"When you lead this life . . ."

I’ve been here five months. I live in North Hollywood. This is my seventh time here. I was born in Koreatown. I was living with my dad and four brothers. My mom is not in the picture. My dad was in jail until I was 12. My grandma raised me from two to 12. There was no grandpa. My dad was around for about a year when he got out of prison, but he violated and went back. Now he’s been out for about a year again, and I’m living with him. He works at a hospital cleaning equipment. Three of my brothers live with me. I have four brothers: 17, 18, 19, and 20. They all have different moms. And they’re all in Clanton—it’s a Valley gang. I’m gang affiliated. I got jumped in for 13 seconds. Sometimes you have to go on different missions. No, I didn't get humped in, I’m a virgin. If you get humped in, you stay a hoodrat and get used over and over by the homies.

It’s embarrassing. It’s really not me in here, it’s all the mistakes I’ve done in here.

I should be in 11^th grade, but I dropped out in 8^th grade. I don’t go to school. I’ve been to lots of placements, camps. The longest I was home since I was 12 was nine months. I have no history of abuse. I just go AWOL a lot to hang out with my homies. Now I’ve been living with my brother’s baby mama. She’s 17 now. She was 15 when she had her baby. That brother is in jail. He’s the 18 year old. He’s out of state, doing a homicide. If I win my fitness, I’ll get a job. It’s embarrassing. It’s really not me in here, it’s all the mistakes I’ve done in here. It’s gonna be hard for me to change, but I’m really working on it.

When you lead this life and you’re on the outs, you just count your days, because that’s where it leads you.

My family is the gang, really. My uncles, my aunts, even my grandmother who’s 52 is in a gang. My cousins are the peewees; they do all the work. My dad, he’s a duke. He’s 32. He sells drugs everywhere in LA. I was selling as well. My family’s uncontrollable. My five uncles—three are in jail for murder, two for attempted murder. My aunts are in for 211—deadly weapons. I’ve got one brother fighting murder, another brother in and out of juvie, they’re all dope related, they’re all in the gang . . . my family is the gang. When you lead this life and you’re on the outs, you just count your days, because that’s where it leads you.

-L.V., age 16

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

On the streets or in the projects

I’m from Pacoima, the projects. You know the buildings? I’m a member of Project Winos. I’ve been living on the streets or else I sleep in the projects with my homies. I don't go to school on the outs. My mom was deported when I was five, then I lived with my dad till I was 12, and then he was deported. I have a brother who’s 19 in jail, and a sister who’s 15 in placement. I was born here. I was living in foster homes after five. The first foster home I was with my sister until I was seven. Then we lived with my dad until my dad found a girlfriend. My dad would abuse us mentally before I was 12. He would talk shit to us, make us feel bad, and hit us. And then I was 12 and he got deported, so my sister and me went to a foster home for three months. Then I lived with my aunt in Victorville, then a foster home in Victorville, but then we ran away to Pacoima.

When I was on the street, we all didn’t have a place to stay, so we would all look out for each other.

My sister and me turned ourselves in. We stayed in a foster home in Palmdale. My sister got in trouble and locked up for ditching on probation. I’ve been in 15 different DCFS placements and probations. Now it’s all probation. I go to trial in four weeks, but my paperwork got lost. I’m five months pregnant. It feels good, and scary. Placement will help me with my baby. I’ve done some meth and weed. Here we have individual therapy twice a week and anger management once a week. When I was on the street, we all didn’t have a place to stay, so we would all look out for each other. We were hustlers. Make our money by selling weed. When I get out, maybe I’ll be a cosmetologist or a psychologist.

-N.K., age 16

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"Because I’m the new girl"

I’ve been here and there for a month at a time. I was a month in girl care. Mom and dad don’t live together. If I get out, I really don’t have anywhere to live. The last time I lived with my mom was in a shelter, four years ago. It was a shelter for kids as well over on Gower in Hollywood. I had just turned 12. I remember it there was never a birthday cake for me. I’ve been in group homes where there’s a lot of dual supervision. One group home had boys and girls together, DCFS and probation. And they were completely out of control. They were crazy. They be peeing on other people’s beds, or taking a crap . . . they’d be having sex . . . I stayed there for three days, and then I got kicked out. One of the staff was very provoking, so I choked her and went. Then they put me in another placement. It was a six-bed place, three different houses.

They were trying to get me to stay with my sister . . . but she don't want me.

I’ve always been fighting a lot . . . I just don’t like to be disrespected. I should get a high school diploma soon. They were trying to get me to stay with my sister—she’s 22—but she don't want me. My days here are me just sitting here, until like, at least next year. My mom is a meth addict and she sells crack out of our house. My dad, he’s a pimp. He’s also on drugs. My mom started doing drugs when we were taken from her…or maybe before then. My dad, he was doing drugs since forever. I went AWOL from placement just so I could go to a mall and chill with my friends. Usually I just do some weed. When I was 13 I drank for two weeks straight. I poisoned myself and I could have died, but I didn’t. I would get real bad beatings from my mom. She kicked me in the face when we were living in the shelter. She started choking me, they pulled her off and took me away.

I’m mostly here because I don’t have a place to go to.

I barely talk to my dad. I’ve never been to a foster home. Nobody wants any older body in a foster home. I think foster homes are a lot quieter. Group homes I get into lots of fights just because I’m the new girl. I was gangbanging but they never caught me or charged me. When you bang you protect your territory, nobody can touch your property, or make any money on the property you own. If they try, the gang put on a T.O.S.—termination on sight. Means you kill them, hurt them, or beat them up bad. I’m part of BPS, the Jungles. Black Peace Stones. The Jungles are the projects; they’re in Crenshaw. They run from Coliseum all the way up. Girls get humped into the gang. Means they have to have sex with all the gang members. If you’re gay or a virgin, then you have to fight. You fight to get your rankings. You fight boys or you get jumped on or you do one-on-ones. Honestly I don't know where my case stands. I might get camp, or lockdown, or placement. But nobody from placement has come to get me. Most of the places I’ve been are dual custody. I’m mostly here because I don’t have a place to go to.

-T.U., Age 16

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

The Boy in Cell Number 7

It’s April now, and I’m wondering how it came down to this, and how I stooped this low, and how I am in here because of these so-called friends.

We just got back from school, and soon it will be lunchtime. We walk over to G-unit, and I walk straight up the stairs to my room while others stand around wasting time talking to Officer Rob, annoying him.

Rob is the guard assigned to our unit. He’s younger than the others and kinder too. He sings R&B songs to himself throughout the day and he doesn’t send us to our rooms for little things.

Our unit is just like the others: There are 10 rooms numbered from 1 to 10 – the four right ones have double bunks.

I walk to my room upstairs to Number 7 and close the door behind me. I hear the door lock, and I sit on my bed reading my “Spiderman” comic book until the next time I get to come out.

This cell is so small sometimes I think I am living in my bathroom. My bunk is welded to the wall, and I have a thin mattress and two thin, brown blankets. There is toilet paper hanging from my ceiling, lots of gang writing carved into the walls. All I can see are white bricks and my purple steel door.

It’s a very cold cell.

I have been here for well over three months and still don’t know when I’m getting out because they keep moving my court date.

I am not a bad person. I am only 14 years old and even though I am in juvenile detention, I still don’t disrespect my staff. I like to be honest and follow rules even though I’m looking at a harsh sentence. I get so lonely sometimes I start to talk to myself. I can’t have a roommate because I am so small and scrawny, but I am used to this now.

When the door pops, I feel relieved that it’s time for lunch. Once again we have the same warm tuna sandwich with American cheese. I am so used to this food now and I’m always looking forward to making trades for food since I barely get full. I hang out with older kids since I am the youngest and people use to take advantage of me by stealing my food.

These three other kids take good care of me since I’ve known them for so long and they don’t let people take my food.

The oldest is Ferris. He is 17 and has slicked hair and light skin. He is also very tall, almost six feet. The second is Nako. He is very short, pudgy and has dark skin and a Mohawk to go with his Presley’s, sideburns that go down to his chin. The final one is Ortiz. He is 5-foot-6, has a goatee and is the live one of the group. He’s cracking jokes from morning to night.

As I walk down the stairs from my cell to the day room where there are four tables with four benches around each, I think about how every day is exactly the same and how I am so used to this.

Then Officer Rob calls my name as I’m walking down to lunch.

“You got court, Cuban. Go get a blue top and go to Post One.”

I walk over to the laundry area and I stare at the clothes we all wear every day: white shirts, white socks, blue pants and blue tops. I look for a small sized blue top with the V-neck collar and put it on.

As I am walking to Post One, I am wondering what this is about. I am feeling nervous and anxious to find out where I am headed.

An officer at Post One tells me to stand against the wall until they come to get me. I walk over to the wall, shaking, wondering what is going to happen to me.

Ivan wrote this essay  for Rich Mohan's language arts class at King County Juvenile Youth Services; it was later published in the Interagency Academy literary journal and again at KUOW.org. He currently lives in Shoreline, Washington.

"She kept beating me up. . ."

I think I’m from Laverne. I live in an apartment. I don't know where, just an apartment. I live with my mom, she goes to Citrus College, my brother who’s six and sister who’s eight. I don’t do drugs. I do a lot of sports. I like to read a lot. I read everything—realistic, fiction, every kind. My friends and me, we all go to the library a lot. We read and take naps. In two weeks I go back to court. Then I either go to my mom or foster care. I went to foster care the first time at age ten. There were two other foster kids there. After 11 months, I went back to court and they told me to go back to my mom. They kept on taking me from my mom because she kept on beating me up and the neighbors would report the beatings. But now my mom has started taking parenting classes at Citrus.

My friends and me, we all go to the library a lot. We read and take naps.

My social worker came and took me to a childcare center. I spent the whole day there. Then I went to the social worker’s office and I stayed with her until midnight while they called and tried to find a foster home for me. Finally V, the social worker, took me to a foster home in Simi Valley. My brother and sister went to one foster care home and I went to another. I’d like to go live with my dad, he lives somewhere in Florida. My dad left my mom. They had an argument when I was 8 and dad said he needed his own space. That was four years ago. I saw him once in foster care and then twice since I’ve been here. The last time was only yesterday. He works for a company in Florida. They don’t give him any breaks and he works a lot of over shifts and weekends.

-K.F., age 12

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

". . . he crossed the anger line."

Sometimes you get angry at people and the anger takes control.

I was born in Mexico. I live in Panorama now. Been here six days. The court decides where I go from here. Sometimes you get angry at people and the anger takes control. Me and this kid had a discussion, but then he crossed the anger line. The discussion was about racial things. He was African American. He called me a fat Chinese kid and said your parents are wetbacks. I live at home with my mom and dad. She cleans houses and he does construction. They’re both waiting for papers. I have two younger sisters. I’m the only boy child.

-K.K., age 13

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"Ain’t no way I’m coming back here."

They’ll keep me detained until the next court date, but I’m gonna be the child they want me to be.

I’m from the high desert, Antelope Valley. I’m in the sixth grade. I’ve been here four days. This is my second time here. I was being stupid. I live with my grandma and my grandpa and brother and sister. She’s a teacher and he works at Lockheed. I think I get to go home in two weeks. My mom lives in Texas. I haven’t seen her since I was 3. I don’t know where my real dad is. I’ve been here 16 days total. They’ll keep me detained until the next court date, but I’m gonna be the child they want me to be. Ain’t no way I’m coming back here.

-E.L., Age 13

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

". . . it wasn’t loaded."

DCFS put me with my granny . . . She’s a saint.

Grandma visits every Sunday. I’ve been here for four months. I consider this an opportunity for learning. My mom passed away when I was 12 from cancer. DCFS put me with my granny. My dad is not around. She takes care of my two brothers, my two sisters, and her own mentally disabled daughter. She’s a saint. She’s my legal guardian. I’ve never been to a foster home. I’m not a gang member. I knew I screwed up. I feel bad for myself but also for my grandmother. Everybody has guns, its no big deal. A friend gave me a gun . . . it wasn’t loaded. The school is in the hood. Most of the kids grew up around that shit, so it wasn’t no big deal to them. It was just “you got caught with a gun, oh well.” But to everybody else, there was some other shooting going on in Colorado, so I was supposed to be real bad.

-K.R., age 16

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

". . . my mom was schizophrenic and blind."

I went to a foster care placement at age 13 because my mom was schizophrenic and blind. She couldn’t take care of me. My dad is on probation in Ohio. I call him sometimes. My tattoo C.R.E.A.M.? It stands for ‘Cash Rules Everything Around Me.” I was living with my grandma and aunt, and then they got inspected and I was taken from them. My mother used to say certain groceries were poisoning food. We couldn’t go into certain grocery stores. She thought that I was inviting friends over to beat her up and urinate and take craps on the bed. She was completely delusional, but she has no therapist and she doesn’t take drugs.

She thought that I was inviting friends over to beat her up and urinate and take craps on the bed.

I have one sister. She lives in Las Vegas. The first time I was in foster care the foster mom has 2 real sons and 3 foster kids. I stayed there 2 years, until I was 15, and kicked out for misbehavior. I went to another foster home in Paramount. After six months, I AWOLed. Then I went to a group home in the Valley. It was a six-month for probation and foster kids combined. It wasn't a bad neighborhood; it wasn't lockdown. There was a therapist every week. We would have 2-hour group meetings. They got really boring and repetitive. They would want you to do this shit—“creative visualization.” When I get out I want to go to Santa Monica CC.

-L.E., age 17

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"My life is all over the place . . ."

This is my second time here. The first time I was here I was 16. But that's the normal life in a bad neighborhood. I been to foster homes, group homes, shelters, placements, everything that probation and DCFS has had, I’ve been through it. I was six years old when my mom and dad divorced. I have two half brothers and a sister. I was living with my dad, he used to be a commercial scuba diver. But I don't surf or anything. I don't need anything to do with water.

 It’s when I go home that things go to hell.

I been to placements like a six bed facility in the Valley, I was there 7 months. I succeeded out there and completed their highest levels. It’s when I go home that things go to hell. I stayed with my mom for four months, then she messed up and I took off for a good 2 or 3 weeks. I would do crack . . . I guess I’m addicted. My dad used to do crack and alcohol. My life is all over the place. I deal a lot with mental health services for anger management, lots of group therapy. I went to a foster home when I was 14. I was into meth, but I’m gonna stop. I’m gonna stay sober. I have a son that was born three weeks ago with my ex-girlfriend. She screwed up. Meth is self-medicating for me. But I’m trying to do restitution. Maybe they’ll put me in a drug program. You can be with probation until you’re 25, but I plan on being there for my son . . . unlike my mother and father who weren’t there for me.

-D.G., Age 17

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"I didn’t want to run all my life . . ."

I turned myself in on a warrant. I didn’t want to run all my life. The first placement I was 17-years-old. My mom said she couldn't parent me the way she works. She’s an RN at the hospital. She takes care of my two brothers and my three-year-old son. My godmother helps out too. I was 15 when I had him. She’s just taking care of him while I’m here.

I don’t blame nobody but myself for being here.

AWOL is leave without permission. I’d go anywhere because I wanted to. Everywhere I would go I would go by myself. But sometimes I would take the baby. I would just walk out the door and sleep at my friend’s house. I think I just wanted to be grown. I wasn't going back to school. I just came back in here on Wednesday. I think my mom’s supposed to come visit me today. I tried to rush my own age. Maybe it’s cause my dad is deceased. He had a cardiac arrest when I was 15. I don’t blame nobody but myself for being here.

-L.Y., age 18

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"This wasn’t my first choice, this life."

This is my first time here. I’ve been here six weeks. Actually this isn’t my first time here. I was here when my mom was pregnant with me. So maybe I was here 16 years ago. I went to foster care, and then I got back in touch with her some months before I got locked up. I lived with my uncle, my mom’s brother, who fostered me and then adopted me until I was 15. I was there most of the time, but then I got kicked out because I argued a lot. I would go live with other people . . . friends. Then I lived with my boyfriend and his mom. I got kicked out and needed somewhere to go. My boyfriend works at a warehouse.

Everything was ok until I was about 13. Every adult I was with said I don't care about you no more.

I was going to school in 12^th grade recently. I would go back to school. I do an online school, it’s easy. I could either do it from home or at the teen center at 88^th and Vermont. I was born with a lot of drugs in my system. Sometimes I process things slower. I smoke weed but that's about it. I tried meth and coke but it wasn’t for me. Everything was ok until I was about 13. Every adult I was with said I don't care about you no more. I buried both my parents. It’s time for me to take care of myself. When you’re on your own you’re on your own. When my uncle was in a good mood it was ok, but when he was mad he threw me out of the house in a tank top and shorts with no shoes. I had to call my brother who was in the house to throw me down my shoes. It was winter and I went to my friend’s house. He was doing drugs so I just started doing it with him.

You do what you gotta do to survive. It sucks.

This wasn’t my first choice, this life. I would do things like babysitting, but selling weed is a lot easier. I use the money for clothes and food. I would stay mostly with friends. It's a rough life, as some would say. If you had the same life, people would understand. But if they haven’t had this life, people, they can’t believe it. But for someone who’s been through the same, it’s no big deal. You do what you gotta do to survive. It sucks. It's a world of no Christmas presents and no birthday presents. One night I got chased by somebody with a gun. No shit you could lose your life doing this. But being depressed doesn't hurt anybody but you, so you might as well have a smile on your face.

-L.T., age 17

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"It’s all around me, that’s all I see."

I’ve been here three weeks. This is my third time here. First time I was here I was 14. I was 11 when I started using meth. My mom’s an alcoholic; my uncle and my dad are addicts. It’s all around me; that’s all I see. I live in the valley in North Hollywood. I was abused when I was eight by my mom’s boyfriend. We filed a report, but he split and they never found him. It was a couple of years later that DCFS got involved. The social worker found that my mom wasn’t able to parent me. I wasn’t in school. Later on they found out that she was drinking a lot and she was never at home. I was living on the street at that point. No one was ever telling me anything, that I was doing good or bad. There were no consequences for anything I was doing. There was no involvement by any adults. At twelve I was taken away. This woman social worker took me from school to a group home. I don't know what’s going to happen . . . maybe placement.I’ll never go back to my mother; it would be a miracle if she stays sober.

They closed my DCFS case recently after two years. The first time I was in placement, it was for six months. They liked me there and said I could go home after a while. But then I ended up in and out of placement and jail. I was in a camp until mid-summer. Then I was released to my mom who I hadn’t seen in three years. It was good—my mom was actually trying to be a mom. But my drug use was affecting me. They tried getting me treatment, but it wasn’t successful. I’ve been to a lot of different types of treatment. The longest I was clean was five months in camp. On the outs I was able to stay clean for maybe a week, but then I would go back.

I had to give her the opportunity to be a mom. I wish she had tried to get sober earlier

I’ve never had to buy drugs, it was always there. I never prostituted, but my mom was prostituting. I chose not to. Or maybe I did in a way. By using drugs and things I had to do favors for the drugs. A lot of my uncles were gang members . . . I grew up with this. I get so caught up in it. I was mad at my mom for a cool minute, but then I had to forgive her. I had to give her the opportunity to be a mom. I wish she had tried to get sober earlier. It was hard on me; I’m the second youngest. I’m happy my mom changed for my nine-year-old sister. I do want to stop coming to jail, but I don't want to lie to myself and say I’m never coming back . . . cause I will.

-S.O., Age 16

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"My son is now in foster care."

I live with my mom and my sister. I’ve been here three times . . . Now I’m waiting for a different placement. I was in my first placement at 12. I AWOLed from school a lot. I started hanging out with my boyfriend. I though it was okay because I looked at a lot of magazines and everyone seemed to be just hanging out. The first time I came to placement a social worker came to school, this old guy, and said, “I’m taking you to a group home.” It was six kids in Orange County. I also had to go to a new school. I stayed there two months, then I AWOLed. I met up with some girl and we split and I just slept at her house for three days. Then I arranged to meet with my cousin through Facebook and he sort of set me up. They took me to a mental health lockdown for three months. But then I had to leave because MediCal only pays for 90 days. So they took me to a group home in Hollywood. I was there for three months and then I graduated. I went home.

 I though it was okay because I looked at a lot of magazines and everyone seemed to be just hanging out.

I got pregnant at 14 while I was in placement. My son is now in foster care. I saw him last month. He’s a year and two months. He’s beautiful. His father is the boyfriend that I AWOLed from the second time I was in placement. My first placement was in Torrance. It's a bigger facility. Then I asked the court to release me to a shelter in Hollywood. So I stayed at a homeless shelter. It was a DCFS hold for runaways. I stayed there 30 days, the max. I AWOLed with a different boyfriend. Yea I do some drugs, weed, meth, I pop pills, ecstasy, mollies, and inhalants like NOS. They use it for speed car racing. I’ve never had to prostitute. I have my second boyfriend’s name tattooed on me. He’s a gang banger, 18^th Street Gang. There’s both Latinos and Blacks in the gang. What’s this for? Is this gonna be on TV or something?

-W.T., age 16

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

" . . . because of my age, I'm here."

I’m in seventh grade but I don’t do good. There are too many kids and I can’t pay attention.

This is my first time here and my last time. I’ve been here 4 months. Why so long? **shrug** I don't understand the whole thing, like the court process. I’ve never been in this situation. It was 2 p.m. in the afternoon when the police called my mom and told her they had to bring me to the police station in Baldwin Park. They took mug shots and fingerprinted me. I’m not in any gang. I live with my two sisters, two brothers, and a stepdad. I’m in seventh grade but I don’t do good. There are too many kids and I can’t pay attention. My mom doesn’t work. First they took me to another facility for a day and a night after the police station. Then because of my age, I’m here.

-N.W., age 12

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"In my country people play like that."

This is my first time I detention. I’ve been here 5 months because my attorney said I need to see a special doctor. I’m from Norwalk. I live with my mom, who’s a babysitter, stepdad, who’s a mechanic, and three step brothers. I don't know my real dad. I’m in eighth grade. No there’s no gang affiliation. I’m here because of an incident. I came to the US. from Nicaragua. I did something that I didn't know it was illegal. I didn't know the rules and laws. In my country people play like that. I think the attorney told me to see a doctor to see if I know the difference between good and bad.

I did something that I didn't know it was illegal.

My mom is fighting for her papers. I came to the US. on a U5 visa. It allows somebody in the family to visit a family member when he’s been hurt. I visited my brother because he was raped by my uncle. He was five. I think my uncle was in jail, but he’s out now. My mom doesn't like him. I was living with my aunt and uncle here and I came with my grandma by airplane. They tried to send me back to Nicaragua, but they may put me with a program or placement here. I didn't know what I did was wrong.

-I.N., Age 13

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"This isn’t my first time here . . . but it is my last."

I was born in San Bernardino, now I live in Culver City. I live with my mom and dad. They visit me as well as Po Po, my grandpa. My mom is in school, my dad is out of school and he’s about to work. I have four younger brothers, two older brothers and a younger sister. At home I have my own room. We have a four-bedroom house. In one room three of my brothers live but I have my own room and so does my older brother. The other kids have bunk beds. This isn’t my first time here . . . but it is my last. I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing. I think I want to be a mechanic. I want to be able to fix almost anything.

-L.I., age 12

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

"They tried to get me involved . . ."

CA_Central_12_15_13-6

This is my first time here. I’ve been here three months. I live there with my mom, stepdad, two sisters and a brother. I was visiting my grandpa and grandma in xxxx. I go there once a year during the summer as it gives me a break from my mom and her a break from us. I was with my brother. He does drugs like heroine. I visit a month every year. My brother is part of a gang, but they don’t have a name. They are just kids that hang out together. At home I was suspended for truancy. I was in sixth grade.

My brother is part of a gang, but they don’t have a name. They are just kids that hang out together.

A lot of time here I play with my cousins they are four and five. My brother does heroine like twice a month. They tried to get me involved but I didn’t want to. I ran home and told my mom. She called the police and my brother was sent to jail twice for drugs and possession. Mom is a vet at an animal shelter. Not horses or big animals. My dad works at a gas station. He’s with my step-mom and other cousins. I don’t see him much. My mom, grandma, grandpa, and stepdad have visited me here. This is where Palmdale is on the map.

-C.N., Age 12

**Interviews with youth are recorded to the best of our ability. All personal histories and anecdotes are self-reported by the children. To protect confidentiality of the youth, identities have been obscured, initials have been changed, and identifying details have been removed. Interviews have not been edited for content.

A Mother's Plea: Stop Solitary Confinement of Children

Via ACLU:

In 2005, Vicky Gunderson’s 17-year-old son, Kirk (pictured above), committed suicide while in solitary confinement in a Wisconsin jail. Here's her story:

"As a mother, not being able to hug and comfort my son when he was alone in a concrete box was like the worst form of hell. Knowing our son Kirk ended his own life while being held in solitary confinement, after he requested to not be left alone...I cannot describe that to you. Kirk was only 17. It was two days after Christmas.

Since Kirk’s death I’ve learned that kids as young as 13 are locked up in cells away from human contact for days or months at a time all across the country. It has a devastating impact on their development, especially for those with mental health problems.

The Federal Bureau of Prisons has announced a review of its use of solitary confinement. As part of that process, Attorney General Holder can ban the solitary confinement of young people in the care of the federal government. That would help set a standard for all facilities across the country, like the jail where Kirk died.

Please join me in calling on Attorney General Eric Holder to ban solitary confinement of youth held by the federal government."

Please join Vicky Gunderson and Juvenile In Justice in signing the ACLU petition to ban the solitary confinement of children in federal custody: https://www.aclu.org/secure/mothers-plea-stop-solitary-confinement-children

[Guest Post] End Solitary Confinement of Youth in Adult Jails and Prisons

Governors have an historic opportunity through the Prison Rape Elimination Act to do just that:

From Campaign For Youth Justice's Liz Ryan: This year, governors will need to certify that their states are in compliance with the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA), a law that Congress unanimously approved in 2003, designed to end sexual violence behind bars. To implement PREA, the U.S. Department of Justice issued regulations, including provisions restricting the placement of youth in adult jails and prisons. The U.S. Department of Justice regulations state: “as a matter of policy, the Department supports strong limitations on the confinement of adults with juveniles.” The regulations further ban the housing of youth in the general adult population, prohibit contact between youth and adults in common areas, ensure youth are constantly supervised by staff; and limit the use of isolation.

Simply separating youth from adults in adult jails and prisons isn’t enough to protect youth. When officials separate youth from adults in adult facilities under the guise of protection, they are addressing one problem and creating another. In order to keep youth separated from adults, youth are often placed in their cells for excessive periods of isolation—isolation that equates to solitary confinement. The report, “Growing Up Locked Down” released by Human Rights Watch and the ACLU, along with Ted Koppel’s March 22, 2013 program about youth in solitary confinement in adult jails and prisons showed the harm this practice causes, including depression, exacerbating already existing mental health issues, and putting youth at risk of suicide. It is crucial that governors implement best practices being set under the PREA to fully protect youth in the justice system—by removing youth from adult jails and prisons and by accessing federal support to undertake new reforms.

Take Action Now: 

Click here https://www.change.org/petitions/governors-remove-youth-from-adult-jails-and-prisons# to sign the petition, which will be sent to governors nationwide. Your signature makes a difference.

Liz Ryan brings more than two decades of experience to the Campaign for Youth Justice (CFYJ), an organization she founded that is dedicated to ending the practice of trying, sentencing and incarcerating children in the adult criminal justice system.