- K
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Help Kevin Restart His Life
I am writing this request on behalf of my very good friend, Kevin Jackson. Kevin, who grew up near Compton, California, where gang-related crimes were common, was incarcerated, in 1997,
at age seventeen and, after having served twenty-one years, was recently found suitable for parole and will be released from prison this coming October. In order to re-establish himself he will be urgently in need of funds for
· Housing
· Food
· Transportation (A Car and the Means to Maintain It)
· Clothing
· Communication (A Cell Phone)
· All other living expenses
Kevin’s first two years in custody, prior to his trial and sentencing, were spent at Central Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles, where he took part in a creative writing class led by the well-known writer, Mark Salzman. Mark wrote a book about that, True Notebooks: A Writer’s Year at Juvenile Hall, which features Kevin and his writing, and that’s how I first got to know Kevin. I was moved by his writing, impressed by who he seemed to be and through Mark got Kevin’s address. That was in 2005, and Kevin and I have had a heartfelt friendship ever since, which has included not just letters, but a number of visits as well.
So why would a community college writing instructor like me care so much about a young man in prison like Kevin, enough so that I’m trying to persuade people like you to part with your hard-earned money to help him get back on his feet?
It’s because I think so highly of Kevin, I admire and respect him deeply, and its because knowing Kevin has taught me that sometimes people can be the complete opposite of who we might think they are. Kevin is kind, reflective, appreciative, balanced, caring, interested in helping others and eager to begin life outside of prison.
I think that maybe the best case for helping Kevin can be made by Kevin himself, so I’m including an excerpt from a letter he sent me.
It speaks for how remarkably positive his attitude has been while in prison. I’m also including some excerpts from support letters written to the parole board for Kevin, including one from me, and a few other excerpts from Kevin’s letters. He speaks for himself so much more powerfully and movingly than anyone could speak for him.
From Kevin’s Letter
It is a few days after Thanksgiving and, like every year, the holiday season is when I miss being home and with family most. This time of year tends to be a little rougher on me. I try not to let it get me too depressed. I allow myself to stress about it a little, but I don’t go too far with it. It fuels my determination to one day get out there again and actually have Happy Holidays,
This year we didn’t do much of anything for the Thanksgiving weekend. We were without any program (no yard, no dayroom, no phone calls) from Thurs.-Sat. All (many) of the guards called in sick, so there wasn’t enough staff for anything. We only came out for visits, showers and to eat. The remainder of the day was spent inside the cell.
That didn’t really bother me much, though. I try not to let stuff like that get to me. I don’t give it that power over me. Many of the guys gripe and complain (and they have good reason to) but I don’t let them have that leverage over me. I refuse to allow situations which I have no control over dictate my attitude. The one thing I retain ownership of is my attitude and I make my best effort to keep it that way. A while back I read somewhere that life is 10% what happens to me, and 90% how I respond to those events. As I’m sure you can tell, I found a lot of truth in that statement and apply it to my life.
From Support Letters for Kevin to the Parole Board
Sister Janet Harris
Sister Janet Harris is the founder of the Inside Out Writers Program
Kevin deeply impressed all of us at Central Juvenile Hall. He was always polite, cooperative, warm, positive, and participated enthusiastically in programming. As such, he was a role model to the other boys. He was clearly a very bright, reflective and sensitive young man, and all of us understood that, had he not been caught up in tragic circumstances which would, most likely, lead to a long incarceration, he would have had a bright future. Kevin formed a special bond with one of our staff members, the probation officer, Joe Sills, who took Kevin under his wing, and made him a kind of assistant. Joe cared about Kevin so deeply that in a letter he wrote on Kevin’s behalf, which was read at Kevin’s sentencing hearing, he said “I believe that meeting Kevin was a blessing to me because he has made me a better person, mentally and spiritually”. That was a remarkable statement, but many people came to have similar feelings about Kevin.
Mark Salzman
Mark Salzman is the author of True Notebooks: A Writer’s Year at Juvenile Hall in which Kevin’s writings appear as well as a number of other books
In 1997, I began teaching a writing class at Central Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles. Three boys volunteered to give the class a try that first year, and one of them was Kevin Jackson. I was his teacher for nearly a year before he was sentenced and transferred to adult prison. We stayed in touch by mail and have been corresponding steadily now for twenty years. I published a book in 2003 about the writing class at Central Juvenile Hall, True Notebooks, and chose Kevin Jackson as the main character because he had made such a positive impression on me.
If he is paroled, I will be glad to continue to offer Kevin friendship and emotional support, and to serve as a mentor, encouraging him to continue the process of reflection that he began in our writing class so many years ago. He has gained much insight over the years into how and why he came to be in prison, and why he cannot place blame for his actions on misfortune. Responsibility for our own actions is what makes us trustworthy, and he understands this. He has shown an interest in becoming a counselor, and given the long journey he has had to make toward rehabilitation, I believe he would have a lot to offer people like his younger self. I encourage you to give him the opportunity to make that contribution.
Neal Lemery
Neal Lemery is a former district attorney and judge as well as the author of Mentoring Boys to Men: Climbing Their Own Mountains, among other books.
Mr. Jackson is a suitable person to be paroled. He is now an educated and socialized young man, who has learned the reasons for his youthful criminality, and is now determined to continue on his current course of using his brain, focusing on helping others, and finding useful and productive work with others. He knows he needs to have emotional and social support, and to continue to work on himself to avoid criminal thinking and peer pressure. His support of other inmates’ work on reformation should continue with community service work and productive interactions with others in the community.
Carol Imani
I am writing this request on behalf of my very good friend, Kevin Jackson. Kevin, who grew up near Compton, California, where gang-related crimes were common, was incarcerated, in 1997,
at age seventeen and, after having served twenty-one years, was recently found suitable for parole and will be released from prison this coming October. In order to re-establish himself he will be urgently in need of funds for
· Housing
· Food
· Transportation (A Car and the Means to Maintain It)
· Clothing
· Communication (A Cell Phone)
· All other living expenses
Kevin’s first two years in custody, prior to his trial and sentencing, were spent at Central Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles, where he took part in a creative writing class led by the well-known writer, Mark Salzman. Mark wrote a book about that, True Notebooks: A Writer’s Year at Juvenile Hall, which features Kevin and his writing, and that’s how I first got to know Kevin. I was moved by his writing, impressed by who he seemed to be and through Mark got Kevin’s address. That was in 2005, and Kevin and I have had a heartfelt friendship ever since, which has included not just letters, but a number of visits as well.
So why would a community college writing instructor like me care so much about a young man in prison like Kevin, enough so that I’m trying to persuade people like you to part with your hard-earned money to help him get back on his feet?
It’s because I think so highly of Kevin, I admire and respect him deeply, and its because knowing Kevin has taught me that sometimes people can be the complete opposite of who we might think they are. Kevin is kind, reflective, appreciative, balanced, caring, interested in helping others and eager to begin life outside of prison.
I think that maybe the best case for helping Kevin can be made by Kevin himself, so I’m including an excerpt from a letter he sent me.
It speaks for how remarkably positive his attitude has been while in prison. I’m also including some excerpts from support letters written to the parole board for Kevin, including one from me, and a few other excerpts from Kevin’s letters. He speaks for himself so much more powerfully and movingly than anyone could speak for him.
From Kevin’s Letter
It is a few days after Thanksgiving and, like every year, the holiday season is when I miss being home and with family most. This time of year tends to be a little rougher on me. I try not to let it get me too depressed. I allow myself to stress about it a little, but I don’t go too far with it. It fuels my determination to one day get out there again and actually have Happy Holidays,
This year we didn’t do much of anything for the Thanksgiving weekend. We were without any program (no yard, no dayroom, no phone calls) from Thurs.-Sat. All (many) of the guards called in sick, so there wasn’t enough staff for anything. We only came out for visits, showers and to eat. The remainder of the day was spent inside the cell.
That didn’t really bother me much, though. I try not to let stuff like that get to me. I don’t give it that power over me. Many of the guys gripe and complain (and they have good reason to) but I don’t let them have that leverage over me. I refuse to allow situations which I have no control over dictate my attitude. The one thing I retain ownership of is my attitude and I make my best effort to keep it that way. A while back I read somewhere that life is 10% what happens to me, and 90% how I respond to those events. As I’m sure you can tell, I found a lot of truth in that statement and apply it to my life.
From Support Letters for Kevin to the Parole Board
Sister Janet HarrisSister Janet Harris is the founder of the Inside Out Writers Program
Kevin deeply impressed all of us at Central Juvenile Hall. He was always polite, cooperative, warm, positive, and participated enthusiastically in programming. As such, he was a role model to the other boys. He was clearly a very bright, reflective and sensitive young man, and all of us understood that, had he not been caught up in tragic circumstances which would, most likely, lead to a long incarceration, he would have had a bright future. Kevin formed a special bond with one of our staff members, the probation officer, Joe Sills, who took Kevin under his wing, and made him a kind of assistant. Joe cared about Kevin so deeply that in a letter he wrote on Kevin’s behalf, which was read at Kevin’s sentencing hearing, he said “I believe that meeting Kevin was a blessing to me because he has made me a better person, mentally and spiritually”. That was a remarkable statement, but many people came to have similar feelings about Kevin.
Mark SalzmanMark Salzman is the author of True Notebooks: A Writer’s Year at Juvenile Hall in which Kevin’s writings appear as well as a number of other books
In 1997, I began teaching a writing class at Central Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles. Three boys volunteered to give the class a try that first year, and one of them was Kevin Jackson. I was his teacher for nearly a year before he was sentenced and transferred to adult prison. We stayed in touch by mail and have been corresponding steadily now for twenty years. I published a book in 2003 about the writing class at Central Juvenile Hall, True Notebooks, and chose Kevin Jackson as the main character because he had made such a positive impression on me.
If he is paroled, I will be glad to continue to offer Kevin friendship and emotional support, and to serve as a mentor, encouraging him to continue the process of reflection that he began in our writing class so many years ago. He has gained much insight over the years into how and why he came to be in prison, and why he cannot place blame for his actions on misfortune. Responsibility for our own actions is what makes us trustworthy, and he understands this. He has shown an interest in becoming a counselor, and given the long journey he has had to make toward rehabilitation, I believe he would have a lot to offer people like his younger self. I encourage you to give him the opportunity to make that contribution.
Neal LemeryNeal Lemery is a former district attorney and judge as well as the author of Mentoring Boys to Men: Climbing Their Own Mountains, among other books.
Mr. Jackson is a suitable person to be paroled. He is now an educated and socialized young man, who has learned the reasons for his youthful criminality, and is now determined to continue on his current course of using his brain, focusing on helping others, and finding useful and productive work with others. He knows he needs to have emotional and social support, and to continue to work on himself to avoid criminal thinking and peer pressure. His support of other inmates’ work on reformation should continue with community service work and productive interactions with others in the community.
Carol Imani
Carol Imani is a community college writing instructor and the originator of the writing/performance projects, With You on the Journey: Family Members of People in Prison Tell Their Stories and Shaping a Future: Life After Prison.
For over twelve years Kevin and I have exchanged letters, talked on the phone often and had many visits. Kevin’s parents died when he was eight, and I’ve become a kind of adoptive mother and mentor, happy to help out in whatever ways I can and grateful to know Kevin. I’ve always been amazed by how, under stressful circumstances, Kevin maintains an extremely positive attitude, never blaming anyone for his situation and eager for learning experiences. He has become the kind of person who is no longer, not even remotely, a danger to society. In fact, I am sure that, with help, Kevin will be a great asset in whatever he chooses to do and he is most drawn to helping young people at risk for destructive behaviors change course and realize that they have better choices.
Other Excerpts from Kevin’s Letters
On Finally Having an Attorney Representing Him
I did get the “Good News” a few days earlier and, as you can imagine, that put a great big smile on my face. I was so happy to get the news. I understand that this is just the beginning and that there’s no guarantee anything will change when it’s all said and done, but I’m happy that someone who is qualified and knows what they are doing, is finally taking my case seriously.
From the very beginning I feel that I never had anyone on my side who knew what they were doing. It was as if I was thrown into a boxing ring with one arm tied behind my back. I never stood a chance because I didn’t have the adequate tools to win. Getting the news was like my arm finally being untied. I’m down to the final round of the bout, but at least I now have the chance to be on a level playing field.
On Enduring the Stress of Prison
In one of your letters that I recently got you said that you sensed a kind of volcano of stress in me. You said that you could see it just beyond the surface although I do a good job of representing myself as dong fine. Well, I’m not sure if I’d call it a volcano. That sounds like it’s building up, and at some point ready to erupt. I won’t deny that I do carry a load of stress, but I don’t feel like it’s a build-up. For me, it’s more like a weight tied to my ankle, constantly threatening to pull me beneath the surface as I struggle to swim. I feel like it’s latched on to me, and until I reach shore, the extra weight will be a burden I must endure. The hard part is having the strength to keep from drowning.
I don’t talk about the stress because it mainly comes from being imprisoned. It is a result of my situation and everything tied to being locked up—stuff like having to share a tiny cell, the constant noise, being dependent on others to provide for me, loneliness, sexual frustration, crappy food, being told what to do all the time—everything. Everything about incarceration is an agonizing, slow form of torture. I’m tired. It beats me down day after day, every single day. It’s relent-less. And the sad part about it is I can’t get a break. There is no rest. This is my reality. This hell is my everyday life.
Kevin’s Journey from Ironwood State Prison to Folsom State Prison:
A Harrowing Experience
The bus didn’t hit the road until close to 11 a.m. During that entire wait all I could think about was how much of my life I had spent at Ironwood. I thought about all of the friends I had made over the years, all of the good times and bad times too. I never imagined I would ever be sentimental about a prison, but as I watched Ironwood pass through the bus window, I was overcome by a sense of sadness. I had spent nearly 10 years of my life there. It was difficult to watch Ironwood fade into the distance.
The nostalgia wore off within a few minutes. Being shackled at the ankles and wrists was so constricting that I could hardly focus on anything else. The seats were hard and compact, so I found myself constantly shifting, trying to find a more comfortable position. After about an hour I realized that no matter what I did I wasn’t going to find any comfort. I was in for a long, rough ride.
It was about a two-hour ride from Ironwood to California State Prison. That was our first stop. We picked up more bodies there and hit the road again. We reached Chino a few hours later. Once we got there they told us that we would be spending the night there. It had been a long day so I was ready to get out of those cuffs and rest.
Much to my dismay I was only half right. They took the shackles off but I wasn’t able to get any rest. They put us in a holding tank and gave us sack lunches for dinner. Around 10 p.m. they gave us blankets and a sheet. We weren’t getting any beds so we had to lie on the floor or on steel benches. My back was already killing me. I knew there was very little chance of getting any sleep. Those hard surfaces were sure to provide a great deal of punishment.
I think I may have slept for a total of two hours that night. But the time they came to wake everyone I was more than ready to get on the bus and be done with the trip. I was ready to be put out of my misery.
Once we got on the bus the next morning I learned that we were only halfway through the trip. The driver told us that we were going to three other prisons to pick up and drop off more bodies. Then we would spend the night again at North Kern. Hearing that deflated me on the spot. Had not so many other men been around I’m sure I would have cried.
The second day proved to be straight hell. We stopped at Lancaster State Prison, Tehachapi, Wasco, then ended at North Kern State Prison. We were fed sack lunches all day. By the time we reached the last prison it was 8:15. I was sure that would have been enough time to get us a bed. I was wrong again. We spent the second night in a holding cell again. But this time was worse than the night before. It was smaller, colder and nearly filled to capacity. All we were given was one shoddy blanket to sleep on or under. But the time morning arrived I felt like a mindless zombie. In those two days I barely ate or slept. I don’t know how I was still going. I was dead tired.
One the third day we got off to a late start again. The bus didn’t depart until around 10 a.m. The good news was that we weren’t making any more stops or any more layovers. We were headed straight to Folsom. I was even fortunate enough to get a window seat on the way up. I can’t say that I did much sightseeing though. Most of the way I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I leaned my head against the window for support and napped for nearly the entire ride.
We landed here just before 3 p.m. They sent us through processing for the next four hours. I didn’t make it into my cell until about 7 p.m. I didn’t want to use the restroom too much on the bus. And the sinks in those holding tanks all look like hepatitis waiting to attack. After I was done drinking I had to get the funk off. I hadn’t taken a shower or anything for three full days. I washed up in the sink, made up my bed, and immediately fell asleep. My first night here disappeared in a flash. I was GLAD to be done with the tortuous trip. My body had reached its limit.
THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading about Kevin and considering a donation to help him make a success of his reentry from prison.
Any donation will help.
I hope you have found getting to know him through his writing
a moving experience.
For over twelve years Kevin and I have exchanged letters, talked on the phone often and had many visits. Kevin’s parents died when he was eight, and I’ve become a kind of adoptive mother and mentor, happy to help out in whatever ways I can and grateful to know Kevin. I’ve always been amazed by how, under stressful circumstances, Kevin maintains an extremely positive attitude, never blaming anyone for his situation and eager for learning experiences. He has become the kind of person who is no longer, not even remotely, a danger to society. In fact, I am sure that, with help, Kevin will be a great asset in whatever he chooses to do and he is most drawn to helping young people at risk for destructive behaviors change course and realize that they have better choices.
Other Excerpts from Kevin’s Letters
On Finally Having an Attorney Representing Him
I did get the “Good News” a few days earlier and, as you can imagine, that put a great big smile on my face. I was so happy to get the news. I understand that this is just the beginning and that there’s no guarantee anything will change when it’s all said and done, but I’m happy that someone who is qualified and knows what they are doing, is finally taking my case seriously.
From the very beginning I feel that I never had anyone on my side who knew what they were doing. It was as if I was thrown into a boxing ring with one arm tied behind my back. I never stood a chance because I didn’t have the adequate tools to win. Getting the news was like my arm finally being untied. I’m down to the final round of the bout, but at least I now have the chance to be on a level playing field.
On Enduring the Stress of Prison
In one of your letters that I recently got you said that you sensed a kind of volcano of stress in me. You said that you could see it just beyond the surface although I do a good job of representing myself as dong fine. Well, I’m not sure if I’d call it a volcano. That sounds like it’s building up, and at some point ready to erupt. I won’t deny that I do carry a load of stress, but I don’t feel like it’s a build-up. For me, it’s more like a weight tied to my ankle, constantly threatening to pull me beneath the surface as I struggle to swim. I feel like it’s latched on to me, and until I reach shore, the extra weight will be a burden I must endure. The hard part is having the strength to keep from drowning.
I don’t talk about the stress because it mainly comes from being imprisoned. It is a result of my situation and everything tied to being locked up—stuff like having to share a tiny cell, the constant noise, being dependent on others to provide for me, loneliness, sexual frustration, crappy food, being told what to do all the time—everything. Everything about incarceration is an agonizing, slow form of torture. I’m tired. It beats me down day after day, every single day. It’s relent-less. And the sad part about it is I can’t get a break. There is no rest. This is my reality. This hell is my everyday life.
Kevin’s Journey from Ironwood State Prison to Folsom State Prison:
A Harrowing Experience
The bus didn’t hit the road until close to 11 a.m. During that entire wait all I could think about was how much of my life I had spent at Ironwood. I thought about all of the friends I had made over the years, all of the good times and bad times too. I never imagined I would ever be sentimental about a prison, but as I watched Ironwood pass through the bus window, I was overcome by a sense of sadness. I had spent nearly 10 years of my life there. It was difficult to watch Ironwood fade into the distance.
The nostalgia wore off within a few minutes. Being shackled at the ankles and wrists was so constricting that I could hardly focus on anything else. The seats were hard and compact, so I found myself constantly shifting, trying to find a more comfortable position. After about an hour I realized that no matter what I did I wasn’t going to find any comfort. I was in for a long, rough ride.
It was about a two-hour ride from Ironwood to California State Prison. That was our first stop. We picked up more bodies there and hit the road again. We reached Chino a few hours later. Once we got there they told us that we would be spending the night there. It had been a long day so I was ready to get out of those cuffs and rest.
Much to my dismay I was only half right. They took the shackles off but I wasn’t able to get any rest. They put us in a holding tank and gave us sack lunches for dinner. Around 10 p.m. they gave us blankets and a sheet. We weren’t getting any beds so we had to lie on the floor or on steel benches. My back was already killing me. I knew there was very little chance of getting any sleep. Those hard surfaces were sure to provide a great deal of punishment.
I think I may have slept for a total of two hours that night. But the time they came to wake everyone I was more than ready to get on the bus and be done with the trip. I was ready to be put out of my misery.
Once we got on the bus the next morning I learned that we were only halfway through the trip. The driver told us that we were going to three other prisons to pick up and drop off more bodies. Then we would spend the night again at North Kern. Hearing that deflated me on the spot. Had not so many other men been around I’m sure I would have cried.
The second day proved to be straight hell. We stopped at Lancaster State Prison, Tehachapi, Wasco, then ended at North Kern State Prison. We were fed sack lunches all day. By the time we reached the last prison it was 8:15. I was sure that would have been enough time to get us a bed. I was wrong again. We spent the second night in a holding cell again. But this time was worse than the night before. It was smaller, colder and nearly filled to capacity. All we were given was one shoddy blanket to sleep on or under. But the time morning arrived I felt like a mindless zombie. In those two days I barely ate or slept. I don’t know how I was still going. I was dead tired.
One the third day we got off to a late start again. The bus didn’t depart until around 10 a.m. The good news was that we weren’t making any more stops or any more layovers. We were headed straight to Folsom. I was even fortunate enough to get a window seat on the way up. I can’t say that I did much sightseeing though. Most of the way I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I leaned my head against the window for support and napped for nearly the entire ride.
We landed here just before 3 p.m. They sent us through processing for the next four hours. I didn’t make it into my cell until about 7 p.m. I didn’t want to use the restroom too much on the bus. And the sinks in those holding tanks all look like hepatitis waiting to attack. After I was done drinking I had to get the funk off. I hadn’t taken a shower or anything for three full days. I washed up in the sink, made up my bed, and immediately fell asleep. My first night here disappeared in a flash. I was GLAD to be done with the tortuous trip. My body had reached its limit.
THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading about Kevin and considering a donation to help him make a success of his reentry from prison.
Any donation will help.
I hope you have found getting to know him through his writing
a moving experience.