Backstory: Breaking barriers

For prison officials in San Jose, violence was the catalyst behind Breaking Barriers. A couple of years ago, inmates who had dropped out of gangs were being targeted for assault or death by other prisoners.

To protect them, administrators decided to house the dropouts together in one cell pod, separate from the general inmate population. But officials wanted the program to be more than just a management tool.

"We found that there was an opportunity here to provide these inmates with tools - recovery tools, education tools, addiction counseling," says Edward Flores, correction chief for the Santa Clara County Department of Correction. The hope is that these guys can turn their lives around and influence others, particularly young male family members, to avoid gang life, he says.

To qualify for Breaking Barriers, an inmate must be serious about severing ties to a gang. The program is structured around a variety of classes. Topics range from faith-based courses to anger management. Homework in the form of personal essays, family history papers, and poetry is assigned weekly. Four days a week, the inmates gather for their class session.

On this day, the topic du jour is substance abuse recovery. Roughly 55 men sit in chairs as their teacher, Robert Gochez, a short, energetic Latino, reads the day's lecture. "Off the top of your head, who can tell me what relapse means?" he asks. Ten hands shoot up.

Some of the men lean forward, listening intently. Others rest their arms on the backs of chairs. After one inmate reads an original poem, he is applauded. The meeting closes with the men reciting a prayer.

It is a long way from the streets for inmates like Sanchez, who joined a gang in San Jose because it was the thing to do. Now 30, he is facing a charge of firearms possession with the possibility of receiving 50 years to life in prison. But it wasn't the prospect of a long jail term that propelled Sanchez to drop out of a gang. That happened in 2003 when his father was gunned down in prison by a rival gang member.

Four months into the program, Sanchez credits Breaking Barriers with teaching him a new way to live. "I've learned to take care of myself," he says. "My old way of thinking is wrong."

While it's easy for inmates to conform within the confines of cell pod 5C, the real test is when they leave prison. Mr. Mancillas knows the reality of relapse all too well. This is his second stint with Breaking Barriers. "It was embarrassing. I thought I had it - to make it outside," says the inmate, back to serve time for domestic violence. Now poised for rerelease, Mancillas is eager to prove himself again. "Now I know what my relapse triggers are. I know how to cope out there," he says.

Mr. Flores admits that it is still too early to determine the program's effect. Cell pod 5C has become one of the calmest in the 4,600-inmate county jail, mainly a holding facility for those awaiting trial. Most of the men end up convicted and shipped off to a state prison. Will they stay out of gangs? So far only six graduates have made it out. Four of them are working at a local Salvation Army center. The other two can't be accounted for.

Still, inmates like Sanchez believe the program is worth it. "If I don't get out, I want to help someone else ... the young kids coming in," he says. "There is a better way to live."

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