Knock LA

Connected Through Purpose

On a chilly evening in December, a disparate group gathered: animal activists, volunteers, and formerly incarcerated men at a home in an affluent Los Angeles neighborhood. The host was Carolina Richardson, who cooked and served drinks to all in attendance. Her pit bull Coco sniffed around and approached visitors hoping to share their savory treats but was limited to small pieces of broccoli and cauliflower. Coco defies assumptions often placed on dogs of her breed. She is gentle, affectionate, and a little round from the abundance of treats she receives as a well-loved house dog.

As time went by guests trickled in, bringing along their own treats, such as eggnog and pastries. By 8 p.m., the whispers of conversations had turned into loud laughter and animated discussions about the work everyone at the party was connected to: rehabilitating and enriching the lives of at-risk dogs.

What was most interesting about this display of community and connection is that each person’s journey into it was unique, yet they were so connected by their shared  purpose that they have been compelled to spend the holidays together each year and regularly keep in touch. Their bond was the result of an affiliation with an animal rescue called Karma Rescue. Some of them, like Richardson, started off as volunteers with Karma Rescue’s education and enrichment programs. Others were former inmates who participated in Karma Rescue’s canine prison program called Paws for Life. At one point, these men didn’t know if they’d ever see the outside of a prison campus again. The canine prison program saved dogs, and in many ways it saved people.

Paws for Life, at Lancaster State Corrections and Rehabilitation, was the first canine prison program to be implemented in a maximum security prison in Southern California. Inmates here are serving long sentences including life without parole. Several inmates who attended the holiday party were a part of the very first cohort of dog trainers to participate in this program and some were never supposed to return home. 

A New Vision

The idea of starting an animal rescue came to founder Rande Levine when she was a volunteer herself. After noticing that some animal rescues seemed to shy away from taking in bully breeds (pit bulls and similar breeds), she felt the urge to help. She said that pit bull–type dogs often struggle to get adopted or rescued due to widespread stigma. Inspired to take action, she set out to create her own animal rescue: Karma Rescue.

“I noticed that some of the most overcrowded shelters had so many dogs that were in danger of being euthanized, especially the stigmatized breeds, that’s where I wanted to direct my focus,” said Levine.

She set her sights on the South Los Angeles animal shelter which she said had a high volume of dogs that needed to be rescued or they’d be killed. She said that the shelter was often over capacity and would “red-list” dogs to indicate that they were in danger of being euthanized. Levine became focused on rescuing as many of these “red-listed” dogs as she could.

As Levine’s knowledge about the plight of dogs in the shelter expanded, so did Karma Rescue’s mission. Levine started learning about breed-specific legislation, the broad term for laws and policies that classify certain dog breeds as dangerous and pose regulations on them. Levine began incorporating education and youth outreach into Karma Rescue to combat this narrative. She and her team would educate the public on spay and neuter through their program Create Karma Allies. She also started a program where a therapy/service pit bull and a Karma Rescue volunteer would read books to kids at various Los Angeles Public Libraries.

“We wanted to have education programs in order to fulfill our mission of adoptable animals finding homes, especially the bully breeds,” Levine said. “So we started an education program called Create Karma Allies and we also started a library program called Reading Isn’t Rough.”

In 2014, Karma Rescue was put on a surprising yet exciting detour when Levine was approached by Lancaster State Prison to run a dog prison program. Captain Crystal Wood, who is very fond of animals, introduced the idea of a dog program to the warden and was given approval. Levine was appointed to create and run the program. 

At first, some correctional officers working in the prison expressed concerns about the program, said Levine. They didn’t like the idea of having pit bulls in the prison due to safety concerns, and felt that having to ask inmates for permission to approach them when they were handling their dog seemed to give inmates authority. The warden decided to move forward under the condition that no pit bulls would be allowed, and after a period of brainstorming together, some of the inmates chose the name “Paws for Life.”

Levine’s passion to help all at-risk dogs led her and her team to find a way to include pit bulls in the program. Their breeds would be reclassified by shelter or veterinary staff as something closely related to a pit bull because most dogs from the shelter are mixed anyway, she said.

“We would provide records that changed the breed description to something else like a boxer-lab,” she said. “We snuck pits in there and the captain knew. She was very anti-pit bull at first but ended up falling in love with the breed. We had to work around that breed exclusion.”

Levine crafted an application so that incarcerated residents could apply to be a part of the program, including an essay component. She explained that the application process was collaborative. The captain would ensure that candidates did not have criminal backgrounds associated with charges such as sexual abuse or domestic violence. Levine, who was in charge of reviewing the applications, found that it became hard to keep up with the process of reading through the essays. This is when she leaned on the help of a volunteer named Dr. Bidhan Chandra Roy, a writing professor from California State University, Los Angeles. 

“We had him take over the writing aspects of the program and now the men in the Lancaster Prison Program can get their college degree,” said Levine. “It morphed into its own program, and it’s phenomenal.” 

A few years into the program, Levine incorporated service dog training for veterans with PTSD. She explained that volunteers from Karma Rescue were invaluable to this process, frequently assisting with transportation and tasks within the prison, a key element that enabled the program’s success. Levine found it rewarding to witness the unexpected bonds that formed through the program, even between individuals with previously antagonistic relationships. She anticipated the program would yield positive results, but she never imagined the extent to which it would evolve and flourish. In 2018, she stepped down as president and passed the torch when her husband’s job relocated to Iowa.

Set Apart

Lorenzo Flores was born and raised in East Los Angeles. After living a traumatic upbringing of mistreatment and neglect by his own parents, Lorenzo wound up on a path of drug use and crime. As a teenager, Flores started using crack cocaine and joined a gang called Metro 13. When he joined, he considered fellow members as more than friends, they were his adopted family, and he would do anything to protect them.

“I found out that I wasn’t scared of anything,” Flores said. He said that he was hired to kill someone and the attempt was unsuccessful. In a pursuit with the police that followed, Flores shot at law enforcement. This led to his arrest and he was charged with multiple life sentences before reaching adulthood. 

For many years in prison, Flores said he was concerned with maintaining his reputation and was still engaged in activities that would get him into trouble. But one day he had a powerful epiphany with God that led him to change the course he was on and ultimately resulted in his freedom.

Being considered for “A-yard,” where the dog program is held, is something that is highly sought after in prison, Flores explained. He went to Lancaster A-yard before they implemented the canine prison program because the positive change in his behavior was palpable by staff. A-yard is called a progressive programming facility where the atmosphere is more community style. This is a relief to men inside the prison, he said, because there’s no racism or judgement. In other yards, Lorenzo said, “you’d have to stick to your own race, [but] in A-yard you can talk to whoever you want, eat with whoever you want, you can act like more of a normal person.”

At first, he had no clue that A-yard existed until he was assigned to B-yard. When he presented in front of the committee to figure out where his next designated area would be, he had already built rapport with a counselor that he had served as a clerk for and the counselor offered to put him in A-yard. That’s when he learned about the dogs. The dog program positively impacted his life in helping him unlearn street norms, societal norms, and prison norms.

The very first dog that Flores was assigned was a black and white pitbull named Boris. Flores recounted how the dog had no mean bone in his body,“a ball of joy and love.” Boris was just hours away from being euthanized when he was pulled to be rescued from South LA Shelter. This was impactful to Flores, knowing that a dog that was kind and loving in nature would be killed for no reason, and that he was now responsible for him.  

In prison, men keep to themselves. Flores described, that in prison culture, you seldom trust anyone except people from your own race. The dog program required teamwork which, in turn, prompted life-long bonding with people of other races that he never expected to bond with. He talked about a fellow teammate in the program named Christian Murdock. At first they didn’t interact with each other at all, but through the program they’ve become best friends. Flores said that he’s watched the hardest men become the sweetest people in the world. He himself had once been praised for being the “most hardcore” member in his gang. 

Flores said that service dog training is so extensive, he had to train the dog at night as well as the daytime. At night, he would pretend to have night terrors or need medication so that the dog could respond. 

“My dog was my actual cellmate, I didn’t have to live with another human anymore, I lived with my dog,” said Flores.

His most memorable trainee in the program was a yellow labrador named Brandy. Brandy was eventually adopted by a teenage survivor of the Saugus High School shootings. After seeing her best friend killed in front of her and sustaining a gunshot to the abdomen, the young girl’s parents wanted to find a service dog that could help her heal and make her feel safe. Brandy stood by the girl’s side throughout high school after Flores and another inmate, Donell Campbell, trained her to do over 100 commands. Now that Flores is out of prison, the young girl’s parents keep in contact with him and even periodically meet him for dinner. 

Flores wasn’t supposed to go to the parole board until he was in his 80s, but the law changed, making it possible for him to go to the board after 24 years. USC law students involved in the Post-Conviction Justice Project are assigned a post-conviction case before graduation. After persistent requests from Flores to take his case, he said some of these students finally agreed. They didn’t think he would get out because he was imprisoned for shooting at law enforcement which is not taken lightly. They too warned Flores that he wouldn’t get out his first or even second time, but he beat the odds and got out the very first time. He said that he credits his release to working with the dogs, showing accountability for his actions, demonstrating change, and verbalizing his positive intentions moving forward.

Students in the Post-Conviction Justice Project regularly go to prisons to provide workshops to inmates. He said that the USC legal team encourages inmates that, if Lorenzo can do it, they can do it. “I was the worst of the worst and they’re like you’re out!” Flores said. He tells them, “You can do it too, but you have to do the work.” 

After being granted release, Flores now spends his time helping the USC law students with their prison workshops. He teaches a workshop on how to address the parole board, guiding inmates on using vulnerability as a strength not a weakness.

“They go in and think they are still in court, but I remind them they’ve already been convicted for their crime,” Flores said. He tells them not to get defensive, to be honest and open and to participate in the programming that is available to them.

Aside from mentoring incarcerated men, Flores works full time as a dog trainer on a ranch that is owned by one of his previous Paws for Life teammates. They train service animals together, a journey they embarked on together in prison while facing the possibility of never being released. “Now it’s all about giving back for me,” Flores said.

Note: This is the first part of a three part story that will be continued over the coming weeks. Some names have been changed to protect the privacy of vulnerable individuals.