Travielle Pope

Born: 1974 | Years incarcerated: 26 | Released: 2018 | Location: Los Angeles

O n April 29, 1992, four Los Angeles police officers were acquitted of all charges related to the beating of Rodney King. Travielle Pope watched the news and then, like thousands of other Black people who felt no justice was served, he took to the streets.

During the protest, Travielle accosted and attacked a man, who later died from his injuries. Seventeen-yearold Travielle was arrested, charged with first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

In 2000, after eight years behind bars, he gave his life to Christ.

In August 2017, after a chance meeting with Nancy McFadden, a top aide to then-Gov. Jerry Brown, Travielle’s sentence was commuted and he became eligible to go before the parole board. “I showed them that I had developed tools in prison from the various self-help classes and my spiritual beliefs,” he says. “And that I will not kill again.”

His first day out was hectic. “I basically went from living in a fishbowl, you know, which is the prison yard, to swimming in an ocean.” On top of the social stimulation, he had to unlearn the mindset that comes with being incarcerated.

“I was overwhelmed, because in prison, if someone walks up close to you, that means they’re trying to harm you,” he explains, noting how he relied on the support of his wife, Hope. During their first meal out, he nervously grabbed a steak knife. Hope reacted by patting Travielle’s balled-up hand and saying: “It’s going to be OK.”

He found that others were willing to help him too. While struggling at the state Department of Motor Vehicles, he explained to the attendant he’d been incarcerated for 26 years, and it was all new to him. “She looked at me and said, ‘Baby, I’m so sorry. Welcome home.’”

Since his release, Travielle has worked five different jobs, all involving physical labor. He’s currently recovering from a workplace injury.

He’s also still learning the small things, like “controlling his normal face,” because some people might perceive it as a mean face. In one of the classes he was made to attend, he once read that it’s a common byproduct of post-incarceration syndrome. When asked if the classes worked, he says, “No.”

“The people aren’t really equipped to meet the needs of the prisoners,” Travielle says. “I do think that the best help for formerly incarcerated folks is other formerly incarcerated folks.”