In 2002, Pam described her experience fighting for release from prison. Since that time, she has led an active and positive life as a volunteer, a community activist, and a person committed to fighting for a more just and humane California.

She titled her story, "To Hell and Back," and, now she faces a return to prison on March 31.

"To Hell and Back"
A Three Strikes Survivor Tells Her Story

by Pamela C. Martinez

My name is Pamela Martinez, and I am a Three Strikes survivor.  By survivor, I mean that on July 9, 1996, I was sentenced to 25 years to life for petty theft with a prior conviction.  I am now free and would like to share with you what it's like to go to Hell and back and the impact this law has had, not only on the inmates, but on their families as well.

My husband of 20 years was diagnosed with a terminal illness, liver cancer, two weeks before I was arrested.  My solution to this devastating news was to drink Kahlua and take Valium. I picked him up from the hospital on February 10th, 1995, and was arrested for petty theft of a toolbox on February 11, 1995.

During my initial arraignment, I was advised I was looking at a possible sentence of 25 years to life. I wasn't exceedingly worried, because I had never heard of a "strike" law and was certain the court had somehow mixed up the files and erroneously believed that mine was a murder case.

I was assigned a very nice public defender who urged me to accept a negotiated plea of 17 years, 80% of a Three Strikes minimum sentence.  My past plea bargains came back to haunt me and triggered the strike law.  In 1978, I accepted a two year prison term for a robbery conviction.  In 1987, I accepted a prison term for second-degree robbery, which was actually shoplifting, but since the security guard fell and scraped his knee, they charged me with robbery.  I do not condone my past criminal behavior and offer no excuses except to say that I was a drug addict and did not have the knowledge or motivation to seek treatment.

I was informed that the district attorney was being very gracious in my case by even offering a deal of any kind. I was not appreciative of their offer and proceeded to defend myself in propria persona. I studied and prepared my case for a year and half. Before trial, I brought in a private attorney. 

I was sentenced on July 9, 1996, 19 days after the now infamous Romero decision.  I believed that, since the judge was privy to more information than the jury was, he would strike at least one strike (and hopefully more). He didn't: it would have been political suicide.  The last thing I saw before leaving the courtroom that day were the tears running down my husband's face. 

Upon my arrival to the California Department of Corrections, I was kept at the highest security level possible.  The Department of Corrections looks only to the sentence and not the crime.  The mandatory minimum on a three strikes case is 25 flat years.  My first eligible parole hearing was scheduled for 2019.

Hopelessness and despair is what permeates the lives of strikers.  It comes from the knowledge that you might never see your loved ones again, never pet a dog, never see the ocean, and possibly never hold your child again.  My husband was approved to visit five days before he died. I never saw him alive again, and being classified as a "lifer," I was ineligible to attend his funeral.

I lost on direct appeal all the way through the California Supreme Court.  My only recourse now was a writ of habeas corpus based on ineffective assistance of counsel.  Through hard work and diligence, a USC law student and I were eventually successful.  In July of 1999, my conviction was reversed and my sentence vacated.  Charges were reinstated and a new trial ordered.  The superior court judge struck one of my strikes and offered me a  nine year sentence. 

I accepted this "deal," not wanting to risk another possible 25 years to life sentence.  After seven years of incarceration, I can tell you that this law is unjust. I was not a model citizen during my drug years, but I still cared about the human race. For many years, I was a paramedic on ski patrol.  I saved people's lives and cared what happened to them.  It hurt my heart to be ostracized from a society I cared about, to be viewed as unworthy to participate in society.  I did not deserve to do a mandatory 25 years in prison and/or die in prison, nor do the thousands of others that I have left behind, and I view my current work in support of Three Strikes Reform as a way to keep saving lives.