School Funds For Jose Armendariz
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My Life Story
The truth is that I don’t know how to introduce myself. I don’t even know how to identify myself. My name is Jose Armendariz. My name used to be a representation of the wretched man that I once was; a criminal and a convict. The type of man that people looked at with disdain or fear. Certainly, the kind of man that has no right or reason to expect a helpful hand from anyone. Today, that name is no longer a representation of that person. However, that shadow still weighs heavily upon me. Every morning I wake up, I stare into the mirror and I look deep into my eyes. I try to see what’s beyond the windows of my soul and I search for a hint or a trace of the wretched man that I once was. Only until I am convinced and satisfied that he is nowhere in sight, I am able to go on with my day. Every morning this ritual is repeated if only to assure myself that, that man is indeed dead and gone.
I was born in the year 1990 to a loving and a hard-working family. I am the eldest, and a brother to a younger sister. She is my only sibling. I was raised in a poor neighborhood that was ridden with drugs and gang violence. Definitely the kind of place where raising a family would seem near impossible. It was when I was about nine or ten years old that I was first exposed to the evil that lurked around me. My parents worked and many times I was unable to find a ride to school, I was left with no choice other than to walk by myself. It was during one of these long and lonely treks to school that I was first approached by gang members and asked what gang I rolled with or “represented”, because I was so young and unknowing, I simply responded, “ I don’t know.”. What at one moment seemed like casual dialogue with a couple of strangers, suddenly turned into a barrage of punches and kicks that left me on the ground gasping for air. “If you don’t know, maybe next time you’ll remember”, I heard a voice say.
When I turned 11 years old, I became extremely ill and I had to be hospitalized. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. If my life seemed tough before, it only became tougher after my diagnosis. My mood changed and I became angry and resentful. It was difficult for me to understand or manage my condition. My life took a turn to the worst. Because I was required to take many insulin shots a day, other youth began to spread rumors that I had a contagious disease and that they should stay away from me. As whispers turned into rumors and rumors turned into shouts, I began to skip school. The times that I actually went to school, I started to get suspended for fighting my tormentors.
Because my disease and my condition were so brittle, I was often placed on homeschool. When I was cleared to return back to school, I was not at the same academic level as the rest of my peers and therefore I was sent to continuation type schools to catch up with my credits. It was at these schools where I made what I believe were “actual friends”, who just happened to be troubled youth who mostly had ties and affiliations to gangs. Hanging out with these friends became a daily activity and soon I began to care less about school. My interest in drugs grew. I became extremely rebellious and disobeyed all of my parent’s rules. I started getting high on illicit drugs almost every day and my life continued to spiral down lower and lower into a dark abyss of misery and despair. One day, I finally decided to join the gang that all my friends belonged to. I was jumped in and a new chapter in my life had begun.
Being in a gang was not something that I thought was such a big deal, after all mostly all the guys in my school were in gangs. It was the norm in my social circle. I fought with rival gang members and partied with my “friends”. This became my life. One night after partying and hanging out with these so called “friends”, we decided to go grab something to eat. As we were walking down the street we noticed two people walk out of a house. One of the guys in my group identified one of the two people as a rival from another gang. Immediately he decided to go confront him and ran ahead. Another guy in my group and I ran after him, and followed slowly behind.
As I watched the confrontation unfold I didn’t think much of it, that was until the sudden sound of gunfire erupted and I witnessed as two innocent people dropped to the ground and died before my very own eyes. Shock and fear made me freeze until I was able to react and start running. It wasn’t but 5 or 10 minutes after, that we were all surrounded by law enforcement and apprehended. As I was interrogated by detectives, I decided to play it safe for my own security and stuck to the gangs code of silence, refusing to cooperate or assist in the detectives’ investigation. So it was at the age of 16 years old that I was charged as an accessory to murder. It was soon after that I was sentenced to a life term in prison.
I couldn’t comprehend how it was that a jury found me guilty for something that in my mind I was innocent of. They had the shooter and the person that started the confrontation. Yes, I was there, but I never even uttered a single word during the entire exchange, so how could I be guilty of something I did not do? It was confusing to me. These were the thoughts that plagued my mind after my conviction was handed down to me and it was these very same thoughts that eventually turned into a ball of ire, bitterness and fury that consumed my heart and my soul.
When I arrived to prison, I knew that because of my young age other prisoners would try to take advantage of me, but I made a promise to myself that I would not allow it. The first thing I did was to reach out to the prison’s shot caller and asked for a contract. I wanted to make a deal with the devil. “Give me a name and nothing more, I’ll remove him from your yard first thing in the morning” I said. What for many may seem like the cheesy story line to a poorly acted prison movie, this became my reality. That same night, a note slid under my door with a name and a description of a person. The following morning, I went out to the yard and did my first prison “removal”.
I ended up in the Security Housing Unit (SHU), better known as “the hole”, and I was placed in a cell with someone who had recently been placed on the “hit-list”. The following day, I was ordered to attack this man as well. Eventually I became a part of a “Hit-squad” where I built a reputation as a soldier for the most feared criminal organization in the California Prison System. After being placed in solitary confinement for more than three times in a period of less than 5 years. I was given an indeterminate SHU Placement. This meant that I would be housed in The Hole permanently or until further notice.
Friends and family whom I had grown up with slowly faded into a distant memory and the few loyal family members who still remained, only suffered in silence as they watched my troubled life lead into what could only be a tragic and disastrous ending. Death came a knocking. I woke up one morning with a runny nose, by that evening that runny nose had turned into a vicious fever and cough. Medical staff in the prison immediately responded. My vital signs were in disarray and they needed to have an ambulance transport me to an outside hospital.
When I arrived to the hospital, doctors could not determine what the cause of my ailment was so they passed it off as a simple fever that was caused by pneumonia-like symptoms. I was prescribed oral medication and returned back to the prison. The medication was not helping and it was actually making my conditions worse. For the entire night, I lay on my cell bed shivering, coughing and hallucinating. When morning came, I was unable to get out of bed and my ability to breathe had become so constricted that any slight movement caused me to see stars and black spots.
From a far distance I heard a faint banging on my door as I watched my cellmate yelling
“Man Down” over and over again. When I came to I was already at the hospital and I heard a doctor speaking to an officer and explaining to her how close I had been to dying. It turns out that my lungs were filled up with so much fluid that it was a miracle that I was able to breathe at all. When the doctor saw me awake, he approached my bed and told me how lucky I was to be alive, but that the condition was far from gone. Though they had drained the fluid out my lungs, they were still trying to figure out what was the cause. Until the results of the medical tests were back, we would just have to sit back and wait.
It was as I lay on that hospital bed in a quarantine room that the idea of death first entered my mind and never had it felt more real as it did on that unforgettable night. I thought about my life and I became repulsed by the horrible way I had been living it. I thought about heaven and hell, and though I was far from being considered a “Religious” person, I did believe in God. I asked myself a question that I had never really pondered, which was “if I died tonight, would I be welcomed into God’s kingdom?” and before the question was completely posed, the answer was in my head was “No”.
For the first time since my arrest, I thought about the victims in my case and I was flooded with feelings of shame and disgust for how selfish I had been. The entire time I had only focused on how unjust and unfair my conviction was, but I had never placed focus or attention on the clear fact that two innocent people had lost their lives and how they would never get them back. I felt sorrow and remorse. Tears filled my eyes. Though the victims had not died by my own hands, there were so many things that I did and failed to do to prevent such a tragedy from happening. That night I asked God forgiveness. I made Jesus my lord and savior, and I made a promise that if I survived whatever was hurting my body, I would live the rest of my life only to glorify him.
When the results came back, I was diagnosed with “Valley Fever”, a disease that is common and many times deadly in the California Central Valley Area. I remained in the hospital for three more months undergoing and aggressive anti-bacterial IV treatment that caused me to lose over 60 pounds. I spent two years after that on oral medication. When I returned to prison, I was a completely different man, physically and spiritually. I renounced all affiliations to my gang, something that was not received well by the majority of the members. Because of my medical conditions, the warden allowed me an early release from The Hole and I returned to a regular prison yard where I began to really study and learn God's word. I also began attending school. Between my Bible studies and going to school, I found a new inner peace that I never before believed was attainable behind prison walls.
God reveals himself. The power of faith is REAL. It is not formless or a figment of the imagination. You can touch it, smell it, taste it, hear it, and see it. Being sentenced to a life term in prison, I had long ago lost any notion that I would ever have freedom again. Until one day in the middle of the night, I was awaken and told to pack up my personal belongings because I was being summoned back to my county of commitment for a Re-sentencing hearing in court. My appeal had been granted and after serving over a decade in prison, I was now looking at a future parole date. Because of my age at the time of the crime and the fact that I was not the trigger man or the initiator of the confrontation that led to the loss of two innocent lives, I was now eligible to go home under recently enacted legislation that offers greater opportunities of release to youth offenders like myself.
Which brings me to the present. Part of the requirements to be illegible for an early release is to reach extraordinary academic achievements as well as to complete self-help courses that are aimed at helping us overcome negative behaviors and to help us reintegrate back into society. Behind bars, I have been able to attain my High School Diploma, Computer Business Skills Certification, a Paralegal Degree, and a few Self-help certificates. Mostly all at the expense of my families’ monetary contributions. My greatest goal however is to attend College and to attain an A.A. and a B.A. degree.
Though the privilege of attending college is available to all prisoners, I do not qualify for financial aid because I am incarcerated. The costs of books and tuition are simply to heavy a load for my family to bear. When I attend my parole hearing, I will also need the help of a Professional Legal Counsel, which is another thing I simply do not have the money for. I know that to many I am probably the least deserving of any help and I have been warned by many people that I may face harsh criticism and even hateful remarks for opening myself up to such a large audience. However, I believe that the human spirit is defined by Hope, Love and Strength, and the belief that everyone can obtain Redemption. Even someone like myself.
I know that when I finally make it out of here, it will only be because of the mercy and grace of God and not because it is something that I deserve or am worthy of. I am not a role model or hero. I am a flawed man who seeks redemption by being a servant, a servant of God and a servant to my community. The day that I step out from behind these prison walls will be the first day of my borrowed time, a gift that I will not take for granted. I will spend and dedicate the rest of my life to serving God and to helping at-risk youth who are going through similar troubles as the ones that I faced as a teen.
Hope is the fundamental force that drives us to achieve great things and I know that somewhere out there, there are millions of children who are full of hopes and dreams. Though their lives may not be ideal, it is that hope that helps them face their troubles and so with my story and experience, I pray that I can help the troubled youth. I hope to help them find a way to make their hopes and dreams a reality. This is the primary reason why my desire to make it out of this place is so strong, I simply yearn to serve.
Joining a gang as a youth was not an easy decision. I was afraid and very nervous. In all reality, joining a gang should never be an option for any child. I truly believe that I can offer a new perspective to youth. If people with similar experiences as my own can come together and find ways to help our youth master their own talents, then we can help them built their self esteem and keep them from feeling like joining a gang or hurting themselves is the best option available.
As someone who has first hand experience in how terrifying it can be to feel lost and hopeless as a youth, I believe that I can really make a positive impact. The memories of ten or fifteen years past are still very fresh in my mind and I have never forgotten how it feels to experience such desperation. How one bad choice can lead to another until you reach the point of no return. I know that helping our troubled youth is my true calling and I have never felt more passionate about anything in my life.
I truly hope that those of you who have taken the time to read this brief narrative of my life can see it in your hearts to welcome and accept someone like me back into society. I want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for you donations and contributions and if you are someone who is undecided about helping me personally, I ask you to please visit websites such as www.fairyouthsentencing or www.anti-residivismcoalition.org to find out how you can participate or help organizations that are aimed at helping at-risk youths. God bless you all and once more, THANK YOU.
Jose Armendariz.
The truth is that I don’t know how to introduce myself. I don’t even know how to identify myself. My name is Jose Armendariz. My name used to be a representation of the wretched man that I once was; a criminal and a convict. The type of man that people looked at with disdain or fear. Certainly, the kind of man that has no right or reason to expect a helpful hand from anyone. Today, that name is no longer a representation of that person. However, that shadow still weighs heavily upon me. Every morning I wake up, I stare into the mirror and I look deep into my eyes. I try to see what’s beyond the windows of my soul and I search for a hint or a trace of the wretched man that I once was. Only until I am convinced and satisfied that he is nowhere in sight, I am able to go on with my day. Every morning this ritual is repeated if only to assure myself that, that man is indeed dead and gone.
I was born in the year 1990 to a loving and a hard-working family. I am the eldest, and a brother to a younger sister. She is my only sibling. I was raised in a poor neighborhood that was ridden with drugs and gang violence. Definitely the kind of place where raising a family would seem near impossible. It was when I was about nine or ten years old that I was first exposed to the evil that lurked around me. My parents worked and many times I was unable to find a ride to school, I was left with no choice other than to walk by myself. It was during one of these long and lonely treks to school that I was first approached by gang members and asked what gang I rolled with or “represented”, because I was so young and unknowing, I simply responded, “ I don’t know.”. What at one moment seemed like casual dialogue with a couple of strangers, suddenly turned into a barrage of punches and kicks that left me on the ground gasping for air. “If you don’t know, maybe next time you’ll remember”, I heard a voice say.
When I turned 11 years old, I became extremely ill and I had to be hospitalized. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. If my life seemed tough before, it only became tougher after my diagnosis. My mood changed and I became angry and resentful. It was difficult for me to understand or manage my condition. My life took a turn to the worst. Because I was required to take many insulin shots a day, other youth began to spread rumors that I had a contagious disease and that they should stay away from me. As whispers turned into rumors and rumors turned into shouts, I began to skip school. The times that I actually went to school, I started to get suspended for fighting my tormentors.
Because my disease and my condition were so brittle, I was often placed on homeschool. When I was cleared to return back to school, I was not at the same academic level as the rest of my peers and therefore I was sent to continuation type schools to catch up with my credits. It was at these schools where I made what I believe were “actual friends”, who just happened to be troubled youth who mostly had ties and affiliations to gangs. Hanging out with these friends became a daily activity and soon I began to care less about school. My interest in drugs grew. I became extremely rebellious and disobeyed all of my parent’s rules. I started getting high on illicit drugs almost every day and my life continued to spiral down lower and lower into a dark abyss of misery and despair. One day, I finally decided to join the gang that all my friends belonged to. I was jumped in and a new chapter in my life had begun.
Being in a gang was not something that I thought was such a big deal, after all mostly all the guys in my school were in gangs. It was the norm in my social circle. I fought with rival gang members and partied with my “friends”. This became my life. One night after partying and hanging out with these so called “friends”, we decided to go grab something to eat. As we were walking down the street we noticed two people walk out of a house. One of the guys in my group identified one of the two people as a rival from another gang. Immediately he decided to go confront him and ran ahead. Another guy in my group and I ran after him, and followed slowly behind.
As I watched the confrontation unfold I didn’t think much of it, that was until the sudden sound of gunfire erupted and I witnessed as two innocent people dropped to the ground and died before my very own eyes. Shock and fear made me freeze until I was able to react and start running. It wasn’t but 5 or 10 minutes after, that we were all surrounded by law enforcement and apprehended. As I was interrogated by detectives, I decided to play it safe for my own security and stuck to the gangs code of silence, refusing to cooperate or assist in the detectives’ investigation. So it was at the age of 16 years old that I was charged as an accessory to murder. It was soon after that I was sentenced to a life term in prison.
I couldn’t comprehend how it was that a jury found me guilty for something that in my mind I was innocent of. They had the shooter and the person that started the confrontation. Yes, I was there, but I never even uttered a single word during the entire exchange, so how could I be guilty of something I did not do? It was confusing to me. These were the thoughts that plagued my mind after my conviction was handed down to me and it was these very same thoughts that eventually turned into a ball of ire, bitterness and fury that consumed my heart and my soul.
When I arrived to prison, I knew that because of my young age other prisoners would try to take advantage of me, but I made a promise to myself that I would not allow it. The first thing I did was to reach out to the prison’s shot caller and asked for a contract. I wanted to make a deal with the devil. “Give me a name and nothing more, I’ll remove him from your yard first thing in the morning” I said. What for many may seem like the cheesy story line to a poorly acted prison movie, this became my reality. That same night, a note slid under my door with a name and a description of a person. The following morning, I went out to the yard and did my first prison “removal”.
I ended up in the Security Housing Unit (SHU), better known as “the hole”, and I was placed in a cell with someone who had recently been placed on the “hit-list”. The following day, I was ordered to attack this man as well. Eventually I became a part of a “Hit-squad” where I built a reputation as a soldier for the most feared criminal organization in the California Prison System. After being placed in solitary confinement for more than three times in a period of less than 5 years. I was given an indeterminate SHU Placement. This meant that I would be housed in The Hole permanently or until further notice.
Friends and family whom I had grown up with slowly faded into a distant memory and the few loyal family members who still remained, only suffered in silence as they watched my troubled life lead into what could only be a tragic and disastrous ending. Death came a knocking. I woke up one morning with a runny nose, by that evening that runny nose had turned into a vicious fever and cough. Medical staff in the prison immediately responded. My vital signs were in disarray and they needed to have an ambulance transport me to an outside hospital.
When I arrived to the hospital, doctors could not determine what the cause of my ailment was so they passed it off as a simple fever that was caused by pneumonia-like symptoms. I was prescribed oral medication and returned back to the prison. The medication was not helping and it was actually making my conditions worse. For the entire night, I lay on my cell bed shivering, coughing and hallucinating. When morning came, I was unable to get out of bed and my ability to breathe had become so constricted that any slight movement caused me to see stars and black spots.
From a far distance I heard a faint banging on my door as I watched my cellmate yelling
“Man Down” over and over again. When I came to I was already at the hospital and I heard a doctor speaking to an officer and explaining to her how close I had been to dying. It turns out that my lungs were filled up with so much fluid that it was a miracle that I was able to breathe at all. When the doctor saw me awake, he approached my bed and told me how lucky I was to be alive, but that the condition was far from gone. Though they had drained the fluid out my lungs, they were still trying to figure out what was the cause. Until the results of the medical tests were back, we would just have to sit back and wait.
It was as I lay on that hospital bed in a quarantine room that the idea of death first entered my mind and never had it felt more real as it did on that unforgettable night. I thought about my life and I became repulsed by the horrible way I had been living it. I thought about heaven and hell, and though I was far from being considered a “Religious” person, I did believe in God. I asked myself a question that I had never really pondered, which was “if I died tonight, would I be welcomed into God’s kingdom?” and before the question was completely posed, the answer was in my head was “No”.
For the first time since my arrest, I thought about the victims in my case and I was flooded with feelings of shame and disgust for how selfish I had been. The entire time I had only focused on how unjust and unfair my conviction was, but I had never placed focus or attention on the clear fact that two innocent people had lost their lives and how they would never get them back. I felt sorrow and remorse. Tears filled my eyes. Though the victims had not died by my own hands, there were so many things that I did and failed to do to prevent such a tragedy from happening. That night I asked God forgiveness. I made Jesus my lord and savior, and I made a promise that if I survived whatever was hurting my body, I would live the rest of my life only to glorify him.
When the results came back, I was diagnosed with “Valley Fever”, a disease that is common and many times deadly in the California Central Valley Area. I remained in the hospital for three more months undergoing and aggressive anti-bacterial IV treatment that caused me to lose over 60 pounds. I spent two years after that on oral medication. When I returned to prison, I was a completely different man, physically and spiritually. I renounced all affiliations to my gang, something that was not received well by the majority of the members. Because of my medical conditions, the warden allowed me an early release from The Hole and I returned to a regular prison yard where I began to really study and learn God's word. I also began attending school. Between my Bible studies and going to school, I found a new inner peace that I never before believed was attainable behind prison walls.
God reveals himself. The power of faith is REAL. It is not formless or a figment of the imagination. You can touch it, smell it, taste it, hear it, and see it. Being sentenced to a life term in prison, I had long ago lost any notion that I would ever have freedom again. Until one day in the middle of the night, I was awaken and told to pack up my personal belongings because I was being summoned back to my county of commitment for a Re-sentencing hearing in court. My appeal had been granted and after serving over a decade in prison, I was now looking at a future parole date. Because of my age at the time of the crime and the fact that I was not the trigger man or the initiator of the confrontation that led to the loss of two innocent lives, I was now eligible to go home under recently enacted legislation that offers greater opportunities of release to youth offenders like myself.
Which brings me to the present. Part of the requirements to be illegible for an early release is to reach extraordinary academic achievements as well as to complete self-help courses that are aimed at helping us overcome negative behaviors and to help us reintegrate back into society. Behind bars, I have been able to attain my High School Diploma, Computer Business Skills Certification, a Paralegal Degree, and a few Self-help certificates. Mostly all at the expense of my families’ monetary contributions. My greatest goal however is to attend College and to attain an A.A. and a B.A. degree.
Though the privilege of attending college is available to all prisoners, I do not qualify for financial aid because I am incarcerated. The costs of books and tuition are simply to heavy a load for my family to bear. When I attend my parole hearing, I will also need the help of a Professional Legal Counsel, which is another thing I simply do not have the money for. I know that to many I am probably the least deserving of any help and I have been warned by many people that I may face harsh criticism and even hateful remarks for opening myself up to such a large audience. However, I believe that the human spirit is defined by Hope, Love and Strength, and the belief that everyone can obtain Redemption. Even someone like myself.
I know that when I finally make it out of here, it will only be because of the mercy and grace of God and not because it is something that I deserve or am worthy of. I am not a role model or hero. I am a flawed man who seeks redemption by being a servant, a servant of God and a servant to my community. The day that I step out from behind these prison walls will be the first day of my borrowed time, a gift that I will not take for granted. I will spend and dedicate the rest of my life to serving God and to helping at-risk youth who are going through similar troubles as the ones that I faced as a teen.
Hope is the fundamental force that drives us to achieve great things and I know that somewhere out there, there are millions of children who are full of hopes and dreams. Though their lives may not be ideal, it is that hope that helps them face their troubles and so with my story and experience, I pray that I can help the troubled youth. I hope to help them find a way to make their hopes and dreams a reality. This is the primary reason why my desire to make it out of this place is so strong, I simply yearn to serve.
Joining a gang as a youth was not an easy decision. I was afraid and very nervous. In all reality, joining a gang should never be an option for any child. I truly believe that I can offer a new perspective to youth. If people with similar experiences as my own can come together and find ways to help our youth master their own talents, then we can help them built their self esteem and keep them from feeling like joining a gang or hurting themselves is the best option available.
As someone who has first hand experience in how terrifying it can be to feel lost and hopeless as a youth, I believe that I can really make a positive impact. The memories of ten or fifteen years past are still very fresh in my mind and I have never forgotten how it feels to experience such desperation. How one bad choice can lead to another until you reach the point of no return. I know that helping our troubled youth is my true calling and I have never felt more passionate about anything in my life.
I truly hope that those of you who have taken the time to read this brief narrative of my life can see it in your hearts to welcome and accept someone like me back into society. I want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for you donations and contributions and if you are someone who is undecided about helping me personally, I ask you to please visit websites such as www.fairyouthsentencing or www.anti-residivismcoalition.org to find out how you can participate or help organizations that are aimed at helping at-risk youths. God bless you all and once more, THANK YOU.
Jose Armendariz.
Organizer and beneficiary
Jose R Armendariz
Organizer
La Habra, CA
Doralisa Cortez
Beneficiary
