Inside a California Prison Father’s Day Event, Families Share Meals, Laughs, and Memories

June 21, 2026
Ira Daniels watches over his two granddaughters coloring at Correctional Training Facility in Soledad, California. Credit: Victoria Valenzuela

A nonprofit-led “Get on the Bus” event brought together hundreds of families ahead of Father’s Day in a special moment that can be rare in prisons

 Victoria Valenzuela for Prism

When Ira Daniels walked into the visiting room at the Correctional Training Facility (CTF) in California on June 13, his two granddaughters, ages 6 and 8, ran to jump on him. He caught them in a hug, their eyes already lit up with excitement. That feeling had been building up since earlier in the week when their grandmother, Latasha Daniels, told them they were going to visit their grandfather.

“We’re coming to see you, Pop-Pop,” one of the girls told Ira Daniels over a phone call the night before the visit. 

Their day started at 1:45 a.m., when Latasha Daniels woke the girls, showered, and packed them into a car to drive from Long Beach to a church in Los Angeles, where they boarded a bus to the prison. Despite the five-hour drive north in the middle of the night, the girls were beaming. Once they arrived, they shared snacks, played with children at nearby tables, colored, and played games with their grandfather. It meant the world to Ira Daniels, who usually sees his granddaughters about once every six months.

The day was more than a regular visit for him and hundreds of other people in CTF and the neighboring Salinas Valley Prison—it was a chance to celebrate ahead of Father’s Day with loved ones who might otherwise feel lonely and sad on the holiday. Recognizing the power of connection, Center for Restorative Justice Works, a nonprofit organization that uplifts and empowers individuals and families impacted by incarceration, hosted a “Get on the Bus” event that brought families from all over California to the two prisons to reunite with their loved ones for the special day. 

“I don’t get it every day, and so when I do get to see them, it makes me appreciate life more,” Ira Daniels said. “Despite my circumstances, to see them happy, to see them yelling and screaming, excited, it showed that I’m doing something right.”

CTF and Salinas Valley were two out of 14 prisons that have had Get on the Bus events this year, as Mother’s Day and Father’s Day events are held at prisons across the state from April to July. 

“When someone goes to prison, the conversation is always about the person who committed the offense. Rarely do we stop and think, what about the children that they left behind?” said Liz Rios, executive director of Center for Restorative Justice. “They did absolutely nothing wrong, and yet they’re the ones that carry the most suffering in this whole thing. …Get on the Bus exists because we’re not going to forget about these children.”

For the Romero family, who came from San Diego to CTF for the Father’s Day event, it was an opportunity for the four of them to connect beyond tablet text messages and phone calls. It was the first time Richard Romero saw his 7-year-old grandson in three years. Even though Romero’s 14-year-old daughter Evangeline sees him more frequently, both children cried when they saw him.

Richard Romero has missed graduations, holidays, deaths, birthdays, and births during his incarceration, so visits are always emotional.

“This event was nice because I got to be with my father,” Evangeline said. “We haven’t had that in a while. We get to see him, be together and talk about stuff.”

The Romero family sits around a prison visiting table eating snacks, drawing, and catching Richard Romero. right, up on life outside. Credit: Victoria Valenzuela

Beyond the connection, Get on the Bus offered a financial reprieve for Richard Romero’s family. 

His wife, Alisa Romero, said she would typically spend about $100 on vending machine food at the visits on a normal day. Sodas were typically $3 and a single frozen hot pocket or cheeseburger would cost $10. However, Get on the Bus provided free drinks, snacks, donuts, bagels, pasta, and garlic bread. For many families, this was the first visit they didn’t have to worry about the cost of gas and food. 

There is an emotional cost, too. Families of incarcerated people are often called the “hidden victims” of the criminal justice system, especially because children of parents in prison are more likely to experience a psychological strain, antisocial behavior, suspension or expulsion from school, and incarceration themselves. Many children have reported feeling “miserable or unhappy,” “alone,” and “left out of things.”

However, research has shown that maintaining a strong relationship with their incarcerated parents through in-person visits and pending quality time together improves their mental health. A 2021 study found that children who visited their incarcerated parent one to six times per year had significantly higher quality relationships with their incarcerated parents, which was closely associated with children’s life purpose and depression or loneliness.

Last month, when Leah Vallis’ son graduated from high school, the 18-year-old felt the absence of his stepfather, Derrick Ware. While the family was able to send Ware 30-second videos of the event, they all agreed it was not the same as him actually being there.

“That’s something I want to be a part of, moments like that,” Ware told Prism. “I’m just getting 15- to 30-second videos. I enjoy watching it, but being there, being present, taking pictures with them, that would have been something that I want to enjoy.”

During the Father’s Day event, Vallis’ son was able to bring his cap and gown into the prison with the advocacy of Get on the Bus—as prisons usually don’t allow such items—so Ware could see him wear the regalia in person. They were able to take family pictures in the photo booth, share a laugh, and make a memory.

Leah Vallis, her children, and Derrick Ware take graduation pictures in the photo booth at CTF. Credit: Victoria Valenzuela

The Vallis family drove two hours from Northern California to join the Father’s Day event at the prison. The costs add up, and the trip is long, so Vallis doesn’t get to go as often as she wants and doesn’t always bring her four sons, ages 10 to 18. By the time of the Father’s Day trip, it had been a year since the children saw him.

During the visit, the family drew pictures, played board games with the youngest winning, and caught Ware up on trends on the outside. The second-oldest son taught him about “mogging,” or having something better than someone else. 

“It’s difficult trying to create memories with him while he’s in here and not knowing when he’s going to get out,” Vallis said. “The kids love spending time with him. It’s not a perfect world, but we do what we can.”

Many families said that without the transportation and complimentary food provided by Get on the Bus, they wouldn’t have been able to visit that weekend. Due to demand and funding, Get on the Bus can only go to each facility during the spring and summer once, the number of attendees is limited to visiting room capacity, not the entire population. There have been times when the organization has  needed to hold events on two weekends at one facility to meet the demand. 

Danita Quinn said the Get on the Bus event was more meaningful to her grandchildren than a regular visit, and that she has been bringing them to visit their father since they were born. Since her son has five children, she has to rotate which children she brings because the prison has a cap on how many people can visit one person.

Danita Quinn, her grandchildren, and their father, Robert Pasillas, with Get on the Bus founder Liz Rios (far left). Credit: Victoria Valenzuela

When Quinn brought her granddaughters, ages 11 and 14, to see their father Robert Pasillas, one of the girls kept touching her father’s arms and face, taking in the time they spent together. 

“She misses her dad a lot and doesn’t understand it, so when she sees him, she’s just so happy, just always hugging him, and it’s really good to watch the interaction between them,” Quinn said.

Pasillas said connecting with his children means a lot to him. Despite his best efforts, he said, there is still a gap in their lives because of his incarceration.

“Being able to hear and laugh with them, joke around with them, play with them, take pictures for them, just it’s everything,” Pasillas said.

Victoria Valenzuela is an independent journalist based in California covering issues in the criminal legal system, gender equality, activism, and social justice. She has been published in The Guardian, BuzzFeed News, LAist, Bolts, ScheerPost, and more. She is also a former intern with the National Association of Hispanic Journalists, was an emerging reporter fellow with ProPublica, uprising fellow with Just Media, and part of the inaugural cohort of the Law and Justice Journalism Project. She recently graduated from the University of Southern California with a master’s degree in specialized journalism with a concentration in social justice and investigations.

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