Personal Narrative: Sacrifice

“I did it for my family” a short phrase that most would conceive as symbol of sacrifice. But what is sacrifice? Is it the idea that you put your life on the line for pride or is it the idea you put your life on the line for a purpose. Throughout the time I have worked for the courts I have seen multiple cases in which the idea of sacrifice can be applied. Significantly there are cases where a person is forced to carry drugs across the desert from Mexico; these people are known in society as “backpackers.” Each of the backpackers that come through these courts comes with bold stories of their motives of sacrifice. As they stand before the court confused and alone of the American justice system, they are held with tough legal decision of the

road they take with their lives. Most of society looks at these backpackers as a person who committed crime for the purpose of peculiar gain and to the eyes of a legislature a criminal; but others would look at them for the different stories they have. There is a backpacker who is 20 year old father, husband, and son who’s main purpose was to accomplish to what we know as the American Dream. The defendant speaking to the court begins to tell a story about why he committed the crimes that he did talking about how his wife and his family need him. He begins to go into detail understanding that his 10 month year old daughter needed medical procedures and that all he wanted to do was just be home to take care of his family. He understood that what he did was illegal, but he “did it for [his] family.”
Although, I will never understand the exact sacrifice and struggle that the Backpacker had went through that day, but I know that someday I will have to make tough decisions and sacrifices for purpose and pride.

The American Dream has many opportunities but some of those dreams are made so that not everyone can reach them. Being a Hispanic male raised in Phoenix, Arizona with a single parent, I saw many of the sacrifices and obstacles that my own mother had to make in my life that encouraged me to keep fighting when times get tough. I can’t be given most opportunities; I have to earn them by jumping through obstacles just to prove myself. There is a Spanish word vencer meaning to overcome that I closely relate to that reminds me to keep pushing forward when I want to quit. If I would of quit and took no for an answer, I wouldn’t be attempting to continue to get into law

school.
I first became interested in the law in 2006 when I was first exposed to the ins and outs of the judicial system. I was a 14 year old teenager who not once had ever experienced anything that had to do with law. On a typical Sunday morning I woke and said good morning to my family and sat and relaxed as the morning went through. As time went on I looked at the time and was curious why my grandparents weren’t back from their morning services. I had called my grandmother to see why they weren’t home, as she answered the phone there was a sound of dismay in her voice that made me uncomfortable of the unknown as she told me that my aunt had been shot in the heart at her house. At the time I did not comprehend what exactly the situation was, but to further the story she had been murdered in front of her two children. My grandparents were waiting outside the house while the Department of Child Safety was investigating so that they could release my aunt’s children to my grandparents.
As time and the dull empty pain that filled my family went on, there was also justice that had to be sought. I remember at the time I had no idea the basis of the work that went into a case. At 14 it was hard to grasp the different factors and elements of a crime that meant so much to justice. Moreover, because of the situation that had happened the prosecutor could only charge the defendant, who was also my aunts boyfriend, with manslaughter because of the story of him cleaning his gun in front of her and the gun going off. The foundation was because it was his story against my now deceased aunt’s story. The only link in the case was to have my 5 year old cousin testify to what occurred, and it was not worth putting him through that situation. Her murderer was sentenced to 10 years in prison with the expected release date at the end of this year.
Fast forwarding 9 years later, I still have sorrows of what occurred that Sunday morning, but it also gave a fire to be able to give voice where it is needed.

When I use my voice I refuse to be silenced but instead advocate what is right, and to silence what is wrong. I wrote about the backpackers because their stories are never told. They are silenced and expected to follow obligations by the burden of the State being put into the back burner of seasoned but forgetful public defender who just wants to finish their caseload. It is easy to forget that these backpackers represent lives not cases, they come from all walks of life. Personally I feel that a crime is a crime and prison time is a way of determent. But it is forgotten that everyone even criminals are human beings, they should be treated not as an outsider but as someone who deserves a voice. Currently, being able to give back to community, using my voice in different ways to advocate for equality equips me with being able to think outside the box for future endeavors. I know that I can be an image for others to look up to knowing that the word “No” does not mean to seal your fate, but to use it as motivation to find a purpose and pride in accomplishing your

dreams.