By Jesse Perez, System impacted Youth
Introduction: The Voice of the Carceral Constituent
In every society, the question of who speaks with legitimacy determines the fate of its democracy. Judges, prosecutors, defense attorneys, prison guards, administrators, and contractors are all bound to the prison system by ties of career and livelihood. Their perspectives are shaped — and too often corrupted — by the benefits they draw from an industry that thrives on cages.
By contrast, the prisoner — stripped of freedom, identity, privilege and standing at the mercy of law alone — holds a voice unencumbered by such entanglements. It is the prisoner’s voice, paradoxically, that is the most faithful witness to the sanctity of law and justice. Unlike those who profit from incarceration, the carceral citizen’s perspective is beholden to nothing but the law and the truth. For that reason, it carries unique legitimacy and value to the People.
I write as one of those witnesses. It was from this position of radical clarity that, in 2022, I saw and warned that California’s judiciary and executive branches had quietly plunged our state into a constitutional crisis. By resisting and undermining the electorate’s decision in Proposition 57 and the Legislature’s mandate in Senate Bill 1391, they were eroding the very sovereignty of the People.
(Author’s note: For context, see my 2022 article, “Overreach: California’s Executive & Judicial Branches’ Deft Strokes Undermine the Electorate’s Power and Erode Freedom,” published in the Davis Vanguard, August 6, 2022.)
Two years later, the Legislature itself has confirmed this truth. With the passage of AB 1071, signed into law on October 13, 2025, California’s lawmakers declared what I had already seen from inside: that racial bias and judicial resistance have disfigured the law, obstructed the People’s will, and endangered democracy itself.
This is not merely about statutes, petitions, or court procedures. It is about the deeper reality of why such resistance exists. The judiciary has become the last stronghold of a dying paradigm — one built on the false energy of fear, racism, and the now-discredited myth of the “super-predator.”
For decades, careers, reputations, and entire lifestyles have been built on the backs of children branded as irredeemable. Every time the law corrects a wrongful sentence, it drives another nail into the coffin of that illusion. That is why resistance is so fierce: to admit the truth would unravel the foundation on which too many powerful lives were built.
And yet, even in the face of this resistance, a new paradigm is emerging. It is one that fearlessly professes humanity, that affirms the dignity of every life, and that honors the sovereignty of the People above the pride of institutions. This article is not about me alone. It is about that struggle — the cosmic battle between a paradigm that must end, and the one that must be born.
From Warning to Confirmation: The Prophecy of 2022 and the Enactment of AB 1071
In August of 2022, I authored an article that sought to sound an alarm. I wrote then that California’s judiciary and executive branches had “silently and insidiously hurled” our state into a constitutional crisis. I warned that, despite the People’s overwhelming vote for Proposition 57 and the Legislature’s enactment of Senate Bill 1391, the courts and the executive were obstructing their implementation. The consequence was not abstract. It meant that children — many of them Black and Brown — continued to languish in prisons under sentences the People had already rejected. It meant that the will of the electorate, the sovereign in a democracy, was being disregarded.
At the time, my words were easily dismissed by some. After all, I was speaking from a prison cell. But two years later, the California Legislature has given formal confirmation of what I declared then. In October 2025, Governor Gavin Newsom signed into law AB 1071, a bill whose findings echo the very warnings I raised. The Legislature found that California’s courts had, in practice, nullified the People’s reforms. It recognized that racial bias and outdated “tough on crime” ideologies had distorted the application of justice. And it acted to reaffirm that the People’s will — not the judiciary’s pride or the executive’s convenience — must guide the law of this state. It does this by commanding courts to stop erecting “procedural barriers” that “insulate convictions tainted by racial bias,” and to instead “stare at racial disparity unblinkingly.”
This moment matters. AB 1071 is not just another statute; it is a rare instance of the Legislature directly correcting, and publicly rebuking, the judiciary. It is an acknowledgment that the balance of power in our state has tipped dangerously away from the People, and that correction was necessary. Where I once stood alone in warning of this crisis, the Legislature itself has now declared it undeniable.
The passage of AB 1071 thus validates what many impacted communities have always known: that when courts resist reform, it is not simply legal procedure — it is a betrayal of democracy. And it underscores why the prisoner’s voice matters. Because from the inside, we saw it long before the halls of power admitted it.
The Value of the Prisoner’s Voice in a Constitutional Crisis
Democracy demands honest witnesses. In times of crisis, the only voices that can cut through layers of bureaucracy, political self-preservation, and institutional arrogance are those that stand to gain nothing from deception. That is why the prisoner’s voice is indispensable.
Every other actor in the system — judge, prosecutor, defense lawyer, prison guard, administrator, contractor — is enmeshed in the prison economy. Their careers, their pensions, their prestige are tied to its perpetuation. But the prisoner’s testimony carries no such entanglements. It is the voice of the carceral citizen that speaks most clearly to the truth of whether laws are honored or ignored, whether democracy is functioning or being eroded.
This is why the People must not dismiss but elevate the voices from behind the walls. They are not cries of bitterness; they are warnings rooted in lived experience. They are reminders that justice, to remain justice, cannot be left in the hands of those who profit from its corruption.
From the How to the Why: The Judiciary as the Last Stronghold
If the prisoner’s voice is so clear, why is it so systematically ignored? The answer moves us from the “how” of procedural obstruction to the “why” of psychological and institutional self-preservation.
The truth is that California’s judiciary has become the last bastion of a racist stronghold. For decades, judges and prosecutors built entire careers on the myths of the 1990s — “super-predator” children, “tough on crime” sentencing, and the presumption that Black and Brown youth were inherently dangerous. These myths have since been discredited, but the careers they launched remain. To admit error would be to delegitimize lifetimes of work, to unravel the reputations of those who climbed the ladder of prestige on the backs of incarcerated children.
Thus, every remedied case is not just a correction — it is an existential threat. It is a reminder that their legitimacy rests on sand. This is why the resistance is so entrenched. It is not about legal principle but about psychological fragility, racial denial, and the fear of career collapse. They resist not to serve justice, but to protect themselves from the truth.
The War Beyond the Battle: Toward a Higher Frequency of Justice
History teaches us the dangers of this path. I know the names George Jackson and Jonathan Jackson. I know what happened in San Quentin in August of 1971. Having been thrown into solitary confinement— and left to languish there — for over a decade at Pelican Bay and in retaliation for speaking out, I know the risks of challenging a system that has always met truth-tellers with violence. But history also teaches us that silence is complicity, and fear cannot sustain liberation.
My life trajectory has brought me here: to a place where the struggle is no longer about me. It is about the war between a dying paradigm and an emerging one. The old paradigm thrives on low vibrations — fear, racism, ego, and greed. The new paradigm arises on higher frequencies — dignity, humanity, and truth. It is not a battle of flesh and steel alone, but of energy and spirit.
To align with the new is to profess humanity fearlessly. To reject the myths that once chained children to life sentences and to affirm that the People’s will is sovereign. It is to say that no child should ever again be sacrificed to the pride of a judge or the career of a prosecutor.
Call to Vigilance and Solidarity
The People must remain vigilant. AB 1071 is a victory, but it is not the end. Laws on paper do not enforce themselves. The same forces that resisted Proposition 57 and Senate Bill 1391 will resist AB 1071, too. Implementation will be everything.
But here is the truth: the Legislature has already given the People the tools to demand compliance. The Welfare and Institutions Code begins with General Provisions that are not decorative; they are binding rules of construction, written by the People’s elected representatives.
- WIC § 2 commands that provisions “substantially the same” as prior statutes shall be construed as restatements and continuations, not as new enactments.
- WIC § 4 requires that in any pending case, all procedures thereafter shall conform to the new provisions.
- WIC § 5 establishes that these provisions govern the construction of the entire Code.
- WIC § 11 declares that the present tense includes the past and future — broadening the reach of reforms.
- WIC § 15 makes plain that shall is mandatory.
And the California Supreme Court itself, in People v. Navarro (1972) 7 Cal.3d 249, 260, confirmed that these rules control interpretation of the Welfare and Institutions Code. This precedent has never been overruled.
When courts and prosecutors today ignore these provisions, they are not exercising discretion. They are defying the People’s command and their own judicial precedent. This is open hypocrisy. It undermines democracy and drags the judiciary into disrepute.
That is why any organized action by the People is not only reasonable — it is legally required. We must demand that the rules our representatives enacted be honored, not ignored. To do otherwise is to surrender the sovereignty of the People to those who have no lawful authority to take it.
So I call on impacted families, community advocates, and free citizens to join hands with carceral citizens in this struggle:
- Demand compliance with the General Provisions of the Welfare and Institutions Code. Insist that courts and prosecutors apply them as binding law, not optional guidance.
- Demand that Navarro be followed. The judiciary cannot selectively forget its own precedent.
- Demand that District Attorneys stop opposing Racial Justice Act motions, which are exactly the kind of remedies the Legislature intended.
- Scrutinize judicial elections and appointments. Hold judges accountable when they defy the People’s will and legislative command.
- Organize relentlessly. The sovereignty of the People depends on more than a vote; it depends on pressure, vigilance, and a refusal to let statutory commands be twisted into dead letters.
Our voices are strongest when united. And our demands are not radical; they are the law. The People’s sovereignty lives in these provisions. To defend them is not only our right — it is our duty.
Conclusion: A Testament of Humanity and Law
I write these words with gratitude. Gratitude not only for the chance to speak, but for the chance to affirm humanity itself. This is not about vengeance, nor about me alone. It is about the People’s freedom, the sanctity of democracy, and the children who come after us.
I was imprisoned at age 15 under the now discredited “super-predator” laws of the 1990’s. As I write these words, I have never known freedom as an adult. That truth is not shared to evoke pity, but to illuminate why this struggle matters: to ensure that no child is ever again sacrificed to a lie, condemned to live out the prime of life in a cage built on fear and racism. The intuition of our nation’s High Court was correct: children are redeemable.
Every generation is called to confront the paradigms of its time. Ours is called to dismantle the remnants of racism and fear, and to usher in a higher order of justice. We must not fail.
The Legislature’s General Provisions are more than technical rules; they are the People’s command. To ignore them is to betray the sovereign power from which all government flows. To enforce them is to honor both the law and the spirit of democracy.
This is no longer about me. This is about ensuring that no child ever again suffers what we did. This is about humanity itself. And this is about the People’s will — sovereign, unbroken, and rising.
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