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On a July morning last year, I was getting ready to visit my father in San Quentin Rehabilitation Center when he called me from the prepaid prison line. I was about to leave for the 12 p.m. appointment, after traveling 415 miles from Los Angeles County.
I answered the phone. He was quiet for a long time.
“I’m so sorry, mija,” he said.
I asked him what he meant. He told me that a prison official had just announced that visits were canceled. The prison was on lockdown.
I refused to accept that. I had traveled so far, spent so much on my flight, taken out more than a 100 dollar bills for the vending machine to feed him, and emotionally prepared to see him for six hours a day that weekend only to be forced to walk away and lose him all over again.
I ordered my Uber to San Quentin not knowing what was going to happen. If they were going to turn me away, they’d have to tell me to my face.
When I got there, that hallway was empty and the door was locked. There was a sign on the door that said visits were canceled for the day due to modified programming.
The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation website issued an update that visiting was canceled at 11:09 a.m., even though visits started at noon. We were given a 51-minute notice.
Outside the locked visiting hall were two women who were also grappling with the cancellation who had come from far away.
I reluctantly went home, thinking the next day things would be different. My Saturday appointment was for 7:30 a.m., but when I got there, it was the same thing as the day before: Visiting was canceled.
Visits are three days, so I had one more chance to see him. Before I left on Saturday, I asked if they could move my appointment to Sunday so I wouldn’t have to go as a walk-in. They agreed, but it was false hope because they canceled visits on Sunday, too.
I had to leave the Bay Area and fly home without seeing my dad the entire trip.
This year, Assemblymember Mia Bonta introduced AB 2434, which would prohibit CDCR from authorizing same-day denials when a visitor has traveled over 100 miles, or has not visited within 30 days. If that bill had been law that weekend when visits got canceled at the last minute, I might have been able to see him all three days.
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In addition, it would also prohibit visitation denials or restrictions based on disciplinary matters unrelated to visitation, and prioritize preserving visits in case of dress code violations. I’ve seen correctional officers turn away people because their clothes fit too tight — at the same time, we could be turned away if our clothes are too baggy.
The bill would also ensure that all searches of visitors are voluntary, non-contact and performed by officers of the same gender when unclothed searches are required. The fact that the bill has to codify same gender officers for unclothed searches should say it all.
Families have been trying to get a bill that protects visiting passed since 2021, when the pandemic demonstrated how flimsy visiting standards can be and families went months not knowing when they could finally see their loved ones.
If I know anything about families impacted by incarceration, we are strong and resilient and will continue fighting for our loved ones until we get the protections we deserve.
