and when I woke up it wouldn’t be real.”
Scott, whose nickname is Malachi, was sports editor of the San Quentin News.
“When I found out that I was found suitable, it felt like a heavy burden was lifted off of my chest, and I was smiling from ear to ear. However, people don’t know how much my heart hurts for the person and his family I destroyed,” Scott said.
During a failed robbery Scott said, “I tried to shoot him in the arm during a struggle for the gun, instead I ended up taking his life.”
“In 2002 I had terrible nightmares. I felt guilt and shame. Even on the streets I felt like there was a dark cloud hovering over me everywhere I went,” he said.
Despite having haunting nightmares, Scott said he continued to “pray and ask for forgiveness.” Scott said his transformation was first spiritual. Attending only AA and NA classes at Corcoran State Prison because the programs were limited, Scott said he was denied parole suitability due to rule violations for grooming standards, delaying lockup and delaying feeding.
Born in 1982 and raised in South Central Los Angeles by Brenda Wimbish, Scott said he grew up without knowing his biological father. “I would love to have seen and met him,” he said. “I felt a sense of uncertainty about my history. I acted like I didn’t care about not knowing my father. Knowing him probably would’ve given me more of an identity.”
Adding to his insecurities, Scott said, his mother “was trying to raise me right; however, the male role models that I encountered were not helpful to my growth.”
Without a strong foundation, Scott said he felt detached from his household. “My disconnection with my family made it easy for me to turn towards the streets and into the gang life at the age of 13,” he said.
During the first few years of incarceration, Scott said he felt “fear, anxiety, and a sense of hopelessness and helplessness. I was uncertain of my future and unsure what would happen to me. I thought I would spend the rest of my life in prison.”
Once Scott arrived at San Quentin in 2008, he said he took advantage of various programs, including Non-Violent Communication, VOEG, and IMPACT. He said he was the first in his family to get a college degree when he graduated from Patten University this year.
“A collaboration of people has been supportive and instrumental to my growth during this process — Stewart and Israel, Darnell Hill, Shaheed. It is just too many people to name,” Scott said smiling.
“People don’t know how much my heart hurts for the person and his family I destroyed”
The New York Times published an article he wrote “about how prison is too violent for young offenders and the transformations that should take place for juveniles,” adding, “Prison is too violent for juveniles, they should be in a setting that’s conducive towards rehabilitation.”
As a convicted teenager, Scott said he spent his time focusing on youth issues.
In 2010, he co-founded Kid C.A.T. Creating Awareness Together, a program that “inspires humanity through education, mentorship, and restorative practices,” according to its mission statement.
On June 12, during the Kid C.A.T. banquet, Chairman Michael Nelson gave a special congratulation to Scott for overcoming his incarceration and being paroled.
Scott was also involved with the SQUIRES program­—an organization within San Quentin that mentors at-risk youth in hopes of encouraging young people in a positive direction. “Working with the kids, seeing the way we impact their lives, makes me want to continue the process,” Scott said.
“Malachi is one of the most thoughtful and sincere people I know,” said San Quentin Facebook adviser Lizzie Buchen. “I’ve learned a lot from him — how to stay focused on your priorities, how to confront people with compassion, how to approach every situation with integrity and an open heart. I can’t wait to see what he accomplishes now that he’s free.”
“He showed me the ropes on how to cover a sports story for the S.Q. News, and I hope I can make him proud,” said San Quentin A’s player Ruben Harper, who is now handling sports for the newspaper.
Scott said rehabilitation begins with “learning about us, learning how our behaviors impact others. Keep taking responsibility; until that happens you don’t know where to start.”
“The first thing I want to do is work with at-risk youth. And I want to be a motivational speaker through Hip Hop,” said Scott. He added, “I want to come back and give back to San Quentin or anywhere to tell my story.”
– Phoeun You contributed to this article

‘I truly believe I was locked up before I ever experienced a prison cell’

After 25 years in and out of prison, Adam Verdoux, 42, is preparing to parole for the fourth time. But this time will be different, he said.
First incarcerated when he was 17, Verdoux has served time in Georgia, Florida, and South Carolina before he migrated to California, where he robbed a bank in San Francisco, leading to his most recent conviction.
He has taken a more proactive approach to this parole.
Already, he has set up an internship with the violence prevention program Man-Alive, which he became involved with in jail. He plans to continue his education with support from Project Rebound, which will help him to obtain a masters degree in social work from San Francisco State University.
The path to an internship and graduate school was hardly a straight one.
Verdoux said he grew up surrounded by violence. At the age of 8, he attacked his stepfather when he saw him beating his mother. From that moment on, fighting became a way of life.
He dropped out of high school at the age of 15. By 17, he was incarcerated.
“I truly believe I was locked up before I ever experienced a prison cell,” Verdoux said.
In the county jail, Verdoux began to seek help. He tried to get into a drug program, but he was rejected because of his violent history. Verdoux scoffed at this news because he did not believe he had a problem with violence. But the program coordinator reminded him that he was locked in administrative segregation for fighting.
He was, however, accepted into Man-Alive, the violence prevention program where he is interning after his release.
“The Man-Alive program changed my life,” he said.
The program helped him realize that he was not born violent, but the violence was a learned behavior. He stayed in the Man-Alive program for two years until he was sent to prison.
He arrived at the San Quentin reception center in March 2010 and was sent to the mainline in June of the same year.
Verdoux took all the skills he had learned in the county jail and applied them to his life in prison. He enrolled in self-help programs and the Prison University Program, which were instrumental in validating the things he learned through the violence prevention program.
He said academia — classes like sociology, social psychology and neuroscience — allowed him to examine objectively the cycle of violence that he had been immersed in his whole life.
Verdoux said he knows that if he had not been raised in a violent home, his life might have been different. But his first memories are of crying, arguing and violence, so that is how he adapted to the world.
“A child must be taught a moral education,” he said, quoting Aristotle.
Now, he is using his fighting spirit to obtain positive change in his life. The fear of the unknown makes stepping out of prison scarier this time, he said, because he will be living life in a different way.
But Verdoux believes the transformation he underwent during his incarceration has brought the freedom he had been missing his whole life.

“I don’t want to be here,” a young boy said as he toured the cellblocks in San Quentin Prison.
He was one of the 24 at-risk young men hosted March 16 by inmate members of the SQUIRES Program. The tour gave the young men from the Terrance Kelly Youth Foundation of Richmond a view of what their future could be if they made bad life choices.
The SQUIRES Program conducts tours and counseling for teens who demonstrate a propensity to engage in juvenile delinquency conduct. Participant Tiapepe Vitale, a De La Salle High School athletic star, said the visit to San Quentin was one of the best experiences of his life.
“I want to see my brother come in here (on a tour),” the 17-year-old said.
The counseling and tour are designed to shell-shock the young men into a realization that they might well one day reside here if they don’t change their ways.

SQUIRES workshops are conducted monthly and include graphic, frank language about how they will be searched and looked at all over for contraband when they come to prison. No detail is spared. Some of the parents accompany their son or child, and some are more shocked than the kids. “It’s not a positive experience,” said Bernice Zamora, mother to Trevon.
Upon being locked up in a Donner Section cell, a visitor named Omar quickly exclaimed, “I’m not a bad kid! I want to be successful.” However, his grandmother, Juanita Pagan, felt he needed more. “I want to bring him back again, so it sinks in,” she commented.
Lanny Kelly, nephew of founder Terrance Kelly, said it doesn’t take but a minute and a bad choice to wind up in prison.
The Terrance Kelly Youth Foundation was formed after Terrence’s son was gunned down two days before he was to start college.
Lanny said he started every sort of bad behavior after the cousin died. It caused him to wind up in San Quentin. “I went into a tail spin,” he lamented. “However, I finally came to the conclusion that there is just no excuse for not doing the right thing.”
After college, Lanny came back to the Richmond area for the specific purpose to take over the foundation.
“I went to Howard University in New York and intended to stay there after graduation, but I came back to change Richmond,” he said.
“I was interested to learn the backgrounds of all the people in here. It gives me a chance to learn what not to do.”
–Kevin Benitez
“I was doing bad things and that is the reason I’m here. But listening to you guys shows me it’s not worth being in here!”
–Frankie Santana
“It’s horrible in here. I can’t shower like that. You can’t even wash your clothes every day.”
–Jose Zambraro
“My Mom sent me to About Face. She didn’t even tell me, she just said we were going shopping and she dropped me off there. Now I’m here. This place is terrible.”
–Cindy Rodriguez
“It’s heartbreaking. Kids in situations they shouldn’t be in. It’s hard to hear the inmates too!”
–Leslie Salazar, Rotary Club sponsor
“I like the experience. You learn your friends are not really your friends. I have a lot of guys that will tell you they are there for you, but they are not really there when things get tough.”
–Jesus Mejia
“I hate being here!”
–Maynor Soriano
“I’ve learned that it’s hard to be in here. Nobody wants to be here. The food is bad. There’s no privacy!”
–David Escobar
“I like the program. I like the fact that we can see what can happen to you. Hearing from the people here let’s you know that if you are not careful, even you can wind up here.”
–Fernando Gama
“You guys get “junk food” and live like animals.”
–Lorenzo Llamas
“I’ve got to be safe and not mess up. Those showers are nasty!”
–Juan Cruz.
“This teaches you to stay out of trouble. I didn’t know you can be sentenced to life for shooting out of a vehicle. The people in here messed up big time.”
–Rigo Lepe
“I don’t want to live in North Block and shower with that many people. I don’t want to come to prison.”
–Isaac Nunez
“Man! This place is messed up!”
–Adrian Lopez
“The showers are bad and the inmate stories make me feel sorry for them. I’ve learned to stay away from gangs.”
–Abel Cruz
“That North Block is a horrible place to live. The inmates I met have changed though.”
–Angel Moreno
“My daughter was goofing up both school and life. There is just no help out there for that type of bad behavior. I learned about the About Face program and it has helped a lot. This is a sobering experience and very important. I’m glad she could come here and see what this is actually like.”
–Rosa Rodriguez, Mom.
“Any little thing and they can send you to prison for a long time. It’s doesn’t scare me, but I don’t want to live in a tiny little cell. This is an attitude changer.”
–Wilson Diaz
“We should learn from the prisoner’s mistakes so we don’t make the same mistake. The stories are interesting and scary.”
Kenneth Paz
“Juvenile Hall is easier. This is something that can change your attitude. One thing that is real important is that the inmates are just like us. That means that we can wind up here too! If we don’t change, that is.”
–Jesse Valazquez
“You can see their privates and they can see yours.”
–Obaria Gonzalez
“An inmate’s life just repeat it’s self day after day. That’s no life.”
–Jason Arivalos
“I just want to thank you for opening my eyes!”
–Jonathan Burguete
“Seeing the entrance to Condemned Row, that is really shocking. Think before you make a wrong decision or you’ll wind up somewhere you don’t want to be.”
–Carlos Garcia.
“As the incoming Chairperson of the Rotary Club in my area, I would like to find out what I can do to support Squires more. In the words of General MacArthur, I’ll be back!”
–Susanne Karch, Rotary Club sponsor
“This is an eye opener for the kids. They can think about how they might wind up here!”
–Harold De Llave, Sponsor
“I thought all prison inmates were cold blooded killers. These inmates are just like me. The smallest thing can go bad and determine the rest of your life.”
–Frankie Lazo
“You might think this all fun and games, but this is serious business because once they give you a number you become a product of the state!”
–Arnulfo T.Garcia
“I hope the boot camp cadets learn their lesson. This gives us another chance to shape up.”
–Jose Zambravo
“I am a street soldier trying to help youngsters adjust to society. It is a struggle to learn the truth when you are a kid.”
–Jack Jacqua Co-founder of the Omega Boys Club
“If a person gets rehabilitated here, it takes a lot of work. It’s not something the state makes easy. It seems at times that the state is in the way more then they are positive factors.”
–Amy Skeeters, Sponsor
“What’s scary is how many humans are impacted forever by 15 second decisions.”
–Rajeeb Hossain, Sponsor
“This is a life changing experience. It’s very frightening to hear stories of life inside prison.”
–Brendan Bigelow
“I kinda feel like God put me here. I could even meet someone from my hometown.”
–Matthew Cochran
“I got a whole new perspective on life.”
–Brenden Scarlett
“The SQUIRES conducted at San Quentin state prison consist of a group of dedicated sponsors, volunteers, and inmates sharing a common goal to reach out, help, and empower at risk kids.
SQUIRES incarcerated men share their own life experiences, teaching and educating through effective communication providing the youth with the necessary tools to make healthy and wise life style choices.
The reword of an at risk youth turning their lives around are priceless ”
–Nadine Fernandez

It was a picture-perfect day in San Quentin’s visiting room as prisoners’ loved ones arrived from around the state to enjoy themselves with face painting, games, hugs and kisses.
Around Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, each year, Get on the Bus provides free transportation to the visiting rooms of several prisons for the relatives of convicts who live in communities as far north as the community of Citrus Heights as well as the southern city of San Diego.
“This is a much neglected population,” said community organizer, Cathy Kalin. “People may have a certain outlook about the person behind bars, but the children shouldn’t suffer from their parent’s mistakes.”
The event is financed on a shoestring budget, said program director, Hilary Carson. Faith-based organizations put on bake sales and raffles, along with small donations from ordinary people who support the program, she said.

This year, Pelican Bay was included in the event for the first time, said Kalin. “In the future, we hope to include some federal prisons.”
Providing better access to phones, letters, and visitation with family members are instrumental to limit the “pains of incarceration,” and has a positive influence on offenders, according to The Impact of Family Visitation on Incarcerated Youth’s Behavior and School Performance: Findings from the Families as Partners Project, by Vera Institute of Justice.
“We as a society should help the children by assisting them build a relationship with their parent because one day the parent will get out of prison,” said Kalin.

“A lot of children are the only person in their classroom with an incarcerated parent. When they come to a Get on the Bus event, they have the opportunity to see other children in similar situation as they are in—to see another child with an incarcerated parent.”
“You will always be a parent,” is quoted from Sesame Street handout, Tips for Incarcerated Parents. “Even though you are incarcerated, you can still play an important role in your child’s life,” it reads.
With an estimated 297,000 children having a parent in jail or prison, the greatest barrier to visitation is distance, according to Get on the Bus and The Impact of Family Visitation. Get on the Bus finds 60 percent of parents behind bars are held more than 100 miles from their children. The Impact of Family Visitation suggest that prison officials could greatly benefit by modifying visitation policies “to encourage frequent contact” between families.
“It’s good to see some of the guys have normal interactions with their families,” said Nigel Poor. Poor is a photographer who has been coming inside San Quentin for the past two years teaching her craft to the prisoners. “I’m interested in the nuances of human behavior. You may have assumptions of how a person is but you get to see these men in a new way. I don’t get to see much of the prison and this is another part of the puzzle.”

“It is always a blessing because I only get to see my niece and two nephews on this day,” said Troy Williams. “I feel happy that I get to see him. I really love my uncle,” said Erika Smith Troy’s niece. “This is a very emotional today,” said Melva Williams, Troy’s sister. “I haven’t seen him since 1993. I love him very much,” she said.
The Impact of Family Visitation shows when incarcerated adults receive visits from their children they have reduced incidents of disciplinary infractions. The reduced behavioral problems translate to a decreased risk to public safety when they are returned to the community.

“I think the Get on the Bus program is the best program they have for fathers who are unable to see their families,” said Brian Asey. “If it wasn’t for Get on the Bus, I wouldn’t be able to see my kid. The last time I saw my son was at last year’s Get on the Bus.” Asey was visited by his mother, Charlotte Casey, his son, Isaiah Martinez, his daughter, Desire Asey and his nephew Allen Gonsoulin, Jr.
Geton the Bus provides travel bags, comfort care bags for the caregivers, a photo of each child with his or her parent, and meals for the trip (breakfast, snacks on the bus, lunch at the prison, and dinner on the way home), all at no cost to the children’s family. On the bus trip home each child receives a “stay connected bag” which consists of pens, paper, stamps and other goodies to keep the children connected with their incarcerated parents.
Jamal Green was visited by the mother of his children, Jacinda, and his son, Jaquan, and daughters Journie and Josslyn. “My kids were over filled with joy to see me,” said Green. “This program was a blessing. My children said they had a ball and can’t wait till the next Get on the Bus event next year. My kids are grateful that this prison is allowing me to become a much better person before I return to them.”

Antoine Brown’s son, Romel Brown came to visit him. “The last time I saw my son was last year and it was because of Get on the Bus,” said Antoine Brown. “Although my son is shy, I could tell by our interaction that he enjoyed out time together.”
“I’m glad I did this,” said Isaiah Caldwell. “I like seeing papa,” said Caldwell’s grandson Zaedyn. “Last year was the first time I saw my dad in about nine years,” said Caldwell’s daughter, Faydra. “I had a six-hour ride that originated from Los Angeles. I think it’s a blessing to be able to use this service.”
“To not give the child and parent the opportunity to have a bond is tragic. For most of these kids they are the only one that has a parent incarcerated and to come here and see they are not alone is fantastic.” –Cathy Kalin
“The event at Folsom was a carnival style event where the children played volleyball and other games,” said Carson. “Most people have learned about the program by word of mouth.”
Three families of Death Row prisoners were accommodated by the Get on the Bus program.