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Chayne Hampton is the manager at Santa Cruz Plumbing Inc., operating the company’s residential plumbing department.

Plumbing was prominent in Hampton’s life growing up in Santa Cruz. His father has been working for the UA Local 38 Plumbers & Pipefitters union in San Francisco since Hampton was born. Around age 20, Hampton began to work alongside his father. But that soon ended because of what Hampton calls “bad life choices.” Hampton struggled with a drug addiction that ultimately led him in 2016 to serve three years at San Quentin State Prison for burglary. After his release in 2019, he entered rehab and sought employment. He reached out to Santa Cruz Plumbing owner Jason Allison, who gave Hampton a chance. He started out as a shop hand, eventually working his way up to manager.

Transitioning from incarceration to the workforce is no easy feat. Hampton says people “have to learn how to operate in a world that’s not the world that you’ve been in.” Many will pass judgment, he says, but if someone is a hard worker their past shouldn’t hold them back. Hampton relishes the simplicities of life, having gone through losing his freedom while in prison. He prides himself on maintaining a job long term, something he struggled with in the past. He enjoys what he describes as “normal-people stuff,” like traveling, working out and spending time with his wife.

Hampton also shared stories on the “Ear Hustle” podcast, as well as narrating parts of the audio version of the book “This is Ear Hustle: Unflinching Stories of Everyday Prison Life” by Nigel Poor and Earlonne Woods. He hopes to be able to progress in his career, either growing the residential plumbing sector or working for himself and beginning a family business.

Education:

• San Lorenzo Valley High School
• Cabrillo College: construction estimating, plumbing code, blueprint reading

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Credit: Kevin Painchaud / Lookout Santa Cruz

Lookout: Can you walk me through how you became involved in the plumbing industry?

Chayne Hampton: My dad’s a plumber and he works for the [plumbing] union in San Francisco, and he’s worked there since before I was born. When I turned 20-something, I tried to join the union and I ended up getting in. I was commuting over the hill with my dad and that commute was just kind of a nightmare. I can see it now in retrospect how draining that drive is and just working in the city in general. They would pay you a lot but it’s a lot of time off your life. But that’s not why I left the union — I made some bad life choices that ended my career there.

I went to jail two times before I went to prison. Just little six-month stint[s]. I thought that would be the end of it, they would never send me away because I was such a petty criminal. The judge looked at what I was doing and saw that it was gradually getting worse and worse. I was taking bigger and bigger risks and that got me a prison sentence. I ended up going to prison for a little bit and when I got out I was in a rehab, New Life on the Westside.

I turned in an application [to] Anne Keating, who’s our HR person [at Santa Cruz Plumbing]; [she] got my application, showed it to [company owner] Jason [Allison]. One of my past employment [experiences] was at San Quentin, [at] the waste management plant. I was trying to make it look pretty without saying I’d been to prison. Jason, not being an idiot, put it together and gave me a call and he said, “I’m very empathetic to a guy in your position. Where are you at? I’m going to come talk to you.” So he came to where I was at. He was like, “All right dude, we’re going to start you at this [wage],” which in retrospect was exactly how much money I needed to make at that time. Now I make twice that.

I had minimal experience, at that point I think I was a [shop hand]. [Jason said,] “All right, we’ll get you digging some holes.” So that’s where I started, digging a little bit [and] organizing the truck, nothing too complicated because, I mean, I was like a baby. After a while, slowly more responsibilities [were] put on my lap. Jason is pretty hands-on and he saw where I had some strength, which was mostly relatability with people, deescalating situations [with] customers [or] other contractors, just general customer-service skills. My employment took a bit of a shift to more management, so I have guys working under me. I’ve been doing this now for about a year.

Lookout: What does a typical day look like for you?

Hampton: For me, I just started checking my emails. [But] whenever I get started I get parts [and] lay [it out for the] guys, like, “This is the job we’re doing today.” Then I’ll go to the job with them and get a material list for them so that they don’t have to drive back and forth to the supply house, kind of streamline things. [I’ll] check in with the customer to make sure they’re doing OK, no one is making a mess, everyone is parking where they should be parking, let them know if the water is going [to] be off. From there, I head back to the office [to] follow up on quotes that I had written and then from time to time I [find] myself in the field tying up loose ends, [like if] a customer needs to be walked through how their new tankless water heater works, then that’s the last thing I’ll do in the day.

Lookout: What was the experience of transitioning from prison back to the workforce?

Hampton: I mean, I didn’t think I had a snowball’s chance in hell. I’ve got tattoos. Even before going to prison I lived in a prison of my own making. Through lifestyle choices I created a very small world for myself, [it was] very limiting. I [could] never be too far away from the action. My life was confined to six or seven blocks in each direction. I was crippled by drugs and addiction, mentally and physically.

I didn’t have any proper skills. But Jason, once again, I [have] to give this guy all the props in the world. I don’t know what he saw in me, maybe he thought I’d only last a week or a year. I’ve never done anything [for work] for five years [and now] someone just took a shot on me. I have buddies who are in the same situation as me, and [it’s] “I can’t find work” and this and that. It’s not easy for a lot of dudes with tattoos on their face and a rough background or a record, but it’s not impossible. I also have a ton of friends who brought themselves into unions. You’ve just got to be willing to start from the bottom. I was trying to be very humble about it: You want me to dig holes? I’ll dig holes.

Lookout: What was it like working in the sewage treatment plant at San Quentin?

Hampton: So my sewage treatment job, when I first got it, I was like, “Cool, sewage treatment, I’m going [to have] a breaker and some chemicals, maybe some goggles.” Yeah, I had goggles, but my tools were a pitchfork and a hose. I would go into this thing they called the pit where all the sewage travels through it. I would have to unclog these drains with the pitchfork and the hose. When you make food in prison you make it in a spread bag [a plastic bag] and when you’re done with it guys will just tie it and then flush it. So when I’d be in there spraying off sewage, sometimes I’d hit one of those bags, it’d ricochet into my face. That’s why I was going to have the goggles and that’s when I stopped having a beard.

They tell you this is your job then you show up for it and if you [try] to refuse it, it’s going to be bad. There’s this weird illusion of free will [that] people think is so necessary, but after being incarcerated, I’ll tell you what, I miss sometimes having someone tell me when to do things. Like, sure, you’re free, but at the same time, that’s a lot of thinking, decision-making, responsibility [and] accountability.

When I applied for the job [at Santa Cruz Plumbing], of course with Jason I was all-in. I was in the union but I don’t necessarily want to tell this guy I’ve been to prison. I’m just going to be honest, but also say, I worked in the sewage treatment plant in San Quentin. San Quentin is not just a prison, I’m pretty sure it’s a town. He took one look at that and was like, “mm-hmm.” So he figured it out.

Lookout: What do you love most about your job?

Hampton: I like interacting with people. I like getting people set up and stoked. Maybe changing the narrative a little bit that you can’t trust your mechanic, you can’t trust your plumber. Everybody is trying to sell you something extra. It’s like no, man, I’m really not. You just have this active water leak I’m trying to get taken care of. My wife called me from the mechanic and she’s just, “Oh, they’re trying to sell me this fluid. I don’t know if I need it.” I was like, “Maybe you need it.” Everyone’s so scared and I get it. One of the things I like doing is [to] just surprise people by giving them what they want and maybe telling them what they need.

I’ve been able to hire guys too, Jason has allowed me to have that responsibility. There’s been guys that were like me, I’m like, “Let’s give you a chance.” Not all of them have worked out but like one of them did, [and] that’s great. Who doesn’t like a comeback story?

Lookout: What have been your biggest challenges in your career?

Hampton: Realizing what a lack of proper education I had going into this, whether it’s spelling, mathematics, writing an email properly, talking to people [professionally]. Those are these huge hurdles I’m working on every day. Those are things I’ve had to adapt to. Also being kind of a self-starter, my days aren’t always laid out for me. I’ve got to keep myself busy and productive.

Credit: Kevin Painchaud / Lookout Santa Cruz

Lookout: What advice would you give to someone who is interested in this type of career?

Hampton: Just be humble and ready to show up. I mean, just because you got paid $25 an hour under the table by Jimmy Jams Plumbing in Boulder Creek doesn’t mean you’re necessarily going to get that somewhere else. And that’s OK, then you go and you learn. I’ve taken classes at Cabrillo that correlate with my career: construction estimating, plumbing code, blueprint reading. Those weren’t things I asked my boss to pay for, either. It’s not his responsibility, it’s your responsibility. If you want to get paid more, be worth more. I know that’s a tough thing. The trades are riddled with guys that have problems showing up on time or attitudes. Just be stoked you got a job, show up a little early, stay a little late. Don’t look [at] your time clock, [or write] every email like, “I actually [finished] work at 3:05, [so] I should get paid for those five minutes.” You should get paid for those five minutes but my dad always told me, “If you got to stay a little late to fix your mistake, don’t make Jason pay for it.”

Lookout: Who is the best person suited for the job?

Hampton: I mean, anybody. Man, women, [or] whoever, a worker [is] a worker. Maybe you’re working with a guy who doesn’t speak any English, but plumbing’s like a universal language, like mathematics. You watch YouTube videos on silent on how to cook things, you could watch a plumbing tutorial in Spanish while you only speak English and still learn something. Just bust ass, move fast and don’t make too big of a mess.

You have to be able to work with dispatch, guys who are ordering parts and you have to have some degree of communication skills and traveling up on your own. It’s a team effort.

Lookout: What can someone expect to be paid when they’re going into this career field?

Hampton: I don’t know, maybe $20-ish if you have a license? You’re not only getting a job but you’re also getting hands-on training that translates to other places. You could probably get a job for more starting at a restaurant, for example. It’s like, what’s your intention?

If you’re really good you can make like $75 an hour. If you’re doing your own thing you could charge $125 an hour, you could charge whatever you feel like you’re worth, as long as you’re being fair with the customer and honest. If you’re new to a company but you’ve done plumbing for 15 years, they may start you off at a certain dollar amount and then once you’re able to prove yourself then your price will go up.

Lookout: What’s the difference between a union and non-union plumbing?

Hampton: A lot, it’s a big question. [In a] union, there’s guaranteed work. It’s hard to say, because some people prefer the union, but you have to pay dues to the union. You’re not allowed to really strike out on your own, like your knowledge is essentially theirs. Prevailing wages, some projects are only union, like this is a union plumber job and it’s prevailing wage. That could be upwards of $75 an hour, but that prevailing wage job doesn’t necessarily last forever.

Lookout: What is something that most people misunderstand about your job?

Hampton: There’s a lot more to it than you think. It’s not just unclogging toilets, it’s also opening up walls, installing new plumbing systems [and] knowing how hot water works. I understand it’s just water, but [it’s] temperatures, also gas and gas pressure. Like what size should your gas line be if it’s servicing these three different fixtures? I’ve got to find out what’s on the fixtures and this degree of math to size something correctly because it’s going to go underground. I don’t think it’s a trade you would see depicted in a movie. Like I’m Mario and Luigi and we just got these plungers. There’s a lot to it. There’s a complement of electrical and HVAC [heating, ventilation and air conditioning systems]. They all culminate into one.

Lookout: What kind of jobs do you think there will be out there in the plumbing field?

Hampton: I think the technology around plumbing is always changing, new applications, making it so jobs can be done quicker. There’s all kinds of routes that you want to take [because] plumbing is not just water and poop. It’s also gas [appliances]. There’s new water heaters that are electric — in California, we’re trying to go in that electric direction. That means your old gas water heaters have to go, and your new electric ones have to go in.

Lookout: What does the trajectory of your job look like?

Hampton: For me, I would like to grow [into] the service department and have more guys. Jason, the owner, is responsible for over 100 guys. If I could have my little department where I’m doing that in my own way, that’s the goal. Maybe one day be competent enough to do something on my own or have my dad involved and keep it in the family. Jason started his company from the ground up, out of his garage. I do more residential stuff at people’s houses, if I were able to grow that. Right now we have five guys. When we have 10 guys, we’d really have a thriving service department along with [a] thriving construction side.

Credit: Kevin Painchaud / Lookout Santa Cruz

Lookout: What would be your advice to someone who is getting out of jail or in a position where they ask, “What’s my next step?”

Hampton: Apply, apply, apply. Just apply and be forthcoming. I genuinely believe there are business owners out there [who] want to be that person that gave that dude [a] chance and he just crushed it. Understand though, too, other guys have come before you and they let people down. Understand that people are going to pass judgment. Don’t lie, be forthcoming. The bottom line is, none of that [stuff] will matter if you’re a really good plumber or you’re a really good hand [or] worker.

Lookout: What motivates you every single day to continue on considering all the hurdles you’ve gone through?

Hampton: Personally, it’s the security of having something to do every day. I know that idle hands [are] like the devil’s playground. Too much idle time, either you’re just on social media or you’re distracting yourself in one shape or form. At least this way, I’m driving around on this side of the hill. That’s the great part. I could be on the Westside, in Aptos or Felton all in the same day and that just keeps me busy. I also have a wife now, she works here cleaning vacation rentals. We’re a DINK [couple], dual income, no kids. So we like to go out to dinner, travel or whatever and those things cost money.

Lookout: What does the future look like for you?

Hampton: I would like to get a dog. Me and my wife want to go to Italy. It’s a lot of normal-people stuff that maybe to the average person is like, “Yeah, that [stuff] is cool.” But understand I came from a place where, like I said, I’ve never done anything for five years. I don’t know how else to describe it, I’ve had a job for five years, like I’ve been fired from everywhere I ever worked. The second I got off drugs and started trying, I was able to keep things. I think that was a pretty big constant in my life before, I was always losing things. Whether it was something as simple as losing the money I had in my pocket for the drugs, losing this and losing that, and losing my freedom. Now I try, and I genuinely put in the effort. It’s just my belief that when you put in the effort you get gifts.

The post How I Received My Job: After spending time in jail, plumbing supervisor Chayne Hampton discovered goal in a profession within the trades appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

“It’s peaceful and tranquil with them swimming around,” says Richard McCool, watching fish swim in one of two housing wings of the Dynamo program, where offenders with good behavior live independently at Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023. McCool, 65, is serving time for rape and first-degree murder convictions. “One day, God willing, we’re going to get out of here.”

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

BOWLING GREEN, Mo. — The warden’s office view is very good here at Northeast Correctional Center. From his window, he can see much of the sprawling state prison that’s home to about 1,550 inmates and surrounded by rolling fields.

That doesn’t mean it’s pretty.

On a recent mid-morning from his roost, the clear sun revealed overwhelming hues of gray from down below. Spools of concertina wire. Layers of fencing, concrete and metal. Even the prisoner uniforms.

An exception — a notable touch of color — came from the far-off corner of campus, where the Missouri prison system has been turned on its head. Older men milled around as they pleased, dressed in maroon “free world” shirts. Though each of the inmates carried convictions for long-ago heinous crimes, ranging from fatal shooting to kidnapping to strangulation, today they don’t even have correctional officers in their housing unit.

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“In a sense, they run it,” said Warden Clay Stanton.

“We’re teaching them normalcy,” said Clay Stanton, left, warden of the Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., as he talks with offender Khelby Calmese in the Dynamo housing unit on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023.

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

The maroon shirts, he explained, are part of a new program called Dynamo that offers a tremendous amount of freedom to inmates who have shown many years — sometimes decades — of good behavior behind bars. Based off a prison model in Norway that prioritizes reintegration to society, staff handpicked 14 longtimers in their 50s, 60s and 70s to lay the Dynamo foundation with the goal of growing from there.

It’s highly unusual for many reasons. Dynamo inmates have keys to their housing unit and yard, which they can access at any hour and are responsible for cutting the grass. They have open movement to food service, jobs, library, recreation and canteen. They have access to a day room with a soft sofa, large television, washer and dryer, refrigerator, ice machine, plants and an aquarium to help alleviate stress.

Most unusual of all, inmates have their own cells, which they can paint the color of their choosing — and are expected to clean. They are also supposed to keep track of their own doctor appointments and so on.

Michael Campbell, 65, and all other offenders living in the Dynamo housing unit have keys to access their building, living independently and without guards, at Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023.

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

“We took them out of a structured environment and put them in a responsible environment,” said Stanton. “They are now responsible for all aspects of upkeep of the place.”

So far, he said, results have been “amazing,” including: Zero fights and no drugs, overdoses or violations.

Dynamo only serves a small group of inmates, but the warden said the positive vibes also lower the intensity of the whole prison, which is better and safer for staff. Turnover is always a challenge. Of 44 graduates from a boot camp for new hires here in 2019, the subject of a Post-Dispatch story, only one fourth remain employed by the Missouri Department of Corrections. About 450 people work at Northeast Correctional Center. Stanton said they are down about 100 employees.

“It’s all about respect,” Stanton said of Dynamo. “It’s brought the camp up tremendously.”

‘Come on in’

Mike Whitfield was one of the first to introduce himself during a tour of the housing unit. At 59, he’s among the youngest in the program. Short, stocky, energetic, his friendly demeanor seemed more suited for being a church greeter than somebody with a murder conviction from St. Louis.

“Spend some time in prison, you are going to have a big change of heart,” Whitfield said. He’s had three decades of prison experience and still doesn’t have a date set with the parole board. Maybe, he said, 2046 will be the year. For now, he’s moving forward.

“Being institutionalized, that’s not my cup of tea,” he said. “I am always thinking there’s a chance to get home.”

Roger Roy Nolan, 76, makes his way to lunch while serving the final months of his incarceration in the Dynamo program at Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023. After serving 43 years and seven days in prison for the murder of Mary Lou Clark Simpson, Nolan will be released on New Year’s Day.

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

Like many others in prison, he has a regular job inside the walls. He drives a forklift. He also goes to the gym a couple times a day and cleans the floors at Dynamo. He’s been in incentive-based “honor” programs before, but he said this one in particular offers the best “peace of mind.”

“It’s a great experience,” Whitfield said, “for us all.”

Chuck O’Howell, 62, of Cape Girardeau, has spent almost his entire adult life in prison for rape.

“This is like a little neighborhood,” he said. “We look out for each other. I like to say we leave prison at the gate.”

Individual names on the cell doors resemble mailboxes on a cul-de-sac.

“This is my room,” said Khelby Calmese, 59, in prison since the mid-1990s for the gang-related killing of a teenager in north St. Louis. “Come on in.”

Just past the toilet, a St. Louis Rams blanket covered a narrow bed. He’d chosen light blue paint for the walls. He liked having his own DVD player and a collection of books that ranged from the “7 Habits of Highly Effective People” to the Bible.

“Look at this place,” he said of Dynamo. “It’s sent from God. It gives us a second chance at life. We get to be who we were meant to be. To have this much freedom we never had, we won’t do anything to lose it. No. No.”

The single cell, 8 feet by 12 feet, is the biggest perk.

Reggie Hart gives a tour of his unlocked cell inside one of two housing wings of the Dynamo program at Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023. A normal cell at the prison would have bunk beds and minimal decoration. Hart, 60, is serving a 60-year robbery sentence.

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

“One of the worst things about prison is having to be in a cell with another man,” said Jeffrey Pollard, 65, a sex offender also accused in 1984 of holding the Sumner High School principal hostage to talk about God. “You live in the bathroom.”

They don’t lock their cell doors at Dynamo. Roger R. Nolan, 76, who has been in prison since the early 1980s for a mid-Missouri murder, said thieves would rob you blind if you did that in general population.

“We are trying to make it a community where you can trust everybody,” said Nolan, leaning on a walker. “It’s one of the criteria.”

The system

Convicts. Inmates. Offenders. Residents. Prison lingo has been evolving amid renewed efforts to untie knots that make the United States the most incarcerated country in the developed world.

Some view Norway as a beacon of hope. There, being pulled out of society is punishment enough. Prison is the place to rebuild and prepare for reentering society.

“That is so not how American prisons are structured,” said Alia Nahra, a law and doctoral student at Columbia University who has studied incarceration in the U.S. and abroad.

She said U.S. prison officials have taken more interest in touring Norway facilities. Some tweaks have been made, but the system hasn’t changed. Adding to the challenge, she said, Norwegian communities are much more homogeneous.

“The U.S. prison system is more of a catch-all for a lot of social safety-net failures,” she said.

Tape keeps cell doors from locking in an independent housing unit where 14 men in the Dynamo program live inside the Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023.

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

After a recent trip to Oslo, a report in the Los Angeles Times noted a core difference in prison systems.

“Norway, like much of Scandinavia, has a reputation for allowing the common good to frequently outweigh individual desires and demands. … U.S. culture prizes vengeance.”

Anne Precythe, director of the Missouri Department of Corrections, said her team doesn’t need to go to Norway to figure out the obvious.

“Living in prison shouldn’t be the punishment,” she said. “Their civil liberties have been stripped, but we still have a responsibility to allow them to live a life. Ninety-five percent of these people are coming home to our communities. If we haven’t prepared them for what that looks like, they will not be successful.”

Precythe, 58, who is stepping down in December, said she’s proud of prison staff for coming up with the idea for Dynamo and seeing it through to launch.

“We are such a misunderstood business and what our role is, yet everybody expects us to turn out a great product,” she said. “We need buy-in from communities to support what we are doing.”

Khelby Calmese, center, of north St. Louis County, plays dominoes with fellow inmate Reggie Hart, left, and recreation director Chris Powell in one of two housing wings of the Dynamo program at Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023. The program offers independent living for offenders with good behavior. “This is a second chance for freedom,” said Calmese, serving a sentence for second-degree murder.

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

Lori Curry, founder of Missouri Prison Reform, which advocates for inmates, said Dynamo is a good first step.

“Ultimately,” she said, “we hope they expand this and learn from it, learn that people change and are more than mistakes.”

A similar program has also started at Algoa Correctional Center near Jefferson City. So far, there’s nothing in the works at the two women’s prisons in Vandalia and Chillicothe.

“That’s not to say there can’t be,” Precythe said.

How to apply

Three residents were just added to the group of 14 who started the Dynamo program in April. More are supposed to be added soon. Full capacity is 50. To fill the remaining open slots, Stanton, the warden, said they’ve received more than 300 applications from throughout the prison system, which has 23,700 inmates.

“It’s a game-changer,” he says.

To qualify, you must be incarcerated at least 15 years consecutively, have no program failures in the past five years, no staff assaults and complete 15 restorative justice class hours per year. Then come recommendations and interviews.

The barriers to entry aren’t insurmountable, said Michael X. Campbell, 65, of San Francisco, who has taken advantage of many programs since he was arrested for a St. Louis-area murder in 1982. Playing the role of Polonius in Hamlet has been one of his favorites, as well as Dynamo.

“If there’s no opportunity in prison, there’s no hope,” he said.

Todd Gile, 34, a sex-offender who was painting “God Bless the U.S.A.” on a sign he was making in the prison wood shop, said he’d apply to Dynamo if he could.

“I’d love to have that freedom to spread out, basically in my own studio apartment,” said Gile, of Kansas City. “Also to say, I earned this.”

Todd Andrew Gile, 34, of Kansas City, Mo., paints a ‘God Bless the USA’ wooden sign in the crafts room at Northeast Correctional Center in Bowling Green, Mo., on Monday, Nov. 13, 2023. Gile lives in the Elite Honor housing wing, a unit for prisoners with good behavior.

Robert Cohen, Post-Dispatch

Dressed in her Sunday best — pink ruffled sleeves and a rainbow tulle tutu — Crystal Martinez’s 4-year-old daughter proudly presents her with a multicolored bouquet of carefully crafted tissue paper flowers. With her 5-year-old son nestled on her lap, laughing in delight, Martinez holds out her arms and pulls the girl into a hug so tight that her glasses are knocked askew. “I want you! I don’t want the flowers,” Martinez says, smiling and holding her children close. Martinez’ five children, aged 13, 10, 6, 5 and 4, last month traveled for three hours from Chicago to visit her in Logan Correctional, Illinois’ largest state prison for women and transgender people, on the Reunification Ride. The donation-dependent initiative buses prisoners’ family members 180 miles (290 km) from the city to Logan every month so they can spend time with their mothers and grandmothers. The number of incarcerated women in the United States dropped by tens of thousands because of COVID-19. But as the criminal justice system returns to business as usual and prison populations creep back to pre-pandemic norms, more children are being separated from their mothers, putting them at greater risk of health and behavioral problems, and making them vulnerable to abuse and displacement. Black and Hispanic women are more likely to be imprisoned than white women, and are affected disproportionately by family separation due to incarceration.

The United States and Qatar have agreed to deny Iran access to $6 billion dollars recently transferred to the nation as part of a deal between Washington and Tehran that led to the release of five imprisoned Americans from Iran last month.

ZMG – Veuer

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The post Missouri inmates run their very own nook of the jail appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

SAN FRANCISCO – Bernard Curran, a former San Francisco Senior Building Inspector, was sentenced today to serve a year and a day in prison in connection with charges that he accepted cash payments and charitable donations from developers and property owners whose projects Curran had responsibility for approving, announced United States Attorney Ismail J. Ramsey and Federal Bureau of Investigation Special Agent in Charge Robert K. Tripp. The sentence was handed down by United States Senior District Judge Susan Illston.

Curran, 62, of San Francisco, pleaded guilty to the charges on December 9, 2022. According to his plea agreement, Curran acknowledged that he was a Building Inspector for the San Francisco Department of Building Inspection (“DBI”) in 2005, and in approximately 2009, was promoted to Senior Building Inspector. As a Senior Building Inspector, Curran was responsible for conducting physical inspections of buildings and construction sites in San Francisco to verify that construction or renovation work had been completed according to approved permits and plans. Curran admitted that after he became a Senior Building Inspector, he received improper financial benefits in connection with his employment.

“San Francisco government officials must always work with the public’s best interest in mind and rebuff invitations for corrupt personal gain,” said U.S. Attorney Ramsey. “Curran is not the first, and he will not be the last, defendant sentenced in rooting out corruption in San Francisco. Today’s sentence makes clear that officials who abuse the public trust will serve time in federal custody.”

“Bernard Curran chose to line his own pockets instead of performing his duties with integrity,” said Special Agent In Charge Robert K. Tripp. “That’s not a small lapse: building inspectors ensure our new construction is safe, and play a key role in creating new housing and businesses that make San Francisco a vibrant place to live and work. Curran’s time in prison should be a stark warning to all that if you’re a public servant who takes a bribe, you will be held to account.”

According to his plea agreement, Curran admitted that he received cash payments from a San Francisco developer “in connection with and as rewards for” the inspections that he conducted or for the approvals that Curran granted as an inspector. In addition, Curran admitted that he accepted what amounted to a $260,000 interest-free loan from the same developer, $30,000 of which was never paid back. Curran admitted that he understood the developer never required the outstanding $30,000 balance to be repaid, “in part due to our friendship, but also in connection with and as a reward for conducting past and future inspections,” on the developer’s projects. Further, Curran admitted that in 2021, the San Francisco City Attorney’s Office investigated potential conflicts of interest related to his employment and, in response, Curran falsely certified that the loan he received was not from the developer, but rather was from a relative and had been issued at a 6% interest rate. Curran admitted that he submitted this false statement in an effort to deceive the City officials.

In addition to the improper gifts from the developer, Curran also admitted in his plea agreement that he accepted illegal gifts from co-defendant Rodrigo Santos. Santos, a licensed civil engineer, worked with project owners and contractors seeking building permits in San Francisco. Curran admitted that between May of 2017 and April of 2020, Santos asked some of his San Francisco clients to make “charitable” donations in connection with inspections that Curran conducted. Specifically, Curran was a volunteer for, and supporter of, a non-profit organization and Santos instructed his clients to write checks for the organization. Curran admitted that on several occasions Santos discussed with Curran the checks that his clients donated while also asking for official action to be taken on specific projects. Curran admitted that the government could prove that between May of 2017 and April of 2019, Santos’s clients wrote $9,600 in donations from 13 clients and that Curran took at least one official action for all 13 of the donors.

On November 28, 2022, Curran was charged by superseding information with two counts of accepting illegal gratuities, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 666(a)(1)(B). Curran pleaded guilty to both counts.

In addition to the prison term, Judge Illston sentenced Curran to two years of supervised release following his prison term. The court set a further hearing on September 8, 2023, to determine the amount of restitution that Curran must pay to DBI to compensate the agency for the costs of an internal audit of projects that Curran inspected. DBI initiated the audit after the charges in this case

The case is being prosecuted by the Special Prosecutions Section of the U.S. Attorney’s Office. The case is being investigated by the FBI and the IRS-CI.

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Provided homes for parolees, probationers; used multiple aliases

Sought $34,655,437 in fraudulent PPP loans during COVID

Jury found former religious leader guilty on 44 felony counts

By U.S. Attorney’s Office, Northern District of California

OAKLAND – Attila Colar, aka Dahood Sharieff Bey, aka Sharieff Dahood Bey, aka Sharieff Pasha, aka David Lee, aka Georgi Petrakov, was sentenced to serve 204 months (17 years) in prison after being convicted of forty-four (44) felonies including conspiracy, bank fraud, wire fraud, aggravated identity theft, false statements to a bank, destruction of property to prevent a search, possession of a firearm as a felon, making a false tax return, obstruction, and witness tampering. The sentence was handed down by the Honorable Haywood S. Gilliam, Jr., U.S. District Judge.

Colar, 51, of Richmond, Calif., was convicted of the crimes by a jury on June 23, 2023, after a three-week trial. Colar is the former Chief Executive Officer of All Hands on Deck, a Richmond, Calif., company that held itself out as providing a residential reentry home for probationers, parolees, homeless persons, and persons with mild mental illness. In finding him guilty of the sundry crimes, the jury concluded Colar carried out multiple schemes to defraud, including defrauding organizations that placed residents at his company’s transitional housing facilities and defrauding several lenders that were participating in the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP). The jury also found that Colar attempted to destroy evidence, obstructed the FBI’s and grand jury’s investigations into his crimes, and tampered with a witness by attempting to concealing the witness while law enforcement was taking steps to execute a material witness order.

According to opengovus.com the organization was incorporated in Hercules and is listed as a “Minority-Owned”, and “Black American Owned” non-profit in 2015 but the registration has expired. The only officer listed is Jamlia Pasha as Manager.

According to transitionalhousing.org, “All Hands on Deck Ink is a clean and sober living environment that offers a structured living program for recovering individuals, Homeless Veterans, Parolees, and Individuals with Mental Health Conditions. The environment creates good habits and healthy outlooks that will lead their residents to positive results. Offer all of the residents access to a clean and stable environment, life skill courses, 12 step program, educational opportunities, business and economic training, and resource referrals. There is a sliding scale fee. Accept self pay, vouchers and other housing rent assistance programs. Residents will have access to internet, washer and dryer, cable, a healthy meal, programs, resources and more. As accepting new residents now, call their housing managers today for placement.” It has a location at a home in El Sobrante. That information was last updated on July 13, 2023.

“In the wake of a national crisis, the government established programs, including the Paycheck Protection Program, to ease the pain inflicted by a global pandemic,” said Ismail J. Ramsey, United States Attorney for the Northern District of California. “Colar took this opportunity to defraud the government, while also defrauding several other initiatives intended to help the homeless, newly released prisoners, and those with drug problems, to name just a few of his victims. This sentence should serve as a warning that this office will pursue with vigor those who seek to line their own pockets by defrauding government efforts to address our communities’ needs.”

“Colar is now facing the consequences for his attempt to steal from a taxpayer-funded program designed to offer crucial relief to those businesses affected during the pandemic,” said Robert K. Tripp, Special Agent in Charge, San Francisco Field Office, Federal Bureau of Investigation. “We are proud to have worked in close coordination with our federal partners to ensure justice prevailed in this case.”

“This sentencing sends a clear warning that you will be brought to justice if you defraud the federal government of pandemic relief funds,” said Jon Ellwanger, Special Agent in Charge, Western Region, Office of Inspector General for the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System and Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. “We are proud to have worked with our federal law enforcement partners and the U.S. Attorney’s Office to hold Mr. Colar accountable for his crimes.”

“Abusing SBA’s pandemic relief programs that are intended to provide critical relief to small businesses is unconscionable.” said SBA OIG’s Western Region Special Agent in Charge Weston King. “This sentencing further showcases that those who fraudulently take advantage of federal government programs will face justice for their selfish deeds. I want to thank the U.S. Attorney’s Office and our law enforcement partners for their dedication and commitment to seeing justice served.”

“Mr. Colar attempted to defraud the U.S. government by filing multiple false tax documents to further his Paycheck Protection Program scheme. Along the way, he harmed the members of the community those funds are designed to aid and protect,” said IRS-Criminal Investigation Special Agent in Charge Darren Lian of the Oakland Field Office. “This sentencing reinforces that people who abuse the U.S. tax system and victimize taxpayers will be held accountable. IRS Criminal Investigation agents work closely with multiple agencies to help ensure those who choose to break the law are caught and punished. I would like to thank the United States’ Attorney’s Office’s and its federal partners for working together to achieve a just result.”

“When individuals corruptly obstruct the due administration of the Internal Revenue Code and file documents under false pretenses, they defraud and steal funds from taxpayer-funded programs intended to assist small businesses. TIGTA will always pursue these individuals and ensure they are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law,” stated Special Agent in Charge Rod Ammari. “I want to thank our law enforcement partners and the U.S. Attorney’s Office for their joint efforts to hold these criminals accountable for their actions.”

Evidence at trial showed that starting in late 2018, Colar engaged in a scheme to defraud, among others, GEO Reentry, which provided treatment and supervision programs for adult probationers, parolees, and pretrial defendants in residential, in-custody, and non-residential reentry centers for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR). Specifically, in or about 2019, Colar fraudulently induced GEO Reentry to refer parolees to All Hands on Deck using falsified fire inspection clearance reports, a false letter of recommendation, false security clearance documents, and false and misleading information about its staff.

Additional evidence demonstrated that in April and June of 2020, Colar engaged in a second scheme to defraud lenders participating in the PPP lending plan authorized by the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act. The CARES Act was designed to provide emergency financial assistance to the millions of Americans who were suffering from the economic effects caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. Pursuant to the CARES Act, the SBA managed the PPP lending plan. Trial evidence established Colar submitted multiple loan applications on behalf of All Hands on Deck to lenders that were false and misleading. For example, the applications substantially overstated the number and payroll of All Hands on Deck employees—while Colar’s loan applications stated All Hands on Deck had approximately 73 to 81 employees, the business had, in fact, perhaps other than himself, no salaried employees.

Colar was also convicted of offenses related to the submission of multiple fraudulent loan applications in the name of other companies. The evidence demonstrated Colar hastily revived two dormant companies, and then submitted loan applications from the PPP lending plan for the bogus businesses. To carry out this scheme to defraud, Colar used, without legal authority, the names and identities of two persons living in his residential reentry facility. Colar falsely represented that the residents were “CEO”s of companies with hundreds of employees with million-dollar payrolls.

In all, the evidence at trial showed that Colar submitted a total of 16 fraudulent loan applications to the PPP lending plan seeking approximately $34,655,437 in PPP loans.

Colar also was convicted of obstruction and witness tampering relating to the investigations into his crimes. Colar has been found guilty of destroying documents during a search of his home, lying to the FBI about a firearm, falsifying records produced to the grand jury, interfering with the representation by counsel of a material witness by impersonating the witness’s Power of Attorney, coaching a witness to falsely state that the witness was the CEO of one of Colar’s bogus companies that submitted fraudulent loan applications, and concealing a witness in multiple hotels and other locations in the Bay Area to forestall or prevent the witness from providing testimony in the federal grand jury.

In sum, Colar was convicted of forty-four (44) federal criminal offenses for his conduct. The convictions include the following: one count of conspiracy to commit wire fraud, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1349; one count to commit conspiracy to commit bank fraud and wire fraud, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1349; two counts of bank fraud, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1344; sixteen counts of wire fraud, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1343; eight counts of aggravated identity theft, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1028A; two counts of false statement to a bank, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1014; one count of possession of a firearm by a felon, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 922(g); one count of destruction of property to prevent a search or seizure, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 2232(a); one count of obstruction of justice, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1512(c)(2); two counts of falsification of records in a federal investigation, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1519; six counts of making a false tax return, in violation of 26 U.S.C. § 7206; one count of conspiracy to tamper with a witness, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1512(k); one count of tampering with a witness, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1512(b)(1); and one count of tampering with a witness, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1512(b)(2).

In addition to the prison term, Judge Gilliam also ordered Colar to serve 60 months (five years) of supervised release, to begin after his prison term. Restitution will be determined at a later date. Colar is currently in federal custody and will begin serving his prison term immediately.

According to an Oct. 3, 2020 ABC7 News report, “Colar was the leader of a Black Muslim temple in Oakland and a group that was a spinoff of Your Black Muslim Bakery, after the leader of the bakery was arrested and later convicted of ordering the murder of Oakland journalist Chauncey Bailey.” He “was convicted in 2015 and sentenced to five years in state prison for submitting bogus documents to win security contracts with Alameda County, the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power and the Housing Authority of the City of Los Angeles.”

Assistant U.S. Attorneys Barbara J. Valliere, Adam A. Reeves, and Ross D. Mazer are prosecuting the case with the assistance of Paralegal Specialist Laurie Worthen and Legal Assistant Kathy Tat. The prosecution is the result of an investigation by the FBI, IRS-Criminal Investigation, Office of Inspector General for the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System and Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, Internal Revenue Service: Criminal Investigation, Treasury Inspector General for Tax Administration, and Office of Inspector General for the U.S. Small Business Administration.

Allen D. Payton contributed to this report.

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Danelo Cavalcante’s not the only one to pull off an unbelievable escape.

After nearly two weeks on the loose, Danelo Cavalcante has finally been apprehended. The 34-year-old, who escaped from Chester County Prison in Pennsylvania by crab-walking up to the roof, evaded authorities for nearly two weeks. 

Cavalcante, who was sentenced to life behind bars for murdering his former girlfriend, was spotted several times before he was finally taken back into custody. While on the run, officials say the 34-year-old stole a dairy delivery van and later a .22 rifle from a homeowner’s garage. 

He was finally cornered after a U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration aircraft picked up a heat signal they suspected could be given off by the fugitive. Agents surrounded Cavalcante, who fled but was ultimately subdued with help from a U.S. Border Patrol tactical unit dog, NBC reports. 

“He was desperate, and it was just a matter of time,” Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro said. 

The getaway is one of the most sensational jailbreaks in recent history. Here’s a look at some other infamous escapees.

Most Famous Prison Escapes

Escape from Dannemora, 2015

David Sweat (left) and Richard Matt (Getty Images)

Two convicted murderers, Richard Matt and David Sweat, broke out of the Clinton Correctional Facility in Dannemora, New York with the help of Joyce Mitchell, a prison employee who had become romantically involved with both men. 

“She professed her love for Sweat in notes she secretly sent him,” a report from the New York inspector general reads. Mitchell also allegedly “engaged in numerous sexual encounters with Matt in the tailor shop,” which she supervised. 

She allegedly smuggled chisels, hacksaw blades, and other tools in frozen hamburger meat, which were delivered to Seat and Matt by guards. The pair used the implements to cut through the steel in the back of their cells and climb down several stories. They then cut a hole through a steam pipe and crawled through a manhole. A few weeks later, Matt was shot and killed by police, while Sweat was captured two days later.  

El Chapo, 2015

El Chapo as he’s being transported to prison in Mexico City. (Getty Images)

Joaquín Guzmán Loera, the Mexican drug kingpin better known as El Chapo, disappeared down a two-by-two foot hole in his cell. The opening was connected to a sophisticated mile-long tunnel, which was ventilated, equipped with lights, and even housed a motorcycle. Some engineers estimate it took more than a year for Guzmán’s associates to build and cost at least $1 million, the New York Times reports. 

The drug lord was free for nearly six months, during which time he managed to meet and be interviewed by the actor Sean Penn. Following a massive manhunt, Guzmán was finally captured in Sinaloa in January 2016. He was extradited to the U.S. where he was sentenced to life in prison for drug conspiracy.

Texas Seven, 2000

Top row, left to right: Joseph Garcia, Randy Halprin, Larry Harper, Patrick Murphy Jr. Bottom row, left to right: Donald Newbury, George Rivas, Michael Rodriguez.

In December 2000, seven men who were serving time in a South Texas prison ambushed guards in the facility’s maintenance shop. They stole civilian clothing and guns and fled in a prison pickup truck. They left a note, which read: “You haven’t heard the last of us yet.”

While loose, the fugitives robbed a Radio Shack and a sporting goods store where they shot and killed a police officer. They spent a month in a motor home in Colorado, trying to pass as religious missionaries. Six of the men were captured, while the seventh died by suicide before he was taken into custody.

Ted Bundy, 1977

Ted Bundy (Getty Images)

One of America’s most infamous serial killers escaped custody — twice. The first time Bundy, who confessed to murdering 30 people, broke free was at a courthouse in Aspen, Colorado in 1977. He chose to represent himself at a preliminary hearing and during a recess asked to visit the facility’s law library on the second story for research. 

“The guard went outside for a smoke,” Bundy told prison psychologist Dr. Al Carlisle. “The windows are open, and the fresh air is blowing through. And the sky was blue, and I said, ‘I’m ready to go,’ and walked to the window and jumped out.” 

He injured his ankle from the fall, but still managed to hike into the surrounding mountains, where he broke into a cabin and stayed for several days. Bundy then stole a car and was eventually pulled over for driving erratically. He was brought back into custody after six days on the loose. 

He broke free again a few months later by squeezing through a grate in his jail cell. He reportedly carved the opening in his ceiling and lost about 20 pounds so he could fit through. Bundy then crawled through the duct and came down into one of the guards’ apartments, donned his clothes, and escaped.  

He then flew to Chicago, took a train to Ann Arbor, Michigan, drove to Atlanta, and headed to Tallahassee, Florida via bus. He killed three more people in the Sunshine State before he was finally apprehended, about a month and a half after he escaped. 

In January 1989, Bundy was executed by electric chair. 

Escape from Alcatraz, 1962

One of the cells from which the pair escaped. (Getty Images)

Frank Lee Morris and brothers Clarence and John Anglin escaped from the maximum-security prison, known as “the Rock,” nearly 60 years ago. The three men, who had been convicted of bank robbery, placed papier-mâché heads they constructed into their beds and are thought to have escaped through a kitchen smokestack, The Hill reports. 

The trio then took off into the San Francisco Bay on a raft they made by stringing 50 raincoats together. They were never seen or heard from again. Authorities insisted that the Anglins and Morris, who had also broken out of Louisiana State Penitentiary, couldn’t have survived the rough waters, but scientists simulating the currents say there’s a chance they could have made it to shore, AP reports.  

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A man who robbed a grocery store in South San Francisco at gunpoint Jan. 27 was sentenced to two years state prison after pleading no contest to one count of felony robbery Thursday, June 29, according to the San Mateo County District Attorney’s Office.

Jesus Enrique Lopezalvardo, 35, of South San Francisco, entered the Joyeria La Tina Store at 319 Grand Ave. in South City with an unidentified accomplice and ordered a customer to the floor, racking a gun. He jumped over the counter and demanded money. The store owner turned over $15,000 and Lopezalvarado fled the store but the license plate of the fleeing vehicle was registered to his brother’s name. He was found in Los Angeles and arrested on a warrant, according to the DA’s Office.

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One of three men involved in an armed robbery in a South San Francisco Walgreens parking lot was found guilty by a jury of five felons on Friday, May 26, and sentenced to 27, according to the San Mateo County District Attorney’s Office years and four months in prison.

James Louis Brisker IV, 29, of Vallejo, along with co-defendants Eric Hamilton and Jaymon Matthews, observed a 62-year-old woman and her 61-year-old husband at the San Pablo Lytton Casino and followed them about 30 miles as they drove to their South San home Francisco drove.

The couple pulled up in the parking lot of a Walgreens at 2238 Westborough Blvd. According to prosecutors, around 6:50 p.m. on March 31, 2019, she was blocked by the car Hamilton was driving with the other two as passengers.

Brisker and Matthews got out of the car and opened the driver’s door of the couple’s car. Brisker held the gun to the woman’s head and demanded that she give him her purse and all her money. The woman tried to get away from the car, after which she was pushed back into the car and took her $2,700 Louis Vuitton purse and about $2,000 in cash, prosecutors said.

The couple then demanded that her husband hand over all of his money, after which the man gave them $400 in cash and the trio drove out of the Walgreens parking lot. The couple were able to note the license plate number of the car Hamilton was driving and immediately called 911, which prosecutors said set off a nationwide alarm.

The car was spotted minutes after it was alerted by Daly City police officers traveling north on Interstate 280. When they initiated a traffic stop, the men were found in the back seat of the car with the woman’s purse and a loaded 9mm handgun. according to the prosecutor.

On Friday, Brisker’s attorney filed a motion to dismiss a previous felony charge in 2015, but the motion was denied by the court. According to prosecutors, he was convicted of five felonies, two counts of robbery with a gun, one count of illegal possession of a gun by a felon, one count of home robbery with a gun and one count of aggravated home burglary with a gun.

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Theodore “Ted” Kaczynski, the Harvard-educated mathematician who retreated to a dingy cabin in the Montana wilderness and spent 17 years conducting a bombing raid that killed three people and injured 23 others, died Saturday. He was 81.

Kaczynski was labeled an “unabomber” by the FBI and died at the medical center at the federal penitentiary in Butner, North Carolina, Kristie Breshears, a spokeswoman for the federal Department of Prisons, told The Associated Press. He was found lifeless in his cell early Saturday morning and was pronounced dead around 8am, she said. A cause of death was not initially known.

Prior to his transfer to the prison’s medical facility, he had been held at the Supermax federal penitentiary in Florence, Colorado, since May 1998, when he was sentenced to four life terms plus 30 years for a campaign of terror that roiled universities across the country. He admitted to carrying out 16 bombings in 1978 and 1995, permanently maiming several of his victims.

Years before the 9/11 attacks and the anthrax shipments, the Unabomber’s deadly homemade bombs changed the way Americans shipped packages and boarded planes, and in July 1995 even virtually shut down West Coast air travel.

He forced the Washington Post, along with the New York Times, in the agonizing decision in September 1995 to publish his 35,000-word manifesto, Industrial Society and Its Future, which asserted that modern society and technology were becoming a sense of industrial society lead to impotence and alienation.

But it led to his downfall. Kaczynski’s brother David and David’s wife Linda Patrik caught the tone of the paper and tipped off the FBI, which has been searching for the Unabomber for years as part of the country’s longest and costliest manhunt.

In April 1996, authorities found him in a 10 x 14 foot (3 x 4 meter) plywood and tar paper shack outside of Lincoln, Montana, filled with diaries, an encrypted diary, explosive ingredients and two finished bombs.

An elusive criminal mastermind, the Unabomber gained many sympathizers and comparisons to Daniel Boone, Edward Abbey and Henry David Thoreau.

But when Kaczynski revealed himself to be a wild-eyed recluse with long hair and a beard who’d survived the Montana winters in a one-room cabin, Kaczynski struck many as more of a pathetic loner than a romantic anti-hero.

Even in his own diaries, Kaczynski came across not as a committed revolutionary but as a vengeful recluse driven by petty grievances.

“I certainly do not claim to be an altruist or to act for the ‘good’ (whatever that is) of mankind,” he wrote on April 6, 1971. “I act solely out of a desire for revenge.”

A psychiatrist who interviewed Kaczynski in prison diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic.

“Mr. Kaczynski’s delusions are mostly haunting in nature,” Sally Johnson wrote in a 47-page report. “Key issues include his belief that he is being vilified and harassed by family members and modern society.”

Kaczynski hated the idea of ​​being considered mentally ill, and when his attorneys attempted to present a defense of insanity, he attempted to have her dismissed. When that failed, he tried to hang himself with his underwear.

Kaczynski eventually pleaded guilty instead of letting his defense team continue with an insane defense.

“I’m confident in my sanity,” Kaczynski told Time magazine in 1999. “I’m not delusional and stuff like that.”

He was definitely brilliant.

Kaczynski skipped two grades to go to Harvard by age 16 and had published essays in prestigious mathematics journals. His explosives have been carefully tested and come in meticulously handcrafted wooden cases that have been sanded to remove any possible fingerprints. Later bombs were inscribed “FC” for “Freedom Club”.

The FBI dubbed him the “Unabomber” because his first targets appeared to be universities and airlines. An altitude-triggered bomb he mailed in 1979 detonated as planned aboard an American Airlines flight. A dozen people on board suffered smoke inhalation.

Kaczynski killed computer rental company owner Hugh Scrutton, advertising executive Thomas Mosser, and lumber industry lobbyist Gilbert Murray. California geneticist Charles Epstein and Yale University computer expert David Gelernter were maimed by bombs two days apart in June 1993.

Mosser was killed at his home in North Caldwell, New Jersey on December 10, 1994, the day he was scheduled to pick out a Christmas tree with his family. His wife, Susan, found him badly injured from a barrage of razor blades, pipes, and nails.

“He was moaning very softly,” she said at Kaczynski’s sentencing in 1998. “The fingers of his right hand were dangling. I held his left hand. I told him help was coming. I told him I love him.”

As Kaczynski ramped up his bombings and letters to newspapers and scientists in 1995, pundits suspected the Unabomber was jealous of the attention being given to Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh.

The threat to blow up a plane in Los Angeles before the end of July 4th weekend threw air travel and mail delivery into chaos. The Unabomber later claimed it was a “prank”.

The Washington Post printed the Unabomber’s manifesto at the urging of federal authorities after the bomber said he would renounce terrorism if a national publication published his paper.

Patrik had had an uneasy feeling about her brother-in-law even before seeing the manifesto, and eventually persuaded her husband to read a copy in the library. After two months of arguments, they took some of Ted Kaczynski’s letters to Patrik’s childhood friend, Susan Swanson, a private investigator in Chicago.

Swanson, in turn, passed it on to former FBI behavioral scientist Clint Van Zandt, whose analysts said whoever wrote it likely also wrote the Unabomber’s manifesto.

“It was a nightmare,” said David Kaczynski, who as a child idolized his older brother, in a 2005 speech at Bennington College. “I literally thought, ‘My brother is a serial killer, the most wanted man in America.'”

Swanson reached out to a corporate lawyer friend, Anthony Bisceglie, who contacted the FBI. The investigation and prosecution were overseen by now Attorney General Merrick Garland during a previous stint at the Justice Department.

David Kaczynski wanted his role to remain confidential, but his identity quickly came to light and Ted Kaczynski vowed never to forgive his younger brother. He ignored his letters, turned his back on him at court hearings, and in a 1999 draft book described David Kaczynski as “Judas Iscariot (who)…does not even have the courage to hang himself.”

Ted Kaczynski was born on May 22, 1942 in Chicago to second-generation Polish Catholics—a sausage maker and a homemaker. He played trombone in the school band, collected coins, and skipped sixth and eleventh grade.

His high school classmates found him odd, especially after he showed a wrestler how to make a mini-bomb that exploded during chemistry class.

Harvard classmates remembered him as a lonely, skinny boy with poor personal hygiene and a room that smelled of spoiled milk, food, and foot powder.

After completing his graduate studies at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, he got a job teaching mathematics at the University of California at Berkeley, but found the job difficult and resigned abruptly. In 1971, he bought a three-acre lot about 4 miles (6 kilometers) outside of Lincoln and built a cabin there with no heat, water, or electricity.

He learned gardening, hunting, tool making, and sewing, living on a few hundred dollars a year.

In the late 1970s, he left his cabin in Montana to work with his father and brother at a foam rubber products manufacturer outside of Chicago. But when a manager fired him after two dates, he started posting abusive limericks about her and wouldn’t stop.

His brother fired him, and Ted Kaczynski soon returned to the wild to continue his vengeful killing spree.

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A man identified by police as 44-year-old Omar Pope stands near a parked car in San Francisco. (Northern California District Court Records)

SAN FRANCISCO — A townsman who lost his brother, son and wife in a series of tragic incidents has been sentenced to 41 months in prison, although he was acquitted of possession of the bullet that killed his wife in January, as of court records emerge.

The story of 44-year-old Omar Pope dates back to last year, when federal prosecutors charged him with two counts: in May 2022, being a felon and possessing a loaded gun, and in December 2021, possession of the bullet his wife killed when the couple fought over a handgun in their home.

Pope took the unusual step of pleading guilty to the May possession charge and bringing the second count to trial. Last January, a grand jury acquitted him of a felon in possession of ammunition, but Pope still faced federal prison time on the gun charge.

On Thursday, US District Judge William Alsup sentenced Pope to 41 months in federal prison, counting the time he has served in prison since his arrest in June 2022.

According to court records, Pope’s arrest was the culmination of a series of tragedies that began in mid-2020 when his brother died of COVID-19. Two months later, in August 2020, his 14-year-old son was killed after a car being driven by a relative struck a truck, court records show. Then, in December 2021, Pope’s 40-year-old wife was shot dead in a house on the 100 block of Dakota Street in San Francisco.

Pope told responding officers that his wife – still distraught over the death of their son – had repeatedly pointed the gun at herself and at Pope and threatened to kill both of them and other family members. He said when he tried to take the gun from her, they argued about it and it exploded. According to court records, she was fatally hit by a bullet and another hit Pope in the hand.

Five months later, in May 2022, Pope was caught with a gun stolen from Hayward, prosecutors said. US prosecutors pleaded for a 57-month sentence, arguing the series of tragedies in Pope’s life should have been a wake-up call and made his subsequent gun ownership even worse.

“Not a lot of criminal convictions. No significant prison sentence. Not the gunshot death of his wife. Not his own gunshot wound. Not the pain and suffering his daughter had to experience from the loss of her mother. None of this stopped Pope from possessing a stolen firearm in May 2022,” prosecutors wrote in a sentencing memo.

Pope’s attorney, Daniel Blank, argued that the tragedies were devastating for Pope, but pointed out that he claimed responsibility for the gun ownership in May 2022, months before he was tried on the other charges. Blank said in court filings that Pope felt the need to carry a gun for self-protection after surviving the harrowing experience of his wife’s death.

“It was these recent devastating losses, in addition to many previous ones, that led Mr. Pope to spiral into drug addiction and fueled a paranoia that made him feel he needed a firearm for his own protection,” Bank wrote.

If you or someone you know is struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline offers free 24-hour support, information and resources. Reach Lifeline at 988 or 800-273-8255 or visit 988lifeline.org.

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By Jennifer Smith, Chief Reporter at Dailymail.Com

15:12 02 November 2022, updated 17:40 02 November 2022

• David Bonola, 44, accepted a plea deal from Queens prosecutors on Wednesday
• He pleaded guilty to manslaughter, not murder, and was subsequently sentenced to 25 years in prison with five years of supervised imprisonment
• Bonola brutally stabbed the Gaal multiple times in their home while their teenage son was upstairs in his room
• The couple had an on-off affair which she tried to end; Bonola snapped and stabbed her 50 times
• He placed her mutilated body in a duffel bag and dragged it down the street before dumping it by the side of the road
• Gaal’s husband and their two sons have yet to comment publicly on the plea deal, but the prosecutor’s office insists they have been consulted throughout

Artisan lover of murdered Queens mother Orsolya Gaal has been handed a love deal that sends him to prison for 25 years and convicts him of manslaughter not murder, despite cutting her to death and stuffing her body in a duffel bag.

David Bonola, 44, accepted a deal from Queens prosecutors meaning he pleads guilty to first-degree manslaughter. On November 19 he was sentenced to 25 years in prison.

After his release – which could happen sooner with good behavior – he will be cared for for five years.

Gaal’s family has yet to comment publicly on the verdict, but the prosecutor’s office insists they were consulted throughout the trial.

Her husband Howard Klein refused to answer questions outside the family home on Wednesday morning.

The verdict is a significant concession for prosecutors. Bonola stabbed Gaal more than 50 times while her teenage son was upstairs at her home in Forest Hills, Queens, and then dragged her body down the street in her son’s holdall.

It was a shocking and gruesome crime that terrified the neighborhood and led to a multi-day manhunt.

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David Bonola is shown in court today and pleads guilty to manslaughter Orsolya Gaal Gaal’s body was found in her son’s hockey bag, dumped on the side of a freeway not far from their home in Queens

After his arrest, it turned out that the couple were having an affair. Gaal’s husband was out of town at the time of her murder and Bonola had gone to the house to try to rekindle their romance.

He attacked her in the basement, stabbed her 50 times, and then waited well into the night to drag her body out of the house and dump it near a freeway.

The couple flirted on social media in the months leading up to her death, having met when she hired him to do hands-on work around the family home.

The prosecutor’s office has yet to explain why the charges were downgraded from murder to manslaughter. A spokesman told DailyMail.com that Gaal’s family had been consulted about the plea and that they agreed to it.

“That was the agreement between the defender and the people. Victims were consulted along the way,” they said.

In a statement, DA Melinda Katz: “By pleading guilty, the defendant has accepted responsibility and will be held fully accountable for his criminal actions.

“We offer our sincere condolences to the family of the victim and hope today’s request will enable them to begin healing.”

Gaal’s husband Howard did not respond to questions about the plea deal Wednesday morning. He has not discussed the murder, which Bonola presented in court on manslaughter charges Wednesday. He worked for Gaal’s family in their home. Bonola will be found guilty of manslaughter in court on Wednesday. He worked for Gaal’s family in their home. Gaal’s husband Howard Klein has yet to respond to the verdict. They are shown with their two sons, one of whom was at home when his mother was stabbed more than 50 times in April. Queens District Attorney Melinda Katz was in court Wednesday to see Bonola plead guilty. Her office insists the victim’s family was consulted and that they agreed to the conviction that Gaal was murdered at her home after attending a Lincoln Center show with friends. She rode the train home, then stopped for a drink before walking back to her Juno Street home. There Bonola attacked. He dragged her body and dumped it on a park path, then fled and was arrested four days later

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