The End of Prison

San Quentin Prison, I do believe I’ve served my time. You will always remain in my consciousness - I cannot watch a movie or read an article that deals with life behind bars without thinking about walking through the iron gates and the sound of the heavy metal cage slamming behind me. The noise. The cages. The men I have met, the many that have thankfully been paroled and moved on.

It is a world unto itself. And a couple of weeks ago, Brian, one of the men that I worked with the longest was finally released. After being incarcerated for twenty-six years I couldn’t imagine how he would adjust to life on the outside. He was an incredible influence and accomplished so much behind the walls. As an older incarcerated man, he was a big fish in a small pond. He will now be navigating a different world, a tsunami following the jailed life he’d grown accustomed to.

His exit was a rocky road, meeting with parole boards and uncertain release dates. Finally, in March, he was put on a bus inside San Quentin only to be transferred outside of the main gate into a cage on another bus that would take him on a twelve-hour drive with three stops at two county jails and one prison, to be transferred to a facility in Los Angeles. The public defender told him not to get his hopes up.

Apparently, there was a warrant from 1997 that resurfaced, so now Brian was on his way to LA County Jail which he knew to be far worse than San Quentin. The next morning, he was taken to Englewood Court, more delays until finally, the DA announced they couldn’t find the paperwork. The Judge dismisses the case. As the bang of the gavel resounded, Brian said tears were shooting out of his eyes. He went back to the tank and called his mother and eventually, his daughter picked him up and finally, he was released.

He was still in a paper jumpsuit when his daughter met him. She asked him what he wanted, and he said he had no idea. He suddenly was faced with so many choices when up until a few hours ago, he couldn’t make any. He has to get driven back to the Bay Area immediately to fulfill his parole.

A few weeks after his release, I pick him up at the BART station in Richmond. I'm curious about his new life and he explains how amazed he is that you can talk to a remote control to change the channel on the TV. And his surprise checking out goods at Walmart using scanners instead of cashiers. I take him to lunch, and we drink mock mojitos. He revels in eating fresh fruit, vegetables, and fish. He is adjusting to text messaging, soft big beds, hot long showers, and all the choices that still need to be made.

Meanwhile, I’m still in touch with other parolees. Rafael met a woman, and they had a baby boy last month. “Showtime” is announcing for major teams. Greg will continue working on the radio show Uncuffed from the outside. Earlonne and Nigel continue to hustle their ears and are involved in a television docuseries. A documentary 26.2 to Life, made in San Quentin, airs this week. Newsom changed the name and continues with plans to make it a rehabilitation center.

I have always felt like an outsider in life. But for some reason, it felt like barriers were dropped when I walked into prison. I related to the men because I understood that most of them were the victims of their circumstances. They didn’t have the opportunities I had and perhaps our commonality was that I knew it was through no fault but my own that I didn't accomplish more. I had so much and only touched the surface. They had nothing but rebounded into strong men. I am so proud of the men I’ve met inside. I only wish I could have done more.

When the men are paroled, one has bittersweet emotions. Of course, we want them out, but like a parent sending their kids to college, it will be different. We watch the men develop new meaningful lives, but our relationships change. It’s like when you bond with people you meet on vacation and promise to stay in touch. It rarely happens.

I’m not exactly sure what my next steps are. The basketball court has been repaved, the men finally got their shoes and practice jerseys from the Golden State Warriors, new teams are formed, and the men continue to make videos and take classes. Inside there’s a lot of red tape and egos just like in real life, only everything in prison is magnified bringing a heightened awareness to watching one’s back.

Moving forward I will continue to do what I can. Educating people about incarceration has a long way to go. Having observed the conditions inside, two men sharing a 6 x 9 cage is cruel and only exasperates the problem. The road to rehabilitation is different for every person and some don’t make it. You can often see it in their vacant eyes or sense it behind their empty words.

But for people like Brian, a second chance is an opportunity for him to share his compassion and insight toward helping others. He is not the same person he was twenty-six years ago as none of us are. He has served his sentence and takes full responsibility for his crime. He understands the repercussions and has taken numerous group classes, gotten a college diploma, started groups, and mentored numerous men. And I do not doubt that his experience and knowledge will contribute to making the world a better place.

I drop him back off at the station in enough time for him to make a group meeting. As he gets out of the car, I ask what has been most on my mind since I first picked him up. “What is it really like finally being out of prison? To be free?”

“Before, my physical body was locked up and it was hard,” he answers, “But ya know, in my mind, I was free.”

Amen.