Speaking for myself, I believe that I can be rehabilitated, that I have heart, and that I care. I’m just grateful for the opportunity to share my story because I think it’s important for people to see that we are still members of society, no matter what mistakes we’ve made.
I grew up moving around a lot because of my dad’s troubles with the law. When I was four, my family moved to Mexico, and we stayed there for a few years. I went to school there, but I was always bullied because I was from the U.S. It was tough—I was forced to fight all the time, and I even got expelled from first grade. I remember walking home for what felt like 20 blocks after that. Eventually, we came back to the U.S., and for a while, things were good.
One of my best memories was going to the Gulf of Mexico for spring break. We’d stay there for a week, and it was always fun. But after my dad left my mom for another woman, everything changed. By then, I had two other brothers, and most of our family—like my uncle and grandpa—were in Monterey County, but we ended up in Arizona. It was just my mom, my brothers, and me.
When I was 14, I started experimenting with drugs and drinking. I loved the feeling so much that I didn’t even want to go to school anymore. That’s when I got involved in gang life. I was already known for breakdancing back in the 80s—I used to compete and even formed a crew called the Pyramid Breakers. We performed at civic centers, weddings, birthday parties, all sorts of events. My mom didn’t take it seriously at first, but eventually, she came around and even drove us to our performances. She was a single mom raising two kids, and I give her a lot of credit for supporting us the way she did.
I got into trouble with the law, and the judge gave my mom an option: either leave the state or I’d be locked up for a long time. She had 32 hours to get me out of the state, so she sent me to California to live with my grandparents. For a while, I did well. My grandma was strict, and I had to follow the rules, which was good for me. But violence seemed to follow me everywhere. Just three weeks into my new school, I got into a fight because a girl was showing me around, and her boyfriend didn’t like it. We fought, and I earned my respect that day, but it was a rough introduction.
After that, nobody messed with me, and I stayed out of trouble for a couple of years. I managed to avoid getting into more legal trouble for a while, but that didn’t last forever.
I was arrested when I was 24, and now I’m 53. I’ve spent more than half my life behind bars. During that time, I’ve missed out on watching my three daughters grow up. They’re doing fine without me now, and I have two grandsons and a granddaughter that I’ve never even met. Some days, it’s hard. I’ve felt like giving up more times than I can count. But my family, along with my faith, keeps me going. I’m a man of God now, and I try to focus on bettering myself every day, hoping that one day I can be there for my family in some way.
It’s important for people to understand that we’re not animals. We’re human beings who make bad decisions. Speaking for myself, I believe that I can be rehabilitated, that I have heart, and that I care. I’m just grateful for the opportunity to share my story because I think it’s important for people to see that we are still members of society, no matter what mistakes we’ve made.
