I Was Sentenced to 32 yrs in Prison at 18 | Jesse Crosson
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My name is Ian Bick, and you're tuned in to Locked In with Ian Bick. On today's episode, I'll be interviewing Jesse Crossan, who at 18 years old was sentenced to 32 years in a Virginia state prison. On today's episode, we're going to be diving in to his prison experience, the charges that got him there, and what life is like for him after.

So I want to start at the beginning.

At the beginning of your story, what life was like for you growing up? What your family was like? How did you grow up? My parents are both recovering addicts or alcoholics, but they stopped when I was younger. So there was some stability and there was some kind of growth. They got divorced when I was seven.

It was kind of ugly. I mean, it brought out the worst in both of them, but at the same time, it wasn't the traumatic experience that a lot of people here... I was really fortunate to have their support and eventually having the support of really strong stepfamilies. Like, those stepfamilies, in many ways, began to feel like my family because those were the ones that I spent Christmas with or those were the ones I spent Thanksgiving with, and those are most of my memories.

So it was just kind of the average middle class kid growing up. My mom was an attorney, but she didn't do criminal work. She only did property stuff and probably made less money than any attorney I've ever met. My dad was a substance abuse counselor. They were really passionate about what they did. And I had that upbringing. I got to play t-ball. I got to go to school. I got to be engaged in things. Now, even with that upbringing, by the time you're 17, you're abusing alcohol and cocaine. What brought you down that path? And how did you get into that?

So I think, at least for me, all the choices I made reflected an inability to cope. There was some skill that I didn't understand or something I didn't know how to deal with or some trauma that I didn't know how to process, and the easiest way to deal with that was to avoid it. And so I had this avoidant behavior from when I was a little kid and I would eat too many Oreos sitting behind the couch or I would find some other way to distract myself or to numb the pain.

And so when I found alcohol, I was like, oh, this does, this makes me feel better. This makes me feel confident. When I found cocaine, that was like the supercharger because it made me feel like a superhero. It made me feel amazing. Made me feel all the confidence that I'd always been lacking. So as soon as I found it, I never wanted to let it go. Now, by this point in time, you decide not to go to college or take a year off.

was college accessible to you? And why did you ultimately decide not to go to college? Basically, I just didn't want to go through the application process. And I've grown up with this, let me know where it came from, but this scarcity idea. I never like to spend money. I'm really cheap. So I always said I wouldn't apply for college. I would go to community college because I could go for two years for really cheap and then get into a state school.

That was really my plan. Now, I had a gambling addiction at one point and I knew some of the crazy things that I would do to fuel that addiction. What were some of the crazy things you were getting into to fuel your addictions?

Until cocaine, the addiction process was fairly mild. I always worked a job. I always had a hustle. I sold weed. I had a way to support myself. I didn't really get out of control. But then with the cocaine, it went from being able to support this hustle to being completely gone. And that was how I committed the robbery and that eventually led to the shooting.

And who are the types of people you were hanging out around with? Were they different than from who you were initially hanging out with in high school? Were you drifting more towards like a bad crowd that led you down to this shady past or the shady route? Yeah.

So my three co-defendants, two were illegal immigrants who I ran into because of guys that I used to buy coke from because I spoke Spanish so I could get better deals on cocaine than anybody else, which was initially how I supported myself. The other one was a kid that I went to high school with that we just connected over this kind of like interest in drugs and this kind of outlaw lifestyle.

And so, 18 years old, you get arrested for charges relating to a robbery and a shooting. Are those scenarios tied together? Are they different? What was it like? And what exactly happened to bring those charges? So the robbery was first. We had run out of money. We had run out of drugs. Nobody would front us anymore. Everybody was after us. And we didn't know how we were going to get more drugs, basically. So one of the guys said, oh, you know, I used to work at this restaurant, and they're really terrible people.

And they only hire illegal immigrants and they only pay them pennies and they keep all the rest of the money. So they're going to have $50,000 in cash in the house. And somehow that allowed us to create the narrative to where we weren't bad people. We were like Robin Hood or we were only stealing from bad people. Just allowed us to justify this absolutely horrible thing because we needed some level of justification. So we ended up going there and we thought we were just breaking in. We didn't think anyone was home.

My co-defendant went to the front of the house and we broke in the back. Turns out there was a maid there. And so he stuck a gun in her face and tied her up and it was just this horrible situation. And we didn't even get anything. We didn't find any money. There was no reason. And this is where people have this idea that criminals are like this Ocean's Eleven type like reasonable. No, we were completely strung out. We were like feral animals.

The shooting was – I had been so paranoid that I felt like I needed a gun because I felt like everybody was out to get me or somebody was going to rob me or somebody was going to shoot me. So a buddy of mine said, hey, these guys just sold me a gun. Do you want it? So I bought it from him, and they had stolen it and sold it to my buddy. Then they came back to him and said, oh, you need to give us that gun back or else or you owe us. And I don't know exactly what went on there, but about a week after the robbery –

My buddy's there and he gets this frantic call from his girlfriend who's pregnant sitting at home and says, hey, these guys are here and they won't leave. They say you got to bring them money or a gun or some cocaine or like, I don't know what's going on, but they won't leave me alone. So I got on the phone and I was trying to play hero and I threatened them. We ended up going to meet and I had that like moment of clarity, that moment of like, hey, this is a terrible idea. So right when I got to where they were, I left. And when I left, they chased me. And I was like, in my mind, I'm thinking like, please, just like, I'm trying to go away. Like, I'm trying, like, please.

And then as we were driving down the road and they were in the left lane, the passenger reached around behind him to grab something. And in my mind, he was reaching for a gun. So I just pulled the gun out, the gun that they had stolen and just unloaded into him. It wasn't like a careful calculated, like, you know, whatever Ryan thing. It was, it was me just freaking out and then going completely deaf and then tears streaming down my face and then like swerving in the middle of the road. And I'm just grateful that they didn't die. So the second you pulled the trigger, you instantly regretted it?

I don't even know that there was a moment of regret because it was just an instinct. There wasn't a thought process there. But yeah, as soon as the sound came back, as soon as I was driving down the road and they weren't there, I was horrified at what I'd done. And did you know these individuals or you'd never known them a day in your life? I'd never met them before. Wow, that's really something. Definitely crazy.

And after the shooting happens, are you caught that same day or does a couple days, couple weeks, whatever goes by before you're eventually caught and charged? It was basically the next day. So they had been investigating us for the robbery and I don't actually know how they connected us to the robbery. But again, we were completely out of our minds running through the streets like crazy people. It wouldn't have been hard to make that connection.

And the people that I shot gave my description of the police. So he was driving this car, he was doing this, this is what it looked like. So the police then connected me based on, I think, the other investigation. And the next day I came to the house where we were staying and brought the SWAT team and arrested us. This is at your parents' house? No, this was, so my buddy from high school was running a place in town, a little duplex downtown. And we were all, you know, five of us crammed in there together. Now you get arrested. What do you say to your parents? How do they react? What's that first conversation like?

God, I was, in a weird way, I was more scared to tell my parents than I was to even face the judge or the criminal justice system. I remember being horrified because I didn't know then that I was front page news. This was a huge deal and they already knew. In my mind, I was going to have to call them and tell them the most horrible thing that I'd ever done and I didn't think they would forgive me.

And instead, you know, my dad just I remember he was so sad. He was like, this is my fault. Like, you know, I raised you with all those stories. Like I gave you this idea like this is my fault. My mom was just freaking out. She just completely panicked. She she had always tried to fix things like her role had always been to like figure out a way to make things better. And this was something she couldn't make better. So I just I remember being just completely struck by how much they were grieving or how much they were suffering and just how horrible I felt because of their grief.

Now, you decided right away to plead guilty. But what caused you to come to that decision? Because the same thing is after the shooting. Like, the realization of what I'd done, how profound the impact that I'd had was, I just wanted to, like, have this over with. I wanted to be able to take accountability. I wanted to do the next right thing because I felt like I had thrown my life away. Like, there was no redemption, but maybe I could do some small thing. Maybe I could, you know, spare somebody some more trouble. Because the idea of going through a trial and making people come to testify and making them go through reliving, like, the worst experience of their lives was just unconscionable.

Why do you think that some people in your same situation decide they want to take it to trial? Because sometimes you read about in articles and on the news that you know that they're involved in the shooting or the robbery, but they still want to claim their innocence or whatever they want to do, and they take it to trial instead of pleading guilty right away. Yeah.

Well, I mean, one reason is a lot of times they won't offer them a deal. And that actually happened in my case. Like I pled guilty, but they didn't give me a deal. They didn't say, oh, well, we're going to limit you to this or we're going to cap this. And so I think some people maybe threaten to go to trial as a way to try to bargain, say, hey, I'm going to go to trial unless you offer me a deal.

In my case, I asked my lawyer, I was like, look, I just want to plead guilty. If there's some way we have to do this or some game we have to play to get a reasonable sentence, that's cool, but I want this done. I want to accept responsibility and be over with it. Now, how much time are you facing going into sentencing based on your deal? There was no time? There was no deal, but the sentencing guidelines, as we went into the courtroom that day, were from eight to 13 years with a midpoint of 10. My lawyer was like, look, you're probably going to get 10 years. You're going to have to figure out a way to cope with it, but you did some really bad stuff. You just got to deal with that. I could own that.

Now the day of sentencing, first thing we came in, they filed a new motion and they wanted to modify the sentencing guidelines. So then they became 10 to 16 years. And I was like, okay, well, you know, what should we do? My lawyer was like, look, he's seen the old sentencing guidelines. Like, look, your case is really extraordinary. It's related to drugs. Like there's no way you're going to get a bunch of time. You'll probably still get 10 years. So I said, okay.

So go in front of the courtroom. The judge starts reading off and he gives this kind of speech and he starts reading off sentences because they're each done individually, like 10 years for this with five suspended and two years for this and 20 years for this, 15 suspended. And I'm doing the math in my head.

By the time he gets done reading off all these charges, I counted what he said, but nobody else did. So my lawyer stood up and said, Your Honor, but what's the total sentence? The judge said, I don't know. I just told you. And there was this kind of gasp in the courtroom, like, wait, you actually don't know? So the court reporter had to read back the thing and do the math, and he had sentenced me to 32 years in prison. Now, did any victims come and speak, like victim impact statements? No.

The one that sticks to me, it was the grandmother of one of the guys that I'd shot. And she got on the stand and she talked about having heard that her grandson had been shot and not knowing if he was going to live. And it just, like, it struck me to my core. I was in the courtroom crying because I'm listening to this woman describing, again, the most terrifying thing you can imagine. Like, losing a loved one, losing a grandson, or thinking and not knowing and panicking, driving to the hospital. That just has always struck with me or stuck with me as something that, like, I don't know how to...

I don't know how to process that because I think that's one of the big things about accountability is you need to come face to face with the consequences of your action. And somehow that to me was like more profound and more in my face than any of the other consequences, any of the other things, because it was so real and it was so emotional and it was so human. Now the judge sentences you to ultimately 32 years. What's going on in your mind? I know like when I just got 36 months, my mind's racing. I'm like,

I'm trying to calculate how many years is 36 months because I'm like this 21-year-old kid that when you refer to amount of years, you never refer to it in months. So what's going through your head? How are you feeling? What's your reaction to that sentence? I mean, I had this kind of split reaction. I had this kind of numbness, this resignation. But I also had this sense of like,

That's it. This is my deepest fear. I'm irredeemable. There's nothing I can do. This judge has proven. A whole part of getting high and running from things and not dealing with things was this feeling that something was fundamentally wrong with me, that I was broken. He seemed to validate that. There was some little part of me that was angry or was outraged. How can you do that? That's not the deal. I was supposed to get the guidelines or...

But so it was this combination of approaches, but I remember just mostly feeling numb. Like all these thoughts or all these processes were going through my mind, but I remember feeling numb and I turned around and it was a kid that I went to school with. I was really close to his sister, but I knew him and his jaw was just wide open. And I just remember like kind of smiling because in that moment I was like, you know what, maybe I can smile and tell him it's going to be okay because I sure didn't feel like it was going to go okay, but like maybe I could like make his day.

Obviously it didn't. He just kept his jaw dropped and just was struck. Now, what happened to the co-defendants? Why did they get significantly less time than you did? Was it a different judge, or what was the situation with them? One had a different judge. They all cooperated with the police in the investigation, which was part of it. And also, I was kind of tagged as the ringleader. That was the way that they presented it. He was the one who was involved, and also they weren't involved in the shooting. So I was involved in the robbery, and they were absent from the shooting process.

But on that, so for the robbery, I got 20 years. I got 12 years for the shooting, which says a lot about the value of property versus human life. You get twice as much time for breaking into a home and stealing something, especially since I wasn't even the one who actually had the gun or basically tied this woman up. He got eight years. The other co-defendants got two and a half and four years. And did you ever talk to them again after that? I ran into my co-defendant. There's a receiving prison and a regular prison kind of across from each other.

I yelled at the window at him a couple times. And then the only other interaction I had is I had somebody reach out to him when I was in prison putting in for paperwork later. And he wrote a letter in support. And he basically said, look, I don't like this guy. Like, this isn't because he's my friend, but because what happened was fundamentally wrong. Like, at that point, he'd been out of prison for more than a decade. And he was like, this just isn't right. But that's the only interaction we've had. Now, were you on bail at all during this process? So no bail because of the nature of the crime?

So what's like the first week of prison like? Like after your sentence, do they move you to a different prison? And what's the hardest thing to adjust to once you're in that prison? So I went from the jail. I got really lucky and they moved me about two weeks later. Some guys were waiting months then. At this point in Virginia, people are waiting years in the jail. They might be there for three years before they get sent to prison because they just don't have any beds.

So the first place I went to was a receiving prison where you go for classification. They determine what your security level is going to be, what special conditions you have. And I went there and I was thinking, oh, cool. It's like people have told me prison's going to have all these things. We were just locked in a cell for 23 hours a day. We get some time outside and get some time for a shower and that was it.

So adjusting was really, it felt like the jail again. Like I just sat in the room and I read books because we would just pass books all around the tier and really couldn't do anything. Now at what point does everything hit you like a ton of bricks and you're like, wow, I'm going to be here for the next 30 years of my life. I really fucked up. When's that moment? So,

Things hit me in waves after I got arrested. There were these moments of guilt just before I pled guilty, before anything happened, where it just hit me and it was this emotional experience and this kind of struggling with how powerful it was. And then in prison or even in the jail shortly after I was sentenced, I still had the hope that an appeal would come through.

Because my lawyer said, there's no way this will stand. He sentenced you to twice the high point of the guidelines. There's no way you're going to be. So I kept waiting for these appeals because I was like, okay, maybe this will come through. And I remember when the first appeal got shot down, it just, it hit me. It was like, hey, I tried to accept responsibility. I tried to get this. How can they give me 32 years? This isn't okay. And I remember feeling angry because I was like, this just doesn't seem right.

And I'm totally unjustified. I put myself in that situation. I created all of this chaos. I caused unimaginable harm. So to sit there and feel sorry for myself in that moment was the kind of small-minded response that I had came from. But I struggled with that. And there were just moments throughout. So when the next appeal got turned down, it hit me again. And then when the habeas got turned down, I had just already given up hope. You know the moment in Shawshank where Morgan Freeman's like, look, frankly, I don't give a damn. I'd gotten to that point where I just didn't care. I was just crushed.

And I was just like, you know, it's not going to change. Like, I'm just here. This is my life now. Yeah. So you think losing that final appeal helped you to realize that? I remember like when my situation, I was going through the appeal process for like the first 10 or 12 months of my prison sentence. They denied me bond because in the federal system, you can get bonded out while on appeal. I didn't get that, which looking back on it now, I'm grateful for that because then I would have had to do the time anyways. And

And we got a hearing with the Second Circuit, the appeals court. And I'm like, wow, there's hope, this and that. It's great. They shot it down not even 24 hours after that court case, which I was like, wow, did they even have time to like analyze everything? So I think that really helped me get through prison too. Because at that point, I'm sitting there finally calculating how much more time do I have to do on my sentence? What's my release date looking like? And that kind of just changed my mentality at everything. Yeah.

So what kind of people are you in the prison with, like in regards to their criminal charges? Who are you surrounded with? So after the receiving prison, I went to a level four. Most of the people were in there. At least half the guys had life. Most were in there for robbery or murder, you know, serious violent charges.

And it was weirdly like the kind of calmest place. Like it was not what I expected. Remember, I was expecting it to come in and just be a complete zoo and just constant violence and craziness. And the first day I walked in, people were just living their lives. They were on the phone and playing cards and laughing and going off to work. And it just shocked me. But it was also about three days in

You know, after all this peace and this normalcy and thinking, hey, this isn't so bad after all, we came out for breakfast. And they would open the doors at 530 and they would let us sit out in the pod and then eventually they would call us. We might be out there for five minutes or we might be out there for an hour or

And I came out, and it was normally quiet because people were tired, but it was like extra quiet. And all of a sudden, these two guys start arguing, and then one steps back and reaches in his pants and pulls out this giant knife, and the other one steps back and reaches and pulls out this lock and a sock. And I was like, what did I walk into? And they start going back and forth, and the guy with the knife reaches over, and they had those big round trash can lids. He picked it up, and the guy with the lock and the sock swung, hit the trash can lid, and the locks go flying off. So he's standing there with an empty sock facing a guy who has basically a shield and a machete. And I was like, I'm going to watch this guy get murdered. Like, he's going to die.

and they went after each other and they called chow and we just went to chow and that was when it struck me that this is the most bizarre place I can imagine because it is completely normal 99% of the time it's just people living their lives and then incredibly crazy stuff happens and there's no real like space in between remember one time they had the pod was literally covered in blood these guys had gone at it and one guy was really hurt literally just like they bring in buckets they finally get the blood and they just open the doors and we go to chow like that's it you just have like violence weaved into normalcy

So there was no separation of different types of offenders or criminals or anything like that? No. That's crazy. Now, you and I both go to prison at a very young age. You go a couple years younger than I had went. Did any guys try to take advantage of you, like your first couple weeks or couple months in there, because of your age? Not really at first. One of the things that I appreciated is the prison that I went into had a mindset of, like, we had juveniles at that prison, because juveniles could be tried as adults. We had 16-year-olds in the prison.

And there was this mindset that people hated child predators. And if somebody was going to try to pick on somebody or, you know, attack somebody because they were weak, like that person was going to be targeted. That wasn't stood for. So we had these old heads that upheld this kind of standard of like what's okay and what isn't. And that was something that wasn't okay. Now, once I started putting myself out there and making dumb decisions or, you know, putting myself in situations, then it became an issue. And then I got into fights or I had problems. But in the beginning, it really wasn't a bad situation because again, that the old heads kind of maintain the standard of conduct.

Now, did you ever find yourself in like morally compromising situations where you had to do things maybe you weren't proud of or were against what you stood for in order to survive there, especially like those first few months in there?

I put myself in some bad situations and did some things that I wouldn't do going back. Some of the fights are violent especially because I saw guys get really hurt over really stupid things and I was one of those guys who would get into a fight or would respond kind of off the cuff. And it took me a long time to recognize that I had to choose the direction of my life, that I couldn't allow this environment to dictate me. And there was a specific situation that really did that.

where I was in the weight pile and these two guys were jumping another guy. It was an inner gang issue. And they were just standing there stomping on his head and laughing about it and stomping on his head for like five minutes.

And I think what bothered me was both the kind of inhumanity of that, but also our role, which was to like not pay attention and like make jokes about like, oh, it's going to be like a watermelon. And I was like, that was the moment it hit me that if I allowed this place to shape me that I would not like or ever understand what it would turn me into. And how far into your sentence are you at this point to even have that mindset? That's probably about four years, because I think up to that point, I felt like I had to follow everybody else's lead or I had to like do what was expected of me. And that was a point at which I was like,

I basically decided, like, look, I would rather die than allow this place to turn me into somebody that I can't accept. Now, at what point do you stop becoming, like, the new kid on the block and you're not, like, singled out for being the new guy? You start to learn the system. You know how things operate. You learn how to move around. I think...

It took a couple years, but then it also, when I transferred from one prison to another, I was a new guy for a little while. But once I got comfortable and once I realized that if I could build a routine, I could do really well, so that was going to work, making sure I could get a good job. It was basically staying out of the way, but also finding a way to engage with people, finding a way to have relationships that allowed me to be in a position that created value, where I was the law library clerk for a while, where I tutored guys, where I mentored guys.

And what I found was, like, you don't have to be big and scary. Like, if you bring value to the system, everybody's going to protect you. Like, nobody's going to beat up the tattoo man or everybody's going to be mad. Like, nobody's going to beat up the law library clerk because he's helping people get out of prison. So I realized that having value in the community made me essentially in a position where I didn't ever have to worry about that. Like, maybe some small conflict would come up, but generally I could avoid it. Now, what's the most corrupt thing you've witnessed correctional staff do at the prison? I remember...

We had one guy, he was arguing with the sergeant, and I don't remember the specifics of what I'm saying, but I remember he was right. It was something to do with how the sergeant had treated his visitor. And the sergeant turned around, grabbed him, slammed him against the wall, and it was like there's stucco walls, and dragged his face down the wall, then put him in handcuffs and charged him with assault. Really? That's crazy. And when nothing happened to the guard? And this is like a normal occurrence in prison?

Not as normal as some places. That's one thing I can say I'm grateful for in Virginia is that I didn't see the series of abuses that I've heard about in other places. When I first got to Nottaway, I remember there was this crew, this lieutenant and his guys. They were kind of like a clique among the officers. Especially in the hold, they would give you a fair fight. If you started talking shit to them, they'd be like, all right, we can do this. They'd take their stuff off, they'd go in the cell, and they'd fight you. And it was like, you win, you lose. They're not going to press charges. They're not going to make a big deal out of it.

But once they started bringing in cameras, once the whole culture shifted, that stopped being a thing. And it also, I think, bringing in the cameras and bringing in the kind of accountability took down some of the abuses that were happening. So it was a mix because in some ways guys really appreciated that. Like they really liked those guys because like, yeah, they might get beat up because they were all really big. But there was a certain level of respect about the fact that they would treat them as equals and say, hey, we can fight like men. Now, do all the guards kind of stick together, kind of like the inmates stick together?

For the most part, yeah. Okay. Now the contraband in state prison, what do they have access to and what's the contraband itself like? I mean, the biggest contraband is obviously drugs and cell phones.

That's what everybody wants. That's what allows them to maintain business. I had a conversation with a buddy the other day who was talking about how much the prices have changed. Because it used to be, depending on the corruption or level of the institution or what was going on, because prisons in Virginia are all built in rural areas that have no other industry. There's not a lot of money there. And this guy's going to work and making, back then it was like $27,000 a year. This guy's like, hey, I'll give you $1,000 a week to bring me stuff. Well, it's pretty hard to say no, especially when you've got three kids at home.

But yeah, I remember when I first started seeing smartphones, they were like 500 bucks a piece. Now I'm hearing they're like 2,500 or 3,000 a piece. But so people could come up with $500, especially knowing that they could turn around and hustle and do something with it. So phones became really popular. Drugs were everywhere. There was just this thriving economy. Did you learn how to use a smartphone in prison? Because they didn't exist before you went in. They did not. There was no Facebook, no YouTube, no any of that before I went in. So one of the best things they did that helped me was they brought in J-Pay tablets, which

which were basically decommissioned Samsung smartphones. So everybody, whether they had a cell phone or not, learned to actually use the tablet. You learn the basic interface, you learn how to interact, and I think that helped a lot of people going out. But even so, I've talked to guys who've gotten out, are still struggling. They're like, yo, I don't know how to do this. For me, I was out for nine months before I realized you could order a pizza on the phone.

I was like, you don't have to call? Because I was like, where is the phone number? Why can't I find the phone number? And she was like, just order it on the app. I was like, wait, there's an app for that? Yeah, for me, I went in before smart TVs were really a big thing. And then three years later when I get out, my parents have a smart TV. And I'm thinking, you know, it used to be like the Amazon Firesticks you would use. And I didn't realize you could get all the apps and all the video downloads on this TV, which I thought was the coolest thing.

Now, anyone that's ever been to prison before, you know they always have experiences, stories from their best cellmate and their worst cellmate. Who's your best one? What's that like? And who's your worst cellmate? The best cellmate I ever had was a guy who I was friendly with but not friends with. We were in the cell for basically six years together. We might not talk for days, but it was never uncomfortable. We might have really in-depth conversations. He just did his art. I just lived my life, and we kind of coexisted.

It had just allowed for it to feel like my space. I didn't feel like I was having to share with another personality that I was conflicting with. The worst was, oh man, we had this guy,

He moved in there and he started just doing this little like petty things, just kind of like poking me and creating problems. And I remember being like, look, I really don't want to fight this guy. Like, I really want to try to stay calm. And it was just day to day. There was just something else coming up. And then he was part of an organization when his homeboys came up to me. It was like, yo, look, dude's messed up. Like I got to back him up if something happens. But like, I'm telling you, get out of that cell. Like, dude, it's a piece of ass. I was like, when your own homeboy is coming and telling me you're a piece of crap and like to get out. So it was one of those situations where.

I had pride and it's like, I'm not going to let somebody run, run me out of the cell. Like I was in that cell first. And then I was like, you know what? It is just not worth it. And so I was trying to move in with a guy who was a lead plumber, older head, like really good, stayed out of the way. And they kept giving me the runaround like, Oh, well you let the guy move in. Like it's your fault. Like,

All right, fine. You're going to keep giving me a run around. So finally, the only way I could get out was the head plumber went to the building lieutenant because the building lieutenant kept spinning me around. He said, look, this is what's going to happen. Either you're going to move this guy in my cell today or every time you have a broken sink or a broken toilet or a broken whatever, you're going to need to get a work order. You need to send my supervisor and then he's going to direct me to fix it. Otherwise, I'm not fixing it.

And this is a guy who goes out every day, every night to fix stuff every time they need it. Bill Nutenant just looked at him. He was like, all right, you'll move in an hour. And sure enough, I moved in an hour. But it literally took blackmail to get me out of the cell with somebody that I was getting ready to get into a fight with. Wow. Now, how does your family support you throughout this whole thing? Do they support you your whole prison sentence? And how do you think that shaped you doing your time to have or not have their support?

I've been able to be successful both during my period of incarceration and after my release because of the support and resources and opportunity I have. That's the main thing that I try to emphasize because my mother had me enrolled in college while I was still in the jail before I even pleaded guilty. She was like, look, you're going to find a way to make the best of this time. You're going to find a way to do something with this time.

So I'm taking college classes in jail before I even plead guilty or get sentenced. I was able to do that. It took me 15 years, but I was able to get a bachelor's degree. That's awesome. My dad died in 2006, but he was there and he would send money and he would send books and he would find, you know, make sure that I was connected to people in the community. And that was the main thing. Like I had an entire base of community support because of my parents, because of people who then kind of spread that out. There was a woman who I call like kind of my adopted stepmother who just worked in my mom's office, sent me a Christmas card. I wrote her back and then we wrote letters every week for 16 years.

What was it like to have a parent die in prison? Were you able to get a furlough at all? I know in the federal system you can apply for one. What was that like for you? Did they let you go to the funeral or be in touch with him? Finding out my dad died while I was locked up was really hard.

I was actually in the hole for contraband possession of pancake syrup. Pancake syrup. Wow. Pancake syrup. And my dad had a medical emergency. He had expatriated and was living in Costa Rica, so it wasn't easy to contact. But I just got a – somebody called the watch commander, and the watch commander let me know, like, hey, your dad's not doing okay. They got me over there and let me get a call, I think with my stepmom, where I got this kind of update, where he had fallen out. He had a blood clot, and he had to be airlifted to San Jose. Okay.

But that, you know, they had some ideas and he was going to get surgery and everything should be okay. But I'm like, I'm sitting in the hole and I'm waiting. And then this amazing woman there, I'll never forget this woman. She got me over there to get a last phone call with my dad before his surgery. So I got to get it. And like, you know, he was not in a good place. And I think that's what threw me off. Because if he had been like trying to assure me, I would have been like, okay, he's okay. But he wasn't. He was just like hopeless and lost and scared. And then the psychologist came around.

while I was still in the hole and she was like, "Hey, Jesse, I want to let you know, "your dad came out of surgery, he's fine. "I just wanted to let you know." I was like, "Oh, okay." But I'd been sure up to that point, something wasn't going to go right. Everybody had been telling me I was crazy, but I was like, "No, I don't think this is going to go right." So that was when I finally slept, because I hadn't slept for two days, being worried about it and being stressed. So it's the middle of the day and I lay down and all of a sudden my door just opens. And in the hole, your door does not open until you go and you cuff up at the door. So I was like, "What's going on?" And the CO's just like, "Yo, come here, put these cuffs on. "We gotta take you somewhere."

I was like, what do you mean you're going to take me somewhere? You don't do that. This is completely against everything. And they start walking me up to the front of the prison. And there's this big door that says, inmate, do not pass. This is a line where they can shoot you. You don't cross this line. And they march me past this line. And I'm like, what is going on? They open the door, and my mom and my stepdad are sitting right there. And I just look at her. And I was like, my dad? And she says, yeah. And I just lost it. And I'm in shackles. They got me all tied up. And I just sat on this thing. And my mom was able to put her arms around me. And I just sobbed.

And it just, it crushed me. Wow. So were you able to go to the funeral or anything like that? No. So because my dad had died outside the country, technically his funeral was in Costa Rica. There was a memorial service in Charlottesville, but I wasn't able to go. I was at a level four institution. They basically didn't grant permission for things like that. And if they had, what they would have done is they would have had to, I would have had to pay for the time of the staff and the time of transport. I would have had to wear an orange jumpsuit, full shackles, a black box, and

And they would have had to take me there for 30 minutes before the service, so I wouldn't even have been able to go to the service. And because my dad was cremated in Costa Rica, it wasn't even like I would have been able to see the body. So they basically would have just taken me on a road trip that would have cost like $2,500 to stand there with a couple people that... Now, did that cause you to have like an instant reflection on what put you into prison in the first place? Was that like a defining moment? Because maybe you wouldn't have been in that position had those initial crimes occurred and you would have been able to see your dad?

I felt really guilty about not being able to go to my dad's memorial service. But I, in a weird way, felt more resigned. I don't think it was a matter of reflecting and feeling like, oh, if I'd done things differently. It was more a matter of this deepening sense of shame and self-loathing. This is further proof that I'm kind of worthless and that there's a problem. And I went through these cycles where I would do really well and I'd feel really good about myself and I'd feel like I was doing something positive. And then I would just go into this period of self-loathing and just self-doubt and

That was definitely one of those low periods. Now, going back to your time in the shoe, I did six months in the shoe, so I know what that's like. What was it like for you? How many times were you in and out of the shoe during your prison sentence? I was probably in six or seven times. The longest I did was 90 days. The shortest I did was a couple hours because when they moved me to the new prison, one of the guys that I shot was there. We're just on the yard hanging out, and somebody says, hey, this guy's there. You want to talk to him? I was like, oh.

But I told him, I was like, look, I'd really like to settle this. Can we talk about it? I'm not going to let you hurt me, but I apologize. I did this messed up thing. And he went to the people and got me locked up while they did an emergency transfer for him. So I was back there for a couple hours. But the experience was always the same. Basically, you're in a cell by yourself just waiting for time to pass.

Now, when I first went back to the hallway, the first time I went back, you could have your fan back there. You could have your thermals back there. You could have your hat back there. You could feel fairly comfortable. And then they took all that away. So when it's hot, you're hot. When it's cold, you're cold. They didn't have AC or anything? Wow, that's crazy.

Now, at what point do you finally say to yourself in prison, you want to stop screwing around, you want to not let this situation define you as a person, and that's when you set off to accomplish all these great things that you were able to accomplish in prison? What was that moment, and also what were you able to accomplish after that? There was no singular moment at which I said, "Hey, I'm going to make all these changes," and then stuck to it. It was really a consistent pattern of two steps forward and one step back.

where I would do some really positive things and I would make a dumb mistake or I would kind of go in another direction. And it was just slow, incremental progress and then falling back and progress and falling back. But I was always on the path of saying, hey, I want to be able to make the best of it at some point.

So over 15 years, I was able to get a bachelor's degree. That was amazing. I was able to become a journeyman electrician. I was able to be involved in the founding of a peer support mental health program where I was one of the first mentors and got to put this program into place where we were so successful they were sending people to our institution because we had such a high success rate. I was able to get a couple articles published. I was able to network and build a sense of community with people on the outside.

And again, these were things, I mean, I had to work really hard at these things, but I was only in that position because people supported me and gave me access to resources and gave me opportunities that most people never had. Now, do you think the prison pushed you to become that better person or is that something you had to figure out on your own? And if you didn't figure that out on your own, do you think life as you know it now would be a lot different? Yeah.

I don't think that prison made me a better person. I think prison gave me the time to reflect, and it was the support I had that allowed me to kind of take that path. Because if I hadn't had that support, I wouldn't have had people encouraging me and believing in me and lifting me up. I would have had people just absent, and I watched so many people just kind of fall apart and get worse and worse, and I just watched prison destroy people. So prison gave me the time, but it was really the people and the support I had that allowed me to be in that direction.

And I can't imagine where I'd be if it hadn't been for that. Because those guys that I watched just get lower and lower. We had a number of suicides. We had guys overdose. We had people just like live hopelessly. And I watched that a lot. And that always broke my heart because I knew that that could have been me. Now, once you figured out like your daily routine in prison, what was that like? What's a day in the life of Jesse and inside state prison? Sure. For me, structure was really important.

So when I realized that I had to find a way to build structure into basically the entirety of my day, so every count time I would meditate for 20 minutes or one period for 30 minutes.

I would go to work. I always tried to have a job that allowed me to be engaged and do different things. So whether that was a law library or the medical worker or the maintenance tech or something along those lines, it was busy. And then I would have an exercise period. I would go to programs at night. I would run programs and teach classes. I wanted to have as much as possible. And then I always just wanted a little bit of time to kind of like reflect and write. So that was used in my time late night. But I tried to have it be as booked as I could be from sunup to sundown.

Now, what's your prison hustle? Because every guy has it that goes into prison, whether they have money or don't have money, what are you doing?

I mean, I did a bunch of different things over the years, stuff with the law library, different positions, but the one I was most proud of was the apple pie hustle. I loved that. Apple pie? Okay. So we would bring back all these apples from the chow hall, and this is a perfect example of prejudice and how people do it. Because all the officers, by then I'd been there for eight years or ten years or something. Everybody knew me, so nobody ever shook me down. So I've got like 25 apples down my pants. I'm smuggling back butter and cinnamon, and they never check me, but they're always checking the new guy. Okay.

But I would get them back. I would peel all these apples. I would cook them in the microwave with the cinnamon and the butter. We would get the apple pie stuff, and then we would actually use cake. And this always blew my mind because my buddy Billy came up with this. We would

We would get people to give us cake and give us their apples, and then we would give it back to them and they would pay us. It blew my mind. We would use the cake and we'd use cookies to make a crust, and then we'd use the peanut butter or the icing from that, put something on top, and we would put out as many apple pies as we possibly could. Sometimes we would do like 50 or 100 apple pies in a night, and it was a lot of work, but it was a hustle. It was good. What are you guys charging for each pie?

It was $2 for these little trays. They were trays that the pre-made meals came in, the microwave meals that you could buy off the holiday package. So we would stack up on those. I probably had 100 of those in the cell. But literally, we would be making them, and then people would be bringing back the old ones. One person would be washing while the other person was filling. And what's the currency in state prison? I know I had the mackerel, fish pouch, sometimes tuna pouches, and books of stamps. What's it like in the state? When I first went in, it was cigarettes. Everything was about a pack of cigarettes, a box of cigarettes. That was everything. That's when they were legal, though, right? Yeah.

Yeah, then after they cut out smoking in 2010, nobody's really sure what it should be. So for some people, it was bags of coffee. That was all they wanted. For other people, it was hygiene. Especially for gambling, hygiene was a big thing, like toothpaste and deodorant. For some people, it was stamps. For other people, it was only food. Like, I don't accept anything but food. So just depending on what kind of subunit, for that, we would only take food for it because hygiene was considered less valuable. So if you want a pie, it's going to be $2 in food, not $2 in hygiene. Now, over the course of 19 years while you're inside, how many different prisons do you go to and why are you moved?

I was at, if you include the receiving prison, I was at four different prisons. And the only time I was ever moved was because my security level dropped. So I went from the receiving prison to Nottoway, which was level four. I was there for four years, stayed charge free, dropped to a level three, was at Buckingham for 13 years. And I was only supposed to be there for like four years and my security level dropped. And I did everything I could to be able to stay there because it was so much better. It wasn't a dormitory. You had your own cell. You were at a rec all day. I could get jobs and teach classes. And it was like, I actually had the opportunity to live a life.

So I always volunteered for stuff or I use my college credit or I use the job I had to get institutional needs so they wouldn't transfer me. And then in the height of COVID, I had finally made it to the honor pod. I had a single cell, like even though they had shut everything down, they were having me make videos for statewide, basically like statewide broadcast. So I was like teaching Spanish and teaching DBT skills. I was so into this.

And then the fire marshal came in and they were like actually doing inspections on the ventilation system because of COVID. And they were like, oh, well, this system doesn't like meet standards at all. As a matter of fact, it hasn't met standards in years. They were like, we're going to have to fine you. So COVID ended up kind of screwing us because they said, all right, well, we're going to have to do something as an emergency or we're going to get fined.

So they picked 64 people at random, which is the number of people they have in a pod, to transfer. And I wasn't on that list, thankfully. And there was one guy in the honor pod that was, and we all felt so bad for him. We were like, that's horrible. Like, man, you need to leave this and go to a dorm. And we just packed in with people.

And then somebody had a medical emergency. And because of his medical emergency, he couldn't go on transfer. So they picked me off the list because my level had technically dropped years before, but I just always got an override. And they packed me up on that bus and they sent me to a dormitory. So that was the last place that I went. Wow. Now you get a 32-year prison sentence. A lot of people in this world would not be able to survive that mentally. They'd have thoughts of suicide, not making it forward. Yeah.

What was your why to get up every morning? What kept you going? How did you get out of bed and dealt with that and ultimately come out on top of that? Well, and to be clear, I definitely had thoughts of suicide. Like I had really low periods. Some of my lowest periods were the biggest struggles of my life. But that was really what it was. I kind of had to have everything stripped away to be able to start new.

So it was all idea of like basic training. And that's what I think about. Like everything that I used to think, or I used to know, or I used to hold deer was just stripped away. And then that place I found like this new beginning.

And the why was, there were specific whys at times. It was like I would be tutoring somebody, I was like, this guy's going to get his GED. Or I'd be working on a project, and I'd be like, this article is going to get published. There were the small things. But the why for me was really about being present. Like meditation became a huge part of my life, and it became about being as present as I possibly can in every moment, as engaging with people, as being helpful. And in those roles that I was able to be helpful, whether in the law library, or as a mentor, or as a tutor, or just as a friend to somebody who was struggling, that was what sustained me, and that was what allowed me to keep going

So as long as I could continue to find ways to connect, I found a reason to get up every morning and I found a reason to feel good at the end of every day. Now, did you have friends from before prison that stuck with you your whole sentence or did they kind of give up after like the first few months or the first couple of years? I know sometimes it's hard for our friends to really adapt and do like you hear that expression. You have the friends and family that do your bid with you. Did that happen in your scenario? Yeah.

I got really lucky with support. I had my mom that was there the entire time. I had that woman that I said was kind of my adopted stepmother. She was there with me from that first couple years. Some other people came in and out. I had one friend that visited me at least once a year for the whole time. But yeah, a lot of those initial stages went away. Some people would come back for one visit or one phone call, but then kind of disappear again. So it was just that small core group that was there. But at the same time, it was...

I held onto the hope that some of those people that I really cared about, I would be able to connect with. And there've been a couple of people since I got out that it was like the first visit. It was, it was like that we were back together and it just, it felt so good to know that those friendships were able to endure because I wasn't mad that they didn't stick with me the whole time. I remember my best friend out in California,

We started talking and she basically like one day said, you know what, Jesse, like I love you, but I'm not going to be with you. You got 20 years left in prison. Like you were a great guy, but I deserve better than that. And that was the beginning of our friendship because she set a really healthy boundary and I needed that. And we stayed in touch and we fell out of touch. But when I was out for two months, she and her daughter flew to see me and it was one of the happiest times. Now, fast forward to August 2021. Yeah.

You find out one day randomly that you're getting released from prison within the next hour and a half, two hours, almost pretty much 12 years earlier than when you were expected to. Did you apply for a pardon? Did you know what was happening? What's going through your mind when you find out in that moment you're going home? Yeah. So in the beginning of 2019, it's kind of an exercise in doing everything that I could and letting go of the results. I applied for a conditional pardon.

And this was basically pleading to the governor, writing out a reason and saying, hey, you know, I was sentenced to twice the high point of the sentencing guidelines. I've now done more than the high point of the sentencing guidelines. I've gotten a bachelor's degree. I've been a mentor in a mental health program. I've done all these things. And essentially, like, this is my plan moving forward. This is what I want to do with my life. This is how I want to help other people.

So I filed that, and I didn't really think it would work because at that point, the only people that got a pardon were at the end of a governor's term for political reasons or for good PR, but it wasn't a reality. But for me, it was like, all right, I can do that and spend the rest of my time knowing I've done everything in my power to try to get out.

And then it was kind of weird. There was this snowball effect. So this local reporter contacted me and said, hey, I want to do a story on you because I want to highlight the problems with Virginia getting rid of parole because we haven't had parole since 1995. And that got a lot of really strong local response. And I was like, that's interesting. And all of a sudden, people from the community start contacting me and saying, hey, we really believe in you. Keep fighting.

And it started growing and growing and growing. But even then, in 2021, I still didn't believe it. I had other people who were like, look, man, if they're going to give it to anybody, they're going to give it to you. But it still just didn't seem real. But it was this perfect situation where the governor who pardoned me pardoned more people than every other governor in Virginia history combined. Like he made this huge push to say, hey, we need to make a change in our criminal justice system. Without parole, this is a way we can do it.

So that day, yeah, they called me in the office. Like I was getting ready to try to get on the phone. I had just worked out. I was just going through my daily routine. And the woman over the speakerphone said, Mr. Cross, are you sitting down? Because you're going home today. And I like hit a knee and like started tearing up and just didn't know. And she said, yeah, go get ready. And I walked out of there and I was like, look, man, they are messing with me. Or like this is going to be a mistake or they're going to take it back. But I was like kind of in shock. So I went back and there was this kid who didn't have any family, didn't have anybody. So I called him over. I was like, look, all this stuff is yours. Like,

I think I'm coming back. Like, I don't think this is going to work out, but if not like take it. And at first he thought I was going to go like beat somebody up or something. I was like, no, no, it's not that like you're good.

So he goes and takes my stuff. I take a shower and I walk up there and then it starts becoming real because like I'm signing paperwork, but they really messed with my head because they're like, whoa, you got to get this paperwork signed. If we can't get it in in time, we can't release you. I was like, why would you tell me that? Like I'm already freaking out, but I'm signing paperwork and I'm going through and then I walk back to the pod and they actually gave me an escort because at that point I'd signed the paperwork. I was technically a released person, so they couldn't have me without an escort. So I got like officers escorting me to pick my stuff up, which was bizarre. And I come in and people are like clapping and shaking my hand because they had heard

And that was when it really felt real. Like, I'm going home. So they walk me to the front of the prison. I walk out there, and there's my mom. And because of COVID, I hadn't seen my mom in a year and a half. We hadn't had visits. We hadn't had interactions. And I signed this paperwork. And I got to sign paperwork for like 10 minutes. My mom's like 10 feet away. And I'm like, I don't know what to do. Finally, I go over there. I give her a hug, and I pick her up. And she just whispers my ear. She goes, Jesse, we're getting the F out of here. And I was like, OK. And we went out. And that was the beginning of this life. And there was...

It was crazy. I think it's like a very wholesome experience, not only for the person that's going home, but also for the inmates that you're close with and surrounded with because it kind of gives them hope. I remember when I was at Fort Dix in New Jersey, uh,

There was guys that had 30, 40 year sentences and they were down to their last few years. And on the final hour of Obama being in office, he commuted all their sentences. There was a couple people in just my building alone. And it was just great seeing them going home. They were in there just for marijuana charges. They were cheering. The whole prison was just like, juvenated by that. They were so happy for them.

And those are like the moments in prison that it kind of like really humanizes the inmates and it gives you like a different light to it. Because anything, there could be like a gang war going on, there could be whatever going on. And in that moment, like everyone just comes together to rally and celebrate. So it's really good to see that. Now, you had mentioned the reporter. You ended up forming a relationship with this reporter in prison before you ever knew you were going to get out that earlier.

What was that like having a relationship behind the prison, inside prison with someone that was in the free world? It was bizarre. Courtney wasn't the first relationship that I ever had, but all the other ones had been based in like just kind of really unhealthy stuff or really long distance. Like I was in relationships where I never met the people and Courtney was actually an example of that because she'd interviewed me in 2019 for a story and we kept in touch and we would talk on the phone or we would go back and forth. But

It was really the beginning of 2021 where there was this nexus. Somebody that she cared about got into a lot of trouble with the criminal justice system, and she reached out to me, and she was like, hey, I can't be your reporter. I can be your friend, but I really need your help. Can we do this? And so I talked to this person. We went through some stuff, and that was when we just started talking because she was in such a bad place. I was like, hey, I'm going to call and check on you every day. I want to know you're okay. You can cry. You can scream. You can tell me to F off. Just please. And so we

We talked for five minutes, and then the next day we talked for 20 minutes, and then 40 minutes. And the next thing, we're talking for two hours every day. And at the end of a month, she just said, I got something to tell you. I love you. And I don't know what you do with that, and I don't know what we do with that, and this is a messed up situation, but I got to tell you.

And I was really hesitant to get into it because I thought I was going to be in prison for at least 10 more years. I wasn't going anywhere. This was a terrible idea. She was going to throw her life away. But we kind of went back and forth, and we built a really amazing relationship over the phone. And we worked on a podcast together, and we did –

We did stuff that kind of defined who I was as a person. Now, how do you guys stimulate each other to give each other the experience of having a relationship when you're just so far apart from each other and can't physically be there? A lot of people in this day and age have spouses,

wives, husbands that are behind the prison walls. So what would you guys do to keep that spice going on? It's funny you say that because I remember when we first started talking as friends, she was like, look, I don't understand. How do people get into a relationship? If you can't have sex, you're just friends. How do you know? And I was like, oh, you know. And I remember that month later, she was like, oh, I know. I get it now.

And so obviously there are ways, like you have phone sex, you have letters, you have things like that. But what I found was it's a focus on emotional intimacy. And I think out here in the world, that's what's really lacking. And especially for women, that's what they're looking for. Like a lot of guys are okay with being like, you know, Neanderthals and just going through and getting physical pleasure. But the ability to like really focus on another person and pay attention to another person, connect and share history, it's a really profound experience. And it's something that a lot of people aren't capable of. So somebody who's in prison, who can give their, the entirety of themselves, it allows for a different level of relationship.

I think that's also why certain women will gravitate to individuals like me and you, especially seeing us put our lives out there on an emotional level on social media that automatically ropes these individuals in towards us and attracts them on a whole new level, which is way different than someone that may not look like us or have similar backgrounds. It just changes it because we're so different in that regard.

Now, what's it like to be physically intimate with someone after 19 years in prison? Did you remember anything? Is it like starting over from scratch? What's that like? It's pretty wonderful. And then now this is the first time I'm assuming in 19 years. Yeah. So we, we talked a lot about that and we, we were like, Hey, you know, this might be awkward or this might be difficult. We just got to like get through this. Cause like we overthink it, we can blow this whole thing up. Like let's just try. And we did, we,

It was really, really wonderful. And I was surprised at how good it was. And I think part of that was that we had both sold the worst versions of ourselves. Like rather than catfishing, we had done the opposite. We were like, no, like I'm out of shape and the pandemic hasn't been good to me and things are rough. And so we had no expectations. And I think that allowed us to really embrace each other in a healthier, better way. Now, first day of prison, what is, I mean, first day out of prison, what's that like? What are you eating? Who are you hanging out with? What's that day like?

I mean, the first day I was a blur because I wasn't out until 3.30. I'm out and then we have to drive. The prison's way away and we go and meet in town. And I had a breakdown in Costco because I still had money on my account from the stimulus check. So I had this little debit card they gave me all my money on and I'm trying to go buy stuff. And I just freaked out because I realized, okay, I know how to get socks and boxers and a toothbrush and deodorant. I couldn't imagine because that's all I'd bought for all those years in prison. I hadn't bought a life. I hadn't bought the things yet.

And it just became so overwhelming with so many people in such this big space that I just lost it. And so we went and before I had lost it, my mom managed to get some steaks. She was like, do you want some steaks? I was like, yeah, I want a steak. So we're driving home and my mom's like, yeah, it's too bad. It's too late. We're not going to be able to have those steaks. I remember being so angry. Like, are you?

it's been like almost 20 years. What do you mean we can't have a steak because it's late? And she was like, yeah, we'll do it tomorrow. I'm actually kind of glad because I got home and she had some stew in the fridge. I tried to take one bite and it just made me feel sick. I was still so adrenalized and just excited and nervous and crazy. I couldn't do anything. But we sat at home, they ate dinner, and I sat there with my mom and Courtney. We had a conversation. It was crazy.

really surreal. And then everybody went to sleep and I didn't sleep for three days. So I was kind of sitting there in my thoughts. But in a weird way, I needed that. It was like this calming, centering, like coming back to myself because I didn't know what was going on. And I realized that I just had to let go of any expectation that I would know what was going on.

on because this was such a huge change. I wouldn't get it. There was no easy answer. And that was when it kind of calmed down. And that was also when I remember the ice cream in the fridge at midnight. And so I'm sitting on the porch in the dark at midnight eating ice cream just as happy as I could possibly be. Probably one of the best moments of my life. Now, social media didn't exist

at all before it wasn't even a thought in anyone's mind before you went into prison. When you get out, you make it a part of your life now to be on social media and tell your story. What made you get into that? Why did you decide to go on TikTok? What's your first TikTok about? Sure. So Courtney and I, while I was still inside, had said we needed a shared project. So we did a podcast together, which was basically just me calling on the phone, her recording, and us having a conversation about something to do with the criminal justice system. And

And the friends that she showed it to or had listened to it said, hey, this is like, somebody's gonna care about this. So she and a friend of hers who works in marketing were like, look, you need to get your story out there. And her friend said, you really should try TikTok. Like, I think you're gonna get an in. I didn't know what TikTok was. Like, I literally had to download the app on the way to the place that I made the first video. But I'd always said that I was gonna go to this mountain. There's this hike. And I was like, I'm gonna go there and I'm gonna go to the top of the mountain and I'm gonna scream, I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna do whatever I have to do and I'm gonna put this prison stuff behind me. Like, I'm gonna be done with it and I'm gonna start my life.

And so I went up there and I basically recorded a video talking about that. And she said, hey, I just got out of prison after 19 years and this is who I am. And then...

That night, I think I had like 10,000 views on the video. And I asked this friend and I was like, hey, is this normal? And she was like, no, that's not normal. Like you did something. And so I made another video and I responded to a comment and I made another one. And all of a sudden I just like start building interaction. People start asking questions. And for me, it was really healing because I got to talk about these things that I didn't necessarily want to talk about in other situations because I could control it. Like it wasn't like I was in a hot seat and I had to answer questions. It was, hey, that is an interesting question. Let me think about it. Let me answer this. Let me share this. And it ended up being this really,

positive experience for me and I was able to interact with people who had family members who were locked up or who had been locked up previously and could give me hope or were struggling and I could give them hope or people who've been victims of crimes who said, "Hey, the person who hurt me has never taken accountability. "You give me hope that maybe they will "or maybe it'll change."

I've had law enforcement reach out. I've had everybody across the board reach out. And it's been this incredible process of connecting people or connecting with people in this really honest, vulnerable way. What advice do you give to an individual that's either about to go into the criminal justice system like you once were or someone that's just getting released and is looking to change their life and go down a successful path like you've chosen? Going in, I would always tell people,

Make sure you determine how you want to do your time. Because if you allow that environment, those people to determine it, it's going to make you worse. Because prison is not full of healthy, well-adjusted people. And if you allow them to shape you, you're going to end up unhealthy and poorly adjusted. For people getting out, I always tell them to start slow and start small.

Because I had a panic attack in Costco. Like every sight, every smell was just overwhelming. Like everything was bigger than I could possibly imagine. And I didn't have the resources to cope with that. So I tell people just to go slow and then figure it out piece by piece. Like figure out who you want to be in the world. Like what are your values? What are your keystones? How do you want to live your life? And then find a way to build a bridge to that. Like figure out a way to live.

And, you know, when I first got out, I did like construction jobs and I worked for a publisher and I just did other construction stuff, but I was able to build a path just by consistently working and connecting and networking. And it has allowed me to be in a position that I never imagined. And,

And I don't think most people are going to end up in this position. I don't think that everybody's going to end up doing social media or running a nonprofit or connecting in the ways that they have. But I think everybody will be capable of finding something that they're passionate about or finding something that they care about or finding community of people that they connect with and then basing their life around that. I think that you give people hope

that this is... Because there's so many guys in our position where they go to jail and you're coming... Someone that goes to prison is always coming out as like the underdog and they are kind of frowned upon in society and everyone's kind of rooting against them. There's this...

idea set that if you come out of prison, you're not going to ever be successful. And I think when the world sees guys like you go out and make a name for themselves, I mean, you have almost 800,000 followers on TikTok and thousands more on other platforms and you're doing all these great things. That's not a small feat. That's something major. And those are the type of people that are going to end up changing the world.

And I think it's great what you're doing. I really thank you for coming on to our show and being our first guest. You have an awesome story. I'm really glad I met you through TikTok. We wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for TikTok. So, you know, Jesse, just keep rocking on, keep doing your thing and keep being, you know, that person that people look up to and know that, okay, just because they had one shitty experience in their life doesn't mean that that's going to make their future better.

Thank you.