by Jorge Lopez, San Quentin State Prison, CA
Hello, my name or where I’m from aren’t important. Today, I am serving a sentence of fifty years with two life sentences for a first-degree murder with enhancements (extra time). Sadly, I am identified by a set of numbers.
I have been stripped of my name and freedom because of the bad choices I made almost seventeen years ago. At that time, I had turned eighteen years old and like all of us behind prison walls, I lacked a positive role model. I just had a desire to be accepted by my peers.
Let’s rewind my story a bit so I can give you a brief history on why I joined a gang and how I ended up in prison for life. This is how I got separated from my family and detached from what you know as the world.
I grew up in a fatherless home because my father chose to leave us when I was only two years old. I was born a middle child and my mom worked long and stressful hours to provide for us. She wasn’t home much so I lacked adequate supervision. When I finally understood my dad’s disappearance, I was left feeling abandoned, hurt, and embarrassed in contrast to other children who had both parents.
My dad chose to walk out on our family to create a new one. That was the ultimate rejection. I couldn’t understand why I had to go through life without a dad or if I was the reason he left.
Not knowing how to cope with all the emotional pain, I began resenting my dad and lashed out in anger to get attention from my mom. However, I didn’t receive the affection I sought. Instead, I was physically and verbally abused because that’s the way my mom was taught to discipline negative behavior. I perceived my mom’s actions as me not being worth the time, love and affection I desired. That thinking drove me out of the home because I felt like I was misunderstood and didn’t belong.
By the fifth grade I was spending a lot of time around my apartments, hanging around older kids who were gang members. I remember being forced to fight for their entertainment. It was how we showed our worth in being recruited. The kids who refused were viewed as cowards and not being grown.
I was afraid to be rejected by my “new family,” so I fought, robbed, smoked, drank, and committed heartless acts of violence towards others. In reality it was because I was so insecure about myself that I needed my peers to validate me. Realize what I’m saying. I needed the approval of girls, gang members, drug addicts, just to feel loved and wanted.
So the more crimes I committed, the more recognition I received. I was in a never ending cycle, spiraling out of control, and making all of the wrong decisions. At the same time I was digging myself into a deeper hole with the judicial system. While building this persona of a “badass,” I created dysfunctional qualities.
For instance, I became callous, reckless, impulsive, as well as a drug addict at an early age. Oh yeah, let me not forget to mention my depression and inner turmoil, which led me to attempt suicide in the seventh grade. I was truly broken inside. I ended up in a psychiatric hospital for some time.
The praises from these same individuals no longer made me feel worthy as my addiction to crystal methamphetamine was my priority. My selfish and dangerous behaviors were influenced by a warped belief system that I adopted through the lies and misguided direction of those I valued and viewed as my “new family.”
Today I am writing to you from prison to share a small portion of my experience because I can honestly say I care about the youth. Yes! This means you! At this moment and time we don’t know each other, and I’d rather you hear it from me through this letter instead of in prison as my cellmate or neighbor.
I assure you, if you continue down this path of destruction, not allowing yourself to process the consequences, we will eventually meet. And remember, we — the people in prison — aren’t here for being good people. So how do you think you’ll be treated when you come to prison? If you hate being told what to do or dislike authority, you’re going to be in for a rude awakening.
Do you like the freedom of coming and going as you please? Or eating whenever and whatever you want? Or how about something as simple as using the restroom and showering? What about hugging and spending time with a loved one? You can disregard all those things because once you come to prison all your rights are stripped away. Gone! Like they never existed.
Here’s the catch, though: this doesn’t have to be you. You can change your thinking and change your life. Whether you care to admit it, we’re more alike than different. I’ve come a long way from the callous, self-centered individual I once was. I have self-worth, I value the lives of others, and that’s why I’m here today, attempting to share my story, to give you a realistic outlook on what to expect.
You don’t have to earn yourself a “life” sentence in order to change. You don’t need to decide to change because you’ve been hospitalized after being shot, stabbed, or brutally attacked. Even worse, how about making the decision to change after you got your mom, dad, brother, sister or another loved one murdered. These crimes happen all the time. Don’t wait until the unthinkable happens.
So, I ask that you challenge peer pressure and your decisions. Think of the consequences of joining a gang, committing crimes, or experimenting with drugs. Don’t allow yourself to be defined by your environment. Don’t create multiple victims like I have.
Listen, don’t throw your life away. And certainly, don’t allow anyone to make you believe you aren’t good enough or can’t accomplish a goal. The only obstacle standing between you and your dreams is your attitude and effort. Take advantage of your blessings and BELIEVE in YOURSELF as I believe in you.
I really lived this lifestyle and I’m sitting in prison for life. There’s nothing “cool” about it and I wish someone who experienced this life cared enough to tell me the TRUTH!