I was recently asked, “Who inspires you?”
While I could have identified musicians, authors and activists who have shaped my existence, I expressed gratitude for my greatest inspiration here at California State Prison, Los Angeles County. His name is Noel Jackson. We know him by his nickname No-No.
No-No inspired me because he always had a great attitude and positive outlook. He always woke up early every morning and worked as the lead man on the prison yard maintenance crew here on A-Facility, better known as the Progressive Programming Facility.
Our prison has many notable events, programs and visits from guests. We have a dog program. A documentary was filmed on our campus. And we have hosted celebrities, such as Justin and Hailey Bieber, John Legend, and Kim and Khloe Kardashian.
But none of these have uplifted my spirits as much as No-No.
Every morning at 6:30, when I walked to the chow hall for breakfast, I always used to see No-No hard at work, scrubbing the urinals, picking up trash and doing whatever else needed to be done.
This job is often frowned upon, yet he worked with a smile on his face. He took great pride in his work. Beyond the job, he offered kind words to every person he met regardless of their race, or whether they were incarcerated or staff.
Every morning I told him, “You’re the hardest working man in the land.” Ever gracious, he always smiled and said, “That title belongs to you, young brother.”
His character was enough to inspire me, but it’s his story that I hope will inspire many more people.
No-No was incarcerated for 40 years, 28 of which he spent in California’s death row at San Quentin State Prison. He was arrested in 1984, and after five years of court proceedings, he was sentenced to death — plus an additional 31 years to life. He was sent to San Quentin in 1989 and was incarcerated there until 2017.
The death penalty still technically exists in California, but the state hasn’t executed anyone since 2006. At the time of No-No’s arrival, the state’s method of execution was the gas chamber. No-No told me about his peers on death row who died.
“Guys couldn’t make it. They found it too hard to cope with reality,” he told me during an interview in early 2024. “I saw more people die by suicide than sit in the death chair [in the gas chamber].”
“How were you able to endure that experience?” I asked.
“I had to disconnect from the outside world.”
He explained that people who killed themselves on death row often were stressed out by things they missed from life beyond the walls. “I had to let my family and friends go,” he said. “It was hard to cut contact with the people I love, but it’s what I had to do in order to survive.”
Every person sent to death row has an execution date. Most people worried over the date as each year brought them closer to death. But No-No said he didn’t stress the end of his life thanks to his relationship with God.
“I was so bitter. I thought nobody loved me, and they all abandoned me, until one Sunday, God touched my heart,” No-No said. “I let go of the burden and wrote to my family. I was shocked to see that all of my family still loved me and were excited to have a relationship with me.”
In April 2017, No-No was released to a mainline, or general population, prison yard for the first time during his incarceration. Despite No-No not receiving any disciplinary action for over 20 years, he was sent to Calipatria State Prison, a maximum security facility with a reputation for being violent.
No-No said he experienced trauma as soon as he got off the bus. Soon after arriving, he heard an alarm in general population for the first time and was ordered to “Get down!” by a guard in the tower holding a rifle.
“It was scary. It was different being around so many people,” No-No said. “Also, seeing a lot of violence there, I prayed a lot. There were people there to comfort me, they gave me assurance — that’s what got me through.”
In 2019, due to good behavior, No-No was transferred to a lower-security prison — our Progressive Programming Facility. He said his arrival to our prison “was way better than Calipatria.”
“It felt like a summer camp,” he said. “Program started at 8 a.m. and there was recreation yard until 3:30 p.m. every day. Guys played all sports — basketball, baseball, volleyball, horseshoes. The only thing missing was a lake and a canoe. I also got a job on the yard crew, which was my first job in 35 years. It was a chance for me to give back. I knew in my heart that I would go home from this yard.”
Those words reminded me of something I often heard growing up: “If you believe it, you can achieve it.”
That saying is a reality for No-No today. After winning an appeal in court, No-No was released from custody in the spring and is now a free man.
My last question to him earlier this year was: “What are you looking forward to upon release?”
“To start my life over in North Carolina with my sister,” he said.
He followed with, “God is good, young brother. He did it for me and he will do it for you.”
