Letter to Struggling Youth #2
My Literacy Journey
By Bao Vu Nguyen
March 18, 2025
My name is Bao Vu Nguyen, and I am a convicted murderer. I have been in prison for over 23 years, doing Life Without the Possibility of Parole (LWOP). LWOP means that I will never get out of prison. I was eighteen years old when I committed my crimes and one of my victims was sixteen years old. As you can see, my victim and I were not much older than you are right now. So, believe me when I say that I know a lot about what you are going through. A reason why I committed my crime was my ILLITERACY.
When I committed my life crimes, I was at my worst, and illiteracy was one of the contributing factors. Even though I have a high school diploma I did not earn it. I plagiarized and copied most of my assignments. I did not care about school or homework. I procrastinated and played a lot of video games, and I hung out with my friends. When my parents, teachers and school counselors gave me advice, I nodded my head and said yes but I had no intention of taking their advice. I thought that I knew everything and that the adults in my life were trying to hold me back. I was wrong.
Another reason why I did not like school was because English is my second language. My family and I were war refugees from Vietnam, and I was enrolled in English as a Second Language (E.S.L.) classes. I felt self-conscious whenever I speak English because people would look at me with puzzled faces. My literacy took an unexpected turn as I began my prison time.
I read books to pass the time, and I gained an intense interest in literature. The first English book that I read that is more than two hundred pages long was the Bible, which I read from cover to cover three times. I was never a religious person but reading the Bible improved my reading skill. As I read more books, I discovered the power of books and the value of reading. Books can take my mind to a fantasy land or a far-off world. I learned of many people, and places, both real and fiction, and how they relate to me. I realized how we all connect to each other and to our communities.
I then took the opportunity to write and create my own fictional stories. Reading and writing allow me to see other people’s point of view and how their thoughts and feelings are as valid as my own. I understand the world better and I know who I am in it. When I decided to take college classes, my reading and writing skills enabled me to pass all of my classes. I am now a better person than who I was when I first came to prison.
I am telling you about my literacy journey to tell you that school is not as difficult or as useless as you might think. Also, that you do not have to go the route I went or end up in prison like me. If you study diligently, you will have a college degree by the time you are 22 years old. I am 42 years old now, and it took me the last twenty years plus to work towards my associate degree. I firmly believe that if I had listened to the advice I got about school, then I would not be in prison right now.
I hope this letter gives you some insights into school and helps you to make better decisions. More than that, I hope that you will never commit the crime that I committed or any crime that will land you in prison. I guarantee that your life will be better spent out of prison.
Sincerely,
Bao Vu Nguyen
Letter To Struggling Youth: How Anger Controls Our Lives
By Bao Vu Nguyen
To Whom This May Concern,
My name is Bao Vu Nguyen and I am a convicted murderer. I am doing Life Without the Possibility of Parole (LWOP) in a California prison. LWOP means that I will never get out of prison. I was eighteen years old when I committed my crime, and the victim was sixteen years old. As you can see, my victim and I were not much older than you are right now. So, believe me when I say that I know a lot about what you are going through. A big reason why I committed my crime was my ANGER. I was an angry kid. One thing I learned about anger is that it is a natural part of who we are. We cannot get rid of the anger, but we can manage how we express it.
While growing up we see how adults express their anger, and we copy them without thinking. This means that how we express anger is learned. I used to slam doors, scream and curse, and storm out of the room. Whatever you could think of, I did it. One time I punched a concrete wall and ended up with bleeding knuckles. The good news is that anger does not have to control our lives. But before we get to that part, I would like to give you a better understanding of anger.
There are ten levels of anger ranging from mild irritation to intense rage. These levels are a part of the Aggression Cycle which has three phases known as the Escalation Phase, the Explosion Phase, and the Postexplosion Phase. The first nine levels are in the Escalation Phase, the tenth level is the Explosion Phase, and the Postexplosion Phase is the aftermath when we feel shame and guilt about what we did in anger. The last time I felt intense rage I murdered a sixteen-year-old kid. Now I am in prison for the rest of my life. I lost my dreams and hope. My family is far away from me. The consequence of anger is worse than what you could ever think of.
Another thing about anger is that it is a secondary emotion. This means that other emotions lead us to anger. For example, when I want something and don’t get it I became angry. The rejection makes me feel helpless (the primary emotion) and leads me to anger (the secondary emotion). Many people would be able to move on from the rejection. I, however, would not move on, and decide to get what I want by any means. My anger would not be satisfied until I got what I wanted. Now that you know some of the factors that lead us to anger, and that anger leads us to behave badly, there are many steps that will help you to manage your anger in a positive way.
The first step is to accept that we have anger by recognizing signs of anger. Heart racing, bad thoughts, and sweaty palms are some of the signs. Then we can call a timeout to remove ourselves from the situation, and take a minute to breathe, and then speak on why we are angry. When we have time to think and breathe, we can better process anger and not rush into bad decisions. I know that things can get out of hand quickly and we do not always have time to think, and process, but it is worth trying. We can practice with mild irritation situations, which occur daily, so that we can better prepare for the higher levels of rage. Just like we can learn to express anger, we can learn to manage anger.
I hope this letter gives you some insights into anger and helps you to make better decisions. More than that, I hope that you will never commit the crime that I committed, or any crime that will land you in prison. I can guarantee you that your life will be better spent out of prison.
Sincerely,
Bao Vu Nguyen
Motherland
By Bao Vu Nguyen
Her domain is where the gentle mist
Casts its essence upon the dark fertile soil,
While its milky cloaks swaddle lusty vegetables.
The emerald palms of the coffee trees
And the tender lobes of the tea shrubs
Are not neglected by its crisp embrace.
The golden day lilies and the russet hibiscus
Quicken from their peaceful reveries
At the fresh caresses.
The evanescent mist leaves behind
Droplets like footprints that twinkle in the sun.
Her love trickles down on the budding shoots.
The regal mountains, soaring above satin clouds,
Are her verdant crowns
Arrayed in acacia and eucalyptus,
Their sturdy feet set firmly on her bosom.
While rugged shoulders brace the sapphire dome.
Down her valleys thrust the crimson rivers,
Pumping life into the veined deltas.
Pikes, loaches, carps: silver blades of lights pulsing
In the flow.
Rice grass springs in her silty womb,
Laden with pearly grains.
The ample swords of limber stems ripple
Like a green ocean from the flatland
To the stepped mountains.
Banyan trees, rooted to the bloomy bowel,
Welcome visitors into their leafy arms.
Their knotty legs and gnarly limbs are
Firmly embedded in the ground.
The rustle of bamboo groves in the breeze
Answers the call of the thrushes and meadowlarks.
The canopies, with leaves like jade shards,
Flirt with the songbirds.
Quiescent water buffaloes loaf below.
Thatched huts lull on rustic plains
As placid koi ponds stretch like open skies.
Awakening
By Bao Vu Nguyen
I enter the prison yard with shame
Draped over me like a soiled rag.
Barbed wires coil like lashing snakes
Threatening to string me up.
My hope and dreams are mirages
Dissolving like errant smoke.
Darkness swallows me in reveries.
I surrender to abandonment.
My Mother appears in loving light.
My goddess bestows on me a choice.
Knowledge I choose.
My arid mind thirsts for this rain from Athena.
A deluge of literacy drenches
Dante, Poe, Shakespeare
I embrace the enlightenment.
I am awake.
I, Icarus
By Bao Vu Nguyen
I was that Grecian lad
In mirthful soul I was clad
Youthful locks, I had to wear
No burden was mine to bear
Like wreaths in the wind I swayed
Al day I frolicked and played
Oblivious to the hearth
High upon a cliffside perch
Meant to be the prison keep
Confined by the surging sea
Where, I with my father, dwell
Above the Aegean swells
‘Mongst elated earns we lived
Ne’er our lonely spirits rived
Then my father came arrayed
In feathered wing he displayed
Caked in wax the feathers be
A pair each for him and me
On me the wings he fixt
Bird and man I betwixt
I am metamorphosis
A homosymbiosis
He led me to the cliff’s edge
Then bade me to quit the ledge
And, upon the Aether, leapt
But I’m as brave as sheep
He saw my apprehension
And so made his ascension
Emboldened by his flight
I swallowed my foolish fright
And took wing as I was told
On Aeolus’ back I rode
Soaring over the blue sea
My heart was imbued with glee
While I rode the airy waves
My spirit mounted in raves
Thus impelled my flight higher
Than any other flier
Carelessly I ascended
Towards the sun I wended
Therein lies my great blunder
My wings were torn asunder
For I had ventured too far
Too close to the seething star
The wax liquefied anon
The feathers shed thereupon
My world became inverted
My flight has been reverted
I fell without a tether
Among the swirling feathers
Myself and my tattered wings
Towards Earth went spiraling
Plunged headlong to towards the sea
Where her billows swallowed me
And interred me in her womb
My resting place and my tomb
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