after prison

words from former earth & animal liberation prisoners

rod coronado : jeffluers : jordan haliday : josh harper
infroduction

The United States has the highest prison incarceration rate in the world. If you live in this country itis
likely that at some time in your life either yourself, or someone you know, will spend time locked behind
metal doors. There are certain communities in this country that see much higher imprisonment rates
than others. Migrant communities, Indigenous communities, African Americans and lower socio-
economic communities, for example, all experience much higher rates of imprisonment than most white
people. According to the Bureau of Justice statistics, one in three black men can expect to go to prison in
their lifetime. Such communities disproportionately feel the detrimental effects of the prison system,
through the incarceration process itself, as well as the stress, trauma and discrimination that continues
after release.

Activist communities in the United States have gone through a number of cycles of heavy repression by
the State, leading to many political organizers being imprisoned for substantial amounts of time. Over
the past decade activists have seen the Green Scare play out, in which environmental and animal defense
activists have been targeted for long prison sentences for taking actian. Activists have also been targeted
by grand juries, as well as experiencing high levels of infltration, informing and entrapment. It has been
arollercoaster of a decade to see fellow activists being sentenced to many years in prison, at the same
time as celebrating others being released.

While there is no doubt a lot of joy around welcoming people back to our communities who have spent
timein prison, the process of integrating back into the outside world can be a stressful process for some.
Asis true of many difficult experiences in life it is hard to truly know what someone is going through
unless you have been there yourself. For many activists coming out of prison there are parole conditions
that inhibit them from communicating with others who have been through the same thing. Out of this
dilemma came the idea for this zine, Through these writings and interviews, former prisoners are sharing
theit experiences of lfe after prison with supporters and other former and current prisoners. These
voices are not meant to speak for all, but show some of the diversity of experiences and feelings about
life after prison.

There are some experiences oflife after prison that are very consistent amongst most former prisoners
though. Massive levels of discrimination in housing, difficulties in finding workplaces that hire felons, and
lack of access to certain resources, are just some of those common post-prison experiences. While all of
the former prisoners who contributed to this zine have different stories, and come from different
backgrounds, you will notice certain congruent themes in their experiences.

We would love this to become an ongoing project. Please visit the After Prison website for more
information. (fyou are a former movement prisoner and would like to contribute your story, or thoughts
onthe isstie of lfe after prison, please get in touch. We would love to print future editions of this zine
with more stories to share with our communities.

afterprisonzine.org
afterprisonzine@gmail.com

Cover image: Resilience by Ali Cat Leeds
interview with jeff luers

leff ‘Free’ Luers grew up in the Southern Californian anti-fascist punk community. A trip to the forests of Oregon in
the late 90's resulted in him becoming the first tree-sitter in the ultimately successful Fall Creek forest campaign.
In 2001 Jeff was sentenced to 22 years and 8 months on a number of counts of arson, after setting fire to 3 light
trucks in a car yard in Eugene, OR. as a symbolic action highlighting the issue of climate change. There was
outrage from civil liberties groups across the globe at the judge's excessive sentencing. Jeff had a strong support
campaign while in prison, and regularly wrote personal and political dispatches from prison that were widely
read. After 6 years in a maximum security prison, Jeff won his appeal and his sentence was reduced to 10 years.
He was released from prison in 2009 at the age of 30 after serving 9 % years.

How did you feel when you first walked out the gate
after 9 % years?

1 think ‘weird is really the only term. We use it so much
that it might not have the meaning that it should. |
spent 9 % years having every aspect of my life dictated
to me. When I could go to chow, when I could go
outside, when | could talk to my loved ones, when they
could come see me. While going through that gate
didn't mean total freedom — I still had to deal with
supervision being told what I could and couldn't do — it
was like my prison yard got a lot bigger.

It mostly felt like, okay, so that was hard prison and
now this is soft prison. Now I'm out and | can mostly do
what | want, but they could throw me back in at any
time. 1 still needed to get permission before | could do a
range of things. It was amazing, but it wasn't really
freedom.

It was also trying to remember how to be the person |
was before | went in. How to not let down my loved
ones that were there to pick me up and support me. It
was awesome, but it felt like a lot of pressure to make it
all work.

Was it different to your expectations of release?

Of course it's different. We all tell ourselves a story to
get through prison. Whatever that story is — my life is
going to be this, or my partner is going to be this
person — we all have this idea of the free world that
gives us some element of hope to survive the ordeal
that we've been placed into.

The reality is that it never comes true. It certainly
wasn't true for me. | don't think it's been true for

anyone | know that's got out of prison. There's always
this element of ‘wow, this isn't how | pictured getting
out was going to be'. The excitement is amazing and |
don't mean to downplay that at all, but there's always
an element of disappointment.

It's a hard thing to deal with after spending years
behind bars, holding onto a dream that doesn't come
true. Yet, it's those dreams that make those years
behind bars bearable. Without them I would be less of
2 man than | am today. It's a classic catch 22; we find
hope where we need it, but hope is a double-edged
sword. Because when hope doesn't come true it can
lead to despair.

In the first few months of your release, what did you
find the most challenging about life on the outside?

Tolerating people, and not treating this world like
prison. There's a fairly strict code of ethics and honor,
and standard way of conducting one's life and business,
within prison walls. f it isn't adhered to it can result in
your community turning on you. In prison if you're not
polite and courteous to every single person it can lead
toafight.

It's the most polite place I've ever been. It's amazing,
You've never seen anything like it, the most hardened
criminals saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you' at every turn
and venture and ‘excuse me', ‘pardon’, 'may 17, it's
incredible. To not adhere to that creates social
disharmony that can result in violence.

Out here none of that exists. Say you're at a crowded
cafe and someone bumps into you and doesn't say
‘excuse me', in prison | would certainly say something. |
might push the guy, things could escalate to the point
where I'd feel like | have to hit him. In Eugene, that'l
pretty much just put you back in prison and everyone
will think you're nuts.

How do you transition from a world largely dictated by
violence to one in which that's not really how people
interact? It's really difficult to get the conflict out of my
head

What did you find the most wonderful about the
outside world in the first few months after your
release?

Spontaneity, | think it's something we often take for
granted. The idea that if you want to you can get up
and walk down to the store and grab a beer, or call up a
friend and suddenly go and hang out, or just go for a
walk around the block just because you feel like it.
Spontaneity is not something that exists in prison.

1 missed all the things that | couldn't have in prison,
seeing all the stars, seeing the moon, hanging out in
fog. Crossing yellow lines, just because I could cross
them. The fact that they were a yellow line had no
meaning any more. Door knobs, that was weird at first.
Getting used to the fact that | could open doors and |
didn't have to stand in front of them until they opened
for me. Fortunately | never stood at the entrance to my
house waiting to get let in or anything, but you know,
there were situations people teased me about.

How do you feel life in prison affected your
relationships with people? Did you find different kinds
of relationships challenging after prison?

| think that prison actually helped me evolve my
relationships. You only have communication in prison,
and even that can be strained because of how much it's
observed. Words become incredibly important, and
being able to communicate and have honest dialogue.
Interacting with a whole new slew of people since I've
been out, I'm honestly surprised by their lack of
communication, their ability to express their thoughts
and how they feel about things, and to share.

1 find that's really unique, to think that | actually
communicate better and more openly than most
people because of my time in prison. It's allowed me to
say 'hey, | feel a thing, and it's important that | share it
with this person that | care about!, or ‘hey I'm really

angry, and it's important that | tell this guy before he
pisses me off to the point that | punch him in the face'
and then all sorts of bad things happen. Ideally it's nice
to hear when people have something they want to
share with you, especially when that's ‘stop this or I'm
going to punch you in the face'.

But, | think all relationship are challenging when you
get out of prison to a degree. | know | definitely had a
series of disastrous relationships with female friends of
mine. Maybe disastrous isn't quite the right word,
we're all still friends. It's tricky trying to navigate the
world of love and sex and friendship, and trying to do it
when everything around you is so overwhelmingly
intense and absorbing. It's a bad comparison, but it's
like going to the big city for the first time and seeing
shiny lights everywhere, and you just want to take it all
in and be a part of it because you haven't for so long.
Everything feels so brand new. In a lot of ways it's
almost like being a kid all over again, except you're not
a kid any more, and it can be a really difficult thing to
navigate.

What do you feel were the most useful forms of
support that you received?

Space, and money, sadly. | think one of the reasons why
my transition was so successful was that | had a plan
before | got out. For me that plan was basically going
back to school, which allowed me to apply for financial
aid and a bunch of other things. The timing of my
getting out worked out really well because it was only 2
weeks away from a financial aid check. Here | am, I get
out, | have a source of income. That's a challenging
thing for a lot of people getting out.

I was also incredibly fortunate that because of my
support campaign | was able to parole with several
thousand dollars. It was more than enough to give me a
few clear months to get my shit together, and not have
to worry about if | was going to eat or be able to pay
rent. That was absolutely huge.

Space was critical. | loved the fact that | had great
friends that were there and supportive, and we'd hang
out and do things. But all too often it really felt like
there were a lot of people that seemed to demand my
time. There were people that weren't key supporters of
mine, and | didn't know all that well, or maybe | hadn't
even got a letter from in 9 % years. Yet they just felt like
they really needed to engage with me and take of my
time, and ask me how | was. Frankly, | didn't talk to you
for 9% years and | really don't need to tell you how I'm
feeling today. It doesn't mean | don't want to have a
conversation with you, but please back off.

Was there any forms of support you found particularly
unuseful?

1 think people sometimes need to understand that their
good intentions are their good intentions, but they
don't need to be accepted. | had a number of people —
very well meaning, and | absolutely appreciated it
offer me types of support that | just didn't want. | didn't
want counseling, | still don't want counseling. | might
have my problems, and 'm happy to work with them
and talk to people about them, but I'm not going to talk
toastranger.

Being able to accept when your offer of support isn't
going to be accepted, that's huge. At the same time,
maybe asking before you offer support. | found a lot
that people liked to think that they knew what |
needed. More often that not these were people that
had very little direct communication with me while |
was locked up. Which isn't to negate the fact that they
might have done huge amounts of support for me, but
they didn't communicate with me so we didn't have a
relationship. | don't think many people tend to take
personal support from people that they don't have
relationships with.

How do you feel that prison has affected you in the
long term?

Violence will always be an inherent part of my life. It's
hard for me to be around loud aggressive men, or to be
walking down a street at night and see two guys
walking opposite from me, without me very clearly
imagining how I'l disable them and where Il hit them.
For 9 % years of my life | was conditioned to be a
combatant.

My prison experience was not a mellow and tame one.
My prison experience, like many people | know, was
one that was constantly full of violence. I saw violence
every day. I've seen multiple people get stabbed, and
people get hit in the head with padiocks. | saw my
friend kill a man in front of me. I've stepped out over a
dead body full of blood and got caught up in the

murder investigation. I've attacked people, I've
confronted people. | trained for 5 % years with an
amazing crew of very talented fighters and martial
artists in a semi-full contact mode. I knew that we'd be
ready to fight against prison guards, or prison gangs, or
anybody that we needed to.

1 had a very solid crew of individuals that were doing 20
years-to-life that were amazing friends. We went
through everything together, and sometimes  that
meant that when one person had a problem, we all had
a problem. The formative years of my lfe, all of my 20's,
were conditioned by the violence around me and how
1'd respond to that with violence.

Now | live in a world where I'm trying to not let that be
the basis of my life. 'm not ashamed of that, and I don't
want to forget it, and | certainly don't want to hide it. |
definitely feel more disciplined, more safe, and
ultimately more dangerous because of it. | honestly
think that gives me a level of confidence that | don't see
in many other people. Although that could largely just
be attributed to martial arts. | frequently find that |
have more in common with combat veterans than |
have with the average person. I think it's difficult
readjusting back to a way of life that doesn't include
violence as a daily ritual.

As someone who was politically active before and
during your prison term, how do you feel about
engaging in the struggle since you left prison?

I think sadly more than anything the word is
disappointment. | went into prison at a time when
struggling meant fighting back. When struggling was
more than words. | think that the vast majority of
activism today is talking about activism. It's about
saying the right thing to the right people so that you
can raise your status in a social group. The vast majority
of activism | see today is replicating the same
hierarchies and the same culture that we profess to be
against, by recreating these systems within our own
little cliques. | think we find our empowerment by
disempowering others. | find it sad and disappointing
that my 9 % years in prison did nothing at all to further
change.

I've had a lot of amazing dialogues with people since |
got out. | know that my words have reached a lot of
people. I know that a lot of people think differently. |
think that's amazing and it makes every day | did worth
it. Yet the world is worse off today than it was the day |
went to prison. Our communities are more divided
today than they were when | went to prison. | think
that's a sad, sad state of affairs. It makes me not want
to participate with movements that I've historically
affiliated with. It makes me not want to engage with
people who define themselves as activists.

1 often find that for many people it's all just words. It's
just getting together and talking about ideas and not
acting on them. It becomes being able to feel better
about ourselves because we can see there's problems,
rather than doing something about it. | feel like by and
large we've simply tried to find a way to carve out our
existence within the dominant paradigm, without
challenging it any more. Which isn't to say we're not
getting repressed and there's not amazing people out
there doing things. That's certainly not what | mean to
imply. But | think we would all be foolish and blind to
not recognize that we're losing.

What would you say to someone who is hoping to be
able to support someone coming out of prison?

That it's not about you. It's not about ‘ooh, you're
friends with this political prisoner' and you can talk to
your friends about it. It's not about whether at the end
of the day you can pat yourself on the back for
supporting the person that just got out. It's not about a
scene. It's about someone coming home who has been
to war, who has faced an ordeal, who has suffered.

That doesn't mean that | want pity, it doesn't mean |
need your empathy. | just need you to recognize that
it's not about you. It's not about a movement. It's
about me being able to smell a flower again, to be able
to share a bed with someone, to visit a grandparent
that | haven't seen in 9 % years. It's about me
remembering how to be human, and what that means.

1 think that too often political prisoners, and even
movements to a larger degree, get iconized and put
upon a pedestal, or tured into something more than
just 'leff’. What's important is trying to be a friend,
trying to see what the individual needs, rather than
what you need to give. Which isn't to suggest that you
don't offer support, but it means that for however
many years we've been locked up, everyone's been
telling us exactly how it's going to be. Getting out is

about being able to make some determinations for
ourselves. While we might need encouragement, we're
capable of asking for the things that we need

What would you say to someone that is struggling
with life on the outside after a prison term?

If you can do prison, you can do not being in prison.
Sometimes we have to remind ourselves of that, | know
I have. There's these times when it feels like the weight
of the world is incredibly intense and unbearable, and
then | go ‘oh, wait a minute, | did 9 % years in prison, |
can get through this'. It might suck, | might not like it,
but if I'm strong enough to survive the worst that my
enemies can throw at me, I'm strong enough to survive
lfe,

It certainly didn't hurt that I had friends to help remind
me of that as well. | think sometimes we just forget our
strengths. That doesn't just happen to people getting
out of prison, that happens with anyone. In extreme
hardships we can forget how strong of a person we are.
For me, | know what I've experienced, | know what I've
been through, | know how strong of a person | am.
When I forget | remind myself to take a deep breath,
remember my victories, remember my strengths, and
remember above all that if there is one trait that | and
every other die hard revolutionary and activist | know
has, it's determination.

Determination can see us through a ot of things. It
won't make things more pleasant, but it will give us the
fortitude we need to overcome and ordeal and become
stronger and wiser because of it. We're not defined by
our hardships, we're not defined by our obstacles,
we're defined by how we overcame them. We defined
by how we choose to define our own existence.

I went to prison because | believed there were things
worth fighting for, regardiess of their consequences.
There's right and there's wrong, and there's inherent
truths in this world that can't be argued against. That
same principle and strength that allowed me to do
those things is the same strength I rely on to be a good
person, a good partner, a dedicated student. Not just in
school but of life, with a constant desire to learn and
improve myself.

I think that we need to remember that the same
courage that we found to stand for the earth, or stand
against injustice, or to defend animals, that's the same
strength that inspired us to take the action that led to
our incarceration. Or inspired us to participate in
movements that were targeted because they're
effective. It's the same courage that we should be
cultivating in our communities and ourselves to just
live. It takes courage to live free. That's why it's so hard
for so many people to do, because the shackles aren't
just something that the State puts on you, the shackles
are things we put on ourselves.

We need to remind ourselves that the thing that brings
warmth to our hearts and inspires us to resist is the fire
that's burning inside of us, yearning to be free. When
we learn to cultivate that personally and as
communities, look out, because then we'll be remaking
the world into what it should be.

post traumatic stress after prison

by jordan halliday

Jordan Halliday is a long time activist. He believes that total liberation includes the liberation of Humans, Earth,
‘and Animals. He identifies as a vegan atheist anarcho-syndicalist with green tendencies. He currently hosts Which
Side Podcast and helped found the Which Side Media Collective.

Jordan was indicted by a federal grand jury in 2009 on charges related to resisting a federal grand jury
investigating local llegal animal rights activities under the animal enterprise terrorism act (AETA), mainly

concerning fur farm raids in Utah. He was j

iled for nearly four months under a contempt of court order to compel

him to testify. He was later released and indicted on criminal contempt of court. He pled guilty to “Criminal
Contempt of Court” on July 27, 2010. The charge was a unique one in that it is sui generis, meaning it is neither a

felony nor a misdemeanor.

Jordan was sentenced on November 3, 2010 to 10 months in prison with 3 years of probation upon release. He
filed an appeal with the 10th circuit court, which was denied. Jordan was accused of violating his terms of parole
by allegedly associating with “the vegan straightedge” by giving an interview to a clothing company. A dozen
‘armed FBI agents raided his house and he started serving his sentence early on January 9, 2012.

Jordan was released on July 20th, 2012, his civi time running concurrent with his criminal time. He was released
with 3 years of probation. On August 8th, 2013 he was granted early termination of supervision after filing a

‘motion with his lawyer.

Serving a prison sentence is an experience in one's life
that cannot be compared with many other things
outside prison itself. Prison is a very dark and
depressing place with a culture of its own, and it can
really get into your psyche. You begin to experience a
heightened alertness to attack and aggression. Many
will bottle up and suppress emotions while creating a
hard emotional/mental exterior to hide behind. Some
experience a total loss of humanity.

When a guard instructs an inmate to strip down for a
search they must comply. You will often come back to
find your room, bed and locker in disarray after a guard
has come through to check for contraband. To put this
in perspective, this is the only thing you can really call
your own. It is your place, your home. It can feel like a
complete violation of personal space and property.

You can also feel under threat of attack from other
inmates if you fail to provide paperwork proving why
You are incarcerated. The prison will often not provide
this paperwork in an effort to even the playing field for
inmates who may have snitched, cooperated or been
accused of a crime of a sexual nature. Some inmates

will have to learn to eat fast and cover their food to
avoid theft from other inmates. Each prison and jail has
its own set of inmate created politics and rules you
must abide by in order to make it. This will often
involve the way you eat, sleep, shower, brush your
teeth, watch TV or even use the restroom. These are
only afew examples of life in prison.

When a prisoner is released from prison into society it
is usually with little or no preparation for what the
outside world expects. Adjusting to freedom and to the
stress, demands and expectations of others can often
be difficult. | want to touch on a subject that is not
often talked about when a person gets out of prison.
This is the fact that when released many of us have
experienced signs and symptoms of Post Traumatic
Stress & Post Incarceration Syndrome. Nicole O'Driscoll,
a qualified nurse who manages a mental-health crisis
house, explains that “Post-traumatic stress disorder is
characterised by traumatic memories and flashbacks,
emotional numbing or episodes of anxiety and
depression, difficulties managing mood and behavior,
and problems with normal daly activities such as eating
and sleeping.”
For myself I stil get bouts of anxiety from things like the
jingle of keys, which subconsciously remind me of when
the guards were close and walking towards my room or
down the hall. I've also had debilitating anxiety from
loud sounds, and the sight of authority figures, or even
black or white cars that were parked outside my house
or behind me in my car. These things have gotten better
for myself overtime but haven't ever fully gone away.

Some inmates may have been a victim of violence,
abuse or other traumas while serving their sentence,
and this isn’t always from other inmates. Terence T.
Gorski who wrote an article on Post Incarceration
Syndrome noted that it can be "caused by constant fear
of abuse from both correctional staff and other
inmates." As | mentioned, most of my symptoms are
brought on by an association with authority and/or
correctional staff.

These traumas are not always only the result of being
incarcerated but also with experiences leading up to
incarceration such as arrest as well as many other
things. For myself it is definitely a combination of many
things. | feel | need to add a little background to give
context to my personal experiences dealing with PTSD.

During the summer of 2008 | experienced a lot of
strange harassment outside my home. Some of this
harassment | believe was coincidental, while others
were more directed. During that time | was heavily
involved in animal rights activism and my name would
sometimes appear in newspapers. | believe it was
shortly after my name appeared in a University of Utah
newspaper  in  regards to  anti-vivisection
demonstrations that | received a decapitated rat head
in the mail. | had a pet rat at the time and the fear that
it was him only added to the trauma of the situation.
During that time someone also spray painted the word
“MEAT” all over my street, delivered extremely
hardcore pornographic videos (which had really explicit
titles that could have been taken as threats), and woke
me on a regular basis with loud knocks on my window
and/or searchlights in my windows, followed by
screeching tires from a fleeing truck. Over time I've
tried to put all the harassment together and come to
conclusions about who might have been behind it. But |
haven't ever come up with anything concrete.

Living with these fears of constant harassment
definitely increased my own personal anxiety. To add
salt to the wound, | found out that my parents were
visited by the FBI who asked them questions about me.
After not returning their call | was kindly visited by the
FBI at my work a few days later. This ended with me
storming out of an office while the FBI trailed me and
told me that | was making a big mistake by not
cooperating and that they would subpoena me to a
grand jury, in front of corporate management and for
all the customers to hear. They followed through on
their promise 6 months later and again visited me at my
work to deliver my subpoena.

After refusing to cooperate with my first initial grand
jury & filing a motion pro-se declaring their subpoena
invalid as it wasn't properly filled out, | was once again
visited at my work by at least 12 FBI agents and the
lead United States Marshal to make sure the subpoena
was properly filled out this time. Every visit certainly
increased my anxiety and fear of authority.

1 ultimately was arrested and sent to jail for my refusal
to cooperate with a grand jury. This process in itself is
enough to break some people emotionally and
mentally. Besides the thorough body search which
requires you to strip completely nude, bend over and
cough — which is extremely humiliating and can make a
person feel subhuman very quickly — there is also the
contempt and force in which the people in authority
feel and use towards you. Just a routine fingerprint can
be aggressively done. For myself the US Marshals made
fun of my jacket and pressed my fingers extremely hard
against the fingerprint scanner before leaving me in an
isolated cell for a few hours. | was eventually moved
from federal holding to a county jail where the entire
process was repeated over again. While at the county
jail 1 spent over 72 hours with 12 other individuals in a
holding cell designed for 5 as a temporary place to keep
inmates for a couple of hours when moving them to
another facility or courthouse.

The jail was overcrowded as they had just mass
arrested over 800 homeless individuals that night from
a local park (mostly on vagrancy charges). The holding
cell had no beds, just a toilet and sink. | ended up
having to sleep next to the toilet. Constantly being
moved around and staying in cells without beds caused
hours of sleeplessness. No sleep (nor food as they
would not provide me with vegan meals) is extremely
draining on the body and mind and can break down an
inmate, further affirming the feeling of being less than
human.

While inside a county jail in Cache County, Utah | was
placed with someone who asked me directed questions
that | later found out in legal documents was working
with the government. This person would often get
violent and even choked me when I refused to “accept
Jesus Christ”. In this jail | was also moved into another
cell with a black inmate. The white guys tried to move
me and | refused because the alternative was a gross
old white man named “grandpa”. | was cornered,
choked, punched and nearly beaten up for not
complying. At one point the guards tried moving me
back in with the inmate who was working with the
government, which | refused to do (I didn’t know for
certain he was working with the government at that
point he had just given me so many red flags that |
knew something was up) to which they threatened to
forcibly remove me with taser shields. This is the jail |
also quickly learned to not use the restroom when
someone else is eating. All of these things increased my
already heightened anxiety and fear.

Fortunately for me, | was released during my initial
incarceration after about 4 months as the grand jury
had expired and we had filed our 3rd motion for
release. But unfortunately the government decided to
charge me with criminal contempt of court (something
they had only ever done twice before in United States
history). So the whole process started over again. There
was also a large falling out within my local animal rights
community as friends of Nicole “Nikki” Stanford
(formerly Viehl), who was the other individual
subpoenaed to the same grand jury, whom I had called
out for choosing to testify, created threats and general
animosity towards me. They defended her with the
typical statements of “she didn’t tell them anything
they didn't already know” and that she had the
defendants blessing to testify. This caused a rift in our
community as some individuals felt ignoring the
situation instead of dealing with the confrontation was
the best route. This was extremely damaging to me
emotionally. | felt | had lost a large amount of support
because | wasn't willing to deal with the people who
refused to address the situation. | remember leaving a

collective house crying, telling a few activists that |
couldn’t be a part of an unsafe community that allowed
people like her to be a part of it.

1 spent the next few years on pre-trial probation while |
was fighting my charge, in which | ultimately took a
non-cooperating plea deal. During that time an officer
was allowed to search my home, car and myself at any
time without a warrant, and could and did show up
unannounced to do so. This added even more stress
and anxiety as | was in constant fear that a probation
officer would come over and for some reason decide |
was doing something which violated my probation and
put me back in jail. Although there was no reason for
them to do so the worry was still there. This worry
turned out to be not far from the reality. After writing a
comment on a blog in favor of the Animal Liberation
Front (ALF) | was brought to court with the prosecutor
and officer claiming this was an association with the
ALF (something that my probation strictly prohibited).
Luckily | had a great lawyer who got me out of it
claiming that my support was simply free-speech and
didn’t constitute an association. This was still obviously
not the best way to start things off. As time went on |
was assigned new officers and | was eventually
sentenced to 10 months in prison. Things were starting
to shift towards me self-surrendering as soon as a date
was provided.

During this time | fellin love and started dating my now
wife Mariana, online. As soon as it was becoming clear
that | was going to go back to prison soon, we decided

that we should meet in person. She bought plane
tickets from Colombia to Utah and was just finishing up
a week away with her family before she visited. While
she was away with her family | saw some men looking
into my window one morning. | opened the door to see
what they wanted and was immediately surrounded by
a dozen armed agents all pointing weapons at me. Then
they started piling out of my backyard and | was
arrested. In the year prior | had given an interview to a
clothing line that happened to sell Vegan and Straight-
Edge apparel. The court claimed that this was in direct
violation of my probation which prohibited me from
associating with “ALF, ELF, and VSE (vegan straight edge)
animal groups [sic]”. This was obviously a tactic to
break me by my probation officer who knew that my
partner was set to visit in just a couple of days.

This incapacitated me emotionally, mentally and
physically. | spent that night in my jail cell crying. | was
transferred from facility to facility at that point.
Something referred to by some inmates as diesel
therapy. Wikipedia describes Diesel Therapy as “.a
form of punishment in which prisoners are shackled
and then transported for days or weeks. It has been
described as ‘the cruelest aspect of being a federal
inmate” It has been alleged that some inmates are
deliberately sent to incorrect destinations as an
exercise of diesel therapy.” During my entire experience
being incarcerated | was moved to and from at least 7
different facilties. The process of being stripped down
and searched being repeated every time | was moved,
even if it was a move from one cell block to another in

the same facility.

One facility was a privately owned prison from
Corrections Corporation of America (CCA) in Pahrump,
Nevada. The blocks of this prison house 100 inmates
each with 50 bunk beds in the middle, 25 tables in the
front, and a few toilets and showers in the back. No
walls, no privacy. During my stay in this facility, | was
denied access to vegan food, threatened with charges
of additional crimes, and placed in a Special Housing
Unit (SHU) as a risk to security when supporters called
in demanding | get fed, and denied access to any
exercise, books, or television (as they had no more
radio sets to give to inmates). | sat and slept, and this
was the extent of my stay. At this CCA | also first
witnessed someone getting stabbed over the television
(for the few inmates who were able to obtain radios). |

also witnessed someone hit someone over the head
with a sock full of batteries. This led to a full on riot
between two prison gangs which ultimately ended with
a tear gas canister being lowered from the ceiling and
sprayed on all of us.

During my stay at another facility someone had heated
up petroleum jelly in the microwave until it was a liquid
and threw it into someone's face. This coupled with
constant fighting and sights and sounds that you would
walk the other direction from and pretend you never
saw if you stumbled upon them added an
overwhelming amount of anxiety and fear. Probably
one of the most emotionally draining experiences for
me involved being thrown into solitary confinement for
24 hours for wearing my hat flipped up. Solitary
confinement is a horrible place that can take you to the
ultimate point of feeling subhuman and | am fortunate
that | wasn't there for as long as some other people
have to be. The Center for Constitutional Rights states
that “Solitary confinement is torture” and “The
devastating psychological and physical effects of
prolonged solitary confinement are well documented
by social scientists: prolonged solitary confinement
causes prisoners significant mental harm and places
them at grave risk of even more devastating future
psychological harm.”

Researchers have demonstrated that prolonged solitary
confinement causes a persistent and heightened state
of anxiety and nervousness, headaches, insomnia,

lethargy or chronic tiredness, nightmares, ~heart
palpitations, and fear of impending nervous
breakdowns. Other documented effects  include

obsessive ruminations, confused thought processes, an
over-sensitivity to stimuli, irrational anger, social
withdrawal, hallucinations, violent fantasies, emotional
flatness, mood swings, chronic depression, feelings of
overall deterioration, as well as suicidal ideation.” They
also claim that “Exposure to such life-shattering
conditions clearly constitutes cruel and unusual
punishment — in violation of the Eighth Amendment to
the U.S. Constitution. Further, the brutal use of solitary
has been condemned as torture by the international
community.”

For the most part | was pretty accepted in prison
People respected the fact that | didn't testify. | had it a
lot easier than many people, not to mention | had the
support of people on the outside. | received books and
letters, and it made my time that much easier. This
should just help illustrate that even with all the support
that political prisoners can receive, PTSD can still occur
and it shouldn'’t be taken as a lack of support from the
community. | believe that for many without the
support, PTSD can be much worse.

Flash forward to my release from prison. | was
sentenced to 3 years of supervision after release. | was
assigned a new Probation Officer. This is the point
where I really felt my PTSD at its worse. | think the
courts could sense it too. They required that | attend
mandatory mental health counseling. Something to
cover themselves | am sure. Although anything | said to
the therapist would be given to the probation officer, so
this wasn't the ideal situation. During this time people
would comment on how my mannerisms had changed.
1 would now cover my food while eating it. Id flush the
toilet multiple times. | would spit in the trash after
brushing my teeth. | eventually got over many of my
prison habits.

However the constant fear of going back was a daily
occurrence that never fully dissipated. | would get
severe debilitating anxiety multiple times a day. It got
to its worst point when my partner bought tickets to
visit me again. It was almost the same time of year as
the last time she had bought them. | was still under the
supervision of a Probation Officer. It all felt exactly the
same and | was irrationally expecting the FBI agents
and US Marshals to show up a few days before she got

here, just as it had happened the last time. | think that
was the peak of my PTSD. When | finally picked my
partner up from the airport and was holding her in my
arms that's when | think the peak started to decline
again for me. Even though she was with me during the
next few months I still had the daily, pending fear that
they would snatch me up. I think the fear and PTSD
only got to its lowest point once | was off of supervised
release (which thankfully | was able to get off of early)
it still took me a while to actually feel like | was free.
But | was able to quickly tell myself that | was and that
there was no reason to worry about violating or being
sent back anymore.

I feel that for the most part my PTSD is very minimal
now. While writing this, however | actually got a
reminding dose of its existence when | saw searchlights
in the window of my new place and looked outside to
see a cop car parked in front of my place shining a light
around my house, and all of my neighbors houses. | had
no idea why they were looking around, but this sent me
right back into a panic attack that | was eventually able
to overcome with the help of Mariana. | think that is
the key too. PTSD may never go away for me or for
other ex-prisoners, but having the courage to admit to
our community and loved ones that we have these
issues after prison, and not feeling like it makes us
weaker by doing so. For them to understand that these
issues happen, and to be there for support even after
we get out of prison, and understand that just because
an ex-prisoner says they are ok, it might not entirely be
the reality all the time.
interview with josh harper

Josh Harper is an animal rights activist who spent 3 years in federal prison after being charged with conspiracy to
harass using a telecommunications device (sending black faxes) as part of the Stop Huntingdon Animal Cruelty
(SHAC) campaign. Josh wasn't actually charged for sending black faxes, but for simply speaking about the tactic.
He was also charged with conspiracy to violate the Animal Enterprise Protection Act, which has since developed
into the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act. Five other activists, and the SHAC campaign, where charged alongside
Josh. They collectively became internationally known as the SHAC 7.

Since being released from prison in 2009 Josh has been keeping busy helping run the Talon Conspiracy online
archives; an incredible historical treasure trove of animal and earth liberation related publications
(thetalonconspiracy.com). He also enjoys all things skating.

There is quite a bit of information out there about
preparing for prison, but I'm interested in what
preparing to get out of prison was like for you. How
did that look for you, and did you have support?

My release date was up in the air for a long time, so my
process wasn't as smooth as it could have been. In
short, the Bureau of Prisons doesn't send inmates back
to where they were arrested, they send them to
wherever it was that they were indicted. In my case
that was New Jersey, a state whose only redeeming
quality is that it isn't prison.

I filed to go to Oregon, but their probation department
declared me "too high profile” and "a danger to the
community," so | had to forego months of half way
house to put in a request for Washington. Luckily they
accepted me, but only after | agreed to restrictions
more stringent than those issued by my sentencing
judge. By the time they agreed I had only one week to
find both a job and a place to stay.

The staff at Food Fight! vegan grocery put out an alert
on my behalf, and one of the owners of Wayward
vegan cafe saw it. She had never met me before, but
she took the risk of allowing a stranger to both work at
her restaurant and live at her house. I'm forever
grateful to everyone who helped me during that
tumultuous time, it could have gone bad for me so
easily

1 recommend that people incarcerated in the federal
system start looking for work and a place to stay 18
months before release. Try to find possibilities in more
than one state, that way if one probation department

rejects you you will have a back up plan. Setting things
up as far in advance as possible also increases your
chances of maxing out your halfway house time.

Do you feel that the people supporting you during
your time in prison were aware of the importance of
post-prison support?

Prison was pretty rough on me, and while | think that
my support team wanted to do their best for me upon
my release, they couldn't be expected to know how to
cope with the mental health problems | had when I hit
the streets. What | experienced wasn't a failure of my
support team, it was a failure of the way prisoner
support s framed in general.

People involved in prison support work have
experience with helping those who are still behind
bars. Most efforts are concentrated on letters, books,
legal aid, and so forth. But we need more than that,
and that is going to mean setting up support funds for
counseling and medications. It also means that
supporters might need some training in dealing with
common  post-incarceration  disorders, such as
depression and PTSD.

What were the most useful forms of support that you
received as you were getting out of prison, and since
then?

Again, | was very lucky. People took me shopping for
work clothes and assisted me in paying for them,
helped me find an apartment during a time that no one
wanted to rent to me because of my criminal record,
and tried to help me reintegrate socially.
The most useful thing, however, was my friend Nadia
helping me navigate the maze involved in finding
counseling for mental health. | wasn't in a state to do it
myself, and | hope that every former prisoner who
needs that kind of assistance is as fortunate as | was.

Was there anything you found particularly unuseful?

Yes, advice on coping with post-prison trauma from
people who have never done time. If you haven't been
there, you don't know. Listening is helpful, reassurance
is helpful, talking shit about things you have no frame
of reference for is harmful

Have you found that there are any particular
activities, endeavors, health services, hobbies, etc
that you've found particularly positive since you got
out of prison?

Beyond the mental health care that | hope all prisoners
will one day have access to, | have found that finding a
safe way to keep contributing to the movement is very
therapeutic. We all know how hard any level of
participation in resistance movements can be though,
so 1 also tell everyone to find something that you love
to do that doesn't involve politics at all, and allow
Yourself to become as immersed in it as you need. For
me, that thing is skateboarding. | read all the
magazines, watch all the videos, and | never judge
myself for shirking responsibility to do things skate
related.

In the first few months of your release, what did you
find the most challenging about life on the outside?

The first few months were relatively easy, actually. |
was just so happy to be out. | did have some residual
aggressiveness towards other men, and some issues
with the way people on the outside enter each others
space. For example, a guy bumped into me on the bus

and | lost my mind, screaming in his face that he
needed to respect me and apologize. | also found it
hard to deal with people's perception of prisoners. |
was staying with a family when I had gotten out, and
they were raising a child. His biological father had
found out that | was moving in and told the kid to be
afraid of me because "prison changes people," and that
ex-cons couldn't be trusted. | was devastated when |
found out, but that was just the first of several such
encounters,

What was your experience with probation like?
Ha ha. Not fun, but workable.

Here is my advice for anyone getting out of prison and
onto probation: wear your probation officer out with
kindness, concern, frequent phone calls, and abundant
honesty when you first get out. My probation officer
was a hard ass, but in my first few weeks | called him
about everything. | asked questions about the littlest
things, like if signing up for ITunes was a violation of my
probation clause not to sign contracts. | showed up at
his office randomly "just to check in and make sure |
completed my reports on time." When he asked me if |
had drugs in the house, I told him about the ibuprofen |
had, I told him about the pepto-bismal my house mate
bought. | did everything in my power to act like | was
eager to see him and assist him- and within 2 months
that guy was so sick of me that | barely saw him at all
for the next 3 years. Remember, these guys have a
huge case load. They want to know if you are going to
be trouble, and if you show them right from jump that
you won't be, they'll mostly leave you alone. That
doesn't mean that the conditions of your probation
won't chafe you. They will. It's going to suck, but you
can get through it with minimal discomfort and without
violating.

what your heart tells you is right
by rod coronado

Rod Coronado is an indigenous environmentalist who is best known for his direct action activism against ilegal
whalers, fur farmers and animal researchers in the 1980's and 90's. He was active in both the Sea Shepherd
Conservation Society, Earth First! and the now deemed terrorist organizations, Animal Liberation Front and Earth
Liberation Front. Coronado spent six years in federal prison for his role in ALF and EF! actions related to fur
farming, animal experimentation and a government lion hunt. In 2006, he was sentenced to a year in prison for
lecture about his past crimes.

Coronado is now returning to the lecture circuit to talk about his life as a so-called “eco-terrorist,” though he is
addressing the challenges many activists face as they continue to organize against environmental destruction in
an era of anti-terror legislation, FB infiltration, and government spying. Coronado is currently helping to build a
citizen-led campaign to stop the hunting and trapping of wolves in his home state of Michigan, where they were
hunted in 2013 for the first time since their recovery from near-extinction.

Rod Coronado is 47yrs. old and lives in West Michigan. He is descendent from the Yaqui tribe of northern Mexico
‘and incorporates native American spiritualism into his life and activism. He is currently touring the country giving
lectures after an 8 year hiatus, where he was federally silenced; forbidden from writing or speaking as part of his

conditions of release from federal prison.

A few days ago, | was listening to the radio as | was
driving and listened to the story of a woman who had
spent more than ten years in prison. As she spoke of
some of her traumatic experiences, | began to realize
just how much prison had also affected me. But what
was really surprising was how easily | have avoided
addressing such experiences, let alone healing from
them.

There are some things | realize are emotional souvenirs
from prison, my irritability with people who cut in line,
the immediate suspicions of being hustled when
someone on the street asks for help, and possibly worst
of all, a general lack of empathy for my fellow human. If
1 could, I would go see my psychotherapist more often,
as opposed to only when I could afford it. Hell, | wish |
could afford a whole team of therapists to help me deal
with the trauma related to prison which | am only now
beginning to address.

What sickens me the most about this is that | never
used to be that kind of pessimistic, apathetic person. |
joined the struggle to defend Earth because | loved the
natural world more than anything else. Animals in the
wild were the beings on this planet | most connected
with. Their strength of love and wild freedom was a

mystery to me that | yearned for, as | grew up in a small
nuclear family of working parents in a metropolitan
suburb. So when | discovered what our society did to
animals and nature, my heart broke for the first time
ever. | cried rivers of tears, as | watched whales being
harpooned until the sea around them turned red, and
watched young almost luminous harp seal pups brutally
clubbed in front of their mothers.

1 thought, “What kind of world is this that I'm growing
up in?” That is the moment when | joined the struggle.
If that was the world | was living in, and the natural
world was dying from, then | wanted no part of it, and
would instead dedicate my life to trying to stop such
gratuitous violence. Luckily | found others, and when |
reached adulthood, | launched into a world that
provided my depression an avenue for action to change
the things that | knew were wrongs against nature and
ultimately ourselves. | say ourselves, because now that |
begin to call out this institutionally imposed sickness, |
realize that the only way most people deal with the
daily violence around them is to disconnect from it, to
rationalize its presence in our daily lives, and accept it
as a necessary consequence for the world we want to
live in.
But life didn't have to be that way. | believed that
maybe | wouldn't stop the world from killing the last
great whales, or ban the steel-jaw leg-hold trap, but |
sure as hell could sink a whaler and rescue a few mink
and bobeats. So that is what | did. | found a way to
honor the relationship | believed we should have with
the natural world, by recognizing that world as our
own. A world denied to us by a violent society that
teaches us to use ignorance and denial as a coping
mechanism to rationalize things we know in our hearts
are wrong. | found a way to satiate my own pain and
find hope. Of course, such a path cannot be without
great consequence, and that is what | began to contend
with when | first went to prison.

Prison for people like me, call us animal rights
extremists, radical environmentalists, eco-terrorists,
whatever, can be a unique experience. We are people
who took risks not to better ourselves, but to help
others, and that is not what you see a lot of in prison.
What you see is a base level human nature, where
survival of the fittest still reigns among people who for
the most part, have been treated like animals their
entire inside and outside lives. People who never get a
chance to see a psycho-therapist or address their
traumatizing experiences. Hell, many of those people
are masters of traumatizing experiences, and I'm not
talking only about the prisoners.

Not that we are better than other prisoners, but we
came into this struggle that led to prison because we
feel. We allowed our hearts to soften, not harden and
because we took action against the violence in our
society out of that love, we began to feel great

empathy and connection to all the beings whose
suffering we had been made aware of. We went to
prison out of a great love and desire to allow love to
exist in others despite what species they were.

1am blessed to have such people as my friends. Friends
who demonstrated courage and bravery in battle, not
by hurting others, but by risking their lives to stop
others from hurting. People who would help the
rescued find safe homes where they would never be
tortured again, people who would cut through fences
and dlimb into alarmed buildings, all in the name of
alleviating some of the violence our society told us was
necessary. let me put it this way, the most
compassionate, sensitive and loving people | have ever
known were the kind of people doing prison time for
A.LF. And E.LF. actions.

It's been 20 years since | first entered a federal prison.
Fortunate for me, only six of those years were lost to
that traumatizing experience, but the damage will last
the rest of my life, and if 'm not careful, maybe the
lives of my children too. When you're in prison, it is
difficult to say the least, to stay connected to your
former “outside” world. However strong your
connection might have been, those are not the type of
people you are around now and it is not the world you
are living in or that threatens your very own ability to
live. Just as society forces us to disconnect from the
violence caused by our way of life, prison forced us to
disconnect from a lot of our deepest sense of self and
stay there for years.

But now we are out. And like all prisoners, we must
struggle to create a new life because what has
happened to us will never allow us to return to the
world we knew before. Al struggles for liberation have
cost their participants prison if not death, as a
punishment. Ours is no different. We were subjected to
a level of institutional violence that often causes its
victims to become violent in order to survive. What we
must do is return to all the good things that gave our
hearts life before prison. We have to prove to ourselves
that the strength of our hearts cannot be defeated with
the violence of our prison experience.

For me, it meant while | was inside, to never forget that
1 was in there because of my love for others and that
was something sacred. There was never a night that |
regretted my “crimes” and wished | hadn't acted on my
beliefs. Now that I'm out, I'm struggling to reclaim my
emotional as well spiritual self. We do this by talking
about our traumatizing experiences and by re-
connecting with the world we love. Not just the natural
world, but our friends as well

Last summer, | went to a former prisoner's wedding
held on the shore of a lake in the southern Cascade
Mountains. It was the very first time | was allowed to
travel outside of my home state of Michigan and visit
other former prisoners. After 8 years of federally
prohibited association with my former friends and
allies, we were able to hike a mountain, share food and
laugh. We were able to talk and recognize that it's a
little harder to laugh than it used to be, but if we love
each other and allow nature to help us heal, we can
claim victory over our captors by showing them and
ourselves that we are still very much alive and a part of
the struggle for a better world.

We still have our competing world views. We have the
world that creates whales, wolves, ancient forests, and
we have the world that tums those things into
products. If you belong to the latter, then things have
been good. But for the rest of us, like those nations of
indigenous peoples believing similarly, we've been

shown the door and the lock is on the outside. Now we
must be smarter and even stronger and recover from
the suffering inflicted on us and in good emotional and
spiritual health, find a way back to the struggle.

For me that means getting back involved on a
grassroots level with the struggles to protect wild
nature. | know what tactics will lead to what results and
Iknow that I will forever be on their watch lists. But as |
begin to brainstorm and organize with all the good
people out there who want to join this effort, | begin to
feel a type of happiness that | haven't felt in a long
time. No longer am | being forced to only think about
my own survival, but as | spend more time out in
nature, among my friends, and around campfires, | feel
alive. 1 feel like myself

The greatest lesson | have learned from my experience
in prison has been to never let them through suffering
convince you to believe in something other than what
your heart tells you is right. Never let them change you
into a person that cares more for yourself instead of
someone that measures their worth through actions
that help others, whether its animals in the wild, your
children, neighbors or friends. | guarantee you that if
we all did this, then we will have won.

resources

All of Us or None

All of Us or None is a grassroots civil rights organization fighting for the rights of formerly - and currently -
incarcerated people and their families. They are fighting against the discrimination that people face every day
because of arrest or conviction history. The goal of All of Us or None is to strengthen the voices of people most
affected by mass incarceration and the growth of the prison-industrial complex. They are working on a number of
great campaings, including 'Ban The Box' which calls for removing the question and check box, “Have you been
convicted by a court?” from applications for employment, housing, public benefits, insurance, loans and other
services.

Check out all of their projects at: prisonerswithchildren.org/our-projects/allofus-or-none

The Fortune Society

Fortune offers a holistic array of programs for formerly incarcerated low income New Yorkers through a “one
stop shop” model of services that includes case management (crisis intervention, needs assessment, referral and
counseling), housing (emergency, congregate, and scatter-site), education (literacy, math, GED preparation),
employment services, outpatient substance abuse treatment, family services, health services for those living with
HIV/AIDS, outpatient mental health services, and lifetime aftercare.

They have a great collection of resources and tool kits on their website: fortunesociety.org

Phoenix Rising Transitions

Phoenix Rising Transitions is a nonprofit organization in the Portland (Oregon) metropolitan area. They work in
prisons and the community partnering with those who are incarcerated to make a smooth and successful
transition into the community as they are released. Their goal is to transform lives and reduce the likelihood that
people will commit new crimes and return to prison. They do this through skill-building and relationship-building,
both before and after release from prison. They also aim to transform the community in order to make successful
transition more attainable through community organizing action.

Find out more at: phoenix-rising-transitions.org

Red Lodge Transition Services

Red Lodge aim to prevent incarceration and reduce recidivism primarily among Native American women and men.
To provide assistance for individuals released from jails and prisons, who are working on creating a better life for
themselves, their children, and communities. To supply transition information, guidance and support, to Native
American individuals, families and communities. To prevent and reduce incarceration by breaking the cycle of
chemical addiction, violence, abuse, hatred, hopelessness and neglect.

Find out more at: redlodgetransition.org

More resources can be found at afterprisonzine.org
Not alone in our fight

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