THE STORY OF DAVID VALDEZ
by Dell Franklin 

Look closely at your copy of the New Times Magazine. If you do, you will find ads placed by inmates at the California Mens Colony. These ads seek correspondence with those of us on the outside, those of us who can hopefully comprehend the loneliness and separation of prison life, those of us who will listen patiently and without cynicism to people who not only need to talk to people who are not prison inmates, but to express legitimate gripes about the justice system that put them in prison.

Such an inmate is David Valdez. He is 29 years old. He has been incarcerated since he was 23. He saw an article I wrote in the New Times and wrote to me. I felt he was reaching out. I wrote him back. A relationship was formed in letters. I wanted to write about his case, but I felt I needed to look him in the eye and talk ti him, get to know him as a person before I could go ahead. So I visited him.

Right off, I wanted to know what he was about before he was sent to prison.

In David’s words... "I had a life ambition at the time, in my late teens and early twenties, I was focused. I felt that a positive Hispanic role is virtually nonexistent on all prime time TV networks. I wanted to establish a Latin produced entertainment program at a prime time slot. Through work and dedication, I was able to purchase a half hour time slot on five separate Los Angeles cable stations with each station airing my show at the same time, every Monday at 7:30 p.m. The show aired on all valbe stations on the Leased Access Channel, not public access. I was able to air commercials like any other regular network show does. My main advertisers were record shops, clothing stores, night clubs, and Rave party events. The weekly show "Hollywood Haze" catered to the youth culture that are into underground rave parties. Raves are know to be a counterculture resembling the 60's hippie movement of peace and love. The scene is non-violent and attracts people who just want to have a good time. The show format featured celebrity artists, comedy club skits, and local talent. As executive producer and host, my goal was to cast as many Latin youth as possible (writers, co-producers, dancers, etc.) and portray Latin youth in a positive light."

There is a stigma, a stereotype, about that prison along Highway 1; to us, it is a forbidden citadel housing hard-core criminals, branded with tattoos, owning faces etched deeply with a fearsome venality known as the "prison look."

David Valdez does not have a "prison face." He looks like he could be a graduate student at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo. There is no hardness, bitterness, or cynicism in his face, though he has been through a living nightmare. He has gotten the shaft. Yet one of the first things he said to me was; "I know, I know, first of all, we’re all innocent." A wry smile. "But actually, some of us are."

In a previous letter, he had explained to me that visiting inmates at CMC was not a fearful or intimidating experience, but relaxed, in most cases, a sense of touching warmth as loved ones spent a few hours talking, holding hands, playing cards.

To visit, I had to fill out a form indicating I had no previous record. To get in, I had to be frisked. I had to wait in line. I had to observe sad friends and relatives waiting to see loved ones like Russians in a food line. Most of us law abiding citizens go out of our way to avoid this prison. To most of us, it is a leper colony. We are safe in our world. Who can blame us for not wanting to go into such a depressing situation?

When I visited David, I had to wait a half an hour in the crowded visiting room. There were 20 or so tables in the room, with chairs, beverage, and food machines, a few guards to keep an eye on the inmates. I studied the inmates in their blues, baggy pants and shirts. I saw only a few "prison faces." (David says most of CMC is comprised of drug offenders.) There were some tough mugs, some lethal eyes. Yet, there seemed almost a sense of resignation to the body English of these men, as if the defeat of imprisonment stamped them with a sad, sullen hopelessness that would leave them socially crippled when and if they were released from their current dismal environment.

Not so with David Valdez. He walked past the crowded tables with a different look in his eyes, a more confident tilt to his carriage. He was neither hopeless or defeated.

I asked him where his heart was. How he felt.

"I saw a tremendous problem with Latin youth in California. Latin youth have the highest teen birth rates, AIDS rates, unemployment rates, and high school drop out rates in California according to a recent study done by MALDEF (Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund). The report finds that Latin youth are caught between two cultures; one Latin, the other American. They either assimilate to become American or maintain their Hispanic culture. Latin youth (unlike black youth) have very few positive role models in American culture media. It is rare to see any Latin person portrayed in a positive role on TV or in a motion picture. America is always shown in black and white. If you see a Hispanic, it is normal to think of a gang member, a gardener, a maid, a taco vendor, a criminal. You never see Hispanic doctors, teachers, lawyers, professional. So, a Latin youth grows up thinking he can only become a gardener, a gang member, a maid, a taco vendor, or a criminal.

Latin youth find himself/herself wanting to be accepted. Gangs provide the family and acceptance he/she is looking for. The life style almost guarantees prison time. Out of 165,000 California inmates, 42% are Hispanic. It is common to see Latin youth entering prison with a 25 year to life sentence without parole, mostly for gang related murders."

This is what David Valdez received - 25 years to life. He was never in a gang. He was non-violent. He was a student at Cal State Long Beach. He was trying to lead Latin youth in the right direction, seeking daylight in a gloomy situation.

While waiting for my first meeting with David, I wondered what he would look like. I had this image of a tattooed, scowling, swaggering, angry, weight-lifting Pachuco with an "attitude." (Incidentally, weight lifting has been taken away in state prisons because officials see it as a luxury, and feel parolees with huge muscles will terrify the public. Weight lifting is machismo).

When I first met this slightly built, studious looking person wearing glasses, I was surprised. I was sitting on the patio outside the main visiting room, observing inmates, realizing these visits were the highlights of their lives. I wondered if afterwards, when they disappeared behind those doors, how long the cheering up of a visit lasted, and how long it took for depression and loneliness to settle in.

"You must be Dell."

We shook hands. We sat and had cokes and pizza. He said that one of his luxuries in prison, besides reading and writing a book, was drinking cokes. At first, we just small-talked. I wanted to get a feel for this person. I felt he was not hiding anything, was open, not phony, not a con. I looked for this immediately. I’m sure he sensed this, though there seemed a comfort level between us. He had liked an article I wrote in the New Times because he felt it showed compassion, have-nots, outsiders.

As I gazed around the waiting room, it occurred to me that most of these inmates were possibly not wanted at conception, were neglected, in many cases abused, and so they had turned and unleashed terrible abuse on a society that had created their plight, and did not want them. They were, in a sense, victims. And that made us their victims. There could be no in between. A good percentage of them were too dangerous to be in society, incapable of being rehabilitated.

It was evident that David was not in need of rehabilitation. He was wanted by his family. He was provided for by his family. He was never abused. He was not an angry.

But I was leery of this rave culture movement which he was a part of. I thought of the many drug-addled groups in the 60's that blew up buildings and public institutions, killing innocent bystanders. Was it a drug culture? Did raves have anything to do with those zealots rioting in Seattle at the World Trade meetings? Being twice David’s age, I felt out of touch. I am out of touch.

"No, the rave scene is not a violent drug culture. There are drugs everywhere, yes, but these parties were for youth, non-alcoholic. We are the furthest thing from sophisticated weathermen types of the 60's.

The Hollywood Haze Show was one major concept to bring Latin youth to TV, and show Latin talent. My quest to provide a weekly teen club was another step to provide a serious alternative to hanging out and getting in trouble. Local media supported my efforts to convert an aging 25,000 square foot roller rink in Downey, California into a club for teens.

In a period of roughly six months, the Downey City Council and the Downey Planning Commission approved the plan. The final approval had to come from the Downey Police Department. One of the requirements was to obtain a dance permit from the Police. Though I even submitted my fingerprints to the FBI (part of the police procedure), I got the run-around for months. They did not want blacks and Latinos coming into the city. They were afraid of gangs, graffiti, cruising, traffic congestion. All of these are possible, but what outweighs the other? Do you prevent youth from having a place to go to (of their own) due to speculation of what can happen? Or, do you just avoid the problem and allow youths to go to unsupervised parties in L.A., where the potential for trouble is higher?"

David Valdez was convicted for date rape, and conspiring with his father to solicit the murder of the accuser. Since his dad was in the same home when the sting operation took place, he too was arrested, indicted, and sentenced to the same term - 25 years to life.

Dell Franklin resides in Cayucos, California. His articles have appeared locally and nationally.

 
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