Campus & Community

MTC alumni Javier Jimenez was released to the small town of Tracy, CA on March 16th, 2020. Despite not being able to walk the stage that year with his classmates because of the Covid-19 pandemic, he recalls saying,“ I’m just glad to be free.” However, on March 18, Javier found that Tracy had closed operating buildings with businesses at half capacity. “I did not have the opportunity to apply for a job, get a license or a social security card because most government buildings closed down two days after I was released from prison,” Javier said.

He was searching for employment and housing upon reentering society but soon realized that his support network group could not help him either, as the programs they were working with had shut down.

Javier stated that he visited 15 different apartments and eventually ended up buying a trailer to live in because nobody would rent him an apartment or a hotel room. “I went to one of those hourly hotels on Wilson Way in Stockton and they asked if I had a felony and refused to rent me a hotel,” said Javier, explaining that the person at the hotel started to question him because he had no identification to show them at that time.

“My parole officer tried to get me a job and help, I guess, but I didn’t receive any,” said Javier. He started selling bicycles on the marketplaceFacebook – and that’s what sustained him for eight months until he finally got a job through his friend. “If it wasn’t for my mom finding an old washed-up social security card, I don’t know what I would’ve done.

”He printed a copy of his social security card, which was so old it was barely legible, and placed it in Photoshop like he has done many times as the photographer for San Quentin News and darkened the numbers. He told his friend what he had done.

He said that his friend knew that he couldn’t use a copy of his social security card to hire Javier, but he hired Javier as an Operating EngineerWater Tender anyway.

Javier stated that he acquired the skills he used to fix his social security card in Photoshop from his passion: photography. Javier graduated from high school in 1995 and started college in 1998 where he took a photography class in college.

“I never really paid attention in college to photography, but I knew I liked it,” Javier said. He said he finds taking pictures peaceful. “It’s my Zen and I want to make memories and capture them. I’m trying to leave my memories behind.”

Javier said that his interest in photography peaked again when he became the photographer for San Quentin News. “When R.J. Mickelson from the San Francisco Chronicle came inside the San Quentinnewsroom, I was amazed at all the information that he taught us.”

Javier said that R.J. taught him about shutter speed and apertures. “He was our Internet at that time, and he brought me all the information I needed to become a professional photographer and I still have his material today. I just started an Instagram and a Facebook page so I can show my work. I would love to become a photographer and leave my digital Imprint on this world.”

In a world where second chances are hard to come by, Randy Akins’ story is a testament to the power of redemption and personal growth. Once imprisoned and serving a life sentence, he has emerged as more than an alumnus of Mount Tamalpais College. He now lives in San Francisco and dedicates his life to saving lives as a Medical Transportation driver. Randy’s incredible journey of transformation and his impact on the lives of those in need is remarkable.

Randy’s tragic turn of events found him involved in a regrettable incident that led to prison. This event forced him to confront the consequences of his actions, sparking a deep sense of remorse and the urgent need for change. Randy accepted his sentence and knew he had to make amends by transforming himself into a better person.

Randy committed himself to personal growth and self-improvement behind the prison walls. “I took advantage of as many educational programs as were available, one being Mount Tamalpais College,” said Randy.  “I studied extensively to earn knowledge and subsequently enrolling in college courses.” Randy was determined to demonstrate change for the better and was committed to creating a positive impact. 

Upon his release, Randy knew that he wanted to dedicate his life to positive growth. He found inspiration in the selfless actions of emergency medical services personnel and decided to pursue his career as an ambulance truck driver. Despite many challenges, he persevered, obtaining the necessary certifications and training to be considered for this critical role. Now working as a Medical Transportation driver, Randy Akins brings hope and healing to those in need. His past experiences have persevered, obtaining the necessary certifications and training to be considered for this critical role. 

Now working as a Medical Transportation driver, Randy Akins brings hope and healing to those in need. His past experiences have given him a unique perspective on life, propelling him to go above and beyond to make a difference. Randy passionately serves his community, responding to emergency calls, and providing vital medical assistance to those in distress.

Randy’s journey from life behind bars to becoming a college graduate and a lifesaver serves as an inspiration to countless individuals who believe in the power of personal growth and opportunities after incarceration. Randy uses his life story as a tool to engage with at-risk youth, speaking at schools and correctional facilities to highlight the importance of making positive choices and taking responsibility for one’s actions.

Randy Akins has transformed from a troubled past to a beacon of hope and redemption. His commitment to personal growth and dedication to saving lives through his role as a Medical Transportation driver exemplify the power of human resilience and the potential for change. Randy’s story reminds us that while redemption may be a long and challenging road, it is possible for anyone willing to embrace personal growth and work towards a brighter future.

Rahsaan Thomas is a Mount Tamalpais College graduate. He wrote about his path to graduation here.

SACRAMENTO —  Rahsaan Thomas was released from San Quentin State Prison on Wednesday, more than year after he was granted a commutation from Gov. Gavin Newsom for his rehabilitation behind bars, including his work for the Pulitzer Prize-nominated “Ear Hustle” podcast.

Thomas’ supporters had advocated for his release for years. His departure from San Quentin came hours after the Times featured Thomas in a published report about dozens of people remaining in prison despite receiving mercy from the governor.

Thomas was among 123 people Newsom has granted commutations, or reductions of sentences, since he became governor in 2019. But as of January, a third of those people remained behind bars — in some cases years after the governor’s recommendations, according to data from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.

That’s due largely to Newsom’s decision to defer to the parole board in the vast majority of his commutations instead of using his clemency power to free them unilaterally.

Thomas’ sentence was commuted by the governor in January 2022 and he was granted parole by the board in August, but as of Tuesday remained in San Quentin State Prison.

Thomas, 52, was sentenced to 55 years and six months to life for a second-degree murder conviction and other charges after he fatally shot someone and injured another during a drug deal in 2000, according to clemency documents.

In his commutation, Newsom praised Thomas for completing college courses and an array of self-help programming saying he has “dedicated himself to his rehabilitation.” Thomas had received dozens of recommendations for clemency, including wide support from fans of his journalism covering prison life.

In interviews with The Times in early January, Thomas said he was thankful to both the governor and the parole board and that the process helped him to heal and reflect on his past. 

But he also criticized the lengthy process, saying that “every day matters.”

Even for those who are granted parole, release is not immediate. There is a review period of up to 150 days following a parole board hearing, which allows decisions to be overseen by the board’s legal team and the governor before they are finalized.

Thomas said he and his family were struggling not knowing when he would be released.

“I can’t curse a blessing,” Thomas said from prison in January. “My one wish is that this process, if you get a commutation, it should be streamlined. Really, it should be streamlined for everybody. … If you decided it’s safe to let me go, why drag it out?”

Thomas could not be reached for a statement on Wednesday, but a spokesperson for “Ear Hustle” said they “couldn’t be happier” about his release and called him “an important voice.”

“The ‘Ear Hustle’ team looks forward to working with Rahsaan on the outside to keep bringing audiences stories about life during and after incarceration,” a spokesperson said. “This is a special moment. We’re grateful to our listeners for their extraordinary support.”

A fundraiser had collected nearly $10,000 as of Wednesday from 137 donors to support Thomas post-release.

Photo: Earlonne Woods, from left, Nigel Poor, and Rahsaan Thomas on Wednesday after Thomas was released from San Quentin State Prison. (Courtesy “Ear Hustle”)

Attributions: This article originally appeared in the Los Angeles Times, on February 8, 2023.

This year, our longtime Director of Operations David Cowan left his role at Mount Tamalpais College to devote himself full time to his work as Executive Director at Bonafide. Bonafide’s mission is to ensure that people affected by incarceration have the material, emotional and advocacy support they need to both integrate into society and build healthy, productive lives going forward, and we are so proud to partner with this organization and to have known David since his time as a college student at San Quentin. We sat down with David to ask him about his time as a student and then a staff member at MTC and what inspired the work he’s doing now.

What was your educational journey like?

It was always a desire of my family that I would go to college. When I became old enough, I joined the military. I had talked to a recruiter and they said they would pay for my college, and that I could go to college while I was there. But of course, I didn’t. While I was in the military I committed a crime, and went to prison. 

After I was arrested, my parents flew out {from Pennsylvania} to see me. At that point I didn’t feel like college was an option. I felt like there was no recovery. I didn’t even want to live, let alone think about the future. But one of the things that redirected my trajectory was that my dad said, on that first visit, “Whether or not you recover from this depends on the decisions that you make from here on out.” That was the first inkling I’d had that recovering from my decision was even possible.  It completely changed the direction of my thinking. My parents made me promise that I wouldn’t let the system change me, and that my number one priority would be to come home. 

How did you eventually become a college student? 

At first, I looked at some college programs {at another prison}. They were all correspondence. I attended some, but they weren’t real to me. I felt like the correspondence courses were just handing something over without care for the quality. It wasn’t the experience that I had thought it would be. Then, kind of by chance, I ended up at San Quentin. One of the first things I saw was a sign-up sheet for the college. 

I met Jody during my first orientation. There were just two staff members back then. It was amazing. The expectations were for us to learn and to think critically. In this program we were never treated like prisoners, which is valuable and rare. It felt like a training in being a free person, with  a focus on being a student. I felt a sense of fulfillment of the promise to my parents in a way that I hadn’t felt before. 

Why was the quality of your college education so important to you? 

At that time people with indeterminate sentences were not getting out. But I felt that if I ever did get out, I would be too old to do really tough physical labor. So I knew that I needed my brain. 

I was very suspicious at the beginning, looking for any sign of dumbing down the curriculum, or the instructors having low expectations of us. Early on some of the instructors would teach the same class inside and at a university, and some of them would bring their classes from the outside in so they could teach everyone at the same time. Having that proof that we were learning the same things that the students were learning outside and that we were able to excel with real curriculum, not dumbed down for prisoners, was very satisfying. It made me feel secure to know that I was getting a quality education. And that meant that I would be able to compete in the outside world, or at least survive. I came back to that belief from my father. I always had this underlying belief that I could work my way out. 

How did you end up joining the staff of MTC? 

I became the clerk {an administrative support role in the program}. I would set up the class boxes for the instructors, and gather and deliver mail to students. I had a reputation for being helpful to everybody, and the college program was so revered. If I was delivering papers for the college, I could go anywhere. Even places where I wasn’t supposed to be going because of my skin color. In prison, there’s this really strict segregation between communities. 

The most special thing about being a clerk is that it was embedded in the culture of the organization that I was a person. Unlike any other job in the prison, I wasn’t called an inmate while I was working, I was a staff member. They were holding me to the same standards as other staff. It was preparation for the outside. The staff never subscribed to the way the prison culture wanted them to be. That was the most valuable thing, in my time inside as a student and as a clerk. 

What was your experience of release and re-entry like?

Jody offered me a job before I’d even gotten out.  So I just walked right into a job. She knew I had a lot of things to process, so she said I could come in a day, in a month, in six months—the job would be open. So I took two days off. And then I went to the office. 

The staff was instrumental in where I am now. Amy Rosa, a staff member at the time, taught me how to get to work by bike. She showed up at my transitional house early in the morning with two bikes attached to her car and said, “we’re going to learn how to bike to work.” With other staff members, we walked all over San Francisco and they showed me how to ride BART. They were really instrumental in my re-entry. It was very lonely and depressing going to the transitional house after work and getting lost if I tried to explore by myself, but they were there. They are the inspiration behind Bonafide’s Critical Adventures program. We do those things that the staff did for me. 

What is your hope for the future of MTC? 

MTC is breaking new ground in the life of the organization. One of the things I think is critical is that it doesn’t lose sight of the fact that the students are people. That sense of responding to humanity – it’s kind of extra.  It’s not something that’s required to run a college program, but I think in this context it is. And that means work that isn’t necessarily in the job description. 

MTC has been a bigger part of my life than anybody realizes. It wasn’t just a school or a job. It gave birth to, and nourished, so much that is me. 

You can learn more about Bonafide and get involved in their critical work here. Thank you, David, for all that you do!

After eight years of ducking and dodging prison politics, I was finally in a level two prison and walking to my first for credit college class.

I was walking with another student named Steve Rietz. I explained how I had made a decision to abandon being a criminal in exchange for going to college. It was the first long-term plan I had ever made in my life.

I told Steve that I thought I could earn a passing grade if I worked hard enough. He said that I should shoot for better than that. I argued that whether a doctor gets an A or a C, he’s still a doctor. He asked which doctor would I want working on me?

For sometime, Steve would not know how powerful that question would be. It haunted me. The fact was, that I did not believe that I was capable of earning an A. But he motivated me to put my all into my new class and I earned an A- in intermediate algebra!

Today with only four credits to go, I’m holding a 3.51 GPA. There are six A’s. Thank you Steve.

As part of Mount Tamalpais College’s summer 2021 fundraising campaign we are highlighting the bonds of support that exist within the incarcerated community at San Quentin, and the many ways that people care for each other, and lift each other up. We are proud to share some student reflections on people in their lives that have helped them through this last year.

Juan Moreno Haines has been in prison every bit of two decades. During his incarceration, he’s created quite a resume and carved out a spot for himself alphabet by alphabet in the world of journalism. Juan is a modest man. Writing is his passion. He’s known for passing his skills to other prisoners while not interested in being the focus of attention. Juan has attracted the attention of some heavy hitters in the news industry. He’s made his appreciation clear when saying he can’t do what he’s doing “without the assistance of very dedicated people who believe in me and go out of the way to support incarcerated journalists like me.” He shows humble appreciation by honoring those who believed in his journey. 

In 2009, he began working for San Quentin News and today he’s its Senior Editor, and he’s a member of its Editorial Board. Juan has authored writings for a variety of publications such as The San Quentin News, Solitary Watch, Oakland Post, California Prison Focus, El Tecolote, Race and Poverty Law Journal, and many more. In addition to his publications, he’s a board member of Mourning Our Losses, he is the co-founder of Humans of San Quentin and if that isn’t enough, he has also received a number of awards such as, the 2020 Fielding A. Dawson Prize in the Fiction Category awarded by the PEN America Prison Writing Program Literary Contest, and the Silver Heart from the Society of Professional Journalists. He achieved all of these achievements from prison, yet his best achievement is that none of this has gone to his head. 

The purpose of my story is to talk about living next to my friend The San Quentin writer – Juan­, the person in the concrete jungle of San Quentin State Prison. Just in case you are wondering who I am, my name is Alex Ross K23127. This May will mark my 27th year in prison. My friend Juan is one of the forces that helps me stay grounded here at San Quentin. Prison is a very violent place and for most people in prison, violence is the norm. I had to reprogram my entire way of thinking which is how Juan and I became cool. Another one of his successes: he’s facilitated several self-help groups. I’m pretty sure his interactions with me inspired him to pull out his old notes. 

I’ve been living next to Juan for nearly four years now. In the beginning, it was just every day prison living, respectful neighbor type stuff. Then I started spreading (which is when the guys cook together) with him and his old cellie Yah Ya who was one of the best cooks around. We would eat, joke, then go our own ways. During this time, I was dealing with some stressful issues surrounding my struggle with OCD. Juan was somebody who I could talk to. Something he said really made a lot of sense to me: “Writing connects people in the prison environment, which is so disconnected.” That hit home with me because it wasn’t until I began to write about my problems that I was able to really understand them. 

I’m a student at Patten College which has now been renamed Mt Tamalpais College. Originally I joined the college just to take math. But in order to take a math class higher than algebra, it’s required to pass English. This scared me because I thought it would be a repeat of my old high school days. However, with the help of Patten College, the volunteer tutors from Free To Succeed, and my old friend Juan, somehow I took a liking to this thing called writing. 

San Quentin is a community within the prison that is not as easily penetrated as one may think. The in-house powers-that-be shifted and I wasn’t used to the no politics (prisoner controlled rules). I really had to overhaul my belief system because I was used to solving my problems with my fist. Violence will get you on the first bus out of SQ. But if one ever wishes to qualify for parole, one must abort the old ways of criminal thinking or perish in prison. A lot of guys want to get themselves a name and not look back. Juan is not one of these guys. He pushes others to be all that they can be. He’s colorblind, so to speak, and more importantly, he tries to see things from other people’s perspective. Juan has no problem mentoring other prisoners, something he attributes to his mentor, Arnulfo T. Garcia. 

Juan will be going to the Prison Board this year and he’s written about so many other people, I felt like somebody needed to write about him. He being my next door neighbor, I’ve personally witnessed two or three people at the same time seeking advice from him. Every now and then I’ll step out the cell and say “Hey Juan, I wasn’t ear hustling but I couldn’t help but hear” such and such. He laughs, then gives me clarity, and says “And you was ear hustling.” 

Who is this San Quentin Writer? Juan is about five-foot-three and probably 120 pounds. But his writing has a voice like thunder. I told him what I was up to and he said “Good luck with that. I’m not giving you an interview.” I said, “You already did, buddy.” He laughed because he knows that as long as we’ve been neighbors, I’ve been bugging him about writing tips and taking notes. He did give in and answered a few questions once he realized how serious I was. I take pride in writing about my buddy because he’s all right with me. Plus, he made me write about myself. But I can’t get him to write about himself. He’s always telling me about reading up on people and situations, and the importance of collecting evidence. So I wanted to share a little evidence I collected on him. He chuckled as he walked off headed toward the media room. Actually, his cell is just a pit stop because the media room is where he spends most of his time. The prison is slowly opening back up and Juan is like a fish out of water that was put back in its habitat. As I mentioned earlier, I was going through my own issues with OCD and people didn’t really get me. Juan was one of the people I could talk to and he understood where I was coming from. I put out a few cellies because of my issues with germs, causing me to be the talk of the town. Truthfully, I was on the verge of a violent relapse. Being able to trust talking to a person and not lose my cool was helpful for my rehabilitation. While in Patten College, I took an abnormal psychology class. Some of the things that I read were familiar. I talked to my psych about it and I shared it with Juan. So when I did my final report that semester, I wrote about myself as if I were someone else. Normally, I only share personal business with my psych but Juan became just like my second psych and plus, I like to hear his opinion. I’m right next door so we chop it up on a regular. He felt like I should share my story. He started a story about my situation but the pandemic changed the course of history. I ended up writing it myself. Juan and my tutor felt I should send it to the Prison Journalism Project and, to my surprise, they printed it. 

I did tell you that Juan is my friend and no friendship is without its ups and downs. Actually, it was those ups and downs that let me know we are really friends. Let’s face it. We all met over a bowl of soup, as we say, and in the beginning it doesn’t make a difference if a person makes friends or not. We are all here to do our time. In the process, we run across every type of person in the world. The good, the bad, and the ugly of every background of life are right here in prison. If one can decide to be a good person in the concrete jungle of prison and absolutely mean it, then one could be that same good person upon his or her release from prison. My friend Juan is one of the very few people in life that I look up to. If anyone approaches him with negativity, that is a wrap – conversation over! If I bother him when the news is on, I get the cold shoulder. But if somebody else stops by, he is a little more patient with them and doesn’t want to be rude because, as he says, ”They don’t know I really like my news. You do.” Now what kind of foolishness is that? I’m the doggone neighbor. So I get him back. When somebody is at his door and I know he is trying to watch the news, I step out to see that look he has when he’s wanting to get back to the news and doesn’t want to be rude. LOL. But that’s a part of how willing he is to help others. The little time that he does have to relax, he lets it go to lend a helping hand. It’s especially funny when I walk back and forth in front of his cell as he tries to watch the news and ignores me. I keep passing by until I give in and start laughing. Now wait a minute though, it’s not just me. Juan likes to bring me his chow whenever there is corn in the main dish because he knows doggone well I’m never going to eat corn. So I have to get him back when I can because I’m telling you, Juan is a jerk at times. I was sitting in my cell writing and I got stuck on a word. I called out to my friend and asked how to spell the word. Do you think he helped me? No! He told me ”The word is in the dictionary.” If I felt like looking in the dictionary, do you think I would have asked him to spell the word for me? He told me his name was not Webster. I wanted to tell him they’re the same height but I decided to be the bigger person. So I lied and told him “I must be pronouncing it wrong because I still can’t find it in the dictionary. “Mr. Juan felt as though he was ahead of the game and yelled back “I can’t hear you. Got my headphones on.” I said “What?” And he repeated it. So he thought he won that battle just because I was forced to look up the word ”THE” for myself. I tell you people, Juan is truly a good dude but living next to him, I realize he can also be a real jerk, but that’s my buddy. 

Juan said his goals change from time to time. He is presently working on three books: a novel about an incarcerated journalist; a collection of short stories; and an anthology of book reviews that he wrote while in prison. Spike Lee look out because my neighbor Juan The San Quentin Writer is coming. 

As part of Mount Tamalpais College’s summer 2021 fundraising campaign we are highlighting the bonds of support that exist within the incarcerated community at San Quentin, and the many ways that people care for each other, and lift each other up. We are proud to share some student reflections on people in their lives that have helped them through this last year.

During the pandemic, a “false positive”, resulted in “contact tracing” sending a number of inmates to “the hole”. After 21 days of quarantine, the inmates were returned to general population dorms. One of the inmates was from building (dorm 4) , he had been in dorm 4 for two years and now he was sent to my dorm 3. I had seen this guy around, at the various concerts on the yard and up in the chapel (before the pandemic) so I knew he did hip hop, R&B / Country music. I walked by his bunk and asked if he wanted to sing some country songs, just to practice, and he said “Sure”…

Since that day three months ago, I found a friend and a brother, someone who I have been able to share everything with. Both of us have suicidal pasts, mental health issues, similar childhood trauma…  Not to mention I found out that he’s a brilliant writer, singer, rapper, and author! I write scripts and screenplays, not to mention poetry. Quincy writes children’s books, his own biography, novels, songs of every type of genre! We have also been contributing to The Beat Within, telling our stories to help guide the youth inside of the Juvenile Justice system.

Quincy (Journ-E) showed me how to turn my poems into raps, to structure the sentences, people clown us saying “Don’t give that white boy the game!” 🙂 But it’s funny because I’ve always wanted to rap but didn’t think it was something I could actually do…  Quincy has been such a positive influence on me. When the pandemic hit I was cut off from all of the outside loving volunteers who inspired my change and encouraged my progress. I was always being told how famous I’ll be when I get out, how much money I’ll make, doing my comedy/acting. But I just want to be of service and give back…

Quincy gave me a chance to help someone write, sharpen his skills, and what I got in return was what I was missing. As an artist, I may be very funny, and talented, but I’m constantly dealing with a hurricane of doubt and negative thoughts about myself. Mental health “experts” only come in once every few months to talk to us (if we’re not EOP) and I have given up on thinking mental health is “the cure”. But Quincy has been a sounding board for me to share my issues with, he has calmly listened to me (a priceless gift) and whenever appropriate he gives me feedback or advice. He and I may both be on “The Big Screen” one day, but right now we are both in prison, and thankfully he has been there to help me through the most difficult part of the pandemic…  One day at a time…

As part of Mount Tamalpais College’s summer 2021 fundraising campaign we are highlighting the bonds of support that exist within the incarcerated community at San Quentin, and the many ways that people care for each other, and lift each other up. We are proud to share some student reflections on people in their lives that have helped them through this last year.

“Changed my life” is an understatement.  This man, Jesse Ayers, has given me a purpose. I have never had anyone (who was not my family) speak so highly about, and to me. Jesse keeps me honest, not just with others but most importantly, to myself. He is a true friend (if I’ve ever known one). We share a lot of common interests, and with him, I never feel like crabs in a barrel; always pulling each other down.

We tend to push one another further and give constructive criticism when needed. We help each other in areas we lack, for example, he says I’m a brilliant musical artist that can write any genre. Jesse is a talented writer, so I teach him how to sing and rap the lyrics he writes and in return he reads, listens, and nine times out of ten edits what I write. It shocked him when I gave him this to edit.

Jesse has given me many platforms to write and has pushed me to speak my truth. Thanks to his constant encouragement and connecting me with outside platforms such as The Beat Within with Chief Editor Dave Inocencio, I have a published paper! Jesse doesn’t just cater to the good moments… he’s also a wonderful ear in the bad moments as well. He always inspires me to write, sing, rap, act, dance, even when sometimes I feel it’s silly. I hope I can be half as much as he’s been for me.

In here, prison I mean, a lot of people claim they will be the next best thing to hit the market but I can truly say that Jesse will be. He is an amazing comedian, wonderful writer, and an actor to be watched. The thing I love about being around him is that he’s always uplifting, encouraging, and inspiring to anyone he comes in contact with. He has key components to become a mega Superstar.

In conclusion, Jesse Ayers has been a driving force to not only keep myself out of prison but a force to push me to become something better; not only for myself but for the world around me. I pray blessings and great success on his life.

God bless you all.