The shadow of a person’s past can sometimes be a burden that stalks them like a plague. Fortunately, for one man, he has managed to escape his past.

Kojo Damani Cluchette is quiet, but when he speaks it’s with the confidence of a man who is sure of himself. He’s dedicated to his passions, an avid learner who has gained the respect of many of his peers at San Quentin.

“Kojo is a great dude. He’s always respectful and positive whenever I see him,” said James Bryant, a San Quentin resident who has known K. Cluchette for two years.

For some of the older residents, K. Cluchette reminds them of a man they knew years ago: his dad, John.

The legend of John Cluchette looms large in California’s prison system. To many, both in and out of prison, John is viewed as a brother, friend, and activist who advocated for the rights of his peers. It was John’s 1971 federal case, J. Cluchette v. Procunier, that helped bring reform to CDCR’s 115 disciplinary process, for the first time affording inmates due process rights, including calling witnesses and producing defense evidence. 

To some prison officials, J. Cluchette was a ranking member of the Black Guerilla Family prison gang. He, along with George Jackson and Fleeta Drumgo, faced accusations of murdering officer John V. Mills at Soledad prison in 1970. The three men would come to be known as the Soledad Brothers.

J. Cluchette would later be acquitted of the charges, and FBI files documented that he was not a member of the Black Guerilla Family.

K. Cluchette says his dad went to prison when he was four years old, but for years, he maintained a good relationship with him through visits and phone calls. 

“Growing up, I loved and respected him so much because of the advice he gave, and the fact that he never condoned any of my negative actions,” K. Cluchette said.

J. Cluchette’s influence over his son would prove insufficient to keep him on the right track, with K. Cluchette getting into increasing amounts of trouble as he got older.

K. Cluchette acknowledges that the stories he heard of his dad and his alleged exploits played a role in the criminal lifestyle that would ultimately land him in prison with a life sentence.

“I realize that for years I attempted to live up to my dad’s reputation because everyone around me idolized him, even law enforcement,” K. Cluchette said. Even in prison, the expectation to follow his dad shadowed him.

K. Cluchette says that upon his arrival at San Quentin, an officer casually told him he had “big shoes to fill.” He emphatically replied, “I have my own shoes.”

In his 18 years of incarceration, K. Cluchette has managed to forge his own path after realizing he needed to change his life for the better, while working to overcome the weight of his dad’s legend.

While serving time on the Progressive Programming yard at Lancaster State Prison, K. Cluchette took advantage of the opportunities there. That experience became the catalyst for a long and arduous journey to improvement and genuine rehabilitation.

“I was able to become heavily involved in the church. I started college and began working to better myself and looking forward to one day being released from prison,” he said.

K. Cluchette’s rehabilitative journey has accelerated since his arrival at San Quentin. He says his role as a peer support worker and involvement in numerous programs like Transformative Mediation, Arms Down, and Back to the Start, have helped him better understand and connect with himself and his peers.

Today, K. Cluchette says that he’s become a lot better at expressing himself in more positive ways than he did before his incarceration. He is also free of addictions that contributed to his criminal lifestyle. He now has healthy and loving relationships with his family, including his dad, who paroled from prison in 2018, and whom he credits for helping him become his own man.

“One day, my dad asked me if I wanted this for my kids. I, of course, said ‘no.’” Kojo’s dad responded, “Neither did I.” “That changed me,” K. Cluchette recalled.

Upon release, K. Cluchette plans to reconnect with his family and work in the St. Louis–based real estate business he and his wife developed. He also plans to utilize his new skills to support his work with the mentally ill, work he did for 12 years before his incarceration.