Prison Volunteer

It was October of 2017 that Jani James sent out her famous email, “Prisony Stuff.”  Happily, my experience with prison had been on the visitor side of the glass.  1968, King County jail, visiting a Hippy acquaintance who was busted for possession of marijuana.  1969, McNeil Island, visiting the brother of a friend incarcerated for bank robbery.  2001, Monroe State Prison, visiting with some volunteers with Prison Fellowship.

("A bent reed He will not break. A dimly burning wick He will not extinguish." Isaiah 42:3) However, I did not look on it as a ministry or a calling.  It was a long drive, lots of security and prohibitive rules.  I had trouble empathizing with their situation.  I didn’t continue volunteering.

Jani explained that there was a group of Latinos in the Monroe prison that wanted to meet.  Their goal was to mentor other Hispanic inmates to improve their situation; to break from the gangs; to be better prisoners; to expand their education; promote family ties; to prepare them for release and successfully reintegrate to the outside.  This was no small task.  Other cultural groups had permission to meet, but not the Latinos.  The prison superintendent viewed them as troublemakers and hot headed.  Almost all of them were gang members with tattoos to prove it.

Dale Sewall, a retired pastor, lobbied with the superintendent for months to at least give them a chance.  He explained the intent of the group, and that the leaders were already model inmates.  At the prison, to meet as a group, the Latinos needed an outside sponsor.  To become a sponsor, one must be a volunteer for at least six months.  To become a volunteer, there is a background check and a compulsory orientation class at the prison.  And they needed volunteers that spoke Spanish.  That is why Jani contacted me.

I have to admit that I wasn’t excited about going back to prison.  It would still be a long one-hour-plus drive at rush hour.  I resented giving away an entire evening.  I still did not feel called to help these guys.  The first meeting was tedious.  I wasn’t clear on how I could be helpful.  I’m sure I initially went out of a feeling of guilt.

Now, a little background on the prison system and the Latinos.  Washington State does not have a parole system.  If an 18-year old Latino gang member is busted for possession with intent to sell and sentenced to 25 years, he serves 25 years.  There is no time off for good behavior.  It doesn’t matter what personal changes he’s made inside, or how much he may have rehabilitated himself.  His only hope of an early release would be a pardon from the governor.  Many are undocumented and will be deported upon release.  Their situation is pretty hopeless, but the Latino group is trying to give them tools to make their stay better and hopeful.

Growing up, Latino kids are exposed to the gangs.  The gangs offer money, protection, a family of sorts, drugs, girls and a feeling of belonging.  Many Latinos are still treated like outsiders.  In prison, the gangs become even more alluring.  They offer inclusion and protection in an often hostile environment.  They offer protection from other gangs.  On the flip side, they can also be fickle and disloyal, sacrificing one of their own for the apparent greater good of the rest.  I am not excusing their behavior.  Most are in for selling drugs, assault and even murder. There is temptation to lie and manipulate.

I remember one inmate (in his mid-40’s) that was bright and bubbly, always smiling and cracking jokes.  He would be first to help move tables and chairs around, pass out coffee or tea, or participate in discussions.  (BTW, the Nescafe coffee was terrible.  But they were so proud to be able to serve it.)  A model inmate.  One day he came up to me very excited.  There was a technicality in his case that might allow an early release.  And then he said, “Of course, there was the time I tried to break out…and I assaulted a guard.”  I’m sure my mouth dropped open.  I realized that I didn’t know this guy at all.

(To be continued next week)