First and foremost, I anticipated that investors would want to know the total available market for products that I could create. As I wrote above, I envisioned a multi-billion-dollar annual market. I arrived at that number after reviewing published reports showing that state and federal governments spent in excess of $80 billion per year on corrections. Although I didn’t have any data, I estimated that at minimum, 5% of those budgets funded programs designed to reduce recidivism and to prepare offenders for successful lives upon release. Using those metrics, the total available market exceeded $4 billion each year.
Obviously, if I could put an organization together, we’d only receive a fraction of those resources. But if we implemented the program successfully, and we became an evidence-based program after three years, it would seem that the The Straight-A Guide could secure an average of at least 20 clients in each state, for a projected, estimated total of 1,000 clients. If each client placed an average order of $10,000 per year, we’d have a business that generated $10 million in annual revenues.
Again, I could only “project” into the future, or visualize prospects for success. I’d need to convince others that a market existed and that the potential for upside validated the risk associated with the investment. After all, anyone who put money into such a venture would have to wait three years before they would see a return on investment.
Would a return on investment warrant the risk? I continued to run the numbers.
Since we’d be creating digital products, gross profit margins would likely exceed 70%. After all, once I produced a product, the costs of production would drop significantly. Based on estimates of $10 million in revenues, the company should generate north of $7 million in annual profits after year three. With those numbers, it would seem that investors might be willing to provide $3 million in funding in exchange for 50% of a company we’d create. Such an equity split would return all investment capital within five years; the investors would still own 50% of a growing company.
Despite the promise that I saw, I suspected that investors would view the opportunity from a different perspective. An infinite number of opportunities competed for their attention and their capital. Although the Straight-A Guide offered a “social good” in that it would influence people in prison to begin preparing for success, and the business venture had the potential for generating lasting profits in a growing market that was poised to grow, investors would perceive risks. I anticipated their objections:
If you’re asking us to invest $3 million for a 50% stake in your company, you’re implying that your idea is worth $6 million. What experience do you have in overseeing ventures with this level of complexity?
If prison administrators resist buying from a convicted felon now, what makes you think that they’ll be more inclined to purchase products you create three years from now?
What track record do you have for returning capital to investors?
The more questions I asked, the more I realized that I wasn’t yet ready to seek venture capital from investors to fund my idea. I’d never run a business before, I’d never managed a group of professionals, and I didn’t have a track record for returning capital. Although I believed a growing market existed, and we’d validated the concept to some extent by receiving more than $100,000 worth of purchase orders from several government agencies, the realities were that I needed to learn more about the market before I could raise capital necessary to build a team.
Until then, I needed to approach the challenge differently—creatively.
The wisdom of Socrates has lived for longer than 2,000 years. His teachings influenced my thinking and approach to problems. To figure out next steps in the development of my career, I turned to his question-based approach to learning. The more questions I asked, the more truth I found in his saying, “The one thing I know is that I know nothing.”
By the spring of 2014, I’d been free from the Bureau of Prisons for eight months. The experience of creating the Straight-A Guide and striving to bring the product to market taught many lessons. More than anything, I learned that I needed help. In order to build a truly sustainable business, I’d need to inspire a team of qualified professionals who could accelerate sustainable growth.
I did some simple back-of-the-envelope math. Attracting candidates who could execute a plan would require sufficient capital. To start, the organization I envisioned would have to pay livable wages. We’d need at least $300,000 per year to build a team of five people with appropriate skills. In addition to those resources, we’d need resources to pay for office space and equipment, travel, marketing, advertising, and web development. Then, we’d need resources to fund an independent research project to evaluate the effectiveness of the Straight-A Guide. All in, I anticipated that we would need between $600,000 and $1 million per year to fund a sustainable operation. Further, we likely would need three years worth of funding before we would become a fully validated, evidenced-based program. Simply put, to bring this dream to life, I anticipated that we would need between $2.5 and $3 million of venture funding.
As a convicted felon who had only recently been released from 26 years in prison, I anticipated significant challenges in raising $3 million. Yet raising funding of some sort would be necessary if I were going to succeed in building a business. I couldn’t work for free and I couldn’t expect anyone to join the team I envisioned if I couldn’t offer livable wages. Working to change the world would be great, but people needed to eat, too.
Before picking up the phone and trying to raise money, I used the same strategy that I taught through the Straight-A Guide. That strategy of identifying values, setting goals, and articulating a message helped me conquer 26 years in prison and I was convinced it would help me chart the next course of my journey in society.
To start, I thought of my avatars—the prospective investors. What questions would they want me to answer? If I could understand their motivations for investing, I would advance my prospects for success.
(Discuss crabs in bucket, importance of building credit…)
Carole and I met with a mortgage banker and provided all of the documentation requested. We took the next step of ordering an appraisal of the property. By considering comparable prices in the neighborhood, the appraiser provided documentation valuing our property at $454,000.
To avoid additional charges for mortgage insurance, we agreed to accept a mortgage of 80% of our home’s appraised value, or roughly $363,000. We wrote a check for $17,000 to cover the remaining amount we would owe to pay off the note to ABS Development. With the $12,000 we had put as a down payment when we initially signed the purchase agreement, and the $17,000 in additional funding we had to pay at the time of the close, our total out-of-pocket investment in the property was $29,000. But in less than 18 months of ownership, our total equity in the property surpassed $90,000—or more than three times what we put into the property.
In applying for the mortgage, Carole and I considered the term of the loan. Traditionally, most people finance their properties over a 30-year term. The longer amortization brings the advantage of lower monthly payments. With the longer term, however, payments during the first half of the loan went primarily to satisfy interest. Since we wanted to build equity in the property at an accelerated rate, we chose to finance our property over a 15-year term. The monthly payments on such a loan would be around $2,500, but each payment would reduce our principle balance by more than $1,500.
The advantage of owning real estate that we financed over a 15-year term became readily apparent to us. As long as the housing market continued to heat up, our property’s higher valuation would increase our equity. If we looked at a five-year plan, and property values increased by 20% over that term, our $454,000 property would be worth $544,000. In addition, by making our mortgage payments on time over a five-year term, we would reduce the amount of mortgage debt we owed on the property by at least $100,000. If those plans worked out, we could project an equity in the property of more than $280,000 after five years—a 10x return on the money we invested to purchase the property.
As I made these projections, it became clear that real estate ownership could and should play a significant role in my plan to build credibility. If I could replicate the strategy a few more times, it would seem that I could reach the goal I had set of building a $1,000,000 net worth by August of 2018, five years after I concluded my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons. I would only need to make my mortgage payments on time, and build my career.
To build my career, however, I would still need to persuade more institutions to purchase The Straight-A Guide. Without independent research to validate the program as being evidence-based, however, I would continue to meet resistance in the marketplace. Administrators would object, saying that although I used the course to become successful, there was no guarantee that others could do the same.
To overcome administrative objections that I anticipated, I would need to build more credibility. One strategy to build that credibility would be to write more, to speak more, and to create opportunities that would put me in front of more prospective buyers. Each one of those strategies required financial resources. Accordingly, I needed to figure out ways to obtain more working capital that would allow me to reach a broader market. As the old saying goes, it takes money to make money.
When I concluded my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons in August of 2013, I set new goals with Carole. We were 49 years old and making progress, but we would have to cover a lot of ground to prepare for a stable future. Although I felt passionately about working to improve outcomes of our nation’s prison system, I also had a responsibility of preparing for our family’s future. Carole had sacrificed a great deal to marry me while I still had 10 years remaining to serve in prison. I wanted to provide her with the comfort of knowing that we were stable. I promised to work toward a goal of providing stability for our family.
While Carole advanced toward her Master’s degree in nursing, I had to figure out a way to build my own career. With limited resources, it would seem that I would need to think creatively in order to generate more orders for the Straight-A Guide. I needed to build more credibility, showing that the program didn’t only lead to success through prison, but also success in society. If I could achieve “success” in society, I anticipated that administrators might be more willing to purchase our program, even before researchers validated its effectiveness.
One principal of the Straight-A Guide is that we never ask anyone to do or say anything that we’re not willing to do or say ourselves. Accordingly, I began asking a series of questions. What approach could I take to define success? That type of question led to other questions. My definition of success wouldn’t matter nearly as much as what my avatars would expect. I considered avatars as being all law-abiding, tax-paying Americans. How would they define success after prison? Better yet, how would they define success in society?
Answering those questions led me to a conclusion. If I could build a financial statement showing a net worth of $1,000,000, others would deem me successful. I set a goal with Carole, claiming that I would work to build a $1,000,000 net worth within my first five years of liberty. To achieve that goal, I had until August of 2018. By succeeding, I would find it easier to inspire more people to see the value of The Straight-A Guide—with or without a validated research instrument.
When I set that goal with Carole, I still had a 0-0-0 credit score. Yet since I had completed my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons, rules no longer blocked me from applying for credit. I submitted an application for a credit card to Bank of America. The banker who had opened my account when I first transferred to the halfway house no longer worked there, so I was starting from ground zero. Soon after I submitted my application, I received a phone call from Bank of America.
The lady who spoke with me told me she was reviewing my application for credit and said that she had some questions. By living frugally, and saving resources that our work generated, the combined balances in our bank account exceeded $100,000. We didn’t waste money on alcohol or splurges after my release. Other than purchasing the Apple computers that I would need to launch my career, we didn’t buy much of anything. I purchased a used vehicle for $4,000 and we saved as much money as possible. The banker who assessed my application reviewed the assets I listed, but asked why her records showed that I didn’t exist in the credit system.
After I told her my story, she agreed to issue my first credit card. Once I received the credit card, I felt a bit more like a citizen. Soon my credit score rose to the high 600s. The next step would be for us to apply for permanent financing on the house we purchased.
I had promised Chris and Seth of ABS Development that I would pay off the balance that we owed on the property just as soon as I could qualify for a mortgage. We signed an agreement with them to purchase the property for $390,000 in the fall of 2012, while I was still in the halfway house. In an effort to help us get established, they accepted a down payment of $12,000 and agreed to accept interest-only payments on the outstanding balance until we could pay off the note. We were ready.
Like anyone starting a new venture, Justin and I had to overcome many hurdles as we tried to introduce our products into the marketplace. Philanthropic organizations provided us with funding to get started, but we still needed to create a sustainable business model. That meant we needed to find markets. The markets we identified included jails, prisons, and schools that served people who were at risk of going into jails or prisons.
As formerly incarcerated individuals with felony convictions, Justin and I faced challenges in breaking through to decision makers at the institutions where we wanted to sell the Straight-A Guide. I concluded my prison term on August 12, 2013, but I was scheduled to serve an additional four years on Supervised Release. At times, selling to “the system” proved difficult because of our criminal records. Still, we were committed to the work, sensing that our product would inspire more people inside to pursue self-directed paths of preparing for success.
On occasions when we broke through to decision makers, we faced another challenge. The corrections industry was becoming more professionalized. As such, administrators were reluctant to purchase programs that had not been evaluated as being “evidence based.” In other words, before considering a rehabilitative program for purchase, the administrators expected to see scholarly research showing a program’s propensity to achieve its intended outcome.
With the Straight-A Guide, we aspired to show participants that they could empower themselves and prepare for success in meaningful, measurable ways. Their key to success would begin with a commitment to leading a values-based, goal-oriented life. To the extent that they articulated their values, set clear goals, and moved forward in the principled way of the program, they would make progress. The course would inspire participants to reject the criminal lifestyle and develop stronger critical-thinking skills.
Through the Straight-A Guide, participants would contemplate their avatars and employ Socratic questioning techniques. We anticipated that such disciplined, deliberate adjustment patterns would assist the participants in becoming more resourceful. Rather than waiting for calendar pages to turn, or engaging in the types of thoughtless behavior that derails so many people in prison, participants would focus. They’d find mentors, they’d create opportunities, they’d seize or create opportunities to educate themselves. To the extent that participants committed to the Straight-A Guide adjustment plan, they would walk out of prison with a strong support network and confidence in their ability to thrive as law-abiding, contributing citizens.
Yet when making this presentation to the corrections industry, we’d frequently encounter resistance. Many would object that other people in prison wouldn’t be able to do what I had done, or grasp the Straight-A Guide. They wanted to see independent scholarly research showing evidence that the Straight-A Guide lowered recidivism rates.
We would face an enormous obstacle in providing such evidence. In order to gather the research, we’d need the following:
To succeed as an evidence-based program, we would need to coordinate an evaluation with an accredited researcher. If the independent researchers had access to data, and their research revealed that participants in the Straight-A Guide program were more likely to succeed upon release, as compared against similarly situated offenders who did not go through the program, we would have the ammunition we needed to sell this program to jails, prisons, and schools across the nation.
Our problem was not only one of funding, but also of time. To gather the necessary data showing that Straight-A Guide programs lowered recidivism, participants wouldn’t only need to complete the program. They also would need to complete their prison terms, return to society, and refrain from violating the law for three years. Crossing the hurdle of becoming an evidence-based program would require significant amounts of capital. We would need to pay the necessary personnel who could conduct the study. We would need to fund the costs associated with opening meetings with decision makers. And we would need to collect data from participants who enrolled in the Straight-A Guide program.
Until we were able to obtain evidence-based research, we’d continue to meet objections from administrators that would prevent us from scaling the program. If we had resources to acquire the research, we anticipated a massive market. Although we didn’t have clear data on the total available market, we knew that the corrections industry consumed more than $80 billion each year. If reentry and recidivism-reduction programs consumed only 5 percent of that budget, the market would be a $4 billion per year industry. In such a market, we anticipated that if we could become evidence-based, The Straight-A Guide program could anticipate sales north of $10 million per year.
Despite the challenges, Justin and I succeeded in persuading several administrators to purchase our program. Since we lacked the research to validate the Straight-A Guide, we could not command a high price point. Instead, we offered the program on a licensing basis at $5,000 per year, plus another $2,500 for training. If an institution purchased a license to use the Straight-A Guide program, I would visit the institution to train facilitators on how to teach participants. They could use the program as a tool to build intrinsic motivation and prepare offenders for success. After the training, we would leave the institution with the video content, the literature, and the lesson plans. Institutions could then use the program as a tool to improve outcomes.
Our initial clients included the Washington State Prison System, Santa Clara County, The City of San Jose, Orange County School District, Los Angeles County Office of Education, Orange County Department of Education, and The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. Those orders generated financial resources, but the costs associated with delivering our program proved to be too high. Our model of offering the Straight-A Guide at a low price point would only work if we were successful in finding hundreds of clients. Despite funding from philanthropic organizations, and funding from purchase orders, we lacked sufficient capital to cross the tipping point.
In order to grow, we would need more resources. We needed resources to purchase advertising campaigns that would bring us to the attention of more institutional buyers. We needed resources to purchase booths at conventions that served the corrections market. We needed resources to fund our travel costs and to hire staff members who could help us execute our plan. Inexperience convinced me that purchase orders would flow into our organization as soon as I created the product. As time passed, however, I learned how much I didn’t know about the challenges of launching a start-up venture.
During my imprisonment, we developed the literature for this program. It all began under the theory that people in prison would be more receptive to learning from individuals who had transformed their lives while they experienced the prison system. Prisoners sometimes rejected a message when that message came from people who didn’t know the pain of being separated from the people they loved, or from the people who loved them. We wanted to reach prisoners. We wanted to convince those people that it was never too early, and it was never too late to begin preparing for a better life.
I wrote three books to share lessons that empowered me through the multiple decades that I served. They weren’t my lessons, but lessons I learned from people I called masterminds. In truth, we all faced struggle during the course of our life. Many people overcame struggles that were far more significant than a lengthy prison sentence. I learned from those people and I convinced that other people can learn from those lessons as well.
With continued funding from The California Wellness Foundation, The Sierra Health Foundation, The Cornerstone Project, and other philanthropic groups, we were able to create a comprehensive series of lesson plans and accompanying videos. Our 10 separate learning modules included five lessons in each module, for a total of 50 lessons. Funding allowed us to retain the team at Landini Media, SRV Studios, and Open Advance. Together we created more than 12 hours of high-quality video footage to complete our Straight-A Guide training program. Tulio Cardozo assisted me in designing the lesson-plan layouts.
Through the Straight-A Guide, we aspired to teach actionable strategies for self-empowerment. People in prison or in at-risk populations could use those strategies to transform their lives in the same way that others have done. The program worked as follows:
Transformation begins when we identify and articulate values by which we profess to live. In the Straight-A Guide, I taught that message through the context of my own journey. First, I needed to accept responsibility and let the world know that I wanted to become something more than what I was at present. Rather than allowing my past bad decisions to define me, I thought about my avatars. By asking Socratic questions about what they would expect of me, I could define the values by which I professed to live. My avatars would expect me to educate myself, to contribute to society, and to build a support network. Those three principles became the values by which I professed to live. Through the lessons plans I created in Module 1, I encouraged participants to identify values by which they professed to live.
Once I identified my values, I needed to create a definition of success for each value category. My own definition of success didn’t matter. Instead, I needed to resume my question-approach to learning. How would my avatars define whether I succeeded in my pursuit of education? I anticipated that they would measure an education by a college degree. How would my avatars define whether I succeeded with regard to my contributions to society? I anticipated that if I were to publish, they would consider that I had worked to make a quantifiable contribution. How would my avatars define whether I had built a support network? I anticipated that if I persuaded 10 people to believe in me, and vouch for me, my avatars would find it easier to accept me. Accordingly, I set goals of earning a university degree, of publishing, and of finding 10 people to believe in me within my first decade of confinement. In Module 2, the lessons encouraged participants to articulate their goals, and to make them consistent with their values.
Identifying values and goals was the prerequisite to embarking upon the Straight-A Guide. The next Module encouraged participants to move forward with the “right” attitude. What was the right attitude? In the Straight-A Guide we identified the right attitude as a 100% commitment to success—as the individual’s values and goals defined success.
Individuals who moved forward with the right attitude could articulate their aspiration. In Module 4, we taught participants how to see themselves as something more than their past bad decisions or their current circumstances. Instead, we wanted them to project into the future, to see themselves as the success they wanted to build. In essence, we taught them to become the CEOs of their own lives. If they knew what they wanted to become, then they could craft more effective plans that would help them reach the end result.
To become something more, or to reach their highest potential, participants learned that they needed to take incremental action steps. In Module 5, we showed that every person who achieved a high level of success followed this path. People had to execute their plans in order to reach a higher potential. Regardless of where an individual was at a given time, that person could begin taking action steps that would lead to a new and better reality.
In Module 6, we showed participants the importance of creating their own accountability metrics. They would need to figure out ways to measure their incremental progress. Even if they anticipated having to pass through decades before their release, or if they didn’t have a release date, this module taught participants ways to hold themselves accountable, making adjustments as necessary.
With Module 7, participants learned the cumulative influences of living a deliberated, values-based, goal-oriented adjustment. By living in accordance with the Straight-A Guide, participants would become aware of opportunities. Those opportunities were available to everyone else, but only those who committed to the deliberate path would find them and seize such opportunities. Simultaneously, others would become aware of their commitment to success. Accordingly, they would find people who would have a vested interest in their success—people who would invest in them to advance their success with new opportunities.
Module 8 taught about the importance of celebrating incremental achievements. By celebrating each achievement, no matter how small, participants could sustain their growth patterns as months turned into years. They would know and understand how success in one area of life would lead to further successes.
The penultimate module taught participants that they could increase their successes by expressing appreciation for the blessings that came their way. It’s a version of a theory known as “The Law of Attraction,” showing that we could will more success and abundance into our life so long as we reciprocated, bringing more success and abundance to others.
Finally, the Straight-A Guide taught participants that by living in accordance with this values-based, goal-oriented strategy, they could empower themselves. They would rely on authorities or others to tell them they were free. Instead, they could create higher levels of liberty in their life by embarking upon their own path, living their own visions.
Once we filmed all of the lessons and finalized all of the lesson plans, Justin and I reached into the marketplace so we could start spreading our work.
I designed the third class to teach students about evolutions that occurred in criminal justice during the 18th century. Scholars referred to that era as The Enlightenment, a time when people had more hope. Two philosophers, Thomas Hobbes and John Locke, presented different theories on human behavior. According to Thomas Hobbes’ view, people were basically beasts by nature. Hobbes’ theory held that people would only refrain from breaking laws if the state maintained a severe penal system that would punish wrongdoing. John Locke, on the other hand, believed that all people came into the world with a blank slate—meaning they were neither good nor bad. Instead, they learned behavior through their observations and experiences. People may have learned behaviors that led to criminal actions, but they could also “unlearn” those behaviors and become good.
Those types of philosophical questions, I explained to the students, led other philosophers to question the way we responded to criminal behavior. Instead of responding to every offense with corporal punishment, many began to propose different ideas. During the Enlightenment Era, the prison movement began. Instead of relying on jails or prisons to hold people until after the conviction, when authorities could carry out the corporal punishment, we began to use sentence people to confinement. Rather than punishing the body, we would extract time from offenders by forcing them into confinement.
In the following class, I invited the students to assess the level of progress we had made as a society. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being hardly any change and 10 being massive change, I asked them to rate the difference. How much of an improvement was it, I asked, for laws to allow governments to punish offenders by confinement rather than by cutting their heads off, putting them on a stake, and then lighting the heads on fire. Each student agreed that confinement was a significant improvement—a 10 on the scale. Then I opened discussions about how our system of confinement has evolved since the birth of the prison. We spent the remainder of our course discussing the ways that prison systems changed since the 1800s to the modern day.
To help students understand more, I brought many guest speakers into the classroom. A deputy from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department visited, The San Francisco Sheriff visited, and a federal magistrate judge visited. I had formerly incarcerated individuals visit, probation officers visit, and representatives from community activist groups visit. Since I couldn’t bring my students into prisons or into the criminal justice system, I did my best to bring the system to them.
Besides the time commitment that would be necessary, I didn’t want to undertake further tuition expense. Since I’d made a commitment to Carole, I needed to devote time that would allow me to achieve dual objectives. On one hand, I wanted to pursue projects that would improve outcomes of our nation’s prison system and resolve one of the greatest social injustices of our time. On the other hand, I wanted to create income opportunities that would allow Carole and me to enjoy financial stability.
I taught for a full academic year at San Francisco State, but while at the university I pursued other ventures. Fortunately, The California Wellness Foundation continued to sponsor the work that Justin and I were doing. As a consequence of grants we received, we were able to fully develop our Straight-A Guide program.
In early 2013 I began sending letters to professors who taught criminal justice courses in the San Francisco Bay area. If they thought it would be helpful, I offered to visit and provide their students with a different perspective. Many students who majored in criminal justice wanted to pursue careers in corrections, probation, or other law enforcement professions. I knew the students would’ve read many theoretical textbooks on corrections or different sociological theories. Listening to someone who could share first-hand experiences might contribute to their educational experience.
Dr. Jeffrey Snipes, from San Francisco State University, responded to my letter. He led the criminal justice department at SFSU and he invited me to visit with him at the university. Jeff’s email encouraged me, as I’d never stepped foot on a university campus before. I had invitations to speak at other universities later in the school year, but I looked forward to meeting Jeff and walking through the campus. He told me that he had read one of my books when he was in graduate school, years earlier.
When I visited SFSU for the first time, I felt a sense of what I had missed as a consequence of the bad decisions I made as a young man. Thousands of students walked around the campus and they all looked as if they had so much promise. Jeff and one of his colleagues listened as I told them my story. We spoke for about an hour and then Jeff asked if I would like to work at SFSU. I didn’t quite get his question. My thoughts were that we were having a discussion about my making contributions as a guest speaker. Instead, he asked if I wanted to become a part of the faculty, as a guest lecturer, an adjunct professor.
Universities had a huge influence on my adjustment through prison. Although I didn’t get to experience university campus life as a student, Jeff and his colleagues opened an amazing opportunity for me to teach. He invited me to design my own course that we titled The Architecture of Incarceration. I would begin teaching in August, 2013, less than three weeks after I concluded my prison sentence.
I spent hundreds of hours preparing for the semester. Although my job only required me to teach 30 students, I accepted every student who wanted to enroll. Teaching opened opportunities to influence people who would devote their careers to criminal justice, and I wanted to serve them well.
In designing the course, I set a goal of helping the students understand influences that led to our nation’s massive prison system. We incarcerated more people per capita than any other nation on earth. But the US didn’t always have the world’s largest prison population. Our commitment to mass incarceration didn’t begin until the early 1970s, accelerating around the time that I began serving time—when President Reagan launched the War on Drugs. I wanted students in my class to understand how we “architected” the path to mass incarceration.
To begin the class, I told the students about my history of selling cocaine as a young man and about my transformation while serving 26 years as a prisoner. They were somewhat astounded, I think, when I revealed my past. Whenever students referred to me as “professor,” I’d insist they call me Michael, reminding them that I’d only recently finished serving a prison term. We spent that first class going over my complete history. I encouraged them to ask anything about my past, my prison experience, or my expectations about life upon release. Each class lasted nearly three hours and I pledged to be 100% authentic with them.
During the second class, we discussed the evolution of punishment in Western civilization. Prior to the 18th century, I pointed out, we didn’t use prisons or confinement as a punishment. Instead, we only used confinement as a kind of holding center until after the trial. After a finding of guilt, the offender would usually suffer some type of corporal punishment—meaning authorities would punish the body, usually with mutilation or death. They would behead convicted felons, or rip apart the body in grotesque ways. One example was drawing and quartering. They would tie a rope to each limb and fasten each rope to a different horse. Then, on cue, the horses would each race off in a different direction, ripping the person’s body apart. Other examples of corporal punishment included setting the body on fire, or drilling holes into the flesh and then filling the holes with molten steel.
Through Justin I met Scott Budnick. Through Scott Budnick, I met Chris Redlitz. And through Chris Redlitz, I met Tulio Cardozo. Tulio was one of the first graduates from The Last Mile. As I had done, Tulio made some bad decisions as a young man, becoming involved with drugs. While incarcerated, however, Tulio chose to reinvent himself. Through textbooks, he trained himself how to code computers. Those efforts brought Tulio to the attention of Chris Redlitz and Chris authorized Tulio to participate in The Last Mile training program. When Tulio concluded his prison sentence at San Quentin, Chris offered Tulio an internship so he could learn more about working with technology companies.
As it turns out, Tulio also followed the pattern of masterminds. He lived deliberately, and his deliberate actions led to success.
Although I didn’t know much about technology, Tulio had a wealth of information. He invested hundreds of hours helping me to build MichaelSantos.com. Whenever I had a technology problem, I could turn to Tulio for immediate advice. If he didn’t know how to solve the problem, he used his resources to help me find solutions. The human connections, I learned, were incredibly valuable to accelerate growth.
What type of human connections are you making?
What could you do today to build stronger, more valuable connections tomorrow?
In what ways will the connections you build contribute to your success?
Besides introducing me to Tulio, Chris Redlitz also introduced me to the importance of social media. Chris and Beverly used Quora as a resource for teaching prisoners at San Quentin through The Last Mile program. Historically, prisons isolated people inside from the broader population. Yet Chris recognized that if people were going to overcome the challenges they would face upon release, they would need to build stronger connections. Although prisoners didn’t have direct access to the Internet, through volunteers, they could use Quora to interact indirectly.
Quora was a question-based website. Anyone with access to the Internet could use the Quora website to ask questions. Then, the millions of people who used Quora could answer. Those who responded with subject-matter expertise would receive more attention. When people asked questions about prison on the website, The Last Mile team would print out those questions and bring them into San Quentin. Men who participated in The Last Mile program had subject-matter expertise on such topics, and they handwrote responses to questions that people asked. Then team members from The Last Mile would convert the prisoner responses into a digital file and publish responses on the Quora website.
“You should open a profile on Quora,” Chris advised me during our first meeting. “Start answering questions about prison.”
When I returned to my computer, I logged onto the Quora website and began to explore. In the search field I typed prisons and I saw all types of questions. I started to answer, always being authentic about the perspective from which I was writing. Responses I wrote have generated more than 1.1 million views, broadening my social network.
As a consequence of that exposure to my writing, many opportunities opened that would advance the career I was trying to build. Several editors of other publications contacted me and asked permission to publish more of my writing. Gizmodo, a popular technology website published one of my articles, generating thousands of new connections. An editor from The Daily Dot, another online news service invited me to contribute articles. I received invitations to contribute new articles for many publications. That publicity brought me to the attention of Dr. Alan Ross, a professor at the University of California in Berkeley.
“I’ve got more than 700 students who want you to come speak about your experiences in prison,” he said.
I’m hoping that readers who are in jails or prisons will see the pattern. Many opportunities opened for me when I transitioned from the prison in Atwater to the halfway house in San Francisco. But had I not prepared myself during the decades I served as a prisoner, none of those opportunities would’ve opened. When I went to prison I didn’t have any academic credentials and I didn’t know how to write a coherent sentence. I certainly couldn’t stand in front large audiences and give one-hour lectures, or write for publication. Yet as a consequence of my exposure to Socrates, I learned about Socratic questioning.
Instead of focusing on my own struggles, I focused on what my avatars would expect. By anticipating their expectations, I had reason to avoid the negativity and criminal influences. Instead, I focused on educating myself, on contributing to society, and on building strong support networks. Those decisions led to new relationships and new opportunities. They empowered me through the time I served in prison and they eased my adjustment into society upon my release.
As a consequence of my experience with Quora, my social media profile grew. By posting regularly on Facebook, thousands of people ‘liked’ my public page. On Twitter, my followers grew into the thousands. On LinkedIn, I could build an online resume where anyone could read about my passion for improving outcomes of our nation’s prison system. More than 1,000 people followed my progress through LinkedIn.
By building a larger social network I could claim more authenticity. Instead of hiding from my criminal background, I lived transparently. Every step I took had a relationship to the successful life that I wanted to build. Since I anticipated that others would judge me for the bad decisions I made when I was 20, or the decades I served in prison, I wanted to provide them with more information to influence their judgment. By populating the record with my writing and speeches, I could influence them. And by influencing them, I could open more opportunities. Some of those opportunities brought financial resources, many did not. Either way, every investment of time that I made to spread awareness about the criminal justice system paid enormous dividends. They brought experience that I needed, they brought new relationships, and they brought new opportunities for me to persuade other people that I was worthy of their time.
The stronger my social network became, the more opportunities opened. During the time that I served in the halfway house, NBC Bay Area Proud profiled my work, PBS NewsHour featured me on a segment, and organizers of a TEDx conference in Silicon Valley invited me to present. With that exposure, I built more credibility. I could then leverage the credibility to further my quest to improve outcomes of our nation’s criminal justice system, while simultaneously working to build a career.
Earlier, I wrote about rules in the halfway house that required me to have a job. So long as I had a job that paid a steady paycheck, my case manager in the halfway house authorized me to leave. My friend Lee was more like a sponsor for me than an employer. He set a schedule for me to work 10—hour shifts, Monday through Saturday. I reported to an office and sat at a desk, but instead of doing work for Lee, I focused on creating a business. First, I needed Lee to see the vision.
I persuaded Lee that our nation’s commitment to mass incarceration was one of the greatest social injustices of our time. Although it would take time, I convinced him that a need existed for programs and services to help people emerge from prison successfully. He encouraged me to develop a plan that would lead to a sustainable business providing products and services that would improve outcomes of our nation’s prison system.
My first challenge was learning how to use technology effectively. The world had changed during the decades that I served. I went to prison at a time when Bill Gates was talking about a time when there would be a computer in every home and on every desk. When I returned to society his vision had become a reality. We didn’t only have computers in every home and on every desk, but also in everyone’s pockets. Since I’d been away during the hyper-growth era of technology, I had to learn how to use computers and the Internet effectively.
Although most people used personal computers powered by Microsoft operating systems, I’d read that Apple products were easier to learn. On the Saturday after I transitioned to the halfway house, Carole and I visited the Apple store. I purchased a MacBook Pro and a 27” iMac desktop computer. Knowing that technology could help me reach a wider audience, I spent my first weeks on the job learning how to use these fascinating products.
While I was in prison I didn’t have much access to computers. I read many books about the development of the Internet, search engines, social media, and software applications. Yet when I began working with my computers, I realized that I would need to invest hundreds of hours to become proficient. Fortunately, I had Carole to tutor me. When she wasn’t at the hospital, she would sit at desk beside me to work on her studies. I liked having her close by and she was always willing to assist when I had questions about technology.
I began learning about WordPress, the powerful platform for building websites. When Carole first came into my life, we purchased the domain name MichaelSantos.net because the dot-com domain wasn’t available. Carole retained a web developer to build our new website. I published thousands of articles to document progress I made through my final decade in prison. Toward the end of my journey, we were able to purchase the domain name MichaelSantos.com for $1,000 and we began making the transition from MichaelSantos.net to MichaelSantos.com. I wanted to have a central location that would demonstrate my authenticity. Since Carole was busy with her career and school work, I needed to educate myself quickly on how to use WordPress so that I could manage my own websites.
I made some critical errors in the beginning. By switching hosting companies and redesigning MichaelSantos.com, I lost thousands of articles and journal entries that I’d made over the years. For decades, I wrote a daily journal entry and sent my journals home. Carole published each entry as my “daily log” on the website. I wanted people to see the path, that through hard work, an individual could triumph over prison. Unfortunately, I lost all of those records with my decision to switch from one web-hosting company to another. We pay a price for inexperience. In time, I became more fluent with WordPress and with social media.
Although I didn’t understand much about using technology or computer networks, my adjustment through prison gave me other skills. One prong of my adjustment strategy was building support networks. If I could build strong support networks, I believed that more opportunities would open in prison and upon release. The goal of building strong support networks influenced my Socratic questioning: What steps could I take today to influence people to believe in me tomorrow?
Those types of questions influenced my adjustment. The accomplishments I made while inside persuaded other people to believe in me. I could leverage those relationships to open new relationships. For example, earlier I wrote about my friendship with Justin Paperny. Justin was a graduate from USC and he had built a career as a stockbroker. Although he made some bad decisions that resulted in his being convicted of securities fraud, Justin’s crime didn’t characterize his entire life. He’d been successful in society once and as we built our friendship, I sensed that he would be successful again.
When Justin concluded his obligation he launched the Michael G. Santos Foundation and he invested time to build that nonprofit. He attended schools, workshops, and conferences that exposed him to problems people in underserved communities faced. By relaying those findings to me, I had information I could use in ways that would help us contribute solutions. Through our work, Justin met new people and he introduced those people to me.
Scott Budnick was one of the people Justin brought into my support network. Scott is famous for his role as a Hollywood producer of many blockbuster films, including The Hangover series, Starsky and Hutch, and other big-budget films. Scott’s passion, however, is juvenile justice. Scott founded The Anti-Recidivism Coalition (ARC), a nonprofit that strives to reduce recidivism. When I returned to society, Scott invited me to visit him in Hollywood. Rules of the halfway house, however, precluded me from being able travel. Until I concluded my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons, I could only go from the halfway house to my place of employment.
Travel limitations and halfway house restrictions were a problem. Human support networks were a solution. Scott said that since I lived in San Francisco, I had to meet Chris Redlitz. Scott then wrote an introductory email to Chris and I followed up by writing Chris about my background, telling him about my vision of building a business around my journey. I wanted to teach other people how to emerge from prison successfully. Chris responded within hours and he invited me to meet him.
Turns out that Chris Redlitz is an influential figure from the San Francisco Bay area. As a professional, he was a successful venture capitalist. Through his firm Transmedia Capital, Chris and his partners matched investors with technology entrepreneurs who wanted to build compelling businesses that changed the world. But in addition to providing funding, Chris also ran a series of business incubators, providing resources for technology startups.
Besides his business career as a venture capitalist, Chris also had a passion for improving outcomes of our nation’s prison system. When not putting multi-million dollar investments together, he and his wife volunteered at the San Quentin state prison. Initially, he went in to give a speech about entrepreneurialism. The prisoners inspired him. Chris then went home and convinced his wife and business partner, Beverly Parenti, to join him. Together they launched The Last Mile, an organization that would invest in human beings. They created a comprehensive curriculum that would teach business principles to people in prison. Later, participants in The Last Mile could learn how to write computer code from inside of the prison system.
I visited Chris and Seth. They were partners of Advanced Building Solutions, a premier real estate development company with more than $100 million worth of properties under development. Although I’d never met Chris prior to my release from prison, my friend Lee could introduce me. Without a doubt, Chris and Seth were the type of people I had in mind when I thought about avatars. If leaders like Chris and Seth were going to believe in me, they would want to see a record showing that I was different from the foolish young man who began selling drugs when he was 20. I always believed that my adjustment through prison would have a direct influence on my ability to overcome challenges upon release.
When I met with the Chris and Seth, I showed them the record I’d worked hard to build. I was a published author, I had academic credentials, and I could show that I’d been married for ten years. Further, I had support from Lee, and he vouched for me. Any business person in the San Francisco Bay area had enormous respect for Lee.
Since Lee vouched for me, Chris and Seth found it easier to believe in me.
We spoke about a new real estate project they were developing in Petaluma, a quaint city about 40 miles north of San Francisco. Although Chris and Seth hadn’t broken ground on the properties when I met with them, they told me that when they finished the development, each house in the development would list for about $400,000. I wanted to buy one of those houses for Carole and me. Yet since we didn’t have the financial wherewithal to step up to the plate, I needed their help.
Although an initial assessment of our credit score would suggest that we weren’t credit worthy at the time, I asked Chris and Seth to consider us for the growth we would make in the years to come. Besides not qualifying for a mortgage, we couldn’t afford to set aside 20% of the purchase price as a down payment on the property. Despite those weaknesses, I persuaded the developers that we would be a good credit risk for them if they would agree to finance us on a purchase.
To make my case, I encouraged them to consider what we had accomplished under difficult circumstances. Then I showed the plans we had made to grow. If they would extend us financing for a few years, a lot would change that would allow us to qualify for a traditional mortgage. For example, Carole would graduate and increase her earning power. I would finish with my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons and be able to apply for credit. And the business I intended to develop would provide me with more earnings. Despite the perceived weakness of our credit score in the fall of 2012, I made a persuasive case that we would be stronger financially in years to come and qualify for a mortgage.
The developers agreed to finance us on the purchase of our first house. Since a real estate agent wouldn’t be involved and they wouldn’t have to pay a commission, they even agreed to drop $10,000 off of the purchase price. We bought our property for $390,000 in the fall of 2012. As a consequence of the developers’ trust, they only required us to write a check for $12,000. Since the Bureau of Prisons wouldn’t authorize me to purchase anything on credit, we initially put the house in Carole’s name. Both of us felt pleased that before I concluded my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons, we’d planted our stake in the ground. We were homeowners.
Masterminds have frequently said “The harder I work, the luckier I become.”
Without a doubt, Carole and I were fortunate. Support from people like Chris and Seth, or Lee, allowed us to purchase our first piece of real estate in the fall of 2012. By signing that agreement, we controlled an appreciating asset in an appreciating market. As I’ll describe in chapters to follow, real estate values increased in the San Francisco Bay area in 2013, 2014, and 2015. When those values increased, our equity increased, bringing us more financial stability.
If we didn’t have support, we would not have been able to purchase that first piece of property. The salient point, however, is that we began sowing seeds for that support long before we purchased the property. Indeed, the decisions we began making decades earlier, before we ever thought about owning real estate, gave us the track record we needed. With that track record, we could persuade others to see us for what we would become.
If you’re inside of a jail, a prison, or in some other type of struggle, I urge you to recognize the importance of each decision you make. The decisions you’re making today will influence the opportunities that open for you in the future. Consider this lesson with every decision that you make, including the friends you choose, the activities you pursue, and the books you read. Every decision comes with opportunity costs. So choose wisely.
When I returned to society, in August of 2012, our nation was starting to emerge from the worst recession in our lifetime. In 2008 the stock market and the real estate market began to implode. Credit dried up. Housing prices fell to historic lows. By the fall of 2012, however, the economy looked poised to rebound. Carole and I wanted to participate in the potential upside.
To profit from an anticipated market rebound, I knew that Carole and I would need to control a larger asset base. If we could purchase a large asset, like a house, when prices were still relatively low, our equity would increase if housing prices recovered. Both of us wanted to purchase real estate. Our challenge was that we did not have sufficient credit to qualify for a house purchase in the conventional manner. We would need to create an alternative strategy. Fortunately, the seeds we began sowing prior to my release would help.
What were those seeds?
We began with a vision of what we wanted.
We set a plan. And we executed the plan.
Prior to my release from prison, Carole and I agreed on a solid plan on how we would build our future together, as a team. Since we knew that I’d be starting my career, we intended to count on Carole’s earnings as a registered nurse to provide the initial stability for our family. I anticipated that I would need about five years before I’d have a business that would completely sustain us. There would be many challenges, including working without compensation.
During my first five years of liberty, I expected to work at least 60 to 70 hours each week and travel routinely. By anticipating the demands of my schedule, along with the needs of our relationship, Carole and I agreed that we would need to find a program that would be fulfilling for her so she wouldn’t feel neglected when I was away. We began exploring opportunities for Carole to advance her nursing credentials.
Carole’s research led her to discover a program she could pursue at The University of San Francisco. She could earn a master’s degree in nursing by completing her coursework online while completing the clinical portion of her education at the hospital where she worked. This program would allow Carole to earn a master’s degree while she simultaneously earned an income that would be sufficient to support our family. Further, Carole’s busy schedule would bring her a sense of fulfillment while I focused on building my career and acclimating to society. As a team, we both would focus on the mutual goals we set.
Regardless of how much income we earned from our careers, we knew that we would need an investment plan. We were both approaching 50 years old. As a consequence of my lengthy imprisonment, and Carole’s commitment to stay by my side and support me throughout the journey, we didn’t have any savings for retirement. If we could find a way to purchase a house in 2012, we believed that house would appreciate in value over time. Owning real estate that would appreciate in value over time could contribute to our preparations for retirement. By owning appreciating assets in appreciating markets, we anticipated that we could build upon our security.
Prison rules precluded me from applying for any type of credit, including a mortgage, while I was in the halfway house. Instead of looking for conventional financing, I thought creatively. Carole and I had built a track record of success, and we intended to leverage our accomplishments by persuading others to believe in us—to see us for what we would become rather than for where we were.
To buy our first house, we considered our strengths and weaknesses. Our weakness was that we didn’t have a strong financial statement or credit score; our strength was that we had a plan and a history of executing our plans.
Since I’d been documenting my prison adjustment for decades, I could show that although I made bad decisions that sent me to prison, masterminds encouraged me to think about avatars. By contemplating what those avatars would expect of me, I created a plan to educate myself, to contribute to society, and to build a support network. After earning university degrees, I began publishing. Those publishing efforts generated an income that trickled in over the years. Rather than wasting those resources, Carole and I used them judiciously. We invested in her nursing education and we saved. As a consequence of those decisions, we could show savings of $85,000 when I returned to society. Further, we could show how Carole’s earnings would increase after she earned her master’s degree in nursing. Our solid plans, backed up with our history of accomplishment, persuaded others to believe in us. Even though we didn’t have the conventional track record to apply for a mortgage, we could find a way to purchase our first property.
With a driver’s license, a job, and a paycheck, I had to begin building a banking relationship. After I received my first paycheck, I went to Bank of America and opened an account. Charles had told me that I could not apply for credit until after I completed my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons. So I opened a checking account and a savings account.
Just to check, I authorized the banker to run a credit report on me. We learned that I had a 0-0-0 credit score. He asked how a person of my age could proceed through life without accumulating a credit score—good or bad. The banker listened with interest as I told him that I’d just concluded 25 years in custody and that I was living in a halfway house. That conversation opened another opportunity for me to tell the story of my journey, another opportunity for me to influence a potential source of support.
Many people emerge from prison and try to hide their past. I don’t make a judgment on how much information an individual should reveal. In my case, I’ve found that total transparency always served me best. By being completely honest about my past, I’ve always found that people were willing to listen. As a consequence of the record that I built while I was inside, even bankers were willing to welcome me home and encourage me. When I was ready to apply for credit, he assured me that Bank of America would be ready to help.
Over the next several weeks, many of the seeds that I’d planted while I was incarcerated began to bear fruit. As mentioned in my other books, I wrote articles every day while I was incarcerated. All of those articles adhered to a theme that somehow related to the prison system or overcoming struggle. They helped me build interest, or a brand. I became somewhat of a subject-matter authority. As a strategy to broaden awareness of my work, I asked my wife to publish those articles on MichaelSantos.com or on other social media websites that she maintained on my behalf.
While in the halfway house, I received an email from Vlae Kershner, a news director at the San Francisco Chronicle. Vlae told me that he had been following my work for years and asked whether I’d be interested in the newspaper writing a profile about my return to society after a quarter century in prison. That conversation led to an interview and a front-page story in one of the most highly visible newspapers in the world. The San Francisco newspaper published the article on Thanksgiving weekend, about 100 days after I transitioned to the halfway house in 2012.
The article didn’t only focus on my crime or the decades I served in prison. It focused on efforts I was making to build a career around my journey. The article brought publicity that validated my work. A person couldn’t buy that type of coverage, and I intended to leverage the article in ways that would open new opportunities. As a consequence of the newspaper story, people would judge me for the way that I responded to my lengthy prison sentence rather than for the bad decisions I began making when I was 20.
Those who choose to live transparently, authentically, may find that this strategy would advance their prospects for success, too. People are more receptive to extending “second chances” or opportunities to people who acknowledge their past bad decisions, express remorse, and show that they’re determined to work toward redemption.
As Steve Jobs, another mastermind said, “Good artists copy ideas, but great artists steal ideas.” To prepare for success, I copied ideas from the most successful masterminds I could find, whether they lived thousands of years ago or whether they served time alongside me in federal prison.
Regardless of where you are today, you have masterminds around you. Question yourself on how your actions and choices influence they way those masterminds perceive you. If they perceive you as being worthy of their time, you will find that they will want to invest in you. I cannot recall how many people invested time, energy, and resources in my success, even though I did not know them prior to my imprisonment. They saw me as being authentic and they wanted to help.
I found that I could “will” avatars into my life who would invest in my future. And if I could do that while serving 26 years as a prisoner, then just think what you can do!
Some of the people who invested in me along the way include the following:
Regardless of whether I served time in a jail, a high-security penitentiary, a medium-security prison, a low-security prison, or a minimum-security camp, I always found masterminds—people who showed an interest and wanted to help. If this strategy only succeeded for me in a single minimum-security camp, then people could say I was lucky. But I served 26 years, in prisons of every security level. Whether I served time in a high-security penitentiary, a medium-security or low-security correctional institution, my earlier books showed that other people—masterminds—always came into my life and helped to advance prospects for my success.
Any prisoner could will the same types of support into his or her life. First, the prisoners must begin by asking the types of Socratic questions that allowed me to find mentors. Then, they needed to create a plan. Finally, they needed to execute the plan as the days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into months, the months turned into years, and for some, as the years turned into decades.
The job I had with Lee’s company satisfied Charles, my case manager. Since I had a place to work, he authorized me to leave the halfway house each morning at 6:00 am. I didn’t return to the halfway house until around 8:00 in the evening. On payday, I provided Charles with a copy of my check stub and a money order for 25% of my gross wages. So long as I complied with his terms, he lived up to his word and allowed me all of the liberty I needed to begin building my career.
That initial meeting with my case manager, Charles, went well. Why? The roots for that successful meeting extended way back to the 1980s, when I was still locked inside of the Pierce County Jail. Recap? While in my cell I read about Socrates. From his story, I learned the importance of living for something greater than myself. Instead of dwelling on the challenges that had come from my own decisions, I could empower myself by thinking about others. Through Socratic questioning, I could learn the relationship between my decisions and the ways that others would perceive me.
With that insight, I began contemplating people like Charles—case managers and probation officers—before my judge even imposed my 45-year sentence. They were my avatars. By thinking about what they would expect, I could create plans to influence their perceptions. Then, by executing those plans every day of my sentence, I believed that I could influence a better outcome upon release.
Some readers may be familiar with the social scientist Abraham Maslow and his theory about the hierarchy of needs. Maslow wrote that in order to advance to our highest potential, we first needed to satisfy our basic needs. For example, in order to appreciate the value of education, or art, we first needed to satisfy the basic needs of food, clothing, and shelter. The same principle would apply to my adjustment in society. In order to make a full adjustment after a quarter century of confinement, I would need to start with identification. Charles agreed.
Before the meeting concluded, Charles authorized me to walk to the Department of Motor Vehicles, a few miles away. I needed to obtain a driver’s license. A driver’s license would be essential for the development of my career. Some people may think that once you know how to drive, you never forget. In my case, that wasn’t true. I didn’t know I forgot how to drive, or when I forgot. It may have happened after 10 years of imprisonment, maybe after 20. I can only say that when Carole and I went out to practice for my driving test, it became clear really quickly that I didn’t have any confidence behind the wheel. I passed the written exam first, then took some lessons with Carole before taking the driving portion of the exam.
Fortunately, I passed the exam and received my license. Once I had the license in hand, I felt as if I’d crossed off one of the first challenges of my return to society. With a driver’s license, I could advance.
Several years prior to my release from prison, I met Lee. Lee is an amazing human being and I consider him one of my closest friends and mentors. He built several remarkable businesses that employ hundreds of people and generate billions in revenue. While I was incarcerated, I explained my situation to Lee. When I returned to society, I explained, I would need to satisfy specific conditions that included employment. In other words, before I could build my own business, I would need to show that I had a steady paycheck. I asked him if there were any opportunities for me to provide value to one of his businesses so that I could earn a paycheck.
Lee was incredible. He offered me a desk and a paycheck. While I served my final year in the halfway house, one of Lee’s businesses would pay me $10 per hour to satisfy the halfway house. But instead of doing any work for him, he tasked me with the responsibility of building my own venture. “I’ll give you a year to build a business,” he said. “If after a year you can’t make something happen, then come work with me and we’ll build a business together.”
What’s the takeaway here?
Some people would say that I’m lucky to have a friend like Lee. Without a doubt, there is truth in that. As many wise men who lived before me have found, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”
Lee embodied all of the good characteristics and traits that I aspired to develop while I was in prison. He was incredibly smart and a gifted businessman. Further, he was a community leader, providing opportunities and resources that influenced thousands of lives. When I contemplated avatars, or thought about the types of people I wanted to surround myself with upon release, Lee was exactly the type of person I had in mind.
Because I had a vision of connecting with people like Lee, I had to figure out what Lee and leaders like him would expect of me. Obviously, he didn’t know me when I was beginning my prison term. In the 1980s, I was a reckless young man who sold cocaine. A judge sentenced me to serve decades in prison. If I didn’t do something to change perceptions, people would always see me as a criminal. Yet by focusing on avatars and contemplating what they would expect of me, I could create new pathways. Masterminds convinced me that if I worked to educate myself, contribute to society, and build a support network, I could persuade influential and successful people to believe in me.
This “mastermind” strategy characterized the life of every successful person I met. I first met Lee at the federal prison camp in Lompoc, California. He served about a year in the camp for an offense related to taxes. When I met Lee, I didn’t know the extraordinary levels of his success. We were both prisoners. Yet during the time we served together, we developed a friendship that would last a lifetime. I’ll always work hard to prove worthy of the trust that Lee placed in me.
In reality, anyone who served time in Lompoc had an opportunity to earn support from Lee. In fact, opportunities that opened for me throughout my journey were available to anyone in prison. When I started serving my sentence, I didn’t have any financial resources. Nor did I have an education. I had the advantage of hope. Hope for a better future led me to seek wisdom. I found the recipe for that wisdom from masterminds, first Socrates, then many others. They taught me the art of question-based learning. By contemplating the best possible outcome, and questioning what my avatars would expect, I crafted a strategy that would lead to success.
By 3:00 am, on August 12, 2012, I was up and ready to start my exercise inside the federal prison in Atwater, California. It would be my last day locked inside of a prison. I had 9,135 days of imprisonment behind me, just over 25 years. Carole was scheduled to pick me up at 9:00 am. Together we’d drive to a halfway house in the Tenderloin District of downtown San Francisco, where I’d serve the next 365 days—completing my 9,500-day journey as a federal prisoner.
I walked through gates that separated the minimum-security camp from the penitentiary so officers could process me out. A staff member handed me a few hundred dollars in cash from my account and indicated that I’d receive a check for the remainder. That was it. I walked outside and met Carole. She wore a yellow dress with a yellow ribbon tied around her waist. With tears of joy in her eyes she hugged me and we drove off the penitentiary grounds, eager to start our journey together.
Although we were together for the first time, we weren’t really free. Within three hours I had to be in the San Francisco halfway house. Since it would take three hours to make the drive, we wouldn’t have time for diversions. We wanted to be together, of course. The time crunch, however, dictated that we needed to get on the road. I didn’t want to jeopardize possibilities for home visits or weekend passes that I knew the halfway house could issue. So we resisted the urge to stop for alone time and drove straight to the halfway house.
Once we got in the car, Carole passed me an iPhone. When I went to prison, this advanced technology didn’t exist. I’d never sent an email, never watched a YouTube video, never accessed the Internet. Everything about technology fascinated me.
While in prison, I frequently dreamed about the Internet, wondering what it was all about. I read many books and articles so that I could understand the power of this communication tool. I even took the initiative to participate indirectly.
Since the late 1990s I had a web presence. I persuaded people in my expanding support network to build websites for me. They published my articles and they’d send me screen shots. But there wasn’t any real way to experience the web without computer access. Reading about the Internet was like reading about playing tennis. Until an individual could access the Internet, he really didn’t know how to appreciate technology. When Carole gave me my iPhone, I got my first chance. As Carole drove, I played around with the phone and made some calls to family and friends.
Carole and I spoke about our plans. Goals had carried me through the 25 years inside and I pledged to continue living a values-based, goal-oriented life. During the final year in the halfway house, I pledged to sow seeds that would allow us to start my career. I intended to:
But first things first. During my year in the halfway house, I needed to establish myself. Fortunately, I had begun making plans long before I left prison. I had a job waiting. I had money in the bank. I had an extensive support network. Further, with the different books that I wrote while I served my sentence, I had a product line to launch. My books included:
Inside: Life Behind Bars in America
Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Term
Prison! My 8,344th Day
Triumph! The Straight-A Guide For Conquering Imprisonment and Preparing for Reentry
Success! The Straight-A Guide for At-Risk Youth
I didn’t write books that were masterpieces of English literature. Rather, they served the purpose. They would help people understand prisons, the people they hold, and strategies for growing through prison successfully. I hoped they would build credibility for me as I ventured into the world to start my career. My intentions were to use the books as tools. I could build a business, or income streams showing all that masterminds taught me. Anyone could use those same strategies to reject negativity or overcome challenges. The message was universal, valuable to anyone and everyone. If those strategies could empower me through decades in prison, others could use them to achieve more as well.
If you’re in prison, I urge you to think about steps you can take now. Think about options that exist to influence the people you’re going to meet in the future.
The halfway house in San Francisco was easy to navigate. After decades in federal prison, everything seemed easy. I was assigned to a two-man room and I could use the iPhone to connect with the world. I arrived on a Monday and met with Charles, my case manager on a Thursday. While doing his intake paperwork, Charles commented on the length of time that I’d served. He suggested that I participate in counseling sessions to help me acclimate.
I was prepared.
I brought all of the books that I’d written in prison, showed him support letters that I’d received, a resume I wrote, and presented him with a letter showing that I had a job waiting. The letter confirmed I could start working as soon as the halfway house authorized me to begin.
“How did you get all of this done while you were in prison?”
As Charles flipped through the books, I could sense that the tangible work I presented influenced his perception. Instead of seeing me as the ex-convict who served a quarter century and needed counseling, he treated me as a man. He said that he would give me as much liberty as I needed. I was excused from having to waste time in the counseling classes. Instead, I could continue executing a plan for success that I was able to articulate to my case manager.
As we approached the end of my term, we had to figure out where we wanted to live. When a man served longer than a quarter century, he didn’t really have roots anywhere. We chose California because I’d built a strong support network that would be easier to leverage from a large state. Further, California was a big market and the state had some significant problems with its prison system. Since we wanted to live in a place that offered the best opportunity, California seemed perfect. Besides the opportunity, I liked the weather.
I had another reason to choose California as the place where Carole and I would begin our life together. Toward the end of my sentence I met Justin Paperny, a former stockbroker who served a relatively brief sentence for violating securities laws. We became friends. Justin’s conviction meant that he would need to create a new career for himself upon release. At the time, in 2008, the nation’s economy was sinking. I used Socratic questioning to help Justin see the challenges that awaited him.
“How do you plan on earning a living when you get out?”
“How will the market respond to your conviction?”
“Why would a manager hire you when so many people without felony convictions are looking for employment?”
“In what ways could you turn your experience of going through the criminal justice system as a strength?”
Those questions helped Justin and I figure out a problem. Once we identified the problem, we could figure out solutions. Millions of formerly incarcerated individuals would face the same challenges that were about to complicate Justin’s life. Prison isn’t the only problem. We saw a massive problem with all that transpired after prison. People would need to transition into the job market. I suggested that Justin join efforts I’d been making to create programs and services that improve outcomes for the formerly incarcerated.
When Justin completed his prison term, he established a nonprofit that he named The Michael G. Santos Foundation. We wrote a plan, then began writing proposals for grants to fund our work. Those efforts led to us receiving a two-year grant from The California Wellness Foundation for $140,000. The foundation agreed to provide resources that would pay Justin a salary to manage the foundation, and pay me to write literature and programs we could use to teach strategies for overcoming struggle. Through our work, we anticipated that we could improve outcomes of our nation’s criminal justice system.
Had I not learned to ask the write types of questions early on during my prison journey, I would not have been able to figure out a plan to guide me through the decades. Without a plan, I wouldn’t have been able to educate myself or build credentials. And if I hadn’t earned credentials, I wouldn’t have been able to persuade The California Wellness Foundation to believe in the vision expressed through our grant requests. I’d need to continue that same strategy upon release.
Setting clear goals characterized my entire journey through prison. When I came to the end of my sentence, I knew I had to set goals that would ease my transition into society. At a minimum, I wanted:
I’m hopeful that readers in custody will see the relationship between decisions and success. Those who make principled, values-based, goal-oriented decisions have a far greater chance of success than those who simply allow the calendar pages to turn.
As a consequence of skills I developed during the first decade of imprisonment, I found ways to add value in society. Although prison rules prevented me from “running a business,” there were other rules that allowed me to write for publication. By understanding how the system operated, I could create strategies that I knew would ease my transition upon release. Executing that strategy every day allowed me to return to society strong. Carole and I had more than $85,000 in the bank on the day of my release. More importantly, we had a plan to guide our future.
I’d like to say the I originated the patterns of success I wrote about in my books. In truth, I learned from masterminds. Lessons from masterminds empowered me through the journey and they can empower you. In writing my books, all I did was rewrite the importance of applying lessons from the world’s leaders. Even in the context of a prison experience, those lessons advanced prospects for success. Through those books, I showed the result of living in accordance with values-based, goal-oriented decisions.
The remainder of this book will show how you can do the same. Regardless of where you are today, regardless of what decisions you’ve made in the past, regardless of what conditions you’re living at present, you have the power within to begin sowing seeds for a brighter future. Remember that every decision comes with opportunity costs. To the extent that you adhere to a disciplined, deliberate, strategic path, you can build a life of significance, relevance, and meaning.
In moving forward, begin asking the types of Socratic questions that will lead to the future you want to create:
Individuals who aspire to succeed always follow that pattern. Those who reach their highest potential follow the pattern in sports, in business, in politics, in marriage, and in any area of life where they want to excel. They always know where they are and they know where they’re going. They create plans, strategies, and make decisions in accordance with those plans and strategies.
In order to build a career around my journey, I needed to craft my own products and services that would communicate that message. With that end in mind, I began writing specific books. I wrote Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term to show people who were going through the criminal justice system the exact path that empowered me through the decades I served in every security level. That book provides the many details that I left out in this synopsis of my journey. Earning Freedom would show readers the day of my arrest, on August 11, 1987, until the day that I transitioned to a halfway house, on August 13, 2012. (The remainder of this book you’re holding will discuss my final year in the halfway house, and my first two years of liberty).
I wrote Prison! My 8,344th Day because I wanted readers to see what it meant to make disciplined decisions. The book provides a glimpse of a typical day during my 23rd year of confinement. I begin the book by writing about my eyes opening in the morning. The book concludes when I lie down on my rack to sleep. It covers a single day, showing readers what it means to make disciplined, deliberate decisions while living in the midst of challenge.
Then I wrote two separate books to describe the deliberate strategy I teach. I wrote Triumph! The Straight-A Guide to Conquering Imprisonment and Preparing for Reentry for adults in the criminal justice system, and I wrote Success! The Straight-A Guide for At-Risk Youth for juveniles. Each book told the same message, but I wrote them for specific audiences. In writing those books, I intended to build products I could use to advance my career upon release.
Carole married me on June 24, 2003. Over the course of my final decade, authorities transferred me several times. After Fort Dix, authorities transferred me to:
Each time authorities transferred me, Carole packed up and moved so we could spend as much time visiting as possible. Together, we made plans for my release. She earned her credential as a registered nurse in 2010. With a nursing credential, Carole could work anywhere. We chose nursing for her career because we believed that nursing would allow her to earn a livable wage regardless of where authorities sent me. Further, by earning a license to practice as a registered nurse, we anticipated that Carole would earn a sufficient income to support our family after my release. Her earnings would allow me to work toward building my career—a career that I anticipated would take several years to develop. While I worked to create a regular income stream, or multiple income streams, Carole’s earnings as a nurse would bring stability to our family.
Readers who have time to serve in prison should anticipate income streams upon release. Where will your income originate? How much will you earn? How will those earnings advance your stability? By using the Socratic questioning approach, Carole and I were able to make plans that would advance prospects for our success upon release.
By adhering to that strategy, I read with a deliberate purpose. Every decision had a direct connection to the success that I was determined to become. There were opportunity costs and risks associated with every decision. Since I knew that many people placed a high value on where they positioned their seat in the movie room, or whether they had the authority to change a channel, I avoided television rooms. In fact, every decision I made in prison began with a question.
Each question had a purpose. Rather than making decisions that would ease my journey through prison, enhance my reputation in prison, or advance my standing with others in prison, I considered the avatars. I didn’t know the avatars, but each of those avatars existed in my mind and they were real. I considered the people with whom I wanted to associate in the future. Then I contemplated whether a decision would make their support more likely or less likely. As long as my decisions followed that “principled” pathway, I felt as if I were empowering myself. When I empowered myself, I didn’t feel like I was serving multiple decades in prison. Instead, I felt as if each decision advanced my prospects for success, as if each decision represented a new investment that would bring success.
I wasn’t perfect, of course. I made some bad decisions along the way. Yet this strategy I describe above always helped me get back on track.
Can you see how the strategy can help you?
During my final years of imprisonment, I knew that I wanted to build a career around my journey. I needed to build products that would communicate a message. Specifically, I wanted to document the journey so that others could see how to sustain energy and discipline over a long period of time and how they could focus in the short term. I wanted to create my own tools to teach others.
Some readers may be familiar with self-help literature. From my perspective, self-help literature reveals a similar recipe. People who succeed follow a pattern.
We’ve seen over time that the journey of life is a struggle. It doesn’t matter whether someone is in prison or someone struggles through life in society. The one constant is struggle, always struggle. And there is always a pathway through struggle. Authors have written about that pathway in self-help literature since the beginning of the printed word.
We read that message through the work of many masterminds. They include Mahatma Gandhi, Viktor Frankl, Nelson Mandela, Aleksander Solzhenitsyn. We see the same message in people who haven’t personally struggled, but they’ve studied struggle and figured out ways to overcome. Work that makes this truism self evident includes the writing of Stephen Covey, Joel Olsteen, and Anthony Robbins. We see the same message in the work of Jack Welch, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs. What is that message?
My research showed that if I could persuade a literary agent to represent me, the literary agent would connect with publishing houses. If editors who worked at the publishing house liked my book, the editor would issue a contract to bring my book to market. It wouldn’t be easy. But prison had conditioned me to deal with rejection.
The book proposal itself required about 30 pages of writing. Sample chapters added another 30 pages. Postage and copy costs would be too high if I were to send the entire package to scores of publishers. I needed a more economical way.
Instead of sending the full book-proposal package, I leveraged off of my earlier work. First, I identified 100 literary agents. Then I wrote a query letter that described my background, my educational credentials, my publishing credentials, and a few sentences about the type of book that I wanted to write. I sent that one-page letter, along with a self-addressed-stamped envelope to the agents. With postage costs and copying, I’d say the total cash outlay was less than $2 an envelope—or $200.
Was the investment in my future worth $200? You be the judge.
That mailing resulted in my securing a relationship with a literary agent. I sent him the full proposal. Within two weeks he secured a publishing contract with St. Martin’s Press. The contract came with compensation that brought more than 1,000 times the initial investment I made in postage. More importantly, libraries and book stores across the country carried my book Inside: Life Behind Bars in America.
St. Martin’s Press published Inside in 2006. The investment of time and energy continues to bear fruit and pay dividends. Many opportunities opened through books I wrote. The books persuaded people to believe that I didn’t just “talk” about wanting to live a life of meaning, relevance, and contribution. Those people had tangible proof. They wanted to invest in me, help me, believe in me.
You too can begin creating credentials that will lead to your success. It’s never too late and it’s never too early to begin preparing for a life of success.
Remember I wrote that my adjustment plan had three components.
But see how each of those components work together? By educating myself I could create more opportunities to contribute to society. By contributing to society, more people became aware of my work. The more people who became aware of my work, the more people came into my life and offered support. The cycle of success was awesome and empowering. It feeds on itself.
As a consequence of the strategy, I met Carole. We married in 2003. At the time I was locked in a low-security prison in Fort Dix, New Jersey and we married inside the visiting room. Carole became my liaison to the world. I’d write by hand and send my manuscripts to her. She’d interact with publishers or work to bring my projects to life. If I hadn’t sown seeds early in my journey, Carole never would’ve come into my life. Yet together, we created a quasi business. My writing generated revenues that supported my wife. We paid taxes. As a consequence of revenues generated by my writing projects, Carole could return to school and earn a nursing degree. All of our efforts were part of a strategic plan, a plan that would allow Carole to live a sustainable life while I prepared for a meaningful career upon release.
In addition to writing books under my own name, I began writing books for other people. Every effort I made began with a single question:
Would this decision advance my prospects for success upon release?
That strategy empowered me through the journey. It dictated the books that I read while I was inside. It dictated the people with whom I associated. It dictated the jobs I tried to secure in prison. It dictated efforts I made to be assigned to the right bunk.
In later chapters, you’ll see how that strategy led to my income opportunities upon release. And you’ll see how those income opportunities allowed me to build an asset portfolio that would contribute to my financial security. Within 28 months of my release from prison, I controlled more than $1 million worth of assets and had equity of more than $500,000. I’d like others to experience even more success. They can do it by learning to ask the right questions.
By asking Socratic questions throughout the journey, I could stay focused on the end result. I wanted to emerge successfully more than anything. So every decision had to relate to success. When reading a book, for example, I’d read with a purpose. When I finished reading the book, I’d write a report in accordance with the following format:
Now I have a question for readers. If you could influence someone, who would you want to influence? What do you know about that person? In what ways would influencing that person change your life? What steps could you take today to influence that person?
My judge chose not to impose a life sentence. Instead, he sentenced me to 45 years. I was sentenced under a different set of laws than the sentencing laws that exist today. Under the laws that existed for crimes committed in 1987, I could earn 19-years worth of good-time credits. For readers who don’t know about good time, they’re rewards for avoiding disciplinary infractions. A prisoner didn’t need to do anything particularly good to earn good time. He simply needed to avoid being convicted of violating disciplinary infractions. So long as I didn’t lose any good time during my journey through prison, I would satisfy my sentence after 26 years of imprisonment.
Since I was 23-years-old when authorities took me into custody, I didn’t quite know how to process the concept of serving 26 years. Thankfully, by reading Socrates I had a vision and a strategy. By thinking about my avatars, I could craft a strategy that would allow me emerge successfully. I would focus on that three-pronged goal of working to educate myself, to contribute to society, and to building a support network.
I began serving my sentence in the United States Penitentiary in Atlanta, thousands of miles away from where I grew up, in Seattle. While locked inside those high walls, I embarked upon the first prong of my plan. Although I’d been a lousy student in high school, I was determined to become a good student in prison. Why? Because I believed that if I could earn a university degree while incarcerated, people in society would respect me. And if more people respected me, I believed that more opportunities would open.
Since I didn’t have any financial resources, I began writing letters to universities. I wrote to hundreds of universities, not knowing whether anyone would read the letters. Still, I knew that if I didn’t write letters, I wouldn’t stand a chance of connecting with my avatars who lived on the other side of prison walls. Each letter expressed the same message:
I made bad decisions as a young man. As a consequence of those decisions, I served a lengthy term in prison. I wrote that I wanted to educate myself while inside and I asked for help. In time, I found universities to work with me. Those relationships I opened from inside prison walls resulted in my earning an undergraduate in 1992, and a master’s degree in 1995.
After Hofstra University awarded my master’s degree, I began studying toward a Ph.D. at the University of Connecticut. Then a warden determined that my education had gone far enough. He put a stop to my formal studies by prohibiting the prison’s mailroom from receiving books that the University of Connecticut’s library would send for my coursework. Fortunately, by then I had eight years of imprisonment behind me. That experience conditioned me to cope well with obstacles.
When my formal studies came to an end, I shifted focus. As I wrote in Earning Freedom and other books, I went through a phase where the stock market consumed all of my time. By studying how investors valued stocks I learned about business. I became fluent with “technical analysis,” learning how to assess a stock’s value in accordance with various trading patterns. By reading financial newspapers and magazines and books, I also learned about “fundamental analysis,” learning the importance of more objective metrics like growth rates, profit margins, return on equity, and other factors.
Studying the stock market, I knew, would be a poor substitute for real business experience. But serving a lengthy term in prison required that I look for “unorthodox” ways to prepare myself for success upon release. And the more I could learn about business, the more I would arm myself for the challenges I anticipated upon release.
What lessons could you learn with the resources you have around you? In the pages and chapters that follow, you’ll see how asking questions inspired me to learn as much as possible. It’s crucial that we use resources around us to prepare for success in our future. Without a deliberate plan, however, we sometimes fail to see the resources. Later, I’ll show the strategy that worked so well for me.
As we approached the turn of the century I crossed over into the second half of my sentence. I had 13 years of prison behind me and 13 years of prison ahead of me. I shifted attention to writing, wanting to advance purposely toward the other two prongs of my adjustment strategy. First I wrote articles and I submitted them for publication. Then I began writing chapters for academic books. In time, one of my mentors offered to introduce me to his publisher. Professor George Cole, from the University of Connecticut, presided over my Ph.D. program and he authored the leading textbook on corrections. George suggested that I write a book for an academic audience that his publisher could package as a supplemental text for university students who were studying corrections. His suggestion led to my first book, About Prison.
I hope you will connect the dots here. Early in the book I wrote how I contemplated my avatars. What was that? While still in the county jail, before I’d even been sentenced, I thought about the people I would want to influence in my future. I didn’t know George Cole then, and George Cole didn’t know me. He was a distinguished author and he led the criminal justice department at the University of Connecticut. But while I was locked in the Pierce County Jail, masterminds like Socrates inspired me. They taught me to ask “Socratic questions” about what steps I could take during my imprisonment to prepare for success. Those questions led to my three-part adjustment strategy:
By sticking to that three-pronged strategy, I could open more opportunities. Since I executed that plan, I earned university degrees. Since I earned university degrees, I found it easier to open opportunities to publish articles. Since I published articles, I found mentors like George Cole. He didn’t judge me for the bad decisions that brought me to prison. Instead, he looked upon me as someone who could add value to society. George then introduced me to his publisher. She issued a contract to publish About Prison. When About Prison came out, thousands of people became aware of my work. My support network grew. Since the prison system didn’t allow me to “run a business,” I assigned royalties from About Prison to family members. Those resources opened opportunities I could leverage and create more opportunities.
The cycle of success began for me while I served time inside of a jail cell, before I was even sentenced to prison. When will your cycle of success begin? It will begin as soon as you start living by this same model:
After writing my first book, I reached to another mentor of mine. Dr. Marilyn McShane. Marilyn taught criminal justice courses at several universities and she also advised publishing companies. She opened an opportunity for me to publish my second book, Profiles From Prison, through Greenwood/Praeger, another well-respected academic publishing house.
With two publishing credentials behind me, I aspired to reach a wider audience. Prison populations had been growing and I thought it would be helpful to write a general nonfiction book about the prison system. I pulled books from prison library shelves and researched how to go about publishing a mainstream book.
<h2>Success After Prison</h2>
I’m Michael Santos and I’m typing this manuscript on an awesome Mac Pro computer. When I served my sentence, I had to write all of my manuscripts by hand. Now I’m addicted to Apple products and word processors. These tools allow me to write much more efficiently, but I no longer have the time that was available to me while I was in prison. Again, that’s why I won’t devote hundreds of hours to editing this manuscript. At least for this draft, what you see is what you get.
I started typing this manuscript on Saturday morning, December 4, 2015. I don’t know how long it will take for me to finish, but I’m going to do my best to finish a solid draft before the end of this year. Why? Well, it may seem strange, but I’m scheduled to visit the United States Penitentiary in Atwater on January 8, 2016.
After speaking at a judicial conference in Sacramento that I wrote about in the introduction, I had a conversation with Warden Andre Matevousian. He extended an open invitation for me to return to Atwater—the prison that released me in 2013—so I could meet his team and make an address to the prisoners inside. I welcomed the opportunity.
Twenty-eight months have passed since I concluded my 9,500-day journey as a federal prisoner. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, which I’ll explain in the chapters that follow. But in order to help readers understand more about how I opened opportunities that few would expect for a man who served so much time in prison, I need to provide some context—at least an abbreviated background.
If you’ve read my earlier books, particularly Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term, you won’t be learning anything new in this chapter. I won’t take the time to provide the same level of detail as I wrote in that book. Those who want a more comprehensive glimpse of my prison journey will find value in Earning Freedom. After this initial chapter, the remainder will show how decisions in prison related to opportunities and success I’ve been building since my release. We’ll start with the backstory.
<h3></h3>
<h3>Background:</h3>
In 1982, I graduated from Shorecrest High School in Seattle as a mediocre student. Then I started working with my father in a contracting company he established when I was a young boy. My father escaped from Cuba and worked hard to build his company, hoping he would pass the business along to me after I matured. Unfortunately, I disappointed both my father and mother.
When I was 20, in 1984, I saw the movie Scarface, with Al Pacino. Pacino played the character Tony Montana, a super cool Cuban immigrant who built a fortune trafficking in cocaine. Rather than wanting to follow in my father’s footsteps, I made the bad decision to follow guidance from Tony Montana. “In this country, first you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the woman.”
I admired Tony’s philosophy.
His outlook on life didn’t work out so well. After seeing the film, I coordinated a scheme to earn quick money by distributing cocaine. Foolishly, I believed that I could shield myself from prosecution. By limiting my role to negotiating transactions and hiring other people to transport the cocaine, or storing the cocaine, I convinced myself that I could avoid the criminal justice system.
On August 11, 1987, I learned how badly I had misinterpreted the criminal justice system. In the late afternoon, I saw three DEA agents pointing guns at my head. They told me I was under arrest. Soon I felt an officer pulling my wrists behind my back and locking them in steel cuffs. My journey began. Over subsequent decades, I’d go through:
<ul>
<li>Federal holding centers</li>
<li>Court proceedings</li>
<li>Pierce County Jail</li>
<li>Kent Jail</li>
<li>Puyallup Jail</li>
<li>USP Atlanta</li>
<li>FCI McKean</li>
<li>Federal correctional Institution, Fairton</li>
<li>United States Penitentiary Lewisburg</li>
<li>FCI Fort Dix</li>
<li>Federal Prison Camp in Florence</li>
<li>Federal prison camp in Lompoc</li>
<li>Federal prison camp</li>
<li>Taft, Federal Prison Camp</li>
<li>Atwater Federal Prison Camp</li>
<li>San Francisco Halfway house</li>
<li>Supervised Release</li>
<li>Parole, and</li>
<li>Special parole</li>
</ul>
The pages that follow will show how decisions I made inside influenced my life outside.
It’s my hope that this message will inspire you to begin preparing for your successful outcome.
<h3>Transformation after Trial:</h3>
Wanting nothing more than to get out of jail, I welcomed my attorney’s optimism. When he told me that a big difference existed between an indictment and a conviction, I put my future in his hands. Then I proceeded to make every bad decision a defendant could make.
<blockquote>I refused to accept responsibility.
I didn’t contemplate expressing remorse.
While in custody, I stayed involved with the criminal enterprise that I had begun.
I took the witness stand to testify during my trial and I lied to the jury.</blockquote>
Members of the jury saw through my perjury and convicted me of every count.
<h3>A New Philosophy:</h3>
After the jury convicted me, the U.S. Marshals returned me to the Pierce County Jail. While in my cell, for the first time, I came to terms with the bad decisions that I had made. I began to pray for guidance. Those prayers led me to a book of philosophy and I came across the story of Socrates.
At that time, I didn’t know anything about philosophy or Socrates. He was a teacher in ancient Athens. Laws of that era made it a crime to teach people who were not from the ruling class. Socrates broke that law. He believed that every human being had value and a right to learn. Authorities convicted Socrates for breaking the law of teaching and judges sentenced him to death. While being held in jail until his execution date, Socrates received a visit from his friend Crito. Crito presented Socrates with an opportunity to escape. Instead of taking the easy way out of escape, Socrates chose to accept his punishment—accepting death before dishonor.
From Socrates, I learned a great deal. His wisdom came through asking brilliant questions—which spawned the term “Socratic questioning.” After reading several stories about his life, I stretched out on the concrete slab in one of Pierce County’s jail cells and I thought about the decisions I had made that put me in my predicament. While staring at the ceiling, I contemplated the many bad decisions of my youth.
<blockquote>I made a poor choice of friends
I lived a fast lifestyle, and
I lacked discipline.</blockquote>
As a consequence of my convictions for leading an enterprise that trafficked in cocaine, I faced a possible sentence of life in prison.
Even though my conviction carried the possibility of a life sentence without parole, I believed that I would return to society at some point. I began to question whether I could do anything while I served my sentence to prepare for a better life when my prison term ended.
As I learned from Socrates, the secret to success wasn’t to ask questions about my own life. Instead, I needed to ask questions about my relationship to the broader society. Later, I learned from many other masterminds that taught me the timeless value of asking the right questions. For example, a well known sales coach and motivational speaker, Zig Zigler, is famous for having said: If I can ask questions to help other people get what they want, I can get everything that I want.
Reading about Socrates taught me to ask questions that would help me understand the people I wanted in my life. I hated confinement and didn’t want to be a prisoner forever. Although I couldn’t undo the bad decisions of my past, I started thinking about the people I wanted to interact with in the future. Ironically, although I faced a life sentence, I didn’t want to think of myself as a criminal. In the future, I wanted others to judge me for the way that I responded to my problems—not for the bad decisions that resulted in my imprisonment.
<h3>Socratic Questioning and Avatars:</h3>
<blockquote>Who were the people I would want to interact with in the future?
What did they do for a living?
What influence would they have in my life?</blockquote>
Those kinds of questions led me to “humanize” my avatars. What’s an avatar? From my perspective, an avatar was the type of person I wanted to meet in the future. That person would influence aspects of my life. Although the avatar didn’t exist as a flesh-and-blood person, in my mind the avatar was real—even though I didn’t know who he or she would be.
<ul>
<li>I thought about my future probation officer because that person would have an influence on my life whenever my prison term ended.</li>
<li>I thought about my future employer.</li>
<li>I thought about future lenders.</li>
<li>I thought about the woman I would marry and the friends I would choose.</li>
</ul>
Who were those people? What characterized their lives? What level of education would they have? What could I do to earn their respect?
The more questions I asked of my avatars, the more insight I had as I contemplated the way that I would adjust through my prison journey. I began with questions about whether there would be anything that I could do from prison to influence the way those avatars would perceive me in the future.
The initial answer to my question was a resounding yes.
If I acted appropriately, I believed that I could influence the perceptions of my avatars. As Socrates taught, one question always led to another. What then could I do to influence the ways that those avatars would see me? What would they expect from me if they were going to see me as something more than the bad decisions I made when I was 20?
Those questions led to a three-part plan:
<ol>
<li>My avatars would expect me to educate myself.</li>
<li>My avatars would expect me to contribute to society.</li>
<li>My avatars would expect me to build a support network.</li>
</ol>
If I kept the expectations of my avatars at the forefront of my mind, and if I turned to those thoughts with every decision, I believed that I would influence perceptions. Instead of judging me for my criminal conviction, being a prisoner, or an ex convict, my avatars would respect me. They would perceive me as a man of discipline and integrity, as someone who worked to earn his freedom.
Now I have a question for readers. If you could influence someone, who would you want to influence? What do you know about that person? In what ways would influencing that person change your life? What steps could you take today to influence that person?
<h1>Success After Prison!</h1>
<h2>How I Built Assets Worth $1 million Within Two Years of Release from 26 Years Inside (And How You Can Succeed, Too)</h2>
My name is Michael Santos and I’m writing this book in a conversational style, wanting to share the story of my return to society after 26 years as a prisoner. This book isn’t about prison. It’s about overcoming struggle, or more precisely, about strategies I used to overcome challenges associated with long-term confinement. I’m convinced that we all face struggles or challenges at some point. Anyone can use the same strategies that empowered me to conquer struggle in their life. I’m sure of it.
Before I get into the strategies, let me explain why I’m writing this book so soon after finishing my prison sentence.
Judge Charles Pyle, a federal judge from Arizona reached out to me in early 2015. I didn’t know Judge Pyle, but he had heard about my journey and my work to improve outcomes for people who’ve been to prison. The judge and his team were coordinating the Ninth Circuit Judicial Conference, a major event that would take place later in the year in Sacramento. He expected several hundred leaders from the judicial system, the prison system, and other stakeholders who had devoted their careers to criminal justice. Judge Pyle asked if I would attend the conference as a speaker.
Since concluding my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons, in August of 2013, I’ve spoken for audiences across the United States, many dozens of times. Sometimes those events paid me well, other times I spoke without compensation because I believed in the cause. On one previous occasion, while I was still in the halfway house, I received an invitation to speak to judges in the Southern District of California. They wanted me to speak about what happens after judges sentence an individual to the custody of the attorney general. I received permission from the BOP and flew down to provide my thoughts.
So the invitation from Judge Pyle brought my second opportunity to influence judges since my release from prison. I looked forward to the three-day even in the fall of 2015. I heard that Paul Write, another formerly incarcerated individual, would also present as a speaker. I’ve known of Paul’s work for decades. Since I admired his commitment and discipline, I looked to meeting him.
Paul Wright started the award-winning newspaper, Prison Legal News, while he served a lengthy sentence in Washington State’s prison system. Although I’d never met Paul previously, his work inspired me for many years. When I began my term as a federal prisoner, Paul was beginning a term inside Washington State’s prison system. Prison Legal News educated others about case law pertaining to prisoners, and the newspaper published commentaries, essays, and perceptions about what was going in jails and prisons across the world.
Over the years, Paul grew the distribution of his influential magazine. Prisoners from across the country subscribed. Paul put a team together in the community. They took pains to make sure the magazine was printed and mailed to each subscriber. Many administrators resisted Prison Legal News, and I know that he paid a heavy price for his commitment to publishing. In addition to the newspaper, Paul authored several books. Since his work inspired me over the decades that I served, I was glad that we’d finally have an opportunity to meet at the Sacramento conference.
Paul and I walked to a restaurant after the first day of the conference so that we could talk over dinner. While eating seafood, I learned more about Paul’s commitment to helping people in prison. Prison Legal News, he said, reached more than 200,000 people each month. He suggested that I purchase advertising space to reach more people who might have an interest in or benefit from books I wrote.
Prior to that conversation, I never considered purchasing advertising for books. I wrote several books during the 26 years that I served in prison. Initially, I worked with publishers that had their own marketing departments. They controlled the distribution of the books through their end-user sales force or through their distributors. Publishers coordinated reviews that made book buyers aware of the various titles that I wrote.
Later, with the advancement of the Internet, publishing my own books became more efficient. Distribution came through various channels, which I’ll describe in the chapters that follow. Advertising to a mass audience hadn’t been one of my strategies. So when Paul suggested that I purchase an ad, I asked him more about the process and the readership.
Prison Legal News reaches prisoners in every state, he explained. In addition to the newspaper that went into prisons, PrisonLegalNews.org reached a wide audience of lawyers and others who were interested in prisons. Since I wanted to support his team’s effort with Prison Legal News, and he convinced me that I could reach more readers, I decided to advertise with him.
As Paul and I discussed the different books that I’ve already written, I realized that I should write a book that people in prison could act upon. When Paul and I met, I’d been in society for 26 months. During that time, I’d built an asset portfolio worth more than $1,000,000. I thought people in prison would find some value in learning how decisions I made during my imprisonment contributed to opportunities I opened. Those opportunities resulted in my returning to society differently from the way that anyone would expect for a man who served multiple decades.
I’d like more people to come out of prison strong, with their dignity intact. With that end in mind, I decided to write the book you’re now reading.
Besides writing books under my own name, I wrote several books for other people while I served my sentence. That work was an important part of my release-preparation strategy, as you’ll read in the chapter that follows. Since I didn’t have access to technology, I wrote each manuscript in longhand. Then I’d send the manuscripts home. My wife would convert my handwritten pages into a digital format, then return the pages for me to edit. I spent many hours writing and rewriting. Now that I’m in society, I don’t have the time to invest in that rewriting.
Since I have many obligations and responsibilities competing for my attention, I’m not going to spend countless hours editing this manuscript. So if you’re the type of reader who cringes at typos, word choice, redundancy, or style, this book may not be the one for you. My goal isn’t to win any writing awards or to earn distinction for eloquence. I’m simply trying to deliver a message and actionable strategies for readers who want to learn how to use their time in ways that will position them for success through prison and beyond.
I hope you find value in the message, and I wish you success in your journey.
Sincerely,
Michael Santos
December 4, 2015
PS. I’m setting a goal of finishing a first-draft of this manuscript before the end of 2015—in 26 more days.
John Odermatt is the host of Felony Fridays, a podcast that appears each Friday on the Lion's of Liberty Show. I'm happy to feature an interview that John did with me yesterday on his show. Also, I urge people to visit Lions of Liberty and Felony Friday. They work together to bring more awareness to injustices within our justice system.
Andrew Crowe started getting in trouble with the criminal justice system when he was a child. He served longer than a year in custody when he was 14. Then he made a series of bad decisions that brought him through various jails and prisons on more than 15 separate occasions. After serving a four-year term, he managed to stay free for 20 years--but not because he wasn't violating crimes. Andrew just avoided getting caught. Recently, he was released after serving a lengthy period of time in prison. Andrew discusses how his adjustment in prison is contributing to his prospects for success upon release.
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