In November, California voters will decide whether to reclassify certain theft and drug penalties and unwind a 2014 criminal justice reform, Proposition 47. Below, a formerly incarcerated Californian worries that the type of rehabilitation programs that changed his life will be lost if resources are spent filling prisons. The opposing view: A formerly homeless man believes Proposition 36 will create both accountability and compassion to address the fentanyl crisis.

Guest Commentary written by

Felix Valdez

Felix Valdez

Felix Valdez is an equipment operator for Caltrans.

In March 2022, at the age of 34, I was paroled after spending 13 years behind bars.

The crime that put me in prison was a serious one. As a young man, I ran with gangs and was involved with drugs. I participated in activities that today I am not proud of. I make no excuses for my actions, and I realize that, having at one point faced the possibility of a life without parole, I am extremely lucky to have been given a second chance.

Like many other inmates, prison changed me. I focused on educating myself, and ultimately graduated from a community college program with an associate’s degree in general business studies.

For obvious reasons, I had a sparse resume when I exited prison. Despite my education and despite spending several seasons on inmate firefighting teams — which helped me qualify for early parole — I was hardly an employer’s dream candidate. 

That’s where Project Impact kicked in. 

Funded by savings from Proposition 47, a 2014 criminal justice reform measure which has saved nearly $1 billion since voters approved it, Project Impact is one of dozens of programs created across California that perform vital work with recently released prisoners. By partnering with organizations on the ground with the closest ties to the community, Project Impact helps break the cycle of release-and-recidivism and makes it far more likely that people such as myself can permanently stay out of prison and contribute to our communities. 

Tragically, these programs are at risk, with their funding stream vulnerable to shifting political winds. If in November voters pass Proposition 36 , the Prop. 47 era of diverting low-level offenders either into jail instead of prison, or into alternatives, will be replaced by another go-around with mass incarceration.

That will ultimately cost California billions of dollars — incarcerating someone costs California taxpayers more than $132,000 annually — at a time when the state is already burdened by huge budget deficits. It will also significantly curtail the pool of funds available for the types of programs that changed my life and help so many others.

That would be counterproductive.

In my case, I had heard about a Los Angeles County organization called El Proyecto while I was still on the inside. When I was released, I found the office, walked in and asked for help. They had psychologists on call to help ex-inmates adjust to life on the outside. They had resources to link clients up with educational opportunities. Since my parents were willing to house me, I didn’t need help with housing accommodations — but if I did, the organization would have stepped in to assist.

I had a goal: I wanted to drive trucks. And what I needed was a leg-up in my efforts to get a commercial drivers license. El Proyecto provided $5,000 for me to go to school to get my license. It was a life-changing action, and one that I will never forget.

While I was going to school, however, I also needed employment. And, again, the organization was there for me, helping me to apply for a job in the Monster Energy drink factory. I worked there for a while before utilizing my background as an inmate firefighter to get a job with Cal Fire.

Additionally, El Proyecto also has an amazing legal team that worked pro bono to expunge my record so I could fully move forward in my life, without the web of legal restrictions that come with having an old conviction record permanently hanging over my head.

To this day, the program’s director still follows up with me just to make sure I’m doing OK. Without this kind of support, I wouldn’t have made it. The same is true for the thousands of others who come out of prisons in this state every year. Far too many don’t get that kind of help. 

These days, my life is heading in the right direction. I live in the Central Valley and used my newfound commercial driver qualifications to get a job with Caltrans.

You might consider me a success story: I took responsibility for my actions as a young man and I remade myself as a worker, a taxpayer, a productive member of society. That’s good for me, but it’s also good for the broader community.

Around California, thousands of men and women have been helped by Prop. 47-funded programs in remaking their lives. State data shows these programs are successfully reducing recidivism by more than twice the rate reported by the California Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections. They also help reduce unemployment and homelessness. 

Instead of shuttering these programs and putting their funding at risk through Prop. 36, the state ought to be doing everything it can to assist people on their journeys to remake their lives. That’s how we’ll achieve the safety we all deserve.