ENTERING OUT OF THE DARKNESS
AND INTO THE LIGHT,
MY PERSONAL TESTIMONY
By Paul Robert Garcia
I am a 25 year old first timer serving a life sentence for murder. When the Department of Corrections chained and shackled my arms, legs and feet to be suitable for transportation to the State Prison Reception Center, the experience would be one of the lowest points in my life.
Once seated on the prison bus, reality hit me like a ton of bricks. This was no dream. The reality was, I was convicted of First Degree Felony Murder, found guilty by a jury of my peers in a Sacramento, California courtroom on June 16, 1994. Just fourteen months before I was dancing the night away at my High-school Senior Ball with my sixteen year old girlfriend/fiance.
I begin to reminisce in my mind the decisions that I made in the years leading up to the murder. It is amazing, the changes I`ve undergone. Making the life-altering decision in the Sacramento County Jail to accept our Lord Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior was a miracle in itself.
There were many areas of my life marked by sin and failure. In an effort to fill the emptiness within my heart, mind and soul, I found gratification in many places. There were sexual relationships outside of my girlfriend, impure thoughts, violent fantasies, mor sexual immorality, lavish spending, playing violent video games, manipulating those who loved me, and fleshly lusts for female feet.
The result of this self gratification was loneliness, despair, unbridled tongue, obsessive tendencies, low self esteem, poor grades, inability to hold down a job, social dysfunction, suicidal tendencies, paranoia, and a taste for self destruction.
How does an eighteen year old high-school senior in "middle class America" have a beautiful girlfriend, nice clothes, a beautiful home to lay his head, and a family who loves him nearly destroy his life in one single act of madness?
We must first take a short journey down memory lane.
I was born Paul Robert Garcia on July 7, 1974 in beautiful, picturesque San Jose, California to Portuguese and Spanish parents. I was the third child, my two sisters being four and eight years older than me. Both my parents were hard working individuals in a major manufacturing company. They always provided us kids with the best clothes and toys a middle-class kid could desire. At times my father worked three jobs just to meet all of our personal needs. As an overweight, callow youth I dealt with a social disorder, learning disability, character disorder, and a discipline problem that carried over into my everyday life. At the age of five my parents attempted to have me evaluated for psychological problems after my sister claims I pointed a shotgun at her face but, because of my age, there were no psychiatric services available to us. My parents held me back from kindergarten. By the age of ten I had set two mountains on fire that caused my parents thousands upon thousands of dollars.
While in elementary school, the principal had suspended me numerous times and spanked me with a paddle, with my mother`s consent, over 50 times. This before I even entered junior-high. Most of my schooling was spent in classes with students with learning disabilities. In the neighborhood many kids feared me because my behavior was cruel and vindictive. The older kids attacked me and teased me at every turn. The girls in my class found me repulsive during most of my schooling. For many years I lived in a dream world of imaginary friends and played games by myself for the most part. This created a safe place within my own imagination. It was extremely lonely. My mother allowed me to play organized soccer for six years and, over time, I became graceful defending the net as a goalie.There was a future for me in San Jose soccer. A lack of dedication, and my parents` divorce in 1986, dashed all hopes of stardom.
In seventh grade the junior highschool expelled me for excessive fighting. At this time my mother and I were living in a smaller house instead of the two story house we were accustomed to. My oldest sister was in college at a major university and my other sister was off to Hawaii to be with her marine husband. Growing up in a predominantly Caucasian neighborhood left some prejudices in my life that would come back to haunt me in the eighth grade. These prejudices would be nurtured while a senior in highschool when I was introduced to the Mormon Church. Yes, that is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. After passing the seventh grade in a continuation school with decent grades my mother couldn't deal with my behavior problems any longer, nor my whining about not being able to live with my father. The summer of 1988 my father and his girlfriend would allow me to live in their home in San Jose's predominantly Hispanic community where I would attend a predominantly Hispanic junior-high school. That school year was hell-on-earth mentally and physically. Since I didn't speak the Spanish language, or know the lingo, my attitude and behavior led to fights at least once a week. There were times my life was in jeopardy. In one such incident I defended myself against a knife welding classmate attempting to shank me while fighting several other students at the same time. The next day in school we were all suspended. I was suspended on numerous occasions that year. Luckily I graduated junior-high. After graduation my father, his girlfriend, and I packed up the trailer bed and moved to Sacramento, California. I would be given a fresh start, and my dad`s girlfriend, who I considered to be my stepmother, would accept a promotion in the same corporation my parents had been working at for years.
We moved into an ethnically balanced middle-class neighborhood. Once in highschool not much changed. Old habits are hard to break. My freshman year I was suspended for fighting and kicked off the football team for taking a swing at the coach. A couple of female students taunted me at times for my weight problem. I began having relationships with various girls that same year, however. Unfortunately my choices in girls didn't pan out for several of the girls had the same emotional problems I had experienced for years. This caused an explosive mix of love, passion, jealousy, and heartbreak.
My first girlfriend was a "devil in a blue dress." In my mind she was the greatest. Three months later she would exhibit her true colors. We broke up suddenly, because of her cheating heart. She would soon turn several classmates against me and for the next year I would defend myself against various attackers. My relationships continued on to a suicidal girlfriend, then to various relationships meant to be a joke, and a relationship where one girl had no affection for me but was with me because I had a reputation for dazzling girlfriends with teddy bears, flowers, love song dedications and other gifts. She wasn't all that pretty, but I felt a great love for her that one couldn't deny. I tried everything to win her love. Despite bing her boyfriend she would rarely show affection back to me. Her actions devastated me mentally when we broke up on at least eight different occasions. Years later, when I was doing time in New Folsom State Prison, while on a visit with someone, she walked into the visiting room to see another inmate. Seeing her again brought back a flood of memories. It also gave me a chance to make peace with our past, and I did.
In my sophomore year of highschool I was out of control. There were numerous relationships, and mischief at every turn. From my freshman year and through my sophomore year I took care of my self after school. My dad commuted three hundred miles to work and back each day to San Jose and my stepmother worked nights.
A parent can imagine what a sixteen year old teenager can do when their not around. Surprisingly though I never used drugs or misused alcohol. The worst thing I did while my parents were away was eat too much and make a mess of the house which I always cleaned up before they got home from work.
The turning point in my life took place in the middle of my sophomore year. While walking home from school, an Asian street gang attacked me in a church parking lot. Being outnumbered ten to one excited me. The Asians were upset because I had picked on one of their partners during gym class earlier that day. The fight lasted only a couple of minutes. As the Asians made a dash for their two cars, I was in pursuit. As they drove off I kicked in their taillight and caused them to crash into another vehicle. The next day in school chaos ensued. A couple of my friends and I attacked two Asian classmates. In a matter of minutes several students, myself and the football team were squaring off against Asian classmates. Some of the Asians from the previous day were present. The disturbance was quickly broken up, and school officials suspended me and several other classmates for five days. For the rest of that year my days were spent dodging and waving my way home and around the neighborhood for rumor had it that there was a contract out on my life. On at least two occasions school police escorted me home after the school received threats on my life.
The summer of 1991 my attitude and behavior changed. When classes started up again in September there was a gentler Paul Garcia. I was getting decent grades and keeping my nose clean, despite some mischief and a few more relationships that fizzled out.
On February 11, 1992 my life would change forever and the princes of darkness would prep me for the biggest fall of my life. I would meet and get together with one of the most beautiful and well liked girls in school all in one day. She was your typical teen-age California Blond Bombshell. I was seventeen years old, and she was a mature fourteen year old highschool freshman on the verge of turning fifteen. She was an "A" and "B" student. We felt excited and blessed to have found each other. I was ecstatic to have a girl in my life that actually accepted me for who I was and willing to return my affection. She still didn't know everything about my past, and the rage that was built up inside my soul. During the next eight months we would spend all our time together, dealing with various adversities within our homes, only to bond together strongly in order to get what we desired. Spending so much of our free time together concerned her parents, and they tried to limit that time. Her family would eventually invite me to visit their church and introduce me to the Mormon Church congregation. Shortly thereafter I started to attended church regularly with her family. My own family didn't hold any strong religious beliefs. We were self proclaimed Catholics, only attending church on religious holidays and the occasional Sunday. Soon the Mormon Church would grow to love me and, in a secret ceremony, would baptize me. Through the Mormon Church I would become extremely prejudice towards African Americans. The Mormon Church is predominantly Caucasian and it is evident African Americans are not accepted into the inner circle. While a member of the Mormon Church I participated in "Baptism for the Dead", and visited one of their precious temples. Surprisingly, if our economy was to fall or there was a depression, the Mormon Church can continue on with their daily operations. They have their own welfare system, job services, medical care, housing services, psych services and other community resources.
In December of 1992 I went to work for Del Taco as a cashier. My job assignment was to work the graveyard shift, eleven to seven. After work it was my responsibility to report to school for seven hours of educational teaching. After school ended I would visit my girlfriend at her home or talk on the phone for hours on end to various friends. This type of schedule caused sleep depravation, anxiety, depression, and violent fantasies.
My relationship with my girlfriend had become serious and we decided we wanted to get married. I gave her a temporary engagement ring and, over the summer, we tried to conceive a baby, without results. Her parents soon found out about our engagement, and they warmed up to the idea of marriage after we sat down together in late December, 1992 for a meeting of the minds. We discussed financial plans, and how I planned on supporting their oldest daughter. It isn't uncommon in the Mormon Church for girls to marry at a young age. She would be sixteen in March and her parents took into consideration our desire to be married. They had the final say and would be the ones to sign the proper documents giving approval.
I had a job offer in Texas upon graduation, amongst others, but I would fail in the pursuit of higher expectations. The Mormon Church would become my life. My girlfriend and I would attend Mormon dances, seminary before school, and after school activities as well as other social events of the Mormon Church. For the first time in my life I had an identity. What I had was false security. My girlfriend was my identity and if I was to lose that I felt as if I would die. She loved me unconditionally and was devoted to me in every way, but I was unfaithful. It was like wanting your cake and eating it too. My cheating was definitely against the rules of chastity designated by the Mormon Church, and in most relationships. Soon I felt that, if I could cheat on her, she could cheat on me too. Jealousy rooted itself firmly in my mind. After years of watering and nurturing the dark side, the beast, was ready to be unleashed and my mind was going to be the battle field. I had visions and fantasies of killing my girlfriend and of hurting other folks. It was becoming more evident that Paul Robert Garcia needed psychiatric treatment. I made an effort to cry out to the heavens and to family members, but the cries fell on deaf ears. The very people who loved me would tell me "Your going through a faze. It will pass."
In March of 1993 a woman I'd been having sexual relations with became pregnant and I would manipulate her into having an abortion. The devil was having his way in my life and I was more than willing to entertain him. During the four years leading up to the murder, my home life deteriorated. In my opinion alcohol was becoming a problem for both my father and stepmother. I'd refer to them in my mind as being weekend alcoholics. My father would explode in anger if the dinner was burnt of if he was talking during a movie and we chose to ignore him. Mostly while drinking. When he was mad he would take his anger out on household appliances, breaking televisions, windows and other things. He never actually hit my stepmother, but would restrain her in a hostile manner. My father only hit me two times while I was in highschool. In one incident, on Christmas Eve, we fought each other when he tried to verbally intimidate me after I called my sister a bad name. A struggle ensued and I struck him. At 12:00 a.m. Christmas morning I was out on the street. I wandered the streets of Sacramento until morning when I could get to my best friend's house for shelter. The same friend who, three and a half years later, would have a part in the murder of my stepmother. Later that day, for the first time in his life, my father apologized for his actions and asked if I would come home. I did and he allowed me to open my Christmas presents. During my childhood I felt that my father was an abusive man, but looking back on it now I know he didn't have the skills, or know how, to deal with my behavior. His own father died when he was only five years old. Despite his rough demeanor, however, he was very generous and would be the type of man to go out of his way to help a friend or stranger in need. There are emotional scars that I carry to this day that were inflicted by him, but he also taught me some valuable lessons that I did not heed until I came to prison. His work ethic was extraordinary. There wasn't a man on this planet that worked harder and sweated more tears than my father. He grew up dirt poor, with three brothers and one sister, raised by a single parent. Today we are strangers. He no longer claims me as his son. But maybe, someday, I can call him dad. It is my belief that only through Jesus Christ can we be reconciled. If you are one that is experiencing family dysfunction, pray to our Precious Lord Jesus for the answers. Jesus will hear you. You may not get the answer desired in the here and now but, in God's time, there will be a family reunion. My dad's fiery was like a lion going after a gazelle on the Serengetti Plain and, being my father's son, I too had that fiery. Today I am being washed as white as snow. If you possess a lions heart, you too can change. Never forget that.
May 1st I had a garage sale and sold half of my belongings to buy a gun that I was planning on using for the murder/suicide. My girlfriend was attempting to break up with me and I saw my identity go into the trash heap. During the last two weeks of my life in the free world I cut classes, kept my room unclean, lost all phone privileges, and my father threw my clothes in the garbage for being unclean. He eventually took the bed out of my room.
On May 13th, 1993 life for Paul Robert Garcia was over. My depression was so intense all I could think about was how to kill and where to get the tools to kill. I couldn't sleep, think or concentrate. My mental illness was unbearable. The money made from the garage sale ended up being spent on video games, large amounts of food, movies, and other pleasures.
My best friend decided to help me carry out the devil's plan (for we were only his advocates), and on the morning of May 13th a swirl of emotions were going through my mind. A classmate had committed suicide just a week earlier now here I was, about to make the same decision. My best friend and I would borrow my dad's guns from his gun safe. Then we would abduct my girlfriend and I would carry out the murder/suicide.
What ended up taking place would shock the community, family, friends and my stepmother's family.
My stepmother would arrive home early from work and a confrontation would ensue. Moments later she would lay dead by my hand. This was the most horrifying experience and man, woman or child could endure. I feel a deep regret and remorse for not having the strength and integrity to stand up at that time to what was ruling my life.
Sin does lead to death. Sin killed my stepmother. This was a woman I loved and admired. Sin destroyed all of my hopes and dreams. Sin cost me the chance to have a family of my own and a wife who would love me unconditionally. Sin cost me my independence. Who I was during the months leading up to the murder I don't really know. Who was I really for the eighteen years of my life on earth? There were times in my life that I was a kind and gentle man. A loving individual who sought to be loved. After the murder I would manipulate my estranged girlfriend into leaving the State of California with me and my best friend in an effort to avoid capture. In eleven days we would travel from Sacramento to Reno, to Utah, to Las Vegas, to Los Angeles and back to San Jose. Only God's intervention protected us from the various law enforcement agencies from all over the Western United States searching to find and destroy me.
Then, on May 24th, I made the toughest decision of my life. Paul Robert Garcia said "No" to the devil and I surrendered myself to the authorities at the San Jose Sheriff's Department. The place of my birth and the place my freedom would be taken away. My girlfriend would be safe and the healing process could begin. She would now be free.
A year later, as I stood trial on the murder charges, I would stand alone. When the guilty verdict was read there were no family (although family members were present in the courtroom to make sure the verdict was guilty on all counts), no friends and even our Precious Lord seemed to disown me, despite my new found faith at this dark hour, even though I deep down inside of me that the Lord was there, experiencing all my pain. The day before my sentencing I would get a letter from the Mormon Church which, in short, read, "You were a good friend to us all. We are sorry to inform you that it has been decided that you will be excommunicated. We hope that you will build up a "credit balance" of good works, but realize that you will never receive Eternal Live in the Kingdom of God."
I cried my eyes out. And do you know who comforted me in this dark hour? Druggies, murderers, thieves, and thugs said "Keep your chin up, it will be alright. Lean on the Lord and He shall show you the way."
From that day on I have taken up a spiritual machete and hacked my way through the weeds and thorns of this life. I've sought the Lord's truth. I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior while in a dark cell in the Sacramento County Jail and each day I must reconfirm to the Lord my decision to follow Him because temptations are all around me. Pornography is rampant in prison as it is in the world today. There is every pornography book imaginable offered by various publishers pertaining to one's lusts.
For many years it seemed to me the sickness of lusting for female feet was mine alone to bear. But in my travels through the prison system, and being offered various pornography books for entertainment, I have found there is a publishing company that caters to men who have this lust. I have realized that this sickness is wide spread and we are living in a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. Many men and women refuse to seek truth or admit dependencies. Quite honestly, I am embarrassed by what I have done and thought. When it comes to God's Eternal Kingdom we shall never feel embarrassed, put down, hated, harassed, sexually assaulted or put in prison.
What has taken place in my life can happen to anybody, and in many places of the world it happens every day. A man and woman deserve to be loved freely by their own choice. For we men who have manipulated God's special creation called "woman" we need to treat them as we would want to be treated. We can't live our lives through other people. God gave us our own identity and free will. It is our responsibility to form that identity in His image and be loving individuals through faith, love, compassion and kindness. Some say it is too late for Paul Robert Garcia, but the way I live my life from this point on will dictate my place in history.
In this testimony you will notice that my mother isn't mentioned all that much. For a couple of years after my moving out of her home, she was devastated deep within her heart and she lost her way. Even after hearing about the murder my mother ended up in the hospital for psychiatric treatment. It is my belief that most of my mother's struggles in this life were brought on by my childhood actions and other uncontrollable forces. One thing I would like to mention when my father came down hard on me or neighborhood parents came knocking on the door seeking my head on a platter, my mother protected me, right or wrong. She has shown great love for her children and, despite my being in prison, she has shown me the way to be closer to our Lord, Jesus Christ through her letters. My mother serves as a Eucharistic Minister with the Catholic church, and she is serving our Lord to the best of her abilities.
I can hardly wait for the day the Lord chooses to parole me to His Kingdom so that my mother and I can rejoice together, dancing in Heaven. Many Christians from all over the world have been lead to me in various ways. I'm learning true love. It isn't about emotions, it's about actions. I hope and pray that all those who read my testimony will be inspired to find peace and love through Jesus Christ, their Lord and Savior. Jesus Christ died on the cross 2000 years ago for our sins. Let's not let His death be a waste. Love life as He would want you to live.
I`m learning to educate myself through Bible study courses and educational self-help books. While in prison I still have simple luxuries such as a personal television, radio, clothes, and food, but those things don't last forever: Followers of Christ do!
Our road map to heaven is the Holy Bible. If we take the time to read and study the doors and secrets of this life will be opened. Life is difficult for us all in some way. Suicide isn't the answer and murder leads to death. Choose to live life, not eternal death..............Amen.
