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Julieta Martinelli
Season two of Suave was made possible by the Mellon Foundation. Mellon makes grants to support visionaries and communities that unlock the power of the arts and humanities. To help connect us all more@mellon.org hey.
Maria Garcia
Suave listeners, it's Julieta here. Are you tired of waiting each week for new episodes to come out? Well, you can listen to the whole scene season of Suave right now, plus exclusive bonus episodes by joining Futuro plus. And you'll be helping support the independent journalism that we do here at Futuro. Join now at FuturoMediaGroup.org joinplus Suave is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. Fiscally responsible financial geniuses, monetary magicians. These are things people say about drivers who switch their car insurance to Progressive and save hundreds. Visit progressive.com to see if you could save Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates. Potential savings will vary. Not available in all states or situations. It's a hot summer day in New York and today Suave is making a dream come true. He's been invited to read a poem on stage at an Off Broadway play. Though Suave is a published author, it's not actually his writing he'll be debuting. He's actually reading a poem by someone that's really special to him.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
The piece that I'm reading was written by a gentleman called Frank Ross. Frank Ross is a lifer. They probably taught thousands and thousands of young guys in prison how to read and write, including me. Now I'm on stage in Broadway reading a piece from the guy that taught me how to read and write.
Maria Garcia
Suave remembers meeting Frank Ross in the early 90s. That was just a few years into Suave's lifetime prison sentence. Suave was in his early 20s then. He initially didn't pay much mind to Frank. Frank was in his late 50s and Suave says he always used to carry a notebook around. But Swabik did notice that no one ever really messed with Frank. Frank would go on to become really important to him.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
So it means to me that I'm paying honor to someone that made a difference in my life. I pay him back by coming to Broadway and reading his pieces.
Maria Garcia
Suave is one of a number of formerly incarcerated speakers reading at tonight's show. He's introduced to the stage by the show's producer, Kiara Legria Gudis. She's a Pulitzer Prize winning Philly native best known for writing the movie in the Heights. So the next person I'm gonna call to stage, Swabi Gonzalez. Suave knew this next author, Frank Ross, while inside. So this piece is Untitled by Frank Ross.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
He was an old guy when I met him. I never knew his real name. Had an Indian nickname. Once in a while, I almost came up with it. It wasn't like Bray Warren or Running Bear. He was called after one of the tribes, like Apache. It's on the tip of my tongue.
Maria Garcia
Long before Suave read Maria's memoir in his cell or was able to read her Christmas cards, long before he wrote letters home and before he became a published author behind bars, young Suave was completely illiterate. It didn't really bother him much then, or at least he acted like it didn't until he ended up in solitary confinement. No phone calls, no visitors. All he really had were these letters that his mom would send him with news from back home, Letters he couldn't read until then. He'd always had someone on the cell block willing to read them to him and write back for a pack of cigarettes. But solitary was really different. And that was when he thought of Frank, that older guy that was always walking around with a notebook writing God knows what. Now it's time to pay Frank back. And that means Suave confronting his own mortality. From Futuro Studios, this is Suave. I'm Julieta Martinelli. In 2017, David Luis Suave Gonzalez was released from prison after 31 years, serving a life sentence with without parole. He was one of thousands of juvenile lifers granted a second chance at life. This is a story about life after incarceration and the search for the true meaning of freedom. This is season two. On this episode, the Brothers Left Behind.
Julieta Martinelli
Are we good?
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Let me turn it off.
Maria Garcia
Suave's phone rings and rings and rings.
Julieta Martinelli
I mean, it's ringing all the time. Like he's teaching at the community college, and it's ringing. He's in his studio and he's painting. It's ringing. He's recording this podcast, and it's ringing. And it's just like, all the time. It's constant. Okay, but telling me that's okay.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
No more interruptions.
Maria Garcia
That's because Suave has made it a priority to stay connected with his brothers on the inside. Although he's busier than ever now and can no longer give them his full attention, there's certain phone calls he never misses, especially Frank's.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
That man showed me how to read and write, which is like the survival in prison, because if you can't read, you can't read your legal papers. You can't appeal your case. He showed me that.
Julieta Martinelli
So Frank is someone who I've Heard about a lot, but I've never met. And I remember Suave talking about this person who taught him how to read. This person who was like one of the oldest people that Suave knew in prison. And he would talk about this guy Frank, who helped a lot of guys learn the prison rules and how to stay safe. And he was teaching Suave how to do this. And I know that a lot of guys saw this guy Frank like a father, and that included Suave.
Maria Garcia
And so it was by pure luck when Frank called Suave one day to say hello. And you, Maria, just happened to be there.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Hey, Frank, what's going on, buddy?
Frank Ross
Not much.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
I'm over here, man. I'm over here telling my people how much you showed me when I was in prison. Right. How old are you, Frank? For the records? 90. What, and what, what do you do?
Frank Ross
Well, what I do, yeah, I learned how to write fiction since I've been here.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
How many screenplays have you written in 40 something years?
Frank Ross
Well, I got 45 now and about 25 are perfect, you know, and I got about 90.
Maria Garcia
45 screenplays and 90 short stories. A lifetime of work.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Right. So let me ask you this, Frank. Like, how many people have you shown how to read and write since your time in prison?
Frank Ross
Oh, quite a few. Quite a few people I need to brag about that ain't.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Well, it's not to brag, but people that have come under you, you know, it's something to talk about. I came under you, yeah, but you.
Frank Ross
Didn'T listen to me.
Julieta Martinelli
So it is hard to understand Frank over the phone. Right. You can tell that his voice is very kind, but it's also really raspy. It's worn out. I mean, he's been in prison for decades.
Frank Ross
I've been incarcerated for 43 years for first degree murder.
Maria Garcia
Before those 43 years in prison, Frank had a whole life. He had a wife and kids, a home and a job. Then in his late 40s, he was convicted of killing a man during a business dispute.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Frank Ross is like a late. I used to call him the late criminal. Family man, grown kids. He end up with a life sentence.
Julieta Martinelli
So once he was sentenced, Frank tried to make the most of his time. He promised himself that he would do something positive on the inside. And he found something to pour himself into.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
So he gets to gratis for. And he began writing and he became like this real famous writer. A lot of people wrote stories about him because he was that good of a writer. And he started writing movie scripts and books. But what he got satisfaction, was teaching other people how to read and write.
Maria Garcia
Including a young, rebellious Puerto Rican kid who had just started serving a life sentence.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
There was hundreds, if not thousands of people in the doc that he showed how to read and write, and I was one of them.
Julieta Martinelli
And, you know, Suave, when he first started, he wasn't really the easiest one to approach. I mean, he was a teenage rebel.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
When I first got to graduate, he was one of the dudes that. He had enough heart to step to me, I guess. He was like, hey, young boy, let me. Let me. Let me talk to you. And I used to tell him, look, man, what can you get for me? Right? And he said, I got some pen and paper for you.
Maria Garcia
Frank gave him 20 words a day, then 40 and so on. Back on the block, Suave says that Frank would walk by his cell every day. He would check on his progress. He would look over his assignments. It was kind of like having a private tutor. And the thing is, Frank didn't ask for anything in return, except that Suave actually tried. Suave says Frank was one of the first people to ever really have faith in him besides his mother.
Julieta Martinelli
Little by little, and over the years, Frank ended up teaching Suave how to read. So Suave was now reading. He was writing letters home. Then Frank taught him how to read these court documents, and then he opened up the world of literature. All of this ended up opening a literal new world for Suave, because when he went to court, his lawyer was able to highlight all the good work that Suave had done in prison, especially his focus on education, his writing, the fact that he went from being illiterate to being a college graduate. And then Suave gets out, and he was deemed worthy of a second chance.
Maria Garcia
And Frank cheered him on.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
And he still had that hope that I'm fighting. I'm trying to go home. And to me, that's like, wow. Because, yes. I always think about it like, dang, that could have been me 40 years from now, that could have been me easily. I know plenty of Frank Ross. I know plenty of people that I seen young that now are wrinkled. And you be like, damn, what happened?
Maria Garcia
Suave always thought that he would spend the rest of his life around Frank and both would die. At Greaterford, though there are no more daily visits or walks around the yard. That bond is still there.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
All right, bro. So call me. Call me today at a mall, man. Love you, and nice to meet you. Day of tomorrow.
Frank Ross
All you guys stay safe, okay?
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Okay.
Julieta Martinelli
Secure us. Goodbye. Wow. That's the first Time I've heard Frank Ross voice.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
90 years old.
Julieta Martinelli
Oh, my God. I didn't understand half of what he said.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Last two years now.
Julieta Martinelli
Wow. That was incredible. As we listened to more of Suave's phone calls with Frank over the next few months, we realized that the clock is really ticking, and in more ways than one.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
So tell me a little bit, Frank, if I remember, didn't you beat cancer?
Frank Ross
I still have cancer.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Oh, you still have it.
Frank Ross
I'm dealing with two cancers right now.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Oh, my bad, bro. I didn't realize that. I thought you'd beat it the first time.
Frank Ross
No, no, no, no.
Maria Garcia
Long ago, Suave remembers Frank being diagnosed with cancer. It was right around the time that Suave was fighting to get out of prison. When he finally got home, Frank told him not to worry about it, to focus on restarting his life, that everything was under control. But it wasn't.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
So. So. So what is it, Frank? What is it that keep you pushing to want to come home?
Frank Ross
Well, I don't know if it's pushing to come home. I'm asking for mercy.
Maria Garcia
Frank is asking for mercy.
Frank Ross
I didn't say I earned the right to come home, which I don't think you ever do if you take somebody's life on him. But I asked him. That can't happen no more, you know?
Julieta Martinelli
And Frank does have one small possibility of getting out. Ironically, it's due to the cancer that he's fighting.
Maria Garcia
The state of Pennsylvania offers the chance to apply for something called compassionate release. Basically, it's a legal process that allows someone who is gravely ill to be released from prison to their family for care. Essentially, you're basically being let out to go home and die.
Julieta Martinelli
But just because the policy exists doesn't mean that it's used as often as it could be. Because it's actually not easy at all to be approved for this, even if you're really, really sick, right?
Maria Garcia
No, Maria, it's not actually. In 2022, the investigative team at Spotlight PA reported that over the prior 13 year period, only 31 applicants had actually been granted their freedom to die. Essentially, other applicants died in prison. While waiting for an answer, Suave has been working on getting Frank's writing up online on a website that he hopes will help Frank's petition for compassionate release. But the thing is, even though Frank says he has two cancers, the state of Pennsylvania still doesn't consider him sick enough to apply. He'll have to wait until he's basically dying to have a shot at it.
Saleem Holbrook
I like to tell people that there's no dignity in death in prison.
Maria Garcia
This is Saleem Holbrook.
Saleem Holbrook
I'm the executive director of the Abolitionist Law Center.
Maria Garcia
Saleem is a former juvenile lifer like Suave, and he was also a mentee of Frank's and several others in prison. And he thinks a lot about what it means to die inside.
Saleem Holbrook
It is a horrible place to die. You die alone. You die chained to a steel bed with cold, callous faces. Your body is pretty much just wheeled on a gurney in a hallway and left to pick up as if it's just some disposable, for lack of a better word, trash that's taken to a county morgue.
Maria Garcia
Saleem now leads a special program to help people like Frank try and get compassionate release.
Saleem Holbrook
The process is pretty extensive. First of all, the person who was incarcerated has to be diagnosed with a terminal disease, meaning you have to be dying. You can't just be gravely sick. You can't have stage three terminal cancer. Another messed up thing is that it's almost like there has to be a resignation because if there is a medical treatment available on the streets that can possibly save you, you can't take it. Right, because it could bring you back.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
So that death by incarceration sentence still linger over you even if you get compassionate release.
Maria Garcia
But for lifers, even that would have been better than the nightmare of dying in prison. For most of his sentence, Suave thought he knew only one thing for certain, that the only way he would make it out of prison was in a box.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
And that was my greatest fear. You know, I witnessed my mother died, my grandmother died, my grandfather died, I mean, multiple family members die, all while I was in prison. And the only thing I feared was, I don't want them see me dying here.
Julieta Martinelli
Suave says he was a witness to multiple deaths while he was incarcerated. And this really had an impact on.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Him sitting in a hallway. Well, who died? Oh, such and so. Oh, man, he was a good dude. And I'm like, I do not want to go out like that. I mean, I think that's the reason why I got like a sleep in disorder where I can't sleep at night because I remember I used to lay in bed, I used to wonder like, I don't want to sleep because I don't want my heart to stop. I mean, I used to think about this stuff, and even today I'll be like, I don't want to go to bed because if I get a little chest pain, I might die in my sleep.
Julieta Martinelli
Something unexpected happened after Jeremy Scott confessed to killing Michelle Schofield in Bone Valley season one.
Robert Reason
Every time I hear about my dad.
Maria Garcia
Is, oh, he's a killer.
Robert Reason
He's just straight evil.
Julieta Martinelli
I was becoming the bridge between Jeremy Scott and the son he'd never known.
Robert Reason
At the end of the day, I'm literally a son of a killer.
Julieta Martinelli
Listen to new episodes of bone Valley Season 2 on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Maria Garcia
When the Supreme Court ruled that juvenile lifers like Suave could be resentenced, it revived hope for many others in prison. Not just those who were convicted as juveniles like Suave, but also those who were serving life like Frank. Maybe the laws would change for them too. But Suave knew that as the years passed, their hope was Waning.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Ross is 90 years old. 90 years old, fighting cancer. But because he haven't been yet classified as terminally ill, he can't apply for Compassion release. I mean, what a 90 year old man with cancer going to do out here? I mean, seriously, think about it. He's not a threat to nobody.
Maria Garcia
The thing is, someone like Frank is operating between two lines. Too sick for prison, but not sick enough for the parole board to grant compassionate release. With no real timeline on basically anything, it feels like an extra layer of cruelty.
Julieta Martinelli
And honestly, hearing this conversation and learning about the mental toll that it takes on people who are already sick and basically dying, I mean, this is when I realized why Suave is so adamant about not disconnecting entirely from prison. Why he has to pick up every single phone call. Because even though most of his friends are not sick, he. He feels that time is ticking, right? And even those who are young now inside the prison, they're only getting older. And eventually they might die there.
Maria Garcia
A few weeks later, I'm visiting Suave in Philly. Maria was not able to join us for this trip, but I get a chance to tag along with Suave on a visit to Frank's nephew, Robert Reason. Sometimes Frank will send Suave packages through him and today ones come in, we.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
In a car, we're going to go pick up a package and talk to Frank Ross nephew Frank would type like a thousand pages front and back and then want me to put it on Facebook. And I'm like, frank, Facebook is for old people. And he be like, well, Damn it, I'm 90 years old. I'm old.
Maria Garcia
We knock on the door of a corner row home in north Philadelphia.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Hey, Mr. Reason, how you doing? How you been?
Maria Garcia
How are you?
Robert Reason
Hello. How you doing?
Maria Garcia
Frank's nephew Robert Reason is a pretty serious man. He's in his 60s, about Suave. His height, bald, with broad shoulders and really strong arms.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Oh, that's a big one there.
Maria Garcia
He hands Suave a thick, sealed yellow envelope. It's a package from Frank. Do you mind giving us five minutes? Oh, you're cooking. So we'd agreed to an interview today, but Robert Reason stands in the doorway, arms crossed. He says he doesn't have time to talk, but he does agree to let us return in the evening for a few minutes outside. Standing on a street corner in the Badlands, Suave can't wait to start opening the envelope.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Look at the way it's wrapped up. It's wrapped up in a yellow envelope wrapped up in newspaper, taped up. So I'm opening it up and it kind of remind me of an offering. And you go, offer something. It's wrapped up with tape, newspapers. Look at it.
Maria Garcia
The wrapping is unlike anything I've ever seen before. There's about 30 pages of writing front and back. Each carefully written page is protected by a blank page below and above. They cradle the writing. The way that you would wrap your arms around someone you love. Those pages are then wrapped in newspaper and folded neatly like a present. And then once more, all that extra paper makes the package heavy. Nearly $12 worth of mail. Now that may not sound like a lot to you, but it's a fortune to someone like Frank, who can no longer work a prison job for a few cents an hour. It's evident that this package means a lot to Frank.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
I don't know what's in it yet, but you hear the paper.
Maria Garcia
The package contains a short story that Frank hopes to publish soon. It's called the Pardon. Suave turns to the acknowledgment page.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
In the beginning, the author Family gratefully acknowledged Mr. David Suave Gonzalez spelled my name with a S. Frank kind effort to highlight his body of work to the world. Frank, I'm going to let you slide with that.
Maria Garcia
So he dedicated this story to you. We come back to visit Frank's nephew later that evening. It's already dark. Robert welcomes us inside and he looks more relaxed.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Frank, man, how you doing, sir?
Robert Reason
I had a problem. I just came here for your case.
Maria Garcia
Thank you so much. So it turns out Robert is his wife's full time caretaker. She had a stroke last year and she needs a lot of help nowadays. He says that he worries a lot about her and his uncle Frank. How old were you when he was locked up?
Robert Reason
I'm correct. I think I Was. I was still a teenager. I was in junior high school when he got locked up. I got a lot of memories of him. On Christmas time, him and the family all used to get. We all used to get together, sit around Thanksgiving, eat whatever.
Maria Garcia
No one expected Frank to ever go to prison. He'd been successful working construction and even had bought some property.
Robert Reason
Well, he was a hardworking guy. See, we only got a chance to see him here and there because he's always at work. But it's been a long time since I really sat down with him. It been over 50 years. Close to 50 years.
Julieta Martinelli
For decades, Frank absolutely refused to have any visitors.
Robert Reason
He didn't want anybody to see him. Locked up in shackles or nothing like that. He didn't want people to see him. He didn't want his own kids to see him like that.
Julieta Martinelli
But when Frank's sister, Robert's mom, when she died, Frank started calling him. And since then, they've built a close bond.
Robert Reason
Other than that, it's beautiful for me just to hear his voice. And it brings joy to me every time when I hear him. But I hate for him to hang up, say, well, I gotta go now. And every time he say, I gotta go now. And then he say, click, that's it. So I'll just be waiting for his next call.
Maria Garcia
Robert says he's ready to assume responsibility for his uncle. The thing is, he kind of has to.
Julieta Martinelli
For a request for compassionate release to be filed, the incarcerated person has to show not only that they're dying, but that they have someone on the outside who's willing to take this person in and provide hospice care. They basically need to be able to allege that they would have better care on the outside than on the inside.
Maria Garcia
And what makes all of this even harder is not only does Frank have cancer, his nephew Robert, he does too.
Robert Reason
This time last year, I was down to £130. I'm just now starting to get my weight back. Just the medicine I'm taking, just prolonging it right now, the medicine just slows it down. That's all. I figured a couple years, I might not be here. I don't know. I don't know. So just thank God. Every day is my birthday. When he wakes me up, I said, thank God.
Maria Garcia
Robert says that his illness is terminal. He knows he will die. He's just scared of doing so before Frank is able to get out.
Robert Reason
I just would love to see him, that's all. You know what I mean? I don't know how long I might have. Yes, it's just like the time when my dad used to always say about the Eagles, I can't wait till they win that first championship. But he died a year before that. They wanted so, you know, so I will see him before something happened to me.
Maria Garcia
Robert is fighting time on the outside just as much as Frank is on the inside. In a system renowned for its slowness, that pressure of trying to help and not knowing what else you can actually do is mentally exhausting for Suave, too.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
I'm just trying to let go of that prison attachment that I had. And I think it was guilt from leaving my homies behind. As I get phone calls, people died. This person died, that person died. I used to feel guilty because those was my family. I grew up with them in prison. 31 years. I grew up with them. What I did, I kept like three people on my phone list. The rest I just told them, I need a year, bro. I just need a year. I kept three people. Frank, Freddie, and another young brother named Fox. Right. Because they don't even call that much. But I needed to detach myself. I realized that. That I'm like, bro, like most of my. Most of my phone calls were prison calls. And it was guilt. Like, damn, they ain't got nobody. You know, they need to talk to somebody. But I still send them money and, you know, I got them on the tablet, get their emails. But phone calls, I only get phone calls from three people now. And that was intentional. That was on purpose for me.
Maria Garcia
But as much as Suave has whittled down his phone list, the prison system remains present in so many aspects of Suave's life. That re entry program that he runs, the art he makes with remnants of his old prison uniforms and his paperwork, the jail program that he's helping the college start.
Julieta Martinelli
As much as Suave would like to detach from prison friends because it's a weight on him also, the thing is, he just can't give up this responsibility that he feels for helping them.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Frank is not doing good. I just got an email. What's going on from God in the prison that I always tell him to check on Frank. He just sent me a text. Well, I'll let you read it. You can read better than me.
Julieta Martinelli
Read it out. Okay. Suave. I checked on old head. Unfortunately, he's on the other side of the jail E block. I do know he's not in the infirmary. His health has declined. I sent word that you're worried and for him to call you asap. I'll keep my ears and eyes open for old head. All right, bro. Stay safe. Damn. Frank is not doing as well as he pretends to be. And I mean, I just keep on forgetting that Frank is over 90 years old. And at that age, in prison, I mean, it's a precarious situation.
Maria Garcia
A few days later, Suave talked to Frank on the phone. He called to tell me about it and he sounded really upset.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
He's sick, man. He was sick. Knew he was sick.
Maria Garcia
What's going on?
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
He's getting pushed in a wheelchair.
Maria Garcia
He told you?
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Yeah, he. I said, why you ain't tell me this before? He said, I thought you knew. I'm 90. I was like, oh my God.
Maria Garcia
Did you ask him how long he's been in the wheelchair?
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
Yeah, he said about four years. I said, frank, he said, I thought you knew. I said, frank, you never told me then.
Julieta Martinelli
The calls from Frank come less and less often. Making his way to the phones in a wheelchair is difficult. For now, Suave does what he can. He keeps his phone ringer on. He sprints to answer every call, kind of like the same way I did for him. And he hasn't given up on Frank the same way that Frank never gave up on Suave. Even when he was a young, hard headed troublemaker fighting his way through prison, Frank still believed in him.
Maria Garcia
And more broadly, Suave hasn't given up on fighting to reform the system that he lived in for more than 30 years, even though pushing up against the prison system often feel. Feels like pushing a rock up a hill. But then something happened that tested all of his conviction and commitment to the prison reform movement and put his very freedom and life itself in to question.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
I'm a regular citizen. Been working hard. I don't with nobody. I help where I can help. Why would you want to do this to me? I'm not a. I'm not a. At all. What make you think you could try me and I'm not going to react because if I get triggered. If I get triggered, somebody's going to get hurt. Real hurt. Not fake hurt. Real hurt.
Julieta Martinelli
You said yesterday that you had actually envisioned and prepared for your return. This has me terrified at this point.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez
I don't give a fuck. If I got to fucking die for this shit, I would do it.
Maria Garcia
That's next time on Suave. Suave is a production of Futuro Studios to binge every episode of Suave Season 2 right now. Plus exclusive bonus episodes. Subscribe to Futuro Plus. The Senior Producer, reporter and host is me, Julieta Martinelli. Our Associate producer is Liliana Ruiz. We're edited by Marlon Bishop. Our production managers are Jessica Ellis and Nancy Trujillo. Our post production producer is Dan Riveros. Scoring and sound design by Stephanie Lebeau. Mixing by Stephanie Lebeau, Julie Caruso and JJ Karuvin. Our fact checker is Amy Tardif. Production help from Joaquin Kotler, Juan Diego Ramirez, Nicole Rothwell, Joey Del Valle, Evelyn Fajardo Alvarez, Glori Marquez, Leah Shaw Dameron and Tasha Sandoval. Our executive producers are Marie Nojosa, Luis Suave Gonzalez, Marlon Bishop and Maria Garcia. Futuro Media was founded by Marie Hinojosa. Special thanks to Maggie Freeling, Audrey Quinn, Antonia Seregido, Fernanda Echabarri, Neil Rossini, students at the I.M. moore Program at the Community College of Philadelphia, the Abolitionist Law Center, Community Legal Services of Philadelphia and the Campaign for the Fair Sentencing of Youth. Season two of Suave was made possible by the Mellon Foundation. Mellon makes grants to support divisionaries and communities that unlock the power of the arts and humanities to help connect us all more@mellon.org Season 2 of Suave was made possible in part by Public Welfare foundation catalyzing transformative approaches to justice that are community led, restorative and racially. Just.
Julieta Martinelli
From PRX.
Release Date: May 6, 2025
Host/Producer: Futuro Media
Episode Title: Old Head
The episode opens on a vibrant summer day in New York, setting the stage for a significant personal achievement for Luis "Suave" Gonzalez. Suave, a former juvenile lifer who has transformed his life post-incarceration, is about to fulfill a long-held dream: reading a poem on stage at an Off-Broadway play. Although Suave is a published author, the poem he is set to read is penned by someone profoundly influential in his life—Frank Ross, a mentor from his prison days.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (02:35): "So it means to me that I'm paying honor to someone that made a difference in my life. I pay him back by coming to Broadway and reading his pieces."
Suave reminisces about his first encounter with Frank Ross in the early 1990s, a few years into his life sentence. Frank, a seasoned inmate in his late 50s, was a beacon of knowledge and stability within the prison walls. Initially indifferent, Suave gradually recognized Frank's unwavering dedication to teaching literacy and fostering a sense of community among inmates.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (03:30): "He was an old guy when I met him. I never knew his real name. Had an Indian nickname."
Frank's influence extended beyond basic literacy; he introduced Suave to the vast world of literature, empowering him to transform his life. This relationship was pivotal in Suave's eventual release and reintegration into society.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (08:25): "Frank was one of the first people to ever really have faith in me besides my mother."
As Suave thrives outside prison, his concern for Frank deepens. Frank, serving a life sentence without parole and battling two cancers, finds himself in a precarious position. Pennsylvania's compassionate release policies offer a glimmer of hope for inmates with terminal illnesses, but stringent criteria often leave individuals like Frank without relief.
Frank Ross (14:16): "I didn't say I earned the right to come home, which I don't think you ever do if you take somebody's life on him. But I asked him. That can't happen no more, you know?"
Despite Suave's efforts to spotlight Frank's literary contributions through online platforms, the state's reluctance to approve compassionate release for someone not deemed terminally ill severely limits Frank's chances of reuniting with his family before death.
Maria Garcia (15:08): "No, Maria, it's not actually. In 2022, the investigative team at Spotlight PA reported that over the prior 13-year period, only 31 applicants had actually been granted their freedom to die."
Saleem Holbrook, the executive director of the Abolitionist Law Center and a former juvenile lifer mentored by Frank, underscores the dire conditions awaiting inmates who die within the prison system. He emphasizes the lack of dignity and the impersonal nature of death in incarceration.
Saleem Holbrook (16:02): "It is a horrible place to die. You die alone. You die chained to a steel bed with cold, callous faces."
Saleem now spearheads initiatives to assist inmates like Frank in navigating the compassionate release process, striving to humanize and expedite their release for humane death outside prison walls.
The narrative shifts to Suave's interaction with Frank's nephew, Robert Reason. Robert, grappling with his terminal illness, embodies the parallel struggles of those inside and outside prison. His commitment to caring for his ailing aunt and uncle highlights the personal toll of the prison system's inhumanity.
Robert Reason (25:42): "I just would love to see him, that's all. I don't know how long I might have."
Robert's dedication to his uncle Frank underscores the essential support systems required for compassionate release, emphasizing the interconnectedness of inmates' lives with their families.
Despite Suave's successful reintegration, he grapples with the emotional weight of leaving behind his prison family. The constant influx of calls from inmates, witnessing the decline of those he once knew, and his commitment to supporting their education and rehabilitation create a persistent tension between his past and present life.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (28:44): "I'm just trying to let go of that prison attachment that I had. And I think it was guilt from leaving my homies behind."
Suave's selective approach to maintaining connections—limiting his active phone list to three individuals—demonstrates his struggle to balance responsibility with personal well-being.
The episode reaches a pivotal moment when Suave faces direct threats that challenge his commitment to prison reform. An altercation leaves listeners on edge, hinting at escalating tensions and the potential consequences of Suave's activism.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (34:00): "I don't give a fuck. If I got to fucking die for this shit, I would do it."
This confrontation not only tests Suave's resolve but also underscores the dangerous landscape of advocating for systemic change within a deeply entrenched prison system.
"Old Head" delves deep into the intertwined lives of Suave and Frank Ross, highlighting the complexities of post-incarceration relationships and the relentless pursuit of dignity and justice within an unforgiving system. Suave's unwavering support for Frank, coupled with his own challenges, paints a poignant picture of resilience and the enduring impact of mentorship.
As the episode concludes, listeners are left anticipating the unfolding of Suave's confrontation and its ramifications on his fight for prison reform, setting the stage for the next chapter in his journey.
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (02:35): "So it means to me that I'm paying honor to someone that made a difference in my life. I pay him back by coming to Broadway and reading his pieces."
Frank Ross (14:16): "I didn't say I earned the right to come home, which I don't think you ever do if you take somebody's life on him. But I asked him. That can't happen no more, you know?"
Saleem Holbrook (16:02): "It is a horrible place to die. You die alone. You die chained to a steel bed with cold, callous faces."
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (28:44): "I'm just trying to let go of that prison attachment that I had. And I think it was guilt from leaving my homies behind."
David Luis Suave Gonzalez (34:00): "I don't give a fuck. If I got to fucking die for this shit, I would do it."
Mentorship's Power: Frank Ross's role in Suave's transformation underscores the profound impact mentors can have on individuals' lives, especially within punitive systems.
Systemic Challenges: The struggle for compassionate release highlights systemic barriers that prevent humane treatment of aging and terminally ill inmates.
Personal Sacrifice: Suave's journey illustrates the personal sacrifices involved in advocating for reform and maintaining connections with the incarcerated community.
Emotional Toll: The episode sheds light on the psychological strain experienced by individuals like Suave, balancing past affiliations with present responsibilities.
"Old Head" serves as a compelling exploration of legacy, responsibility, and the ongoing fight for justice within the confines of a rigid prison system. Through Suave's lens, listeners gain an intimate understanding of the human stories that persist behind bars and the relentless pursuit of dignity amidst adversity.