MOST MATTERS IN LIFE
ARE NOT AS SIMPLE AS GOOD AND BAD

By Alia Hartman

“ My father has taught me the absolute value of unconditional love and proven to me that everyone is capable of change given the right structure and help.” —Alia Hartman

My life started where most go to end, on the grounds of a maximum-security unit in the middle of nowhere California. I’m 19 now, the same age my father was when he killed someone, when he was sent away to this place and locked up forever. It’s hard for me to write about it because I don’t remember a time when all of this hit me and became something to figure out instead of live with; it’s just always been. I guess that I can be thankful for that; maybe it makes it easier. I’ve never felt a reason to hide this part of my life from other people. Usually, when I end up talking about my dad, the question I’m ultimately faced with is how I reconcile my father’s past with the man he is now.

My father is not just a number, not just a murderer, not just somebody society has collectively given up on. That might seem like a protective thing to say, but the number of times I’ve had to defend my dad to strangers leads me to believe that it’s hard for anyone not connected with the system to imagine caring about the group of people we are taught to fear the most.

When I think of my dad, I have to go back to the beginning. He was the most excited father; constantly ready for any and all of the games I wanted to play, a master LEGO builder, who excelled at putting on as many voices as each book he read to me required. My dad, in his chambray shirt and blue jeans, with his old and fading tattoos suggesting something more sinister, the things the television teaches you make a person harder to love.

On Sundays, mom and I would drive down Avenue J. My smile would grow as the watchtowers came into view, the barbed wire of the fences shining in the desert’s hot morning sun. The prison has never been a prison for me. It’s a strange type of home, a place that lives inside of me, and the guiding presence of my father’s calm voice in my head.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve surprised myself with how well I’ve staved off the feelings the outside world has tried to force upon me. I’ve heard all the comments, been the brunt of many jokes, and have desperately tried to prove to others the meaning of giving someone a second chance. Generally, the reactions of those that don’t know me very well tend to be the same, disgust and mistrust. I’ve been told that I don’t understand the significance of what my father did and some have even gone as far as to imply that because my father killed another person there must be some measure of violence and hatred hidden away in my heart. It’s not like that at all.

My father has taught me the absolute value of unconditional love and proven to me that everyone is capable of change given the right structure and help. In between the laughs and games, my dad has told me all the stories: from the time he hitchhiked across the country in his teens to the senseless violence he found solace in as a young man.

Through each of these stories, I have learned the weight of one’s actions, the value of respect, and the truth that many don’t want to face because it puts a difficult kind of responsibility on us: that given the right circumstances, we are all capable of violence and that it takes the strongest person to overcome that violence and actively fight for peace. It is foolish to assume that bad things are exclusively done by bad people. The lessons he has taught me have impacted the way I see the world in a way that can never be quantified and for that I am eternally grateful.

It’s painful knowing that my dad will never be free, that our relationship will always exist in visits behind prison walls, in phone calls, in letters; but I could never ask for a better man to call my father. Because of him I have learned that people are complicated beings and that most matters are not as simple as good and bad.

Alia Hartman is the 19-year-old daughter of Ken Hartman, an inmate in the California State Prison, Los Angeles County serving Life Without Parole (LWOP) for a murder he committed at the age of 19, 36 years ago. Both father and daughter are featured in TOE TAG PAROLE: TO LIVE AND DIE ON YARD A, which premieres Monday, August 3 at 9 p.m. ET/PT on HBO.

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