Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Daily Correction Clips


CDCR assists in 76 gang-related arrests in Stockton

By OPEC Staff

The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation played a big role in a long-term gang operation resulting in the arrests of 76 people in Stockton.

The Stockton Record covered the story in their Sept. 17 online edition.


When Women Are Sentenced to Male Prisons

By Sam Levin

In the summer of 2013, Daniella Tavake woke up every day and cried. Some days, she slept for twelve hours straight, then woke up and glanced at her unshaven beard in the mirror, which caused her to break down again. At the time, Tavake, a transgender woman, was isolated in a cell in Salinas Valley State Prison — a California correctional facility for men. According to letters she wrote that July, as soon as the state transferred her to that prison, an inmate started harassing her, calling her "faggot," and eventually physically attacking her. As a result of the incident, Tavake said she was separated in a cell by herself for weeks with no access to clippers — forcing her to wear a beard, which was painful because she has long identified as a woman. "To me, that's not only mental abuse, but it's abuse to your soul," recalled Tavake, now forty years old, in a recent interview. "You're telling me I can't be me."


Second life sentence for inmate in US prison guard's slaying
By The Associated Press

SACRAMENTO, Calif. An inmate already serving life behind bars has been given a second life sentence in the slaying of a federal prison guard.

Joseph Cabrera Sablan pleaded guilty in July to murder in the 2008 slaying of 22-year-old Correctional Officer Jose Rivera at the United States Penitentiary in Atwater, about 100 miles southeast of Sacramento.

The Death Penalty's Other Victims
By Michel Lynn Inaba

"Murder is my beat," I used to jokingly tell my friends. They found it fascinating that my job involved interviewing hundreds of California's inmates who are condemned or serving a life sentence for murder. The first time I heard the clang of San Quentin's' sally port closing behind me, I knew I was a student at a top tier school for learning about lethal violence.

I had only been exposed to homicidal violence on the nightly news until a close friend was murdered by a man she had been dating. I futilely tried to comfort her two young sons while their father struggled to tell them that their mother was gone forever. As a mother and a psychologist, I was compelled to learn as much as possible about violence that could forever alter the course of a child's life.