by Richard “Chooch” Angulo
Sitting in prison for nine years has given me a lot of time to reflect on my life. I often find myself returning to the way things unfolded. Why this, why that…more times than not, I want to be given a second chance, a do-over.
My story begins in Southern California, a small town forty miles East of Los Angeles. My parents, both Mexican-American, were blue-collar workers who worked hard to put a roof over our heads and put food on the table. The life my parents modeled for my brothers and I was reflective of the life they grew up in. Work hard, pay your bills, respect others, and be grateful for what you have.
By the time I started high school, I became a master at hiding the real me. I was able to convince myself that my peers would disown me if they knew the real me. I asked girls to school dances, attended several Proms and even dated a few girls, hoping that I could be like the rest of the guys. Nothing worked. At the end of the day, I would retreat to my bedroom, look at myself in the mirror and still see a lost boy, seeking acceptance.
After graduating high school, I enrolled in college and continued pursuing my goals in life. Along my journey, I met some amazing individuals and I started attending a non-denominational Christian Church. My involvement and willingness to learn took off over night. It seemed like the more and more I learned about my faith, the more and more I became accepting of who I was.
In 2003, I was enrolled in grad school, working full time and life was good. My best friend at the time was Joe who I had met at church. Joe was living in Orange County, as he was as college student. Joe and I had an amazing friendship. We spend a lot of time together at church, going to ball games, movies and traveling across country. Every opportunity we could find in our schedules, Joe and I managed to spend time together living life to the fullest.
It was Springtime, just as the seasons change, so did my heart. I finally found the courage to tell Joe about the real me. When everything was all said and done, I felt great, almost as if I removed a ton off my shoulders. I felt free, I was no longer hiding the person I was. The best part is that Joe embraced me for who I was. Joe didn’t judge me, he didn’t make fun of me, he simple accepted me and told me that he supported me for who I was.
Soon after, Joe and I were hanging out and it happened. Just like that, Joe and I began dating each other. Yeah, over the years, I experienced a handful of experiences with other guys, but being with Joe was different. Joe became my boyfriend, my partner, my best friend. We complimented each other very well; inspiring each other to go after all our goals.
I must admit that dating Joe was the missing link I needed in my life. As happy as I was, I realized it was time to share “us” with our respective families. It was already obvious how close we were. Where ever I was, Joe was right by my side. I discussed this issue with Joe and I quickly learned that he and I were not on the same page. Joe was not ready to share our relationship with his family because he was afraid his religious Mom would not accept us. As hard as it was, I decided to respect Joe’s decision and we continued to keep our relationship private.
Joe’s Mom, Sherry and I had a great relationship. I was very close to Sherry, she and I often went to dinner together. On two separate occasions, I asked Sherry what she thought if I said I was gay? Sherry was always quick to say that I was not gay and I needed to wait for the right woman to come into my life. Little did she know that a man was already in my life, and it was her son! I looked up to Sherry as a second mother, it was hard not being able to share that part of my life with her.
A few years later, Joe and I went our separate ways and we never shared our relationship to our loved ones… well, not until the courtroom. Joe and I had a major financial dispute that severed our friendship. When I took the stand, Joe and the DA made me out to be a liar. A jury of my peers found me guilty and here I sit in prison, a place all so familiar to my brothers. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, but only if I did, I’ll never know.
Instead of being angry, I had to come to grip with my new reality. First of all, I had to forgive Joe for the financial mess that triggered our problems.
In prison, I feel as through I’ve been given a second chance. Whether I’m mentoring, tutoring, or being a listening ear, I want to be that friend I didn’t have when I needed one. More times than not, I’ve been overwhelmed by the acceptance I’ve received in such a dark place.