Challenging my Own Assumptions

 

(Left to Right) Sr. Mary Sean, Me, Sr. Mavis, and Lucy

Today we visited California Medical Facility in Vacaville, California. The drive was long, almost six hours, but by the end of the day, it felt completely worth it.

Before arriving, I realized I had unconsciously created a picture in my mind of what prison would look like. I expected to see men in handcuffs, escorted from place to place, separated from us by an invisible wall of difference. Instead, the men walked freely into the chapel where we were meeting. They greeted us warmly. They smiled. They introduced themselves. They were kind.

Alongside Sister Mary Sean, Lucy, and Sister Mavis, I helped facilitate INSIGHT, PREP's parole preparation workshop for individuals serving life sentences. Sitting in that room, the work became real in a way that no book, documentary, or classroom discussion could have prepared me for.

For hours, I listened.

I listened to stories of childhood trauma, neglect, violence, addiction, and loss. I listened to men reflect on choices they deeply regretted and the harm those choices caused. Again and again, I found myself thinking about how many opportunities for intervention had been missed long before these men entered prison. Their stories were not excuses for the crimes they committed, but they were reminders that people do not emerge from nowhere. Every person has a history.

One man I met shared that he is dying of lung cancer. Because he is serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole, he was denied a lung transplant. As he spoke, I found myself wrestling with difficult questions about punishment, dignity, and what society owes people, even after they have caused harm.

A picture I took from the Entrance

A picture from the parking lot

What struck me most was the contrast between the prison and the landscape surrounding it. The facility sits among beautiful rolling hills and open skies. The view is breathtaking. Standing there, I couldn't help but notice the irony: beauty everywhere, yet freedom just out of reach.

When I first arrived, I saw incarcerated people.

When I left, I saw people. People who have caused harm. People who carry regret. People who are aging, sick, hopeful, afraid, funny, thoughtful, and deeply human. I am not leaving with answers. If anything, I am leaving with more questions than I arrived with. But I am beginning to understand something Sister Mary Sean often emphasizes: accompaniment begins with listening.

Today, I listened.And in listening, I was reminded that no human being can be reduced to the worst thing they have ever done.