For most of my 14 years behind bars in Arizona, the holidays passed in silence. Letters to my family took a week to arrive. Phone calls were short and often canceled if there weren’t enough staff. My son grew up without me. I missed birthdays, Christmas mornings, and milestones I could never get back. While the rest of the world gathered around dinner tables, I sat alone, cut off from the people who mattered most.
Then, in the last two years of my sentence, something changed. I was given access to a tablet. To someone on the outside, it might sound small. But to me, it was life changing.
For the first time, I could text my son “good morning” and hear back from him that same day. I could say “I love you” before bed and know he would see it. During the holidays, those simple exchanges mattered more than I can describe. They restored my dignity as a father. They reminded me that I was more than an incarcerated individual; I was still a dad, a partner, and a man with a future waiting beyond the prison walls.
Technology didn’t erase the distance, but it allowed me to be present in small, meaningful ways, like sending a message on Christmas morning, that helped me stay grounded during a time of year that is especially hard for people behind bars.
The tablet also helped me prepare for what came next. It had reentry tools, job listings, and workforce training videos from people who had come home before me. Watching those videos, seeing those maps of where I might work, quieted the fear that I wouldn’t make it. Instead of asking, What if I fail again? I started asking, What if I succeed?
But the most powerful transformation wasn’t just in me, it was in the men around me. Guys who had spent decades in gangs or battling addiction started walking away from that life just to keep their tablets and stay connected with their families. I’ll never forget one man, a tough guy who had been in prison for years, breaking down in tears after receiving his first email from his sister in 25 years. One message changed him.
Today, I’m home. I work in HVAC, and I’ve also started building an app of my own, called ETOS, “Everybody Thinks of Someone.” It’s designed to help incarcerated individuals stay part of birthdays and holidays by sending meaningful gifts to loved ones. As we enter a new year, it’s my way of giving back the kind of connection that saved me.
When people ask me what made the difference, the answer is simple: technology. It helped me rebuild my relationship with my son, ease the fear of reentry, and gain the confidence to move forward.
The man who entered prison is not the man who walked out. That change shouldn’t depend on luck or timing. As we look ahead into 2026, we have an opportunity to rethink what digital connection means. Research shows that people who maintain family ties during incarceration are more likely to succeed after release, strengthening both families and communities. Expanding access to secure tablets isn’t just a technology upgrade; it’s a public-safety strategy, an economic opportunity, and a chance to reaffirm human dignity.
If more prisons offered tablets, more people would come home ready to succeed as parents, workers, and neighbors. That means fewer people returning to prison, stronger families, and safer communities for all of us.
I’m proud to be proof of what’s possible. This new year, my hope is simple: that connection becomes the norm, not the exception.
