More than 4,000 men are housed at Soledad’s Correctional Training Facility. While this isn’t California’s largest prison, it does offer the most programming of any prison in the state.
Three years ago, Soledad prison made history with the establishment of the first designated Veterans Hub in the United States. The Veterans Transition Center, or VTC, based in Marina, was integral to the $4.1 million achievement.
The VTC is one of many outside organizations sponsoring educational, vocational, and rehabilitative programs inside. The power of these programs is palpable in the atmosphere of certain yards within the prison.
On the yard where the Veterans Hub is stationed, sprinklers paint fleeting rainbows while music blares from a large speaker. Guys strum guitars and some train service dogs. Warden Edward Borla says this is not the norm.
“Just the vibe on that yard alone compared to other yards that I’ve walked throughout the state—it’s just totally different. It’s definitely an environment conducive to rehabilitation," said Borla, who has worked in four California prisons.
At this Level II, lower security prison, this is one of three separate yards, which Borla notes has the lowest number of violent incidents. Programming helps minimize violence and open people up to new ways of thinking.
The people facilitating these groups build rapport with men quickly. The mutual respect builds up confidence and community within the prison.
“Somebody coming in and saying: I recognize you, I see you, I hear you, I value you as a person. I value you as a beating heart. I know you have worth,” said Borla. “I know that you made mistakes—and your mistakes shouldn't define you for the rest of your life.”
A majority of the 130 programs available at Soledad prison are led by formerly incarcerated folks like Marcus Blevins. Today, Blevins works for the VTC facilitating rehabilitation groups inside Soledad three days a week, but in 2020 he was a veteran getting his first glimpse of freedom.
After spending 25 years behind bars, he says the VTC’s reentry program—the only one in the state designated for veterans—was what made him feel like he mattered. “VTC was my lifeline,” said Blevins, a Vietnam-ear vet.
He is one of 189 men that have gone through the VTC’s reentry program since 2020. All of them have stayed out of prison. The zero percent recidivism rate is rare.
“They take it personal, right? And you can tell they're not with the BS,” said Blevins. “And this is the difference between any other reentry facility they have available in the United States, period.”
According to state records, nearly 40 percent of people released from prison wind up back inside. That’s why the VTC’s reentry program gets new applications literally every day.
“It’s, ‘I'm in the trenches with you and we're gonna get out of this. We're gonna do this together,’” Blevins said. “What more could you ask for than that?”
Veterans face higher rates of mental illness and incarceration. About a third of veterans are justice-involved and at least half of those vets struggle with a substance use disorder.
Narcotics Anonymous (NA) is one of four rehabilitation groups Blevins facilitates inside Soledad.
People incarcerated in California who complete rehabilitative programs have lower recidivism rates than those in educational or vocational programs, according to the Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation’s latest statewide recidivism report.
On a Tuesday in late June, 30 men ease themselves onto either side of the first seven pews in a light-filled chapel. Blevins stayed sober for most of his time in prison and now has 26 years of recovery under his belt. He reminds the men their fellowship is not just a job to him.
“I ain't coming here just to get a paycheck, right? I'm coming here because I need to surround myself, you know, with people who can help me to manage my recovery,” he said. “I need to stay on that recovery wagon, or else… I'm afraid of what would happen if I don't.”
The chapel is silent, but the message resonates. What Blevins said rings true for Charlie, who was stationed in Germany from 1979 to 1982. He says this group, especially, has been a lifesaver. (Since this is an NA meeting we’re only using his first name.)
“Even though I'd asked for help before, from the military, and they refused to help me. ‘You went and did your tour overseas, and now you're home. Deal with it. Be a man,’” he says. “Well, I dealt with it, I just became deeper into drug addiction and alcohol.”
Blevins says the institutionalized environments of the military and prisons create cultures that mirror each other and often push people to suppress their feelings.
As layers of trauma build up from childhood, to military service, and during time behind prison walls, Blevins says the message of “boys don’t cry” transforms into toxic masculinity.
But the work people are doing on themselves inside helps break the cycle of veterans returning to prison. And Blevins is living proof.
In an interview after the NA meeting, Blevins says the machismo mindset melts away during recovery meetings and change takes its place.
“In the chapel,” said Blevins, “[the] only thing that was there were men who were there who had made a decision to make a change. And so then, here it is, we're in an area and a safe space where we can be amongst ourselves and we can embrace change.”
