Sentenced as a teen to life without parole – ‘a living death sentence’ – she tells street papers she’s ashamed of how America treats its children
In 1995, 17-year-old Sara Kruzan was sentenced to life in prison without parole for the murder of George Howard, a man who, the jury was told by prosecutors, had a family, a business and a reputable stake in civil society. Kruzan – a child – was vilified as a murderer, a threat to that same society.
In the lead-up to her conviction, little notice was taken of Kruzan’s circumstances, her state of mind or her induced trauma. It was not until a public appeal for clemency in 2009 – a video from prison, recorded with support from Human Rights Watch – that Kruzan was allowed the space to tell her side of the story.
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At the age of 11, living in Riverside County, Calif., Kruzan was trafficked into sex slavery by Howard – or “GG,” as she knew him – and subjected to years of forced prostitution, violence and abuse. With no one to relieve the stranglehold of power he had over this young girl, Kruzan was driven to take matters into her own hands. She shot and killed Howard when she was 16. None of this information was deemed admissible as evidence at Kruzan’s trial. She was not considered a victim.
After nearly 20 incarcerated years, seven years of litigation, countless hours of volunteer and legal assistance, and several sharp turns and false hopes, Kruzan gained parole and freedom in 2013, when then-California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger commuted and reduced her sentence.
Since her release, Kruzan has dedicated her life to advocating for children who find themselves in a similar position to the one she was in – young, vulnerable, powerless, at the constant mercy of abusers both known and unknown, victims of systemic violence, and subject to a lack of care, empathy and consideration amounting to negligence at the hands of the U.S. criminal justice system.
As well as working with survivors directly, Kruzan is part of an ongoing push, alongside the nonprofit Human Rights for Kids , to substantively alter laws to ensure that child victims of sex crimes do not receive disproportionate sentencing – verdicts that essentially impose a “living death penalty,” as she describes it, when they commit crimes against their abusers.
This fight looks to be bearing fruit. Backed by bipartisan congressional representatives from several states, Sara’s Law would give judges discretion to hand down reduced sentences for such survivors and keep them out of adult prison and in the child welfare system. The bill, which is making its way through Congress, gained steam after other high-profile cases, similar to Kruzan’s, caught public attention and increased understanding of the mental and physical trauma caused by trafficking and sex slavery.
Although many Americans believe child sex trafficking typically involves individuals from foreign countries, more than 80% of victims in this country are U.S. citizens . Part of Kruzan’s advocacy work is educating communities about this.
Before she addressed an audience in Edinburgh, Scotland, at Invisible People, a conference to amplify unheard voices, Kruzan talked with the International Network of Street Papers, of which Street Roots is a member, about her experiences and her work.
INSP: Sharing what must be a painful story many times over, and even committing to doing so as part of your life and work, must be extremely difficult. How do you summon the strength to do that?
Sara Kruzan: It’s rewarding. It’s rewarding to build connection amongst others. I value humanity, and I believe that we’re in this place to connect and that’s part of our purpose. I think that it creates so much healing, and this well-received feeling, when someone can say: “This has happened to me, and I’m strong enough to speak about it.” It’s just very rewarding, and so I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s amazing to be able to do it, actually, because I was supposed to be confined to a little cell for the rest of my life, but I’m here.
INSP: What can you tell us of your childhood and the circumstances that meant you were vulnerable to being trafficked?
Kruzan: When I was a child, my mother was a single parent, which I know is really common. I think her issue was impacted, unaddressed trauma that had been imposed on her in her life. And so, I think because there weren’t helpful sources for her to be heard or to have that space honored, her behavior projected in a way that caused more trauma, not only to herself, but whoever she came in contact with, including me. Looking back in hindsight, you’re not able to really define what that is. It’s always this assumption that she was negligent, and labels like that which impose more negative consequences.
Through my work, I’ve seen that cultures that are more socially impacted by the disease of trauma continue to create spaces which cause more harm. Traffickers cast a look for very weak home situations. It’s as if they know exactly who their victim is going to be. Unfortunately, a lot of them are people of color. As an adult, looking back, I can see what wasn’t being met, needs that weren’t being met at home, and this structure which allowed a predator like him to come in and to exercise his power and authority in that way. It’s an infiltration – into the home and the community – which allows traffickers to utilize their power in any way, shape or form.
FURTHER READING: Portland curriculum helps students identify sex trafficking, exploitive relationships
INSP: What was your state of mind when you felt driven to kill your abuser? After years of abuse, why did you ultimately decide to take action at that point, at the age of 16?
Kruzan: There were a lot of factors that contributed to that. At that time, I personally didn’t have a strong regard for my own sense of life. I had been trying to commit suicide since the age of 10. I started self-mutilating at 9 from the impacts of my mom’s abuse. Everything that I believed, my belief and values system, were based on what was given to me.
I’m not saying that’s an excuse. There was this conflict. In school I felt tremendous, and as a child, I really wanted to be a doctor and do these amazing things. I was motivated, but the adults and the circumstances … it was like there was this constant dirt thrown on me, on this little plant that was trying to grow, and after a while, the disregard for myself and for humanity placed me in a space where I didn’t really begin to question my life.
There was also the constant impact of being sexually abused, because there was a point where I just surrendered and I was like, whatever – whatever would happen, it’ll happen. So there was hopelessness. There was desperation. There was deep grief. But I also wanted it to stop. I had this internal civil war going on, something telling me to know that this harm that was being imposed was completely not right.
And then when I did take his life, I immediately apologized. It was very difficult. In our system in America, there’s no honoring of the victim who’s committed a violent act, and there’s no advocacy. So for a long period of time, after being put in an institution, I basically had to figure out who I was, if I was a monster. I mean, that’s what everyone was telling me. My core being, my essence, though, was innately against that, saying I wasn’t. I don’t know what it was that gave me that knowledge that I was worthy to be seen.
INSP: When the sentence was being handed down, did you understand what was happening?
Kruzan: There was an awareness, but the legal jargon itself? No, I didn’t understand half of the language. I was aware of my attorney’s mannerisms, his exhaustion, which I felt was my fault. I felt the power and the authority of the men in the room, which was intimidating. It was intense. There was a disassociation happening, too – I was there, and then I was not. It was short – 2 1/2 days and then it was done. I remember sitting in the cell and doing the odds with tissue paper – basically if these small scrunched-up pieces of toilet paper rolled off a block, I would be convicted. That was how basic my understanding was. I did not grasp the concept that they were going to sentence me to die in prison.
INSP: How can a judicial system have the authority to send a child, particularly one with the traumatic experiences you had endured, to prison for life, without the chance of parole?
Kruzan: The way we treat our children shows who a country is, and I’m not proud of being American because of how it treats its children. Not only because of my experience, but through the work that I do, the more I dig, the more I see – once you know, you can’t un-know. In my case, the judge had other options; he could’ve given me 25 to life. He disregarded that. He wanted me to have a death sentence, a living death sentence. And then he imposed a $10,000 fine towards victim restitution that I had to pay throughout my sentence.
INSP: Why do you think the judge chose to interpret your case in that way? Do you think he made this decision based on the technical aspects of your case, or do you think there are deeply ingrained prejudices – who you are, the way you look – which made it fall this way?
Kruzan: I don’t believe it would’ve happened to a child that wasn’t of color. When my lawyers asked for records, they found that the judge had even passed comment on this when instructing the jury, something along the lines of, “Don’t be persuaded by a young, attractive African-American.” These are statements which should not apply when talking about a kid. There was also the fact that George’s clients were people that might not be considered your average person that purchases children. These people were police officers, dentists. In fact, the judge identified GG basically as a businessman, saying his business had been destroyed. There was a lot of verbal protection for him.
INSP: It seems that this person, a perpetrator, was handled with more empathy than you, a victim. Did you feel the injustice of it all at the time?
Kruzan: I didn’t even cry. I didn’t have any reaction, I think because my body had become so used to this deeply seated grief and trauma. After the sentencing, they took me back to juvenile hall. They put me on suicide watch again. If the system imposes a sentence and then turns around and says, “Oh, let’s put this child on suicide watch because they might kill themselves,” I think that’s very telling that they’re very aware of what they’re doing. After a couple of hours, they transferred me to the county jail. I was 17.
INSP: Without condensing nearly 20 years of your life, what can you tell me about your time in prison and your relationships with other inmates?
Kruzan: Actually, some of my experiences there have made me feel like one of the richest people in the world, not by monetary wealth, but through human connection. It’s a concentrated environment that is, in a way, designed to be degrading. So, when you connect with another human being, and you’re raw and real, there’s such a depth of wealth in there. Imagine the different people and the intimacy, the conversations. You see people at their ugliest, their most caring, their most desperate, most loving, most gentle. It’s very powerful. I think that’s partly why I do the work I do now; I’m infused with the journeys of all those other people.
INSP: That work means you have learned more about the systemic issue of trafficking. Do you think the misunderstanding around who is involved in trafficking and its causes contribute to the injustices of cases like your own?
Kruzan: Absolutely. I think if you admit the ugly, then you have to be accountable for it. So it’s easier to say, “Actually this is only happening in developing countries; there’s nothing going on here.” But the reality is, it’s your neighbor. I’m shocked that people are shocked when they find out about this information, because it’s their husband or their partner, or it’s the preacher at the church. No one wants to admit this dirty little secret; they just want to hide it, and that’s a social disease, and the more you do it, the more intelligent it becomes. And I think at this point now it’s smarter than the people.
FURTHER READING: Buyer beware: Multnomah County a national leader in sex-trafficking enforcement
INSP: While in prison, at what point did you begin to hope that there was a chance you could get out?
Kruzan: It wasn’t really like that. It was more my curiosity, my Joan of Arc spirit and energy. I was like, “If I’m going to die in here, then I’m going to die trying to get out.” I was really motivated by that. And also, I was there with these other women; it was a community, so I thought why not make the best out of it. There was so much liveliness, hope, inspiration, smiles, camaraderie, sharing. I was freed on the inside. I didn’t need to be physically free to know that I was free. So when I spoke to my lawyers, over this seven-year period of litigation, I had this optimism. I was like: “Look guys, it’s going to happen. It may not be time yet, but it’s going to be OK.”
And it was really interesting how it unfolded. I had no clue what YouTube was, you know, because, when I went in, I didn’t know anything about computers and the ability of the internet. When we did the video to change the law, the intention was to help legislators understand, but somehow that video went viral. I had no idea what was behind it. And the next thing I know, people are reaching out and students are moved to lead this campaign to let everyone know on an international level that this had happened.
INSP: The U.S. has this bill, Sara’s Law , in Congress, and it has been introduced by a Republican Rep. Bruce Westerman of Arkansas. To me, outside the U.S., that says not only is there a need for the law on this subject to change, but there is also an appetite for it. And a non-partisan appetite. So why has it taken such a long time to get to this point? And, linked to that, if there is a big systemic change required, do splashy cases like yours and Cyntoia Brown’s actually do more harm than good, when so much attention is placed on individuals and not the wider, deeper problem? (Brown, who was convicted at 16 after killing a man who had hired her for sex, received calls from celebrities such as Kim Kardashian and Rihanna, to receive clemency.)
Kruzan: The reason it has taken so long is that the accountability factor is going to require people to change the way their morality is defined when it comes to children. We’re valuing our children more, so we’re more open to just giving them the right to be children. Also, the science is showing the impacts of trauma on the brain and how that leads to certain actions. Now that we have that evidence and we live in a world where knowledge can be instantly shared, it can validate the argument that things need to change.
In terms of the sensationalism around individual cases, I appreciate the fact that people are aware there’s a problem, but yes, isolating it to that shows we can still do better because there are so many other cases, and it’s far too common. Hopefully the fact we have been highlighted, we’re able to now say, “Let’s go get everybody else.”
INSP: I see parallels with your case and cases like yours that also suggest that actors of power in the U.S., and probably across Western society, find themselves unable to apply empathy to the people who need it most – whether it’s a child who has been sex trafficked and then forced to murder their abuser, or a homeless person without access to social benefits being criminalized simply for sleeping on the street, or a young black man who has been shot by a police officer who then faces no accountability. There seems to be confusion between powerful – usually white, usually male – people of privilege and marginalized, vulnerable people, and who receives the label of victim and who receives punishment.
Kruzan: Racism and prejudice, in American culture, is very strong. I think it is actually the root and basis of our country. My mother is white; my father is African-American. I have experienced a sense of being difficult to accept in both communities. Social assaults are taking place on subcultures throughout the country. There’s a huge race and prejudice issue; it’s dominated by white male power and privilege. We can’t seem to all just come together and see each other as human beings. If we don’t change our behavior, that won’t change either. In the world of child sex trafficking, most men who purchase children are privileged and powerful. It’s the sense of entitlement being their power and privilege that makes them think anything, no matter what it is, is at their disposal.
Courtesy of INSP.ngo
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