YOU WOULD THINK that the California Medical Facility in Vacaville, which is the current home of serial killer Ed Kemper and the former residence of Charles Manson, would be bereft of hope.
But on Thursday, 58 people incarcerated at the state prison proved otherwise when they received their diplomas during a celebratory graduation ceremony in the prison gymnasium. These graduates had just completed a rigorous Cognitive Behavioral Interventions program to help prepare them for life within and outside the prison.
The gymnasium walls were festooned with black, gold and white balloons surrounding the words, “Congrats Grad!” and the prison band, ReCreation, rocked out to the indie tune “Notion” under the basketball hoop. Boxes of multicolored cupcakes were perched on a long refreshment stand.
Family and friends sat on the bleachers, eagerly waiting for the graduates to file in.

In the tiled hallway behind the gym, Tabitha Miranda Santana waited in line with her peers, all in black cap and gown and some in wheelchairs. Wearing a yellow flower on her robe and sporting pink-rimmed glasses and red lipstick, Santana credited the intervention and others like it at the prison with helping her to finally decide to transition.
Serving a 30-year-to-life sentence with a possibility for parole in 2036, Santana started hormone replacement treatment two years ago in prison and would like to eventually undergo gender-affirming surgery.
“It’s a life-changing experience. I want to go home rehabilitated,” Santana said. “I’m going to pass the information, the knowledge that I receive from here and my other groups to other people outside my community and the youngsters, especially the LGBT community that are really struggling.”
Substance abuse program evolves
Santana wished that the Cognitive Behavioral Interventions program was longer.
The group classes run four to nearly six months, and participants attend three times per week, two hours a day, according to Alycia Horton, one of the licensed substance abuse counselors who led the sessions.
The intervention started in 2017, when it was originally called the Substance Abuse Program, and has since evolved into a broader curriculum to help incarcerated people transition back into society, according to Myra Goodson, the coordinator overseeing the prison’s Division of Rehabilitative Programs.
“We teach them family skills, communication skills, things they can take home and talk to their loved ones, have better personal relationships with people around them, to limit the fighting, to limit the violence,” said Horton. “It gives them a safe space.”

Horton said that one key component to the success of the initiative is the involvement of incarcerated people who completed the Occupational Mentor Certification Program.
These individuals not only graduated from the Cognitive Behavioral Interventions program, but they passed the state-certifying exam to become licensed substance abuse counselors. Coupled with their lived experiences, Horton said these mentors were invaluable as advisors to their peers.
Larry Roach completed the Occupational Mentor Certification Program in 2022. After 23 years in prison, Roach learned last week that he was suitable for parole and could be released this fall.
When his wife died in 2021, Roach said that for him “that was a matter of almost life and death,” but his colleagues’ support helped him to move forward. Roach looked forward to rejoining his 24-year-old daughter, two sisters and mother after his release. He was confident that he would find work as a counselor.
‘People can change’
After the graduates strode into the gymnasium and took their seats on the bleachers, the commencement ceremonies proceeded.
Warden Sircoya Williams encouraged the graduates.
“People can change,” Williams said. “Recovery is not about perfection. It is about progress.”

John Alexander, a mentor with the Occupational Mentor Certification Program, led a rallying cry that was shouted back from the graduates — “getting out, staying out!”
Bobby Daniels, one of the graduates, called out a heartfelt thank you to his wife, Penelope, who stood up in the stands.
“You are not just my best friend,” Daniels said, addressing his wife, “but a very instrumental part of this milestone.”
After the closing remarks by Goodson, the crowd whooped, and someone in the back threw their cap up in the air.
