In 1988 my father was accused of brutally raping and strangling to death a young college student. Her name was Martha Delarosa, and police found her body on Easter morning between two temporary classrooms on a high school campus. She appeared to have been strangled with a portion of her blouse; her face was swollen and bruised and covered with grass stains, as though she had been dragged face down from the place she was attacked, to the place where her nude body was found.

At the time, my father was a counselor at a juvenile detention facility for boys called the James F. Ranch in Morgan Hill, California. My mother cared for me and my brother and sister at home and worked part-time. They had recently purchased a home in a middle-class neighborhood of Hollister, California, where property was still affordable. But the day Martha's body was found my life changed. The Hollister police department claimed my father had an "abnormal" fascination with Martha's death and secured a warrant for his arrest. I was twelve-years-old, my brother and sister were just a few years older. I watched police pin my father to the floor, place handcuffs around his wrists, and then escort him to a vehicle waiting outside.

During the investigation, police found books on Kabbalah in our home and informed the media that Martha's murder was an occult sacrifice. In response, vigilantes set our home on fire. For over 77 days my father was held in the county jail with no physical evidence linking him to the murder. After weeks of FBI profiling and groundbreaking DNA analysis, my father was positively excluded as being involved with the crime. However, as a result of the allegations, my father suffered embarrassment, humiliation, and the loss of his home and job. And although the evidence had exonerated my father, authorities continued to label him as a "prime" suspect in the murder. Shortly after his release, my father suffered a mental breakdown and disappeared, leaving behind a wife, three children, and an $11 million dollar civil rights lawsuit.

My mother was forced to raise three young children on her own. In spite of a poor education and a low paying receptionist position, she held our family together. The everyday pleasures I enjoyed with my family became luxuries that were beyond our reach. My life was now determined by a will to survive in a neighborhood of gangs and drugs. When I finally entered high school, daily fistfights and suspensions were the norm; I earned miserable grades and was shuffled through the education system; I joined a gang and became familiar with the juvenile justice system. When I was sixteen years old my life changed again. I was attacked by a mob of rival gang members and stabbed repeatedly in the chest and back. The only memories I have of the incident are short, cinema-like clips of an operating table and an emergency room filled with doctors. The doctors worked for hours trying to control the hemorrhaging from multiple stab wounds, while pumping oxygen into one collapsed lung. The next morning I found a clear tube inserted into my left ribcage and realized something had to change. Faced with the realities of a "no exit" gang culture, I contacted a Marine recruiter and began the enlistment process.

After three months of intensive training, I received orders to Camp Pendleton, California, where I was attached to the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit that was scheduled to deploy overseas in less than a month. Fortuitously, I was assigned to a group of researchers from the United States that wanted to measure the rate of HIV transmission in Thailand's lurid nightlife centers. And though my responsibilities were as simple as client intake, coordinating meetings, and condom distribution, I realized that I had a knack for communicating with diverse groups of people. Whether it involved assembling Marines along Iraq's "no fly zone" or responding to North Korea's nuclear weapons threat, I was able to use effective communication and leadership skills to achieve a common objective. After four years of service, I had seen and learned more than many of my peers. But the realization that I was a gay man in an environment hostile to homosexuality forced me to leave the military.

In 1998 I received an honorable discharge from the Marine Corps and enrolled in a local community college. Prompted by my experiences as a young boy, I studied Administration of Justice at West Valley College. During this time, I took courses in criminal law, evidence, and criminal investigation. My fascination with the criminal psyche expanded as I immersed myself in the study of crime scenes and the analysis of evidence. After completing an A.S. degree, I moved to New York City to continue my studies at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. Although my courses at JJC included logic and rhetoric, I took great interest in a class called, "American Legal History." For the first time, I examined law as a scheme of social choice, responsive to a host of political, social, and economic pressures, rather than a mechanism used to control crime.

Less than a year later my mother lost her job and was on the verge of losing her home. I returned to San Jose to help. Still determined to complete college, I was accepted by Santa Clara University. Building on the topics explored in American Legal History, my interest in law began to focus on the relationship between privacy laws, socio-culture variables, and identity politics. While I was able to critically examine these issues in a philosophy course called, "Ethical Issues in the Law," I was not completely satisfied with the time allotted to abortion laws and homosexual sodomy. Consequently, as part of my senior research, I investigated the Supreme Court's interpretation of personal privacy, from Griswold v. Connecticut to Bowers v. Hardwick. Through legal research I attempted to analyze, interpret, and explain the evolution of privacy laws. This experience served to broaden my curiosity in both law and culture. As a result, I enrolled in a political science course called "The Constitution and Equality," where I examined doctrines and decisions regarding equal protection of the law. In addition to developing skills in brief writing and oral advocacy, I gained an awareness of the many faces of social inequality that exist today.

Becoming aware of such inequalities, particularly in the field of AIDS related services, prompted me to pursue employment with an AIDS non-profit organization in San Francisco, California. Since graduation, I have devoted my education and experiences to the development and implementation of culturally competent HIV services. Unfortunately, federal cutbacks forced Continuum to discontinue many of its social services, such as meal plans and day-to-day activities. These events made me a witness to the impact that public policy and law has on the sick and the powerless. How does one explain such cuts to a transgendered client, living in poverty and dying of AIDS? In truth, I do not know how to explain it to myself.

Yet these issues are my reason for being. They are the reason I write this letter. And, they are why I am applying to law school. Too many times I have watched as the innocent are convicted; sexual minorities, abused; poor and homeless, disregarded. I believe the law must protect everyone, especially, the most vulnerable. I am a serious, disciplined, and compassionate individual that will contribute greatly to a law school and the community. I trust that my analytical and interpersonal skills, coupled with my life experiences, will help me to become a successful and socially responsible attorney.