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2000 H Street, N.W., Stockton Hall 402
Washington, D.C., District of Columbia,20052
In the heart of the nation's capital, with additional programs in Virginia, the George Washington University, or GW, was created by an Act of Congress in 1821. Today, GW is the largest institution of higher education in the District of Columbia. The university... more.
Each One Reach One
Central Juvenile Hall
Originating Member of the Inside Out Writers Program
George Washington University
Posted by: Molly Redden in News, Vox Populi, tags: Famous Freshman, George Washington University, Mario Rocha
Mario Rocha at GWU A lot of students have to overcome adversity in order to get to college, but Mario Rocha, who is about to complete his first semester at George Washington University, pretty much has all other students beat: prior to arriving on GWU's campus, the 30-year-old freshman spent 10 years in prison, having been wrongfully convicted of first-degree murder. In his Washington Post profile of Rocha, Daniel De Vise writes that Rocha was incarcerated for the murder of Martin Aceves, who shot to death at a Los Angeles house party in 1996, when he was 16 years old. Four years ago, he was found to have been wrongfully convicted. He was tried as an adult and sentenced to 35 years imprisonment. In the juvenile detention center where he was incarcerated, he began creative writing. He drew the attention of a nun, Sister Janet Harris, who found an attorney to advocate for his release. De Vise writes that Rocha stayed incredibly positive during an excruciatingly slow fight for his release-at one point consoling the attorneys who were prepared to console him when they experienced another setback in court. Rocha is attending GWU on a scholarship which he accepted with some reluctance.
Northern Colorado students receiving their General Educational Development certificate can learn about perseverance from Mario Rocha.
At age 16, Rocha, of Los Angeles, was arrested on charges of murder despite his claims of innocence and was sentenced to two life terms. While awaiting trial in Central Juvenile Hall, he earned his GED certificate and became a writer. Rocha was released in 2006 after a California appeals court "decided that his original trial attorney failed to adequately represent him. Prosecutors chose not to retry the case. Rocha is now a student at George Washington Uni-versity. Largely self-taught, this is his first experience in formal education since junior high school. Rocha will speak at 4 p.m. today in the Colorado State University Lory Student Center Theatre in Fort Collins at a graduation ceremony honoring local GED graduates.
Mario Rocha's first, spartan dorm room at George Washington University felt a little like solitary confinement.
He should know. Rocha once spent a summer in solitary confinement. In some ways, Rocha is a typical student at GW, where he enrolled in January as a freshman. He has a gift for writing, a new voter registration card and relative inexperience behind the wheel of an automobile. But there is one difference. Rocha spent 10 years in prison after being arrested and then convicted of first-degree murder. Rocha was incarcerated at 16 for the murder of Martin Aceves, who died in an exchange of gunfire at a Los Angeles house party. Rocha is on scholarship at one of the most selective colleges in America. He is 30, a decade older than most of his classmates. He only recently switched to a computer from the manual typewriter he was allowed in prison. He entered GW to continue an education that began, for all practical purposes, in juvenile hall, as he awaited trial. He has had little formal education since junior high school and is largely self-taught. "I'm taking it one semester at a time. That's the only way I can approach this," said Rocha, who lives with adult roommates in a house in Columbia Heights, three miles from his former dorm room in Foggy Bottom. He is taking courses in physical geography, women's studies, weight training and the media, along with Introduction to Criminal Justice, a subject to which he presumably needs no introduction. One night in 1996, Rocha, his brother and some friends were chased from a keg party by the sound of gunfire, not a particularly unusual occurrence in their neighborhood of Highland Park. A few days later, police crashed through the door of the Rocha home and arrested Mario. Rocha knew he was innocent. He assumed that would be enough. "I honestly thought, maybe naively, that I was going to get released on my first court date," he said. At trial, prosecutors inaccurately portrayed Rocha as a gang member, along with his co-defendants, two gang members in their 20s. An eyewitness identified him as one of the shooters. Tried as an adult, he drew a sentence of 35 years to life. At his sentencing, Rocha thought to himself, "Today is my funeral." Before incarceration, Rocha did not seem destined for a scholarly life. His parents separated when he was 13; his mother worked as a school custodian. He attended a succession of high schools and then a vocational school, where he learned to drive a forklift. A life's purpose But inside Central Juvenile Hall, Rocha found a craft that would sustain him through years of confinement and a voice that would inspire others to fight for his release. He was picked to participate in an inmate writing program. On Dec. 13, 1997, he wrote this: I may not be free to do many things but nothing can stop me from having these dreams: Dreams of going to college and obtaining an education that will help me achieve my aspirations. is words caught the eye of Sister Janet Harris, a nun of the Sisters of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who had started the writing program. "I began to watch Mario, and he had none of the body language of a gang member," Harris recalled. Rocha had no gang tattoos. He could only feign enthusiasm for strutting around the courtyard with the rest of the Chicano prisoners, time he might better spend writing plays. A photograph from that era shows Mario in a crowd of nine boys in orange detention jumpsuits. He is the one wearing black-rimmed glasses. Shocked to see Rocha convicted, Harris assembled a packet of his creative writing and a summary of the case and began shopping it around among L.A. lawyers. She searched for nearly two years. Harris eventually persuaded Latham & Watkins, an A-list firm, to take the case pro bono. The senior partner succumbed, she said, to "good old Catholic guilt." Prosecutors argued that the case against Rocha had been as strong as the case against his co-defendants, and strong enough to win a jury conviction. The lawyers built an argument that he was a victim of bad lawyering. Rocha's trial lawyer, hired by his family, had failed to object when prosecutors called Rocha a gang member. When a witness described the shooter firing with his left hand, the lawyer hadn't mentioned Rocha was right-handed. The Latham lawyers found a witness, a party hostess, to discredit the man who had identified Rocha as the shooter, testifying that the witness was not even standing near the fight. Mario Rocha was becoming a cause. Ten months later, a judge again ruled against Rocha. Inside Cell 211 at Calipatria State Prison, Rocha had resolved to make the best of his time. He wrote poetry, typed essays, filled journals and read liberation theology. He awakened daily at 4:30 a.m. and spent an hour working out, visualizing an alternate future. He would tell himself, "This is the way I want my life to unfold," he recalled. But Rocha didn't walk out of prison for another eight months, until after prosecutors lost an appeal to the state supreme court. Recalling that first day of freedom in August 2006, he said, "They handed me a cellphone, and it felt so small. I handed it back to them. I said, 'I'm not ready for this.' " He slept that night on the roof of his cousin's garage, reacquainting himself with the stars. As a result of his minor celebrity, Rocha found himself adopted by influential people. He stayed for a time with a movie producer in Century City before rejoining his family. But first, Rocha has to get through GW. He struggled at first with mundane tasks such as picking classes and keeping pace with a course syllabus, emblems of a 13-year lapse in full-time education. His initial papers lacked some of the stylistic conventions of college essays. Rocha is juggling twin identities as student and social activist.
Mario Alberto Rocha is a 23-year-old Chicano prisoner serving a sentence of two consecutive life terms at the Calipatria State Prison in the southern California desert. In 1996 he was arrested for murder and attempted murder. From 1997-1998 he was an originating member of the Inside Out Writers program at Central Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles. Rocha has since then become an advisory member of EORO (www.each1reach1.org), and his continued work with Sohnen has appeared in several Bay Area newspapers, including the San Francisco Examiner. In short, Rocha may well be the next Mumia Abu Jamal: that prisoner whose case is so clearly unjust that it ignites a nation in protest.
Mario Rocha Mario RochaMario Alberto Rocha is a 23-year-old Chicano prisoner serving a sentence of two consecutive life terms at the Calipatria State Prison in the southern California desert.In 1996 he was arrested for murder and attempted murder.From 1997-1998 he was an originating member of the Inside Out Writers program at Central Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles.Rocha has since then become an advisory member of EORO (www.each1reach1.org), and his continued work with Sohnen has appeared in several Bay Area newspapers, including the San Francisco Examiner.In short, Rocha may well be the next Mumia Abu Jamal: that prisoner whose case is so clearly unjust that it ignites a nation in protest.