It’s 3:30 on Wednesday morning as I write this entry. I’m in the room where I begin every day, watching as Dave walks on the concrete pathway that leads to the Control Center of Taft Camp. Dave is being released from prison, and in a few hours the guards will finish processing him, allowing him to walk out of prison. I wonder whether he will succeed with his re-entry to society.

Last week Dave told me about his case. He was my age and he graduated with a degree in marketing from UCLA. For the past 20 years he had a career in advertising. But Dave developed the habit of using methamphetamine when he was in college, and despite his successful career as a corporate executive, he never stopped using meth.

Dave said that he would buy meth in small quantities a few times every month. He had been using the drug consistently, but insisted that he was a social user, not an addict because he was able to function. Dave’s problem with the law began when he made an introduction between two meth users. Although Dave did not profit from the introduction, he knew the two users he introduced would conduct drug deals. That knowledge made him part of a drug conspiracy, and after he was convicted, a judge sentenced Dave to serve two years on prison.

Dave’s problem with the criminal justice system had roots in his drug use. As a consequence of his conviction he lost his career, his home, his car, and everything he owned. Dave said that when he walked out of prison he wouldn’t have any money, any job prospects, or any idea where he would live. He said the corporate world would be closed to him forever because of his felony conviction, and Dave had no idea how he would establish himself when he returned to his Southern California community.

The most troubling aspect of Dave’s return to society was his reluctance to renounce drugs. He said that as a social user, he was capable of controlling his meth habit. I told him about all the people I’ve met in prison who made the same statement, but Dave insisted that he had been controlling his habit for 20 years.

When I hear stories like Dave’s I gain further clarity on why our prisons will always be full. The two years that Dave served in prison were likely the first step. I expect that he will face extreme difficulties in finding stability. Those challenges will lead to severe blows to his self esteem, and emotional disturbances will lead to increased drug use. The cycle of failure has just begun for Dave, and although he walks out of prison this morning, I expect he will return.

Later this morning, when the guards open the dormitory doors, I’ll go outside to exercise—a 10-mile run. I’m scheduled to speak at a high school with TOAD (our youth outreach program) later so I won’t include any strength training today.

[consecutive running log: 3,840 miles over the past 432 days]

Wednesday, 17 February 2010

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The post Michael’s Daily Prison Journal appeared first on Prison News Blog.

I left my cubicle at 3:05 this morning. The extraordinary visit I enjoyed with my wife yesterday took a lot of energy out of me, so I slept in a little longer than usual. The payment for those extra 30 minutes of sleep would mean that I had to sacrifice my morning reading time in order to meet my writing goal for the morning.

A storm was crossing California. I heard the wind howling outside of our sturdy housing unit and I knew my morning exercise would be a challenge. The weather conditions would not deter me. These types of obstacles gave me an opportunity to show the meaning of commitment. It was the same way I felt about waking early to begin my writing. I wanted to live as an example for my fellow prisoners, especially those who participated in the classes I taught or the groups I led.

Prison had the potential to debilitate those who lacked focus. Mistakenly believing that they could not make a difference in their lives while serving time, they overslept, they wasted hours with television, table games, and recreational activities. By leading a deliberate adjustment strategy, I strove to show my fellow prisoners how they could prepare in ways that would help them emerge stronger. They could become better husbands, better fathers, better Americans, and better neighbors. The more people I could help embrace such concepts, the more I felt that I could empower myself.

By 7:00 I completed my third blog article. I went outside in the rain and wind to run. I completed 10 miles, lifting my tally to 599 miles over the past 66 straight days of running.

When I returned to the housing unit I called Carole. We spoke for a few minutes and she relayed messages she had received from my web site. A professor from Michigan sent some questions and I was pleased when I heard that he had been a former prison warden who was using one of my books as a resource to teach college students who studied corrections. I appreciated opportunities to contribute to the education of others, and I felt a sense of accomplishment and meaning in learning that a former prison warden appreciated my work.

Generally, I sensed that, as individuals, many of the people who worked in corrections respected the deliberate adjustment strategy I chose and the efforts I made to prepare for success upon release. As part of an institution, however, they felt that they had to enforce the culture of confinement. Such perceptions led to the continuing cycle of failure through which I struggled daily to overcome.

In the afternoon I interviewed another prisoner I wanted to write more about, and I wrote a fourth blog. One of the newer prisoners at Taft camp had been taken to segregation. Rumors were ubiquitous that the reason was his violation of visiting room rules. I wrote a blog that emphasized the importance of exercising discipline during visiting; consequences were severe for those who stood accused of misbehavior in visiting.

Later I wrote a love letter to my wife, expressing how much I appreciated her surprising me with a visit yesterday. I was in my rack by 6:15 and asleep before 7:00.

The post My 7,861st Day In Prison appeared first on Prison News Blog.

The warden of Taft Camp made this vision possible by authorizing me to speak with Dr. Sam Torres and a group of his students from California State University in Long Beach. Although Dr. Torres and I have been building a friendship through four years of correspondence, yesterday was our first opportunity to meet. He has tried to visit me in previous facilities, but institutional rules prohibited our visit because Dr. Torres and I do not have a friendship that precedes my imprisonment. The warden at Taft, however, used his discretion to allow Dr. Torres and his students to tour Taft’s prison, and authorized 45 minutes for me to speak with the group.

The university students are pursuing degrees in criminal justice and many are considering careers in law enforcement. Since Dr. Torres assigns my book Inside as part of their learning curriculum, the students were somewhat familiar with my life and my work. I enjoyed the privilege of contributing to their education and of helping them understand confinement from a long-term prisoner’s perspective. Those students will eventually assume leadership roles in our criminal justice system, so I was especially grateful to listen and interact with them. Meeting Dr. Torres, too, was certainly an early holiday gift.

For the 45 minutes that I was speaking with the group, I felt totally free, as if I were a citizen speaking on a university campus. The students asked intelligent questions about the challenges I’ve had in working through this quarter century of imprisonment. My hopes are that I can build a career upon my release by speaking with such groups about the struggles of imprisonment, overcoming adversity, and steps we all can take to improve our nation’s correctional system. The meeting I had yesterday brought insight into how I can prepare further for such a career.

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I rely on my wife, Carole, to send me hard copies of articles that I have written in years past. Once I receive them, I spend time reading through the postings and making changes as necessary. I edit a few each week. Besides that editing project, I’m also updating the Web sites. Previously, loading content was a real hassle. Since Carole is not an Internet programmer or Web designer, we paid a Web master to load each document. This past quarter, however, we’ve made some changes to the site. Carole hired a new Web designer to make modifications to our Web site projects so that she can load what I write as soon as she receives the content from me. With this new technology, my writing will intensify. I intend to write many articles that will help others understand more about our nation’s prison system. I also want people to understand the strategies that have been so helpful to me in navigating my way through 20 years of imprisonment.

I just finished interviewing a man who is serving a one-year term for violating the conditions of his supervised release. Specifically, the man used a credit card without letting his parole officer know. That violation cost him an additional 365 days in prison. It is important for me to document this kind of information. I want to help others make decisions that will ensure they succeed upon release. The more I can tell people what to expect, the better prepared people will be to make the right decisions. I have another interview scheduled with a man who says that he was wrongfully convicted. I’ve heard such claims of innocence frequently, and they are not all plausible. Still, I think it is important to tell each man’s story. The more readers know, the less likely it will be that they fall victim to a wrongful prosecution.

In addition to those two articles, I intend to write an article with some guidance for people who are about to begin serving sentences in minimum-security camps. I want them to be aware of the types of conduct that can lead to disciplinary infractions, time in the Segregated Housing Unit, and possible transfer to higher security prisons. I urge readers to use this information and to share with their loved ones.

The post Weekly Writing Activities appeared first on Prison News Blog.

Each Monday morning, at 8:30, I join between 25 and 35 other men for our chapter meetings of the Taft Camp Toastmasters Club. I have participated in Toastmasters for many years. The group exists to help its members develop strong public speaking skills. Participation is voluntary, and I am glad for the opportunity.

Last week I delivered a 30-minute speech that described the strategies I employed to advance through my first 20 years of prison. No other prisoner at Taft Camp has endured so much time in confinement, so my audience was interested. Rather than speak about the ways that incarceration extinguishes hope, through my speech I explained how various mentors influenced me to work toward a brighter future.

The mentors whom I spoke about were not people that I had actually met. Instead, I spoke about Socrates, Aristotle, and Sun Tzu. I discovered those teachers through an anthology called A Treasury of Philosophy that I read in 1987, while I was awaiting trial at the Pierce County Jail. By reading the works of those ancient philosophers, I discovered the strength I would need to carry me through the many years that I expected to serve in confinement. Besides the ancient philosophers, I also spoke about others who convinced me that I could find meaning in my life and contribute to the world, even if I had to begin my work from inside prison boundaries.

Speaking in front of groups is a wonderful learning experience. I enjoy the challenge of writing a speech, and then spending many hours rehearsing. It is a thrill to speak without notes, and I feel a sense of energy come through me as I capture the audience’s attention. It’s important for me to deliver a message of lasting value, which is why I spend so much time preparing for every speech I deliver.

During today’s meeting, I was an observant rather than a participant. The featured speaker was a man who is serving a relatively short sentence for tax evasion. Prior to his confinement, this man led a career as the CEO of a publicly traded company. He spoke to our group about his experiences with international business. I appreciated the opportunity to listen to such a distinguished speaker.

As crazy as it may sound, living in a minimum-security prison camp offers many opportunities to grow. Our population is a microcosm of society at large. We have groups of highly educated, white collar offenders, and perhaps an equal segment of the population who struggled to adapt to the customs of legitimate society. As a long-term offender, I look for opportunities to learn from everyone I can, and contribute to the lives of those with an interest in what I have to say.

Following the morning’s Taft Toastmasters Club meeting, I attended an afternoon meeting with the Taft Camp TOAD group. TOAD is an acronym for Those Outspoken Against Drugs. The group meets in a classroom under the direction of a staff sponsor, and we discuss ideas on steps TOAD members can take to help at-risk adolescents make better decisions with their lives. Once each month, a few members of the TOAD group attend a field trip to a local school or juvenile detention facility to speak with troubled adolescents. I was recently inducted into the program so a few months may pass before I become eligible to leave the prison to speak with at-risk adolescents, but I am looking forward to that opportunity.

This evening I have more work to complete, but the work I have falls more in line with my independent projects. I am editing previous articles that I have written so that my wife, Carole, can post them on prisonsuccess.com/. In the weeks to come, I’ll write more new content. I hope to continue providing information to help readers develop a better understanding America’s prisons, the people they hold, and strategies for growing through confinement.

I welcome readers’ questions or comments through e-mail at prisonnewsblog@gmail.com, or by writing me directly here at Taft Camp.

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I’m responsible for keeping the beverage bar clean during the lunch and dinner meals. The reason I like the job is that it is clearly defined, and once I complete my duties, I’m free to work on the independent personal growth projects that I create. Most of the other prison jobs where I have been assigned require that I spend entire seven-hour shifts working for the prison. Even when I completed those duties, supervisors would prohibit me from reading or writing while on the job. I appreciate the independence I have at Taft Camp.

Ever since my confinement began, in 1987, I have been working to develop skills and credentials. I reasoned that such an adjustment would position me to overcome the obstacles that I expect to follow this quarter century of confinement. During my first decade I focused on educating myself. Since then I’ve been working on my writing skills, hoping to reach beyond these fences to contribute to the lives of others. That strategy has helped open numerous opportunities that few long-term prisoners ever enjoy. Yet a few days ago, I was reminded how few of my fellow prisoners identify with my choices.

As I was waiting for the noon meal to conclude so that I could commence my job, I sat with my friend Juan Moore. I met Juan while I was confined at the Federal Prison Camp in Lompoc, but he transferred to the Federal Correctional Institution at Terminal Island within a few weeks of my arrival at Lompoc, in 2005. From FCI Terminal Island, Juan transferred here, to Taft Camp.

Juan is from Watts, California, and grew up surrounded by criminal influences. He made some decisions that resulted in his receiving a prison sentence of nearly 16 years. Juan is now less than three months away from his release.

During his time inside, Juan worked hard to ensure that he would leave prison with skills. He attended college in prison and participated in numerous self-improvement programs. Juan’s friends, known as “homies” in prison, resented his efforts to change. They would taunt him with questions like, “What are you going to do when you get out? Are you going to have heart or are you going to lie in the park?” What they are really asking Juan is whether he is going to return to the life of gangbanging and “dope slanging.” Because to them, “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” His peers, most of whom have numerous prison records, are pressuring him to stay “in the game.”

While we were chatting that early afternoon, one of Juan’s homies sat with us. Juan introduced me to his friend who said that he remembered the weeks when I first arrived at Taft Camp. “The homies was hating on him when he first pulled up,” Juan’s friend said of me. “They was saying that he ain’t really served no 20 years. Look at how he be walkin’ ’round here all smilin’ and happy. Ain’t nobody served no 20 years gonna be happy like that.”

The irony is that as Juan’s friend was telling his story to us, I was supposed to feel offended that my fellow prisoners did not recognize me as someone who had served 20 years. Yet according to the values by which I have lived, I feel as if my strategy is succeeding when others cannot identify me as a long-term prisoner. For me, the goal has always been to succeed upon my release, not to lift my social status within the abnormal society of prisons.

As I described in my book Inside: Life Behind Bars in America, prison infrastructures are complicitous in perpetuating these cycles of failure. By extinguishing hope for better lives, they simultaneously discourage prisoners from making efforts to grow or change or emerge successfully. Many prisoners stay committed to the underworld values by which they lived prior to confinement. Consequently, when they see someone like Juan, who is striving to make positive changes in his life, they discourage and taunt him; they doubt that a man can endure 20 years of imprisonment without the telltale scars of failure marking his every action.

It is not only prisoners who expect long-term offenders to show the signs of failure. When staff members meet me for the first time, or first become aware of how much time I have served, they frequently look at me with astonishment, as if to say “What happened?” They do not understand how it is that I can express my thoughts without profanity, or how I focus with such intensity on the self-empowerment projects to which I commit. They expect anyone who has been exposed to “corrections” for significant lengths of time to show clear signs of failure. The way our system operates today, the longer we expose an individual to corrections, the more likely that individual becomes to fail in society upon his release.

I expect to serve longer than three but less than five more years in prison. While I conclude this final portion of my sentence, I will continue working to prepare myself for release. I have very specific goals that I am striving to achieve. Those who are interested may follow my progress through the regular postings I make through MichaelSantos.net and PrisonSuccess.com.

I encourage readers to send comments or questions through e-mail, or directly to me at Taft Prison Camp.

Thank you for your interest and support.

Godspeed,

Michael G. Santos

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