Latin Kings gang: from prison to paradise
It started with teen drinking and smoking weed. Then I was swept into a gang and landed in a prison cell
Exclusive | 4 min read | US writer, US spellings
If you’re feeling pressured to join a gang, support is available on Childline’s website
I didn’t grow up in a happy home. There was no white picket fence and inside the lonely walls of my house, dysfunction reigned. When I was 13, my parents’ marriage began falling apart.
John Marchese at 18, wearing ALKQN gang colours. Photo: John Marchese
I didn't want to hear the constant vibrations of their yelling through the thin walls so I stayed out later than most kids my age normally would. It was on those nights that I drank alcohol and began using marijuana.
I never suspected that would prove to be a gateway to hard drugs, joining a notorious gang or landing myself in a prison cell.
The three words ‘Amor De Rey’ - King Love - will forever be ingrained in my brain: the motto of the Almighty Latin King and Queen Nation (ALKQN) that I was a member of for 14 years.
At first, it didn’t feel dangerous, it was exhilarating. I was a teenager hanging around with men with tattoos, muscles and respect. Men who called me their brother. Against the backdrop of my isolated home life, this loyal, supportive brotherhood felt amazing.
At 16, I studied the ‘knowledge’ given to me by older members of the gang for two weeks before taking my first oath as a probationary crown for the ALKQN. I passed, next taking a final oath and vowing I would be a Latin King until the day I die.
Standing shoulder to shoulder with my new so-called brothers felt empowering. I had finally found a home for myself - somewhere I belonged.
Of course, my parents didn’t know what I had done. During the day, I went to school and acted like a normal kid, sitting tests and joining friends at lunch. But after the final bell, I morphed into a violent gang member.
I did just about anything to earn my stripes and prove my devotion to the ALKQN. I wanted to be the suprema one day - the Almighty Crown. Most kids aspire to go to college and get a good job but I aspired to gain notoriety and status in the gang.
Escalating crimes
I began selling drugs and committing other crimes that no kid my age should have been okay with doing. But I was. I was OK with it.
I was living an increasingly regrettable lifestyle, and by 17 addicted to heroin and crack-cocaine. I would do anything for my next fix, even walking into a gas station with a loaded firearm, and telling the terrified cashier to empty the register. Detectives tracked me down and arrested me at a mini-mall on Long Island.
I vividly remember the hours I spent sitting in the county lock-up. I had no idea when I’d be released. I was only 23-years-old and should have been scared.
John at 23, pictured in prison uniform and handcuffs whilst on special leave to attend a family funeral. He is seen giving the Latin Kings hand signal. Photo: John Marchese
Instead, I’d spent years living by the saying, ‘Only God can judge me,’ thinking I was Tupac Shakur. A federal judge sentenced me to three years imprisonment in the New York State Department of Corrections, followed by three years of post-release community supervision parole for attempted robbery in the second degree. My charge would have been worse, but the District Attorney fortunately offered me a plea deal because this was my first and only criminal charge.
I was taken to Yaphank County Jail, or what inmates called ‘The Farm.’ Being a gang member in the county jail was simple - a ‘cakewalk.’ There wasn’t a lot of violence or drugs there because inmates spend their entire sentences in there typically doing less than one year. They just want to walk the straight and narrow so they can go home.
I did run into other Latin Kings in county and several of my brothers, who had been to prison before, warned me how much worse things are there compared to county jails. I didn’t think that was true and imagined prison would be quite to similar to county. I was so naive.
When reality hits
It didn’t sink in till I was put on a prison bus cuffed and shackled, and taken to the Franklin Correctional Facility - known by prisoners as the ‘War Zone’ some 11 hours away. Now I had a new name: State Prisoner 16A0622.
From what I‘d been told, Franklin was one of the worst jails in the NY prison system and I came to find out that was true. I was assigned my dormitory where up to 60 men can be housed at a time and you have to sleep with one eye open, the reported to my gang.
Latin Kings don’t have any way to prove you are who you say you are in prison, so they test the knowledge you were given when you first joined as a probationary crown. I passed.
We then went into the bathroom and a fellow crown checked my body to see if I had any tattoos that signified the Nation or if any had been blacked out. A blacked out tattoo signifies that you were once a member but you did something wrong and had your crown stripped away.
Gang protection
My knowledge and tattoos checked out, so I was given a bag of food, a pack of cigarettes, a bar of soap, deodorant, and a shiv (a prison blade). As I held the melted, twisted and sharp plastic knife in my hands, I knew being in this prison was going to be hard on all levels.
Days felt endless. At times, I lost my grip on reality. Was I in a never-ending nightmare? Would I ever get to go home? I thought about escaping, but that was a fruitless plan. There is razor wire on top of dizzyingly tall cement walls surrounding the prison grounds. There is also an electric fence several feet in front of the large wall. If there is any movement near it, the guards are silently signalled.
And this was a medium security prison.
I quickly lost sight of the life changing moment in court when my sentence had been passed when I’d realised the purpose of my incarceration was reform, to become someone better. Instead, I lashed out, got into fights with inmates – a lot – and was tagged as a security risk by correctional officers. The guards harassed and beat me.
I was bounced to four different prisons for bringing drugs into a state facility and for my propensity for violent altercations.
Inhumane
In each one, I was sent to SHU (Special Housing Unit). The SHU 200 is what we called a ‘box,’ which has 200 cells that hold about 800 men inside of it. I spent about a third of my sentence in SHU. One time, I spent 160 consecutive days in a cell there, alone.
Can you imagine being by yourself in a small cell that is just shy of 9 feet by 7 feet for almost 23 hours a day, for 160 days with no one to talk to? To this day, I have PTSD from my stint there.
I often wake up in the middle of the night saturated in sweat after dreaming I’m back in the SHU again. They’re so real I cry and sometimes wake my girlfriend for emotional support. I also suffer from social anxiety, which is something I never struggled with before being isolated in such an inhumane manner for so long.
At any one time, 61,000 prisoners in the USA are in solitary confinement. They are disproportionately young men, and disproportionately Hispanic and African American. Studies have shown just a few days of social isolation can lead to lasting mental health damage.
solitary confinement is considered to be a form of torture by United Nations and should be strictly prohibited for more than 15 days.
My SHU prison cell was sparse. It had was a metal toilet and sink. There was a shower, though it looked more like a metal hole in the wall and the guards only turned the water on for 15 minutes every other day. Not being able to shower when I wanted was depressing, especially given there was no air conditioning and the heat in the cell was stifling.
I read a lot of books, counted the cracks on the cement walls, received letters and the occasional visit. The prisons can’t take that privilege away, luckily. My days in solitary blended together and the walls seemed to be closing in on me. The only thing that kept me going was reminding myself that the loneliness was temporary.
After my release from the SHU, I met Jesus, a former Latin King and Silencio, a Latin King with 30 years inside of the Nation.
Lightbulb moment
The night before I was released, the three of us had a heart to heart. Jesus was in for murder and Silencio for triple murder. Both of their cases were gang related – they’d followed orders to kill from a ranking gang officer. Down the line, the same officer had ratted on them.
Jesus and Silencio received 25 years to life each. Jesus had been in for 22 years, and Silencio had been in for 20. They told me that I was a fool for wanting to be a gang banger because I was going to end up like them and never get to enjoy my life.
It finally hit me that they were right — one day I would end up getting life in prison and never go home.
Stock photo of a Department of Corrections inmate inside his cell. Photo: Damir Spanic/Unsplash
I was released the next day, April 5th, 2018, and remember going to the bathroom right before they let me out, sitting inside the stall, and crying. The emotions hit me like a flood. I couldn’t believe that I’d made it and today was finally my day to go home.
Freedom
After three years, I was finally free.
It felt like a dream to walk through my front door, hug my parents and baby sister. Every moment from that second on felt like a blessing. My mother sensed the change in me and told me: ‘You went into prison a boy and came out as a man.’ She was right.
All I’d known for 14 years prior was gang mentality, and I had been willing to die for it, but prison - and my conversations with Jesus and Silencio - had humbled me and I no longer wanted to be a part of the Nation. I was not willing to spend the rest of my life in prison for anybody.
John and his devoted girlfriend, Megan. Photo: John Marchese
The simple joys of having privacy and freedom whenever I wanted reminded me how much I had taken for granted before. I could never put myself in a situation that could send me back to prison. My mental health couldn’t afford me to go back there.
I began to put my family and myself before anything else, knowing leaving the drugs and the gang in the past would be the smartest decision I ever made.
A fresh start
I cut ties with the gang completely. I didn’t say goodbye, I just left them in the dust, the same place that they would have left me if they’d had the chance.
I began going to martial arts and yoga classes on a daily basis. Now, I play basketball with some of the local kids in my neighborhood to help support them in making the right decisions and not going off the rails.
I’m working on starting a youth gang reform program at my local recreational center involving parents and children because I know how difficult it can be having a kid that is a part of a gang.
I’ve also found special someone who keeps me grounded every day. She is beautiful, smart, genuinely cares about me, and doesn’t want to see me go back to the way I was. I love her with all of my heart and she has turned out to be a gift the universe has unexpectedly given me.
Breaking free of the gang chains that were holding me back is one of the most incredible feelings. I never thought I would be able to leave the Latin Kings, but life has become so much simpler, brighter and happier.
I know I’m one of the lucky ones - I escaped with my life and my liberty.
Resources for support:
The parents guide to gangs (USA)
Spotting criminal exploitation and gang involvement (UK). If you’re feeling pressured to join a gang, you can find support on Childline’s website.
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