Category: The Beat Without

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world,” said Nelson Mandela (1918-2013). The word ‘Education’ is derived from the Latin word ‘Educere,’ which means: “to rear, to lead forth.”

In other words, it is something used to move and propel one forward. With this in mind, one might ask his or her self the question: What is it that leads me forward today? What drives me to think, act, and respond the way I do?

As a young kid growing up on the streets of East San Jose, I never really asked myself this question, nor did I take education seriously. Honestly, as long as I was good at being a criminal, who needed education? I could make hundreds of dollars a week living a life of crime, and I didn’t need a degree for that. So, looking back, being a thug is what motivated me. That’s what propelled me.

I murdered him. I stabbed him fifty-one times in his sleep, and now his name likely evokes in people close to him funny, warm and wonderful memories of a man they still love. And then it evokes pain because they remember, they realize suddenly after a happy thought and a smile that he was brutally taken from them for no real reason. Their guts wrench hard. They are saddened. They are angered. They remember that they are lonely and hurting without the treasured piece of their lives that I so callously took from them – their son, their brother, their friend, Carlos. “It wasn’t his time!” they yell furiously all at God and at me and at nobody… But only nobody hears them.

Obviously, I cannot return that precious heart-piece to them. I cannot bring Carlos back – no matter that I wish more desperately every day that I could. In fact, there is nothing I can ever do to make up for this horrible wrong I committed, I know, or for all the harm I’ve caused. Not with my own blood. Not with a lifetime in prison. For there is no justice for murder. So there is definitely no way for me to justify my actions. Though I have spent many years behind these walls trying do that exactly.

Twenty years ago, as I attended my father’s funeral I was overwhelmed with grief. My way of coping with my feelings was to hold them in. I believed that it was a sign of weakness to cry and to talk about my feelings of loss and grief. I believed it was easier to mask the pain I felt by getting high. 

However, those feeling combined with the other hurts and pains I had bottled up over the years, led me to make the horrific, violent decision to hurt others. I believed that no one cared, and no one understood me. 

I was hurting, plus I wanted others to feel the pain I was feeling. As a result, I murdered two innocent human beings and was sentenced to thirty-four years-to-life. I thought my feelings of past traumas and loss would never go away. 

by Bobby Bostic As I sit back and meditate on the many mistakes that I have made in life, I contemplate on the advice that I would give to my younger self. Then again, I wonder would he listen? My fourteen, fifteen, or sixteen-year-old self, thought he had it all figured out. He rebelled against adults, because in his young mind they didn’t know what they were talking about. How could they, since they couldn’t see the world through his eyes. Ironically, now that I am older I see things differently. When we are young we somehow put it in our

by Thomas Harns If you’re reading this, then I sincerely hope you’ve acknowledged that there may be a few flaws in your plan. And I’m sorry, like me you had to find out the hard way that you are not in control.  For some this is just a time out, a break from the craziness that we thought we could handle so well. For others, it’s going to be a long trip that you probably want to get off right now.  I speak from experience. I’m on my 23rd year in State Prison on a 15 to life sentence.  At eighteen,

by Richard Angulo As a kid, I used to look back on my life and realize I wasn’t dealt the best hand. Danny had a mom and dad that absolutely loved and adored him. His parents were involved in his life, heck, Danny’s mom was a regular on our middle school campus volunteering her time. Sylvia, on the other hand, came from a family that embraced high education. Sylvia’s father went to work every day in a suit and tie. He was the president of his own company while Sylvia’s mom was a high school teacher. While visiting their home, conversations

by Noel Rodriguez My names’ Noel Joe Rodriguez and I’m writing this piece and message to you straight from the penitentiary at Calipatria State Prison, where I am currently serving a sixty to life sentence for two murders. Not something to say or be proud of. I don’t even know how to begin or whether I am even worthy of expressing and sharing my past and thoughts with you all. But I write this message with the hope that what I share will help at least one of you to find a better path in life. At this point in your

by Michael Carter When I took my first breath in this world, it was while being placed into the arms of a child herself.  A drug-addicted and alcoholic Mother at the age of just sixteen and needless to say my Mother was a very reckless sad incapable parent. It took a lot of years for me to be able to look back and begin to truly accept my childhood and learn from it. I would later use my afflictions as normal. It began to feel when the neighbors would call 911 and the police would a show up to whatever run-down

by Douglas Cabrera Lost too many Too many coffins Too many ashes to count Too many Tried to hide the pain But the pain had to pout Came out In ugly ways I had Ugly days Psychotherapy My brain in a daze I had to Chase The kingdom of Jah And his righteousness Brain back in place My mind in a waste I had Wasted Too many calendars Too many birthdays without a pastor I grew Slowly Slow motion To my destination Detour after detour From sinful infestations I had No patience Just rushing it Like Fast food still too slow

by Jeremy Willis Hi there. This is Jeremy Willis again and I am writing this time from old Corcoran State Prison in Corcoran California. Well since I last wrote you a lot has happened. And what I mean is, I was told by the prison doctor that I have Hep. C. Thinking back, I must have had it for 16 years, and it turned into Liver Cancer (cirrhosis of the liver). The doctor told me if I don’t take care of myself, I most likely won’t live six months, but if I do who knows how long it could be, maybe