Photo credit: Muna Malik
By Ghostwrite Mike and The Mundo Press
CHOWCHILLA, CA – Acclaimed poet Reginald Dwayne Betts – once in an interview – described how little writing has been done on the joy that can be found in prison.
When carceral state residents do acquire the opportunity to speak, the usual result is some top-of-mind remarks revolving around a myriad of complaints experienced universally by the more than one million folks who sleep in government cages.
Meeting Michael Latt, a tireless prison reform advocate, was one of those rare encounters of love and light.
Despite his untimely death in Los Angeles, we simply refuse to allow his recent and tragic passing blunt our joyous celebration of both his selfless altruism and the social justice work he devoted himself to. He lived in service of equality and the cessation of mass incarceration.
The sheer scope in which the penal system apparatus deploys its methods of repression often crowd out the otherwise few, brief moments of humanity worth heralding.
Film producer Scott Budnick, Michael, and the highly awarded artist and prison reform activist Common, spent the last decade touring many of California’s prisons in support of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition’s (ARC) legislative efforts.
The ARC was able to reform the criminal justice system that has resulted in the eradication of life without parole (LWOP) sentences for juveniles.
These efforts have delivered both rational sentencing reviews and provided humane parole consideration to thousands of young people who committed their offenses before the age of 26 – the scientifically evidenced time at which the brain has fully developed.
Music, media and storytelling have helped reshape draconian politics of public safety and sentencing laws by humanizing the plight of our society’s youngest offenders and amplifying their successful post-carceral transitions.
Following his media work with Common, Michael continued his work by using his executive role at Netflix to platform stories that spearheaded a cultural shift by centering the marginalized slices of life few might see in media.
Calvin Williams, Senior Advisor of Social Impact and Advocacy for Common’s Think Common Entertainment, described “The fierce light that Mike shined and brought to this world.”
Upon first meeting him, Michael was setting up live PA gear in our gymnasium at Valley State Prison (VSP) for the screening of Sol Guy’s film, “The Death of My Two Fathers.” Seeking his advice, we were surprised at his unassuming demeanor and the time he devoted to thoroughly lending his advice regarding the navigation of media in the carceral landscape.
Michael emphasized the need for carceral state residents to “harness media tools, develop agency, and boldly tell compelling stories of choices, consequences and transformation, with the intention of reframing the conversation about the role of prisons in America.”
Written on his own palm, Michael wore a James Baldwin quote that said, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
It is surreal to refer to the notes that summarize his advice from over a year ago. Michael was the first person to provide such support to the poetry anthology project we were working on honoring the external advocates who supported our pursuit of art, media and publishing equity while incarcerated.
It is wrenchingly difficult to stomach the bitter irony that Michael was taken from us by the sort of person Michael’s altruism predisposed him to help.
We are both haunted and soothed by the emails from him that now live like tombs in our ViaPath tablet thread. We remember the calls we shared with him about his intention to return to VSP to visit Common’s Rebirth of Sound Music Program.
Most painfully, we remember seeing the red carpet photo he took with Budnick just a few days before he passed that was sent to us – a photo taken on the same night and the same red carpet that reported his death on NBC, a few days after we’d already been told he was gone.
It was haunting.
Nothing prepares you for that memorial-style media experience that moves in slow motion – even when you know it’s coming. It was a gut punch, especially knowing that the impending media wave would eventually crash, and cause a second wave of pain for his spouse, family, and colleagues – some of whom shared time and space with us.
It is hard to know the proper approach for such a heavy and difficult tragedy with so many influential people connected to it. After it was over, we looked at each other tearfully and stared at Michael’s outlined hand as if we were holding something that did not belong to us or that we shouldn’t keep from the world.
We wanted to share it.
When you meet somebody and discover the weight of the world is caving in on them, the empathetic instinct is to display humanity, convey solidarity and uplift.
When those who experience the loss are the same folks who leave their free-world lives, travel long distances, and put up with the inconveniences of entering a prison, just to show us a sustained human kindness, they occupy a special place in our hearts.
Saying “thank you” is too pedestrian.
Michael gave more to humanity than he ever sought. We hope those who are struggling with this loss know there are men here who are bound in grief and seeking peace in this dissonance. Thank you all for sharing him with us. We will miss him fondly.
Michael, farewell friend.
