I never cared before, but now I do. I asked myself, do I want to spend the rest of my life in here? That question snapped me out of it. I’m done with all of that.
I came to San Quentin from another prison as an active gang member, with certain expectations about how I should act. During my first fight here, I got sprayed, and because I have eczema, the spray set my body on fire. That moment made me pause and think, What am I doing?
I called my mom and told her I was done with gang life. She cried. After that, I started focusing on changing. I know I can turn my life around. I have a little brother who’s 17, and I try to tell him what I needed to hear at his age. My parents loved me, but they never talked to me about things like having kids. Now, I have four children, ages 2 to 7, with the same woman I’ve been with since high school. We’re still together.
I want to get back to my parents. I want to finish school and get my contractor’s license so I can help my dad with his business. I want to leave here as a better person than when I came in, someone educated. I never even finished high school—I got into trouble at the end of my sophomore year, leading to suspension, then expulsion, and eventually juvie. I know there’s more to me than what I’ve shown my parents.
I grew up with both parents, who always had jobs. My dad owned trucks and a house and worked hard. He’d take me to work with him on weekends and during vacations, teaching me construction skills so I wouldn’t have to work in the fields like he did. But when we moved back to my old neighborhood after he lost his job, I started getting into trouble again.
My reality check hit hard. I’d been in juvenile hall, then real jail at 18 for driving under the influence, and then to prison at 22. I started thinking about my mom, my kids, my family—all the people who’ve supported me my whole life. I never cared before, but now I do. I asked myself, do I want to spend the rest of my life in here? That question snapped me out of it. I’m done with all of that.
