James, 27

We were once inseparable, but now we are locked up in separate prisons.

Before we were inmates, we were just two Samoan boys. I remember one night, huddled under a thin blanket in a tent near the Seattle Seahawks stadium. My brother Jerome was shivering beside me. We took turns watching over our younger siblings, trying to keep them warm. We were just kids but already forced into survival mode. We weren’t living, we were kids trying to be parents.

I am currently serving a forty-year sentence. My brother Jerome is also incarcerated. We were once inseparable, but now we are locked up in separate prisons. I am at Coyote Ridge, he is at Stafford Creek. Our journey to this place didn’t begin with crime, it began with pain, abandonment, and a system that gave up on us before we ever had a chance.

All of our appeals have been exhausted. The courts were done with us, but we are not done fighting for our lives. Our last hope is the public. We need voices louder than ours, people who believe kids deserve another chance.

We were homeless before our teenage years, sleeping in tents near the stadium, moving place to place, trying to survive while still holding onto our childhood. Our parents lost custody and CPS took over, but instead of protection, CPS became another source of trauma. We were passed around from home to home, treated like numbers. No love. No stability. Eventually, we ran away and were labeled “wards of the state.” We were just kids, lost, hungry, trying to survive. Our baby brothers and sisters were separated from us too. We didn’t even know where they ended up.

At 13, our brother Joseph was sent to juvenile detention. Jerome was 16. I was 17. We were charged with two counts of first-degree murder and multiple assaults. The courts treated us as adults, legally, emotionally, spiritually. The judge didn’t see two broken boys, they saw gang members, threats, statistics. We were sentenced to forty years each.

As juveniles, we were sent to county jail with adults for five years. Then to Green Hill School for Juveniles, but even there we were not safe. We were expelled based on false information, part of a scandal that later led to a class action lawsuit. Nobody asked us what really happened. We were just gone.

Eventually, we were housed together at Clallam Bay for three years. We finally felt like we had each other again. But at Shelton intake, we were split up once more. I went to Coyote Ridge, Jerome to Stafford Creek. That broke something in me. The system doesn’t just lock up bodies, it breaks families.

I didn’t grow up with access to my culture. I had to come to prison to find it. Out there, I didn’t have the resources or guidance to understand where I came from. Nobody was teaching us our language, our traditions, or our worth. It wasn’t until I got locked up that I finally found pieces of myself. Through the Asian Pacific Islander Cultural Group, I have been reconnecting with my roots, learning Samoan, understanding fa’a Samoa, and realizing that my identity is my strength. Being Samoan isn’t just where I come from it’s what helps me become who I am meant to be. Even behind these walls, I have found pride in what was missing my whole life.

I work on myself every day. I completed the Release Readiness Program, the Communications Breakdown course, and I am currently taking college business classes because I want to build something meaningful when I get out. Music has also become my therapy. I turn everything I’ve been through into verses that carry weight.

“2052 is when they say we’ll bounce back
I try to take that charge, my brother can vouch that
People be talking like they really about that
They really ain’t about that, I am really about that.”

2052 is the release date for my brother and me. I told my brothers I would take the charge to let them go free, no matter the time I faced. Few people would do that.

Despite everything, I am not writing for pity. I am writing because our story matters. We were kids. Our trauma was ignored. The system forgot us. But maybe now, people will remember.

If you have a platform, use it. If you have influence, speak up for those who can’t. We are not asking for attention we are asking for change.

I am writing for every young person failed, silenced, and forgotten. This is a reminder: we are still here, still healing, still worth something.

If you would like to hear more about the pain, truth, and background that shaped our journey, you can contact me with the info below. You can also listen to our story on the “Somebody Somewhere” podcast (Episode 2).

#FREETAAFULISIABROTHERS #JUSTICEFORJAMES&JEROME

With all my heart,

James