Success After Prison with Michael Santos

Building Financial Stability:

When I concluded my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons in August of 2013, I set new goals with Carole. We were 49 years old and making progress, but we would have to cover a lot of ground to prepare for a stable future. Although I felt passionately about working to improve outcomes of our nation’s prison system, I also had a responsibility of preparing for our family’s future. Carole had sacrificed a great deal to marry me while I still had 10 years remaining to serve in prison. I wanted to provide her with the comfort of knowing that we were stable. I promised to work toward a goal of providing stability for our family.

While Carole advanced toward her Master’s degree in nursing, I had to figure out a way to build my own career. With limited resources, it would seem that I would need to think creatively in order to generate more orders for the Straight-A Guide. I needed to build more credibility, showing that the program didn’t only lead to success through prison, but also success in society. If I could achieve “success” in society, I anticipated that administrators might be more willing to purchase our program, even before researchers validated its effectiveness.

One principal of the Straight-A Guide is that we never ask anyone to do or say anything that we’re not willing to do or say ourselves. Accordingly, I began asking a series of questions. What approach could I take to define success? That type of question led to other questions. My definition of success wouldn’t matter nearly as much as what my avatars would expect. I considered avatars as being all law-abiding, tax-paying Americans. How would they define success after prison? Better yet, how would they define success in society?

In addition to those avatars, I also considered the people in prison that I aspired to teach. If I were asking for their time and attention, what would they expect of me? How could I earn their trust as being someone who could teach them?

Answering those questions led me to a conclusion. If I could build a financial statement showing a net worth of $1,000,000, others would deem me successful. I set a goal with Carole, claiming that I would work to build a $1,000,000 net worth within my first five years of liberty. To achieve that goal, I had until August of 2018. By succeeding, I would find it easier to inspire more people to see the value of The Straight-A Guide—with or without a validated research instrument.

When I set that goal with Carole, I still had a 0-0-0 credit score. Yet since I had completed my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons, rules no longer blocked me from applying for credit. I submitted an application for a credit card to Bank of America. The banker who had opened my account when I first transferred to the halfway house no longer worked there, so I was starting from ground zero. Soon after I submitted my application, I received a phone call from Bank of America.

The lady who spoke with me told me she was reviewing my application for credit and said that she had some questions. By living frugally, and saving resources that our work generated, the combined balances in our bank account exceeded $100,000. We didn’t waste money on alcohol or splurges after my release. Other than purchasing the Apple computers that I would need to launch my career, we didn’t buy much of anything. I purchased a used vehicle for $4,000 and we saved as much money as possible. The banker who assessed my application reviewed the assets I listed, but asked why her records showed that I didn’t exist in the credit system.

After I told her my story, she agreed to issue my first credit card. Once I received the credit card, I felt a bit more like a citizen. Soon my credit score rose to the high 600s. The next step would be for us to apply for permanent financing on the house we purchased.

I had promised Chris and Seth of ABS Development that I would pay off the balance that we owed on the property just as soon as I could qualify for a mortgage. We signed an agreement with them to purchase the property for $390,000 in the fall of 2012, while I was still in the halfway house. In an effort to help us get established, they accepted a down payment of $12,000 and agreed to accept interest-only payments on the outstanding balance until we could pay off the note. We were ready.

1. Finding Markets:

Like anyone starting a new venture, Justin and I had to overcome many hurdles as we tried to introduce our products into the marketplace. Philanthropic organizations provided us with funding to get started, but we still needed to create a sustainable business model. That meant we needed to find markets. The markets we identified included jails, prisons, and schools that served people who were at risk of going into jails or prisons.

As formerly incarcerated individuals with felony convictions, Justin and I faced challenges in breaking through to decision makers at the institutions where we wanted to sell the Straight-A Guide. I concluded my prison term on August 12, 2013, but I was scheduled to serve an additional four years on Supervised Release. At times, selling to “the system” proved difficult because of our criminal records. Still, we were committed to the work, sensing that our product would inspire more people inside to pursue self-directed paths of preparing for success.

On occasions when we broke through to decision makers, we faced another challenge. The corrections industry was becoming more professionalized. As such, administrators were reluctant to purchase programs that had not been evaluated as being “evidence based.” In other words, before considering a rehabilitative program for purchase, the administrators expected to see scholarly research showing a program’s propensity to achieve its intended outcome.

With the Straight-A Guide, we aspired to show participants that they could empower themselves and prepare for success in meaningful, measurable ways. Their key to success would begin with a commitment to leading a values-based, goal-oriented life. To the extent that they articulated their values, set clear goals, and moved forward in the principled way of the program, they would make progress. The course would inspire participants to reject the criminal lifestyle and develop stronger critical-thinking skills.

Through the Straight-A Guide, participants would contemplate their avatars and employ Socratic questioning techniques. We anticipated that such disciplined, deliberate adjustment patterns would assist the participants in becoming more resourceful. Rather than waiting for calendar pages to turn, or engaging in the types of thoughtless behavior that derails so many people in prison, participants would focus. They’d find mentors, they’d create opportunities, they’d seize or create opportunities to educate themselves. To the extent that participants committed to the Straight-A Guide adjustment plan, they would walk out of prison with a strong support network and confidence in their ability to thrive as law-abiding, contributing citizens.

Yet when making this presentation to the corrections industry, we’d frequently encounter resistance. Many would object that other people in prison wouldn’t be able to do what I had done, or grasp the Straight-A Guide. They wanted to see independent scholarly research showing evidence that the Straight-A Guide lowered recidivism rates.

We would face an enormous obstacle in providing such evidence. In order to gather the research, we’d need the following:

We would need to contract with either a research institution or a university research department.

We would need funding to pay for that research.

We would need a test group that would allow us to administrate the Straight-A Guide program to a statistically significant group of people in prison.

We would need each participant to take a “pretest,” showing their knowledge of the coursework we were about to teach through the program.

We would need access to the answers they provided.

We would need access to the coursework they completed as they advanced through the program.

We would need the participants to complete their prison terms.

We would need to measure progress the participants made after they returned to society.

We would need to measure the success rate of participants who completed the Straight-A Guide and contrast those rates against others who were not exposed to the program.

To succeed as an evidence-based program, we would need to coordinate an evaluation with an accredited researcher. If the independent researchers had access to data, and their research revealed that participants in the Straight-A Guide program were more likely to succeed upon release, as compared against similarly situated offenders who did not go through the program, we would have the ammunition we needed to sell this program to jails, prisons, and schools across the nation.

Our problem was not only one of funding, but also of time. To gather the necessary data showing that Straight-A Guide programs lowered recidivism, participants wouldn’t only need to complete the program. They also would need to complete their prison terms, return to society, and refrain from violating the law for three years. Crossing the hurdle of becoming an evidence-based program would require significant amounts of capital. We would need to pay the necessary personnel who could conduct the study. We would need to fund the costs associated with opening meetings with decision makers. And we would need to collect data from participants who enrolled in the Straight-A Guide program.

Until we were able to obtain evidence-based research, we’d continue to meet objections from administrators that would prevent us from scaling the program. If we had resources to acquire the research, we anticipated a massive market. Although we didn’t have clear data on the total available market, we knew that the corrections industry consumed more than $80 billion each year. If reentry and recidivism-reduction programs consumed only 5 percent of that budget, the market would be a $4 billion per year industry. In such a market, we anticipated that if we could become evidence-based, The Straight-A Guide program could anticipate sales north of $10 million per year.

Despite the challenges, Justin and I succeeded in persuading several administrators to purchase our program. Since we lacked the research to validate the Straight-A Guide, we could not command a high price point. Instead, we offered the program on a licensing basis at $5,000 per year, plus another $2,500 for training. If an institution purchased a license to use the Straight-A Guide program, I would visit the institution to train facilitators on how to teach participants. They could use the program as a tool to build intrinsic motivation and prepare offenders for success. After the training, we would leave the institution with the video content, the literature, and the lesson plans. Institutions could then use the program as a tool to improve outcomes.

Our initial clients included the Washington State Prison System, Santa Clara County, The City of San Jose, Orange County School District, Los Angeles County Office of Education, Orange County Department of Education, and The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. Those orders generated financial resources, but the costs associated with delivering our program proved to be too high. Our model of offering the Straight-A Guide at a low price point would only work if we were successful in finding hundreds of clients. Despite funding from philanthropic organizations, and funding from purchase orders, we lacked sufficient capital to cross the tipping point.

In order to grow, we would need more resources. We needed resources to purchase advertising campaigns that would bring us to the attention of more institutional buyers. We needed resources to purchase booths at conventions that served the corrections market. We needed resources to fund our travel costs and to hire staff members who could help us execute our plan. Inexperience convinced me that purchase orders would flow into our organization as soon as I created the product. As time passed, however, I learned how much I didn’t know about the challenges of launching a start-up venture.

During my imprisonment, we developed the literature for this program. It all began under the theory that people in prison would be more receptive to learning from individuals who had transformed their lives while they experienced the prison system. Prisoners sometimes rejected a message when that message came from people who didn’t know the pain of being separated from the people they loved, or from the people who loved them. We wanted to reach prisoners. We wanted to convince those people that it was never too early, and it was never too late to begin preparing for a better life.

I wrote three books to share lessons that empowered me through the multiple decades that I served. They weren’t my lessons, but lessons I learned from people I called masterminds. In truth, we all faced struggle during the course of our life. Many people overcame struggles that were far more significant than a lengthy prison sentence. I learned from those people and I convinced that other people can learn from those lessons as well.

With continued funding from The California Wellness Foundation, The Sierra Health Foundation, The Cornerstone Project, and other philanthropic groups, we were able to create a comprehensive series of lesson plans and accompanying videos. Our 10 separate learning modules included five lessons in each module, for a total of 50 lessons. Funding allowed us to retain the team at Landini Media, SRV Studios, and Open Advance. Together we created more than 12 hours of high-quality video footage to complete our Straight-A Guide training program. Tulio Cardozo assisted me in designing the lesson-plan layouts.

Through the Straight-A Guide, we aspired to teach actionable strategies for self-empowerment. People in prison or in at-risk populations could use those strategies to transform their lives in the same way that others have done. The program worked as follows:

Vaues: Transformation begins when we identify and articulate values by which we profess to live. In the Straight-A Guide, I taught that message through the context of my own journey. First, I needed to accept responsibility and let the world know that I wanted to become something more than what I was at present. Rather than allowing my past bad decisions to define me, I thought about my avatars. By asking Socratic questions about what they would expect of me, I could define the values by which I professed to live. My avatars would expect me to educate myself, to contribute to society, and to build a support network. Those three principles became the values by which I professed to live. Through the lessons plans I created in Module 1, I encouraged participants to identify values by which they professed to live.

Goals: Once I identified my values, I needed to create a definition of success for each value category. My own definition of success didn’t matter. Instead, I needed to resume my question-approach to learning. How would my avatars define whether I succeeded in my pursuit of education? I anticipated that they would measure an education by a college degree. How would my avatars define whether I succeeded with regard to my contributions to society? I anticipated that if I were to publish, they would consider that I had worked to make a quantifiable contribution. How would my avatars define whether I had built a support network? I anticipated that if I persuaded 10 people to believe in me, and vouch for me, my avatars would find it easier to accept me. Accordingly, I set goals of earning a university degree, of publishing, and of finding 10 people to believe in me within my first decade of confinement. In Module 2, the lessons encouraged participants to articulate their goals, and to make them consistent with their values.

Attitude: Identifying values and goals was the prerequisite to embarking upon the Straight-A Guide. The next Module encouraged participants to move forward with the “right” attitude. What was the right attitude? In the Straight-A Guide we identified the right attitude as a 100% commitment to success—as the individual’s values and goals defined success.

Aspiration: Individuals who moved forward with the right attitude could articulate their aspiration. In Module 4, we taught participants how to see themselves as something more than their past bad decisions or their current circumstances. Instead, we wanted them to project into the future, to see themselves as the success they wanted to build. In essence, we taught them to become the CEOs of their own lives. If they knew what they wanted to become, then they could craft more effective plans that would help them reach the end result.

Action: To become something more, or to reach their highest potential, participants learned that they needed to take incremental action steps. In Module 5, we showed that every person who achieved a high level of success followed this path. People had to execute their plans in order to reach a higher potential. Regardless of where an individual was at a given time, that person could begin taking action steps that would lead to a new and better reality.

Accountability: In Module 6, we showed participants the importance of creating their own accountability metrics. They would need to figure out ways to measure their incremental progress. Even if they anticipated having to pass through decades before their release, or if they didn’t have a release date, this module taught participants ways to hold themselves accountable, making adjustments as necessary.

Awareness: With Module 7, participants learned the cumulative influences of living a deliberated, values-based, goal-oriented adjustment. By living in accordance with the Straight-A Guide, participants would become aware of opportunities. Those opportunities were available to everyone else, but only those who committed to the deliberate path would find them and seize such opportunities. Simultaneously, others would become aware of their commitment to success. Accordingly, they would find people who would have a vested interest in their success—people who would invest in them to advance their success with new opportunities.

Achievement: Module 8 taught about the importance of celebrating incremental achievements. By celebrating each achievement, no matter how small, participants could sustain their growth patterns as months turned into years. They would know and understand how success in one area of life would lead to further successes.

Appreciation: The penultimate module taught participants that they could increase their successes by expressing appreciation for the blessings that came their way. It’s a version of a theory known as “The Law of Attraction,” showing that we could will more success and abundance into our life so long as we reciprocated, bringing more success and abundance to others.

Actualization: Finally, the Straight-A Guide taught participants that by living in accordance with this values-based, goal-oriented strategy, they could empower themselves. They would rely on authorities or others to tell them they were free. Instead, they could create higher levels of liberty in their life by embarking upon their own path, living their own visions.

Once we filmed all of the lessons and finalized all of the lesson plans, Justin and I reached into the marketplace so we could start spreading our work.

I designed the third class to teach students about evolutions that occurred in criminal justice during the 18th century. Scholars referred to that era as The Enlightenment, a time when people had more hope. Two philosophers, Thomas Hobbes and John Locke, presented different theories on human behavior. According to Thomas Hobbes’ view, people were basically beasts by nature. Hobbes’ theory held that people would only refrain from breaking laws if the state maintained a severe penal system that would punish wrongdoing. John Locke, on the other hand, believed that all people came into the world with a blank slate—meaning they were neither good nor bad. Instead, they learned behavior through their observations and experiences. People may have learned behaviors that led to criminal actions, but they could also “unlearn” those behaviors and become good.

Those types of philosophical questions, I explained to the students, led other philosophers to question the way we responded to criminal behavior. Instead of responding to every offense with corporal punishment, many began to propose different ideas. During the Enlightenment Era, the prison movement began. Instead of relying on jails or prisons to hold people until after the conviction, when authorities could carry out the corporal punishment, we began to use sentence people to confinement. Rather than punishing the body, we would extract time from offenders by forcing them into confinement.

In the following class, I invited the students to assess the level of progress we had made as a society. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being hardly any change and 10 being massive change, I asked them to rate the difference. How much of an improvement was it, I asked, for laws to allow governments to punish offenders by confinement rather than by cutting their heads off, putting them on a stake, and then lighting the heads on fire. Each student agreed that confinement was a significant improvement—a 10 on the scale. Then I opened discussions about how our system of confinement has evolved since the birth of the prison. We spent the remainder of our course discussing the ways that prison systems changed since the 1800s to the modern day.

To help students understand more, I brought many guest speakers into the classroom. A deputy from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department visited, The San Francisco Sheriff visited, and a federal magistrate judge visited. I had formerly incarcerated individuals visit, probation officers visit, and representatives from community activist groups visit. Since I couldn’t bring my students into prisons or into the criminal justice system, I did my best to bring the system to them.

I didn’t limit my teaching to San Francisco State University. During my first year of liberty I spoke at universities from New York to Washington state, and I spoke regularly at universities in the Bay area, including at UC Berkeley and at Stanford Law School. I felt passionately about working to help more people understand our nation’s criminal justice system and about working to bring improvements.

California Wellness Foundation:

As much as I enjoyed teaching, I knew that I wouldn’t be spending my career in the classroom. I couldn’t afford it. As an adjunct professor who taught only a single class on campus, my pay capped out at less than $12,000 per year. I could’ve taught a few more courses to increase my pay, but without a Ph.D., I wouldn’t be able to become a full professor or earn a livable wage. Returning to school to complete my Ph.D. wasn’t really an option. After all, I’d been out of the workforce for longer than 25 years and I couldn’t afford to take another hiatus to study for three to five years.

Besides the time commitment that would be necessary, I didn’t want to undertake further tuition expense. Since I’d made a commitment to Carole, I needed to devote time that would allow me to achieve dual objectives. On one hand, I wanted to pursue projects that would improve outcomes of our nation’s prison system and resolve one of the greatest social injustices of our time. On the other hand, I wanted to create income opportunities that would allow Carole and me to enjoy financial stability.

I taught for a full academic year at San Francisco State, but while at the university I pursued other ventures. Fortunately, The California Wellness Foundation continued to sponsor the work that Justin and I were doing. As a consequence of grants we received, we were able to fully develop our Straight-A Guide program.

1. San Francisco State University

In early 2013 I began sending letters to professors who taught criminal justice courses in the San Francisco Bay area. If they thought it would be helpful, I offered to visit and provide their students with a different perspective. Many students who majored in criminal justice wanted to pursue careers in corrections, probation, or other law enforcement professions. I knew the students would’ve read many theoretical textbooks on corrections or different sociological theories. Listening to someone who could share first-hand experiences might contribute to their educational experience.

Dr. Jeffrey Snipes, from San Francisco State University, responded to my letter. He led the criminal justice department at SFSU and he invited me to visit with him at the university. Jeff’s email encouraged me, as I’d never stepped foot on a university campus before. I had invitations to speak at other universities later in the school year, but I looked forward to meeting Jeff and walking through the campus. He told me that he had read one of my books when he was in graduate school, years earlier.

When I visited SFSU for the first time, I felt a sense of what I had missed as a consequence of the bad decisions I made as a young man. Thousands of students walked around the campus and they all looked as if they had so much promise. Jeff and one of his colleagues listened as I told them my story. We spoke for about an hour and then Jeff asked if I would like to work at SFSU. I didn’t quite get his question. My thoughts were that we were having a discussion about my making contributions as a guest speaker. Instead, he asked if I wanted to become a part of the faculty, as a guest lecturer, an adjunct professor.

Universities had a huge influence on my adjustment through prison. Although I didn’t get to experience university campus life as a student, Jeff and his colleagues opened an amazing opportunity for me to teach. He invited me to design my own course that we titled The Architecture of Incarceration. I would begin teaching in August, 2013, less than three weeks after I concluded my prison sentence.

I spent hundreds of hours preparing for the semester. Although my job only required me to teach 30 students, I accepted every student who wanted to enroll. Teaching opened opportunities to influence people who would devote their careers to criminal justice, and I wanted to serve them well.

In designing the course, I set a goal of helping the students understand influences that led to our nation’s massive prison system. We incarcerated more people per capita than any other nation on earth. But the US didn’t always have the world’s largest prison population. Our commitment to mass incarceration didn’t begin until the early 1970s, accelerating around the time that I began serving time—when President Reagan launched the War on Drugs. I wanted students in my class to understand how we “architected” the path to mass incarceration.

To begin the class, I told the students about my history of selling cocaine as a young man and about my transformation while serving 26 years as a prisoner. They were somewhat astounded, I think, when I revealed my past. Whenever students referred to me as “professor,” I’d insist they call me Michael, reminding them that I’d only recently finished serving a prison term. We spent that first class going over my complete history. I encouraged them to ask anything about my past, my prison experience, or my expectations about life upon release. Each class lasted nearly three hours and I pledged to be 100% authentic with them.

During the second class, we discussed the evolution of punishment in Western civilization. Prior to the 18th century, I pointed out, we didn’t use prisons or confinement as a punishment. Instead, we only used confinement as a kind of holding center until after the trial. After a finding of guilt, the offender would usually suffer some type of corporal punishment—meaning authorities would punish the body, usually with mutilation or death. They would behead convicted felons, or rip apart the body in grotesque ways. One example was drawing and quartering. They would tie a rope to each limb and fasten each rope to a different horse. Then, on cue, the horses would each race off in a different direction, ripping the person’s body apart. Other examples of corporal punishment included setting the body on fire, or drilling holes into the flesh and then filling the holes with molten steel.

Through Justin I met Scott Budnick. Through Scott Budnick, I met Chris Redlitz. And through Chris Redlitz, I met Tulio Cardozo. Tulio was one of the first graduates from The Last Mile. As I had done, Tulio made some bad decisions as a young man, becoming involved with drugs. While incarcerated, however, Tulio chose to reinvent himself. Through textbooks, he trained himself how to code computers. Those efforts brought Tulio to the attention of Chris Redlitz and Chris authorized Tulio to participate in The Last Mile training program. When Tulio concluded his prison sentence at San Quentin, Chris offered Tulio an internship so he could learn more about working with technology companies.

As it turns out, Tulio also followed the pattern of masterminds. He lived deliberately, and his deliberate actions led to success.

Although I didn’t know much about technology, Tulio had a wealth of information. He invested hundreds of hours helping me to build MichaelSantos.com. Whenever I had a technology problem, I could turn to Tulio for immediate advice. If he didn’t know how to solve the problem, he used his resources to help me find solutions. The human connections, I learned, were incredibly valuable to accelerate growth.

What type of human connections are you making?

What could you do today to build stronger, more valuable connections tomorrow?

In what ways will the connections you build contribute to your success?

Quora

Besides introducing me to Tulio, Chris Redlitz also introduced me to the importance of social media. Chris and Beverly used Quora as a resource for teaching prisoners at San Quentin through The Last Mile program. Historically, prisons isolated people inside from the broader population. Yet Chris recognized that if people were going to overcome the challenges they would face upon release, they would need to build stronger connections. Although prisoners didn’t have direct access to the Internet, through volunteers, they could use Quora to interact indirectly.

Quora was a question-based website. Anyone with access to the Internet could use the Quora website to ask questions. Then, the millions of people who used Quora could answer. Those who responded with subject-matter expertise would receive more attention. When people asked questions about prison on the website, The Last Mile team would print out those questions and bring them into San Quentin. Men who participated in The Last Mile program had subject-matter expertise on such topics, and they handwrote responses to questions that people asked. Then team members from The Last Mile would convert the prisoner responses into a digital file and publish responses on the Quora website.

“You should open a profile on Quora,” Chris advised me during our first meeting. “Start answering questions about prison.”

When I returned to my computer, I logged onto the Quora website and began to explore. In the search field I typed prisons and I saw all types of questions. I started to answer, always being authentic about the perspective from which I was writing. Responses I wrote have generated more than 1.1 million views, broadening my social network.

As a consequence of that exposure to my writing, many opportunities opened that would advance the career I was trying to build. Several editors of other publications contacted me and asked permission to publish more of my writing. Gizmodo, a popular technology website published one of my articles, generating thousands of new connections. An editor from The Daily Dot, another online news service invited me to contribute articles. I received invitations to contribute new articles for many publications. That publicity brought me to the attention of Dr. Alan Ross, a professor at the University of California in Berkeley.

“I’ve got more than 700 students who want you to come speak about your experiences in prison,” he said.

I’m hoping that readers who are in jails or prisons will see the pattern. Many opportunities opened for me when I transitioned from the prison in Atwater to the halfway house in San Francisco. But had I not prepared myself during the decades I served as a prisoner, none of those opportunities would’ve opened. When I went to prison I didn’t have any academic credentials and I didn’t know how to write a coherent sentence. I certainly couldn’t stand in front large audiences and give one-hour lectures, or write for publication. Yet as a consequence of my exposure to Socrates, I learned about Socratic questioning.

Instead of focusing on my own struggles, I focused on what my avatars would expect. By anticipating their expectations, I had reason to avoid the negativity and criminal influences. Instead, I focused on educating myself, on contributing to society, and on building strong support networks. Those decisions led to new relationships and new opportunities. They empowered me through the time I served in prison and they eased my adjustment into society upon my release.

Social Networks:

As a consequence of my experience with Quora, my social media profile grew. By posting regularly on Facebook, thousands of people ‘liked’ my public page. On Twitter, my followers grew into the thousands. On LinkedIn, I could build an online resume where anyone could read about my passion for improving outcomes of our nation’s prison system. More than 1,000 people followed my progress through LinkedIn.

By building a larger social network I could claim more authenticity. Instead of hiding from my criminal background, I lived transparently. Every step I took had a relationship to the successful life that I wanted to build. Since I anticipated that others would judge me for the bad decisions I made when I was 20, or the decades I served in prison, I wanted to provide them with more information to influence their judgment. By populating the record with my writing and speeches, I could influence them. And by influencing them, I could open more opportunities. Some of those opportunities brought financial resources, many did not. Either way, every investment of time that I made to spread awareness about the criminal justice system paid enormous dividends. They brought experience that I needed, they brought new relationships, and they brought new opportunities for me to persuade other people that I was worthy of their time.

The stronger my social network became, the more opportunities opened. During the time that I served in the halfway house, NBC Bay Area Proud profiled my work, PBS NewsHour featured me on a segment, and organizers of a TEDx conference in Silicon Valley invited me to present. With that exposure, I built more credibility. I could then leverage the credibility to further my quest to improve outcomes of our nation’s criminal justice system, while simultaneously working to build a career.

1. Support Networks Accelerate Growth Opportunities

Earlier, I wrote about rules in the halfway house that required me to have a job. So long as I had a job that paid a steady paycheck, my case manager in the halfway house authorized me to leave. My friend Lee was more like a sponsor for me than an employer. He set a schedule for me to work 10—hour shifts, Monday through Saturday. I reported to an office and sat at a desk, but instead of doing work for Lee, I focused on creating a business. First, I needed Lee to see the vision.

I persuaded Lee that our nation’s commitment to mass incarceration was one of the greatest social injustices of our time. Although it would take time, I convinced him that a need existed for programs and services to help people emerge from prison successfully. He encouraged me to develop a plan that would lead to a sustainable business providing products and services that would improve outcomes of our nation’s prison system.

Technology:

My first challenge was learning how to use technology effectively. The world had changed during the decades that I served. I went to prison at a time when Bill Gates was talking about a time when there would be a computer in every home and on every desk. When I returned to society his vision had become a reality. We didn’t only have computers in every home and on every desk, but also in everyone’s pockets. Since I’d been away during the hyper-growth era of technology, I had to learn how to use computers and the Internet effectively.

Although most people used personal computers powered by Microsoft operating systems, I’d read that Apple products were easier to learn. On the Saturday after I transitioned to the halfway house, Carole and I visited the Apple store. I purchased a MacBook Pro and a 27” iMac desktop computer. Knowing that technology could help me reach a wider audience, I spent my first weeks on the job learning how to use these fascinating products.

While I was in prison I didn’t have much access to computers. I read many books about the development of the Internet, search engines, social media, and software applications. Yet when I began working with my computers, I realized that I would need to invest hundreds of hours to become proficient. Fortunately, I had Carole to tutor me. When she wasn’t at the hospital, she would sit at desk beside me to work on her studies. I liked having her close by and she was always willing to assist when I had questions about technology.

Websites:

I began learning about WordPress, the powerful platform for building websites. When Carole first came into my life, we purchased the domain name MichaelSantos.net because the dot-com domain wasn’t available. Carole retained a web developer to build our new website. I published thousands of articles to document progress I made through my final decade in prison. Toward the end of my journey, we were able to purchase the domain name MichaelSantos.com for $1,000 and we began making the transition from MichaelSantos.net to MichaelSantos.com. I wanted to have a central location that would demonstrate my authenticity. Since Carole was busy with her career and school work, I needed to educate myself quickly on how to use WordPress so that I could manage my own websites.

I made some critical errors in the beginning. By switching hosting companies and redesigning MichaelSantos.com, I lost thousands of articles and journal entries that I’d made over the years. For decades, I wrote a daily journal entry and sent my journals home. Carole published each entry as my “daily log” on the website. I wanted people to see the path, that through hard work, an individual could triumph over prison. Unfortunately, I lost all of those records with my decision to switch from one web-hosting company to another. We pay a price for inexperience. In time, I became more fluent with WordPress and with social media.

Building Networks:

Although I didn’t understand much about using technology or computer networks, my adjustment through prison gave me other skills. One prong of my adjustment strategy was building support networks. If I could build strong support networks, I believed that more opportunities would open in prison and upon release. The goal of building strong support networks influenced my Socratic questioning: What steps could I take today to influence people to believe in me tomorrow?

Those types of questions influenced my adjustment. The accomplishments I made while inside persuaded other people to believe in me. I could leverage those relationships to open new relationships. For example, earlier I wrote about my friendship with Justin Paperny. Justin was a graduate from USC and he had built a career as a stockbroker. Although he made some bad decisions that resulted in his being convicted of securities fraud, Justin’s crime didn’t characterize his entire life. He’d been successful in society once and as we built our friendship, I sensed that he would be successful again.

When Justin concluded his obligation he launched the Michael G. Santos Foundation and he invested time to build that nonprofit. He attended schools, workshops, and conferences that exposed him to problems people in underserved communities faced. By relaying those findings to me, I had information I could use in ways that would help us contribute solutions. Through our work, Justin met new people and he introduced those people to me.

Scott Budnick was one of the people Justin brought into my support network. Scott is famous for his role as a Hollywood producer of many blockbuster films, including The Hangover series, Starsky and Hutch, and other big-budget films. Scott’s passion, however, is juvenile justice. Scott founded The Anti-Recidivism Coalition (ARC), a nonprofit that strives to reduce recidivism. When I returned to society, Scott invited me to visit him in Hollywood. Rules of the halfway house, however, precluded me from being able travel. Until I concluded my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons, I could only go from the halfway house to my place of employment.

Travel limitations and halfway house restrictions were a problem. Human support networks were a solution. Scott said that since I lived in San Francisco, I had to meet Chris Redlitz. Scott then wrote an introductory email to Chris and I followed up by writing Chris about my background, telling him about my vision of building a business around my journey. I wanted to teach other people how to emerge from prison successfully. Chris responded within hours and he invited me to meet him.

Turns out that Chris Redlitz is an influential figure from the San Francisco Bay area. As a professional, he was a successful venture capitalist. Through his firm Transmedia Capital, Chris and his partners matched investors with technology entrepreneurs who wanted to build compelling businesses that changed the world. But in addition to providing funding, Chris also ran a series of business incubators, providing resources for technology startups.

Besides his business career as a venture capitalist, Chris also had a passion for improving outcomes of our nation’s prison system. When not putting multi-million dollar investments together, he and his wife volunteered at the San Quentin state prison. Initially, he went in to give a speech about entrepreneurialism. The prisoners inspired him. Chris then went home and convinced his wife and business partner, Beverly Parenti, to join him. Together they launched The Last Mile, an organization that would invest in human beings. They created a comprehensive curriculum that would teach business principles to people in prison. Later, participants in The Last Mile could learn how to write computer code from inside of the prison system.

Creative Financing:

I visited Chris and Seth. They were partners of Advanced Building Solutions, a premier real estate development company with more than $100 million worth of properties under development. Although I’d never met Chris prior to my release from prison, my friend Lee could introduce me. Without a doubt, Chris and Seth were the type of people I had in mind when I thought about avatars. If leaders like Chris and Seth were going to believe in me, they would want to see a record showing that I was different from the foolish young man who began selling drugs when he was 20. I always believed that my adjustment through prison would have a direct influence on my ability to overcome challenges upon release.

When I met with the Chris and Seth, I showed them the record I’d worked hard to build. I was a published author, I had academic credentials, and I could show that I’d been married for ten years. Further, I had support from Lee, and he vouched for me. Any business person in the San Francisco Bay area had enormous respect for Lee. Since Lee vouched for me, Chris and Seth found it easier to believe in me.

We spoke about a new real estate project they were developing in Petaluma, a quaint city about 40 miles north of San Francisco. Although Chris and Seth hadn’t broken ground on the properties when I met with them, they told me that when they finished the development, each house in the development would list for about $400,000. I wanted to buy one of those houses for Carole and me. Yet since we didn’t have the financial wherewithal to step up to the plate, I needed their help.

Although an initial assessment of our credit score would suggest that we weren’t credit worthy at the time, I asked Chris and Seth to consider us for the growth we would make in the years to come. Besides not qualifying for a mortgage, we couldn’t afford to set aside 20% of the purchase price as a down payment on the property. Despite those weaknesses, I persuaded the developers that we would be a good credit risk for them if they would agree to finance us on a purchase.

To make my case, I encouraged them to consider what we had accomplished under difficult circumstances. Then I showed the plans we had made to grow. If they would extend us financing for a few years, a lot would change that would allow us to qualify for a traditional mortgage. For example, Carole would graduate and increase her earning power. I would finish with my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons and be able to apply for credit. And the business I intended to develop would provide me with more earnings. Despite the perceived weakness of our credit score in the fall of 2012, I made a persuasive case that we would be stronger financially in years to come and qualify for a mortgage.

We came to an agreement. The developers agreed to finance us on the purchase of our first house. Since a real estate agent wouldn’t be involved and they wouldn’t have to pay a commission, they even agreed to drop $10,000 off of the purchase price. We bought our property for $390,000 in the fall of 2012. As a consequence of the developers’ trust, they only required us to write a check for $12,000. Since the Bureau of Prisons wouldn’t authorize me to purchase anything on credit, we initially put the house in Carole’s name. Both of us felt pleased that before I concluded my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons, we’d planted our stake in the ground. We were homeowners.

Masterminds have frequently said “The harder I work, the luckier I become.” Without a doubt, Carole and I were fortunate. Support from people like Chris and Seth, or Lee, allowed us to purchase our first piece of real estate in the fall of 2012. By signing that agreement, we controlled an appreciating asset in an appreciating market. As I’ll describe in chapters to follow, real estate values increased in the San Francisco Bay area in 2013, 2014, and 2015. When those values increased, our equity increased, bringing us more financial stability.

If we didn’t have support, we would not have been able to purchase that first piece of property. The salient point, however, is that we began sowing seeds for that support long before we purchased the property. Indeed, the decisions we began making decades earlier, before we ever thought about owning real estate, gave us the track record we needed. With that track record, we could persuade others to see us for what we would become.

If you’re inside of a jail, a prison, or in some other type of struggle, I urge you to recognize the importance of each decision you make. The decisions you’re making today will influence the opportunities that open for you in the future. Consider this lesson with every decision that you make, including the friends you choose, the activities you pursue, and the books you read. Every decision comes with opportunity costs. So choose wisely.

1. Real Estate Purchase

When I returned to society, in August of 2012, our nation was starting to emerge from the worst recession in our lifetime. In 2008 the stock market and the real estate market began to implode. Credit dried up. Housing prices fell to historic lows. By the fall of 2012, however, the economy looked poised to rebound. Carole and I wanted to participate in the potential upside.

To profit from an anticipated market rebound, I knew that Carole and I would need to control a larger asset base. If we could purchase a large asset, like a house, when prices were still relatively low, our equity would increase if housing prices recovered. Both of us wanted to purchase real estate. Our challenge was that we did not have sufficient credit to qualify for a house purchase in the conventional manner. We would need to create an alternative strategy. Fortunately, the seeds we began sowing prior to my release would help.

What were those seeds? We began with a vision of what we wanted. We set a plan. And we executed the plan.

Prior to my release from prison, Carole and I agreed on a solid plan on how we would build our future together, as a team. Since we knew that I’d be starting my career, we intended to count on Carole’s earnings as a registered nurse to provide the initial stability for our family. I anticipated that I would need about five years before I’d have a business that would completely sustain us. There would be many challenges, including working without compensation.

During my first five years of liberty, I expected to work at least 60 to 70 hours each week and travel routinely. By anticipating the demands of my schedule, along with the needs of our relationship, Carole and I agreed that we would need to find a program that would be fulfilling for her so she wouldn’t feel neglected when I was away. We began exploring opportunities for Carole to advance her nursing credentials.

Carole’s research led her to discover a program she could pursue at The University of San Francisco. She could earn a master’s degree in nursing by completing her coursework online while completing the clinical portion of her education at the hospital where she worked. This program would allow Carole to earn a master’s degree while she simultaneously earned an income that would be sufficient to support our family. Further, Carole’s busy schedule would bring her a sense of fulfillment while I focused on building my career and acclimating to society. As a team, we both would focus on the mutual goals we set.

Regardless of how much income we earned from our careers, we knew that we would need an investment plan. We were both approaching 50 years old. As a consequence of my lengthy imprisonment, and Carole’s commitment to stay by my side and support me throughout the journey, we didn’t have any savings for retirement. If we could find a way to purchase a house in 2012, we believed that house would appreciate in value over time. Owning real estate that would appreciate in value over time could contribute to our preparations for retirement. By owning appreciating assets in appreciating markets, we anticipated that we could build upon our security.

Prison rules precluded me from applying for any type of credit, including a mortgage, while I was in the halfway house. Instead of looking for conventional financing, I thought creatively. Carole and I had built a track record of success, and we intended to leverage our accomplishments by persuading others to believe in us—to see us for what we would become rather than for where we were.

To buy our first house, we considered our strengths and weaknesses. Our weakness was that we didn’t have a strong financial statement or credit score; our strength was that we had a plan and a history of executing our plans.

Since I’d been documenting my prison adjustment for decades, I could show that although I made bad decisions that sent me to prison, masterminds encouraged me to think about avatars. By contemplating what those avatars would expect of me, I created a plan to educate myself, to contribute to society, and to build a support network. After earning university degrees, I began publishing. Those publishing efforts generated an income that trickled in over the years. Rather than wasting those resources, Carole and I used them judiciously. We invested in her nursing education and we saved. As a consequence of those decisions, we could show savings of $85,000 when I returned to society. Further, we could show how Carole’s earnings would increase after she earned her master’s degree in nursing. Our solid plans, backed up with our history of accomplishment, persuaded others to believe in us. Even though we didn’t have the conventional track record to apply for a mortgage, we could find a way to purchase our first property.

Establishing Credit:

With a driver’s license, a job, and a paycheck, I had to begin building a banking relationship. After I received my first paycheck, I went to Bank of America and opened an account. Charles had told me that I could not apply for credit until after I completed my obligation to the Bureau of Prisons. So I opened a checking account and a savings account.

Just to check, I authorized the banker to run a credit report on me. We learned that I had a 0-0-0 credit score. He asked how a person of my age could proceed through life without accumulating a credit score—good or bad. The banker listened with interest as I told him that I’d just concluded 25 years in custody and that I was living in a halfway house. That conversation opened another opportunity for me to tell the story of my journey, another opportunity for me to influence a potential source of support.

Many people emerge from prison and try to hide their past. I don’t make a judgment on how much information an individual should reveal. In my case, I’ve found that total transparency always served me best. By being completely honest about my past, I’ve always found that people were willing to listen. As a consequence of the record that I built while I was inside, even bankers were willing to welcome me home and encourage me. When I was ready to apply for credit, he assured me that Bank of America would be ready to help.

Over the next several weeks, many of the seeds that I’d planted while I was incarcerated began to bear fruit. As mentioned in my other books, I wrote articles every day while I was incarcerated. All of those articles adhered to a theme that somehow related to the prison system or overcoming struggle. They helped me build interest, or a brand. I became somewhat of a subject-matter authority. As a strategy to broaden awareness of my work, I asked my wife to publish those articles on MichaelSantos.com or on other social media websites that she maintained on my behalf.

Media Attention:

While in the halfway house, I received an email from Vlae Kershner, a news director at the San Francisco Chronicle. Vlae told me that he had been following my work for years and asked whether I’d be interested in the newspaper writing a profile about my return to society after a quarter century in prison. That conversation led to an interview and a front-page story in one of the most highly visible newspapers in the world. The San Francisco newspaper published the article on Thanksgiving weekend, about 100 days after I transitioned to the halfway house in 2012.

The article didn’t only focus on my crime or the decades I served in prison. It focused on efforts I was making to build a career around my journey. The article brought publicity that validated my work. A person couldn’t buy that type of coverage, and I intended to leverage the article in ways that would open new opportunities. As a consequence of the newspaper story, people would judge me for the way that I responded to my lengthy prison sentence rather than for the bad decisions I began making when I was 20.

Those who choose to live transparently, authentically, may find that this strategy would advance their prospects for success, too. People are more receptive to extending “second chances” or opportunities to people who acknowledge their past bad decisions, express remorse, and show that they’re determined to work toward redemption.