Knock LA

Second Chances on A-Yard

Lieutenant Daniel Schumacher said that before getting promoted to lieutenant, he worked as the sergeant for A-yard. When the idea of the dog program was first introduced, his job was overseeing the yard and making sure operations ran smoothly. He credits the start of the dog program to Captain Crystal Wood, who advocated for this new type of rehabilitation because of her love for animals. 

“There was a captain on the facility who was a big dog lover and she had the idea that she wanted to start a dog program out on the yard,” Schumacher said. “We hadn’t had one in California yet, I think there were other programs throughout the United States but in California there was none.” 

After that, Lancaster State Prison began its collaboration with Karma Rescue. The rescue would bring dogs to the prison and each one was paired with an inmate who would train them extensively for about 12 weeks. After their training was complete, the prison hosted graduations where the inmates, dogs, sponsors, and family members could celebrate together. The dogs would then go on to be adopted.

Schumacher said that a concern when the program started was how the inmates would react when separated from the dogs they trained. He said that he was very worried for their mental health because he knew that the men and dogs would create a bond with each other that would be hard to let go of. Thankfully, he said, this didn’t turn out to be a problem. The men were filled with hope and were proud to have trained dogs that could go on to live a happy life. 

“I thought there would be some mental health issues like depression, but no, I never saw any of that. It was all really good,” said Schumacher.

Shifting Prison Norms

Donnell Campbell carries himself with quiet authority, tempered by a kind and soft-spoken nature. At first, he declined joining Paws for Life and opted to continue his focus on the art program he was in. Campbell thought the dog program sounded too good to be true, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up. His friend frequently urged him to join, but it wasn’t until Captain Wood approached him personally that he realized the program was actually happening, and he finally agreed. 

Over time, he said, mutual respect was forged between the general population of inmates in A-yard, those who were in the dog program, the guards, and the administration. This was a big deal, he said, because prison is usually a violent and hostile place. Men who would have never interacted previously became close with each other by learning to work together in the dog program. This shifted the atmosphere to a more peaceful tone, and the men were commended by staff because of it, said Campbell. 

“We had to talk to each other to make things work,” he said. “That brought a lot of people together and when they brought us together it showed the yard something different, so we ended up getting respect from the prison guards, the administration and the population of the prison. It made things a lot easier for the program to continue to run.”

As an example of the unity this program brought, Campbell spoke about a friend named Jack that he made in the program. He said that their first obstacle was being different races, and second was that they bumped heads a lot and disagreed. However, once they learned to trust each other, they developed a connection. 

“We got to know each other as human beings,” he said. “Not just ‘He’s Black and he’s white.’”

Simple interactions between different races in prison are frowned upon and can become deadly depending on the environment of the yard. 

“Say I gave Jack a Snickers bar and he ate it, then his people would try to kill him,” said Campbell. “Because of our different races this friendship would not be embraced in other parts of the prison, but in A-yard these interactions were normalized.” 

Cultivating a yard that was more relaxed was a collective decision made by the men residing there. They chose to break down barriers of prison politics with their own method of resolving conflict. They allowed each other to solve issues one on one versus getting others involved, said Campbell. 

His most memorable contribution was being tasked, alongside Lorenzo Flores, to train Brandy. He said that he is proud of the work they did together, proud to have made a difference, and proud to have made a good friend when prison politics taught them to hate each other because of their race.

At 25 years old, Campbell was sentenced to life in prison for attempted murder. After he had served 26 years, he was re-sentenced to 19 years and released shortly after. He is now a facilities manager and trains dogs for servicemen and servicewomen at a Marine Corps base in California. At first, he was commissioned to train one servicewoman’s dog because her dog was hyperreactive and would bark excessively. Once Campbell successfully trained her dog to stop barking, the word got around and now Campbell is highly regarded and sought after on base. 

“Hard work and being a productive member of whatever society you’re in pays off,” he said, “whether it’s a prison, which is like a fishbowl, or a city within a city, world within a world. However you want to look at it. Or regular society.”

From South Central to Lancaster

Ryan Fukuda carries a leash with him wherever he goes now, always ready to help a stray dog. He is a former volunteer who started at Karma Rescue when it first launched its prison program. He and Rande Levine figured out which dogs were good candidates for the program when she started working with The Lancaster California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. 

Fukuda was born on the island of Maui in Hawaii and came to Los Angeles when he was just four years old with his family. He went to high school in Los Angeles and got a bachelor’s degree from Cal State LA in Art. From there, he said he made a career out of graphic design. 

When Fukuda retired, an old girlfriend of his had gotten multiple tickets using his car. After he gave her the money to pay for them, she kept it instead, which Fukuda found out the hard way when he was pulled over and notified that he had to report to court for the tickets. He attended court and they came to the agreement that he would do hundreds of hours of community service to make up for the amount owed. 

Since he lived right next to the South LA Animal Shelter and has always loved animals, he started volunteering there to fulfill his community service hours. As time passed, Fukuda said he became well known for dedicating his time there every week. He would advocate for dogs there by collaborating with staff to train and socialize them. He kept track of who had the potential to be adopted and made sure to tell the staff, since employees only had time for animal husbandry and medical care and not much time to contribute to enrichment.

Fukuda trained volunteers by educating them on how to handle big dogs and teaching them how to assess a dog’s behavior and demeanor. He constructed a system with the staff that would identify volunteers’ ability to handle bigger dogs. Once training was complete and they demonstrated they could both handle big dogs and assess them for safety, the volunteers would be given a bright orange leash so that staff and other volunteers could recognize that they had advanced handling skills in the yard. Fukuda said that the work volunteers put in is imperative to socializing dogs at the shelter and helping them get adopted.

“There was a noticeable difference in dogs that were taken out and walked and played with,” he said. “They weren’t so crazy in their kennel.”

He eventually brought in friend and dog trainer Cornelius Austin, who is known as “Dog Man.” His work is dedicated to training bully breeds to help dismantle the negative perception society has about them, and has helped them get adopted into life-long homes. He began conducting free dog training classes each week at the South LA shelter. 

First, Fukuda selected a variety of dogs that had been overlooked in the shelter but showed potential for adoption. Then, advanced volunteer handlers worked one-on-one with Austin each week, allowing them to learn obedience training while the dogs received it.

Eventually, Fukuda grew close to Karma Rescue founder Rande Levine. Levine trusted him to help select dogs for the Lancaster State Prison program. He became even more involved, assisting with transportation. He attended graduations and frequently interacted with the inmates, which allowed him to build strong bonds with many of them. 

“The program really helped me learn that people can change,” said Fukuda. 

Little did Fukuda know, he was setting an example for the inmates that he was working closely alongside while he was volunteering with Paws for Life. 

The Person, Not the Prisoner

David Donovan entered Carolina Richardson’s holiday party with a huge smile on his face, his wife by his side, and several gifts in hand. He said that he was illiterate and dyslexic when he first went to prison, but he spent 15 years teaching himself how to read and write after growing tired of paying other inmates to read his letters for him. A friend of his named Sally sent him the R.L. Stine Goosebumps series, which were the first books he learned how to read. He continued his education while in prison and received two associate degrees.

Donovan had been in prison for about 18 years when Paws for Life was introduced. At 18 years old, he was arrested for first-degree murder and was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.  

When talk about the dog program circulated in the yard, Donovan said nobody could believe it. There had been discussion about the possibility of a dog program in 2009 that never reached fruition. He remembers the awe and joy of the moment he and other men witnessed the first five dogs walk onto the yard.

 “They started playing music, playing ‘Atomic Dog,’ the perfect song. And here it is, you got all these hardcore criminals right on the fence line waiting to see these dogs coming in. Some guys including myself had never seen a dog in about 18 years or something like that.”

Donovan said that it was a great feeling not being judged by the volunteers who would come in and help with the program and the dogs. He remembered Ryan Fukuda having a huge heart for the dogs. Donovan got the impression that it didn’t matter to Fukuda who was going to train the dogs as long as they were going to do it well.

“He came in, he sat on the floor with us, talked to us, got to know us,” he said. “He was interested in the person and not the prisoner.”

Donovan said these are lifelong bonds now, referencing all who attended the Christmas party, and how everyone there met through the dog program or Karma Rescue one way or the other.

He said that the dog program was a nice transition from how he experienced prison before, especially having a purpose in the morning, walking the dog with a cup of coffee instead of sleeping in. He also pointed out that Sergeant Schumacher was instrumental in keeping the dog program going throughout the years that he participated. 

“Captain Crystal Wood and Sergeant Schumacher were a couple of the good ones,” Donovan said, because they always pushed for the men to have a chance at hope and have a chance at making a difference. 

If an officer was giving the men a hard time about anything having to do with the dogs, Schumacher made sure to investigate the matter and reassign them if appropriate. He’d then find an officer who was a better fit for the dog program to assign to the yard instead.  

“There were a lot of officers that didn’t want to see us out there walking around with the dog because they felt like, hey, this is something that you guys shouldn’t have because you’re serving time,” Donovan said.

He recognized the hard work and working parts that had brought these moments and opportunities into fruition. While it started with Captain Wood, Donovan was even more touched by the dedication of the Karma Rescue volunteers. He noticed how they immersed themselves into saving dogs’ lives and admired the work they put in to determine which dogs were suitable for the prison program.

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 identity of vulnerable individuals.