Julian, a Cal State San Marcos social sciences major who's graduating this week, grew up in Los Angeles. The youngest of six siblings, she dealt with surroundings that proved challenging. She said one of her sisters became addicted to drugs when Julian was young, and a brother got involved with gangs and was in and out of juvenile hall.

Julian said her father was an abusive alcoholic and that her parents divorced when she was 2 years old. Her mother worked nights at a hospital as a nursing assistant, and her oldest brother was often responsible for taking care of her and her siblings as best he could.

But Julian doesn’t have much memory of her siblings because when she was only 6, she and her next-oldest sister were placed in foster care. They previously had been in kinship care with their maternal grandmother, who lived across the street. However, they were put in foster care after often returning to their mother’s house, where they were not allowed to be because their mother’s new boyfriend had been accused of molesting one of Julian’s siblings. 

“A lot of my childhood was just surviving,” Julian said.

Julian moved 11 times during her 13 years in foster care, making it difficult to create a solid group of friends. In eighth grade, she attended one school for only 20 days, but those 20 days marked an important milestone for her. It was at that school that she tested into honors classes, which allowed her to take AP classes when she entered high school.

After graduating from high school, Julian was accepted into the Guardian Scholars program, which helps former foster youth pursue higher education. Though the scholarship helped her afford college, the overall experience proved traumatizing.

Julian was sexually assaulted at both her initial college and another college where she transferred after the first incident. Both times, she said, her feelings were never prioritized. She said she wasn’t believed the first time and the second time she was only asked if she was pregnant.

The assaults led to a challenging period. Julian couch surfed with friends until she eventually had to move back with her biological mother because she had nowhere else to go. That, too, was traumatic as Julian contended with learning that she had been molested as a child, which she said subconsciously contributed to many of the issues she experienced as a young adult.

To make matters worse, Julian also experienced an ectopic pregnancy that left her fighting for her life in the hospital, with only one of her foster parents around to support her.

Julian recovered and worked countless jobs just trying to survive without a support system. She ended up marrying a man she hoped could provide her with stability and love, but the relationship was both physically and verbally abusive.

It continued until one day Julian knew she needed to make a change.

“I just remember thinking, ‘I don’t deserve this. I’ve worked so hard and I know I am worth more than this,’ ” she said.

After a gap of almost 20 years since she’d been in college, Julian enrolled at Irvine Valley College during the pandemic. She earned an associate degree and transferred to CSUSM in 2024 to pursue a bachelor’s degree.

During orientation at CSUSM, Julian was unsure if she had made the right choice to pursue a degree in social sciences, as she originally went to college for psychology. But seeing sociology professor Matthew Atherton made all the difference.

“When I saw Dr. Atherton’s bright smile, he made me feel like I made the right choice,” Julian said.

It wasn’t just the encouragement of professors that made her time at CSUSM special. It was also the support she received from ACE Scholars Services when she needed it most. Being in her 40s, Julian no longer qualified for financial support from ACE. However, she still loved having community support when she was going through tough times.

“ACE gave me a safe space to let out my feelings and vent about situations I was struggling with, where I may not have even been able to go to class if I held these thoughts in,” she said.

The comforting space that ACE Scholars cultivates for former foster care students has helped many students achieve the higher education goals they thought were unattainable.

Over the last 15 years, Julian met the man she is currently living with and helped him fight for custody of his two daughters. She continues to support the girls, as their biological mother was not part of their upbringing. They are 18 and 20 now, and Julian has made it her top priority to give them the life she wishes she had.

“I never thought I would be a mom because I was afraid I would transfer all the trauma that I went through onto my children,” Julian said, “But it was actually the opposite. I took everything that I didn't like from my childhood and promised I would never be that type of parent.”

So, as Julian completes her finals, writes her last papers and orders her cap and gown for graduation, she is reminded of how much of a role model she has been for her daughters. She has worked to show them that, even when life seems like it has turned against you, you can always make it through.

Julian is applying to get her master’s in education counseling at San Diego State University and hopes to continue her passion for inspiring students, especially foster students, to achieve higher education.

“Foster care children come from a place where they just need a little more help to believe in themselves,” she said. “And I hope to one day be the support for those students.”

Media Contact

Eric Breier, Interim Assistant Director of Editorial and External Affairs

ebreier@csusm.edu | Office: 760-750-7314

As a Mexican American child of a single parent from a low-income household, he felt a level of pressure to find a place where he thought he belonged. This pressure was amplified by Haro’s identity as a transgender man.

He felt alone on campus – othered – because he rarely saw his identity reflected around him.

“I didn’t see myself in my peers or professors,” Haro said. “I always tell people I’m a triple threat because I’m brown, I came from poverty and I’m trans. A lot of things have happened in my life, so it's hard to find people who relate to me without disclosing all those things.”

Haro graduated last spring with a degree in social sciences, and he now works on campus as a basic needs assistant for the Cougar Care Network. The impact of his work on campus earned him the President’s Student Champion Award for Inclusive Excellence and Diversity this year, and he was honored as the winner at the All Peoples Luncheon on Oct. 23.

“Every human being has a right to basic needs, and we should not have to suffer to acquire them,” Haro said during his acceptance speech.

By his senior year at CSUSM, Haro realized that what was blocking him from connecting with others was the internal shame he carried as a transgender man. With that in mind, he not only began working on self-acceptance but also sought to be a representation of transgender people in higher education that he longed to see.

Last academic year, Haro learned about an opening for a civic engagement ambassador through Service Learning and Civic Engagement. He was drawn in by the office’s advocacy and decided to apply. In his application, he stated that while he is committed to neutrality, his passion is in helping those from underrepresented communities.

Soon after becoming an ambassador, Haro began creating a comprehensive and easy-to-understand CalFresh guide for CSUSM students.

After going through the challenging and confusing process of applying for CalFresh as a transgender man, Haro used inspiration from his mother to help motivate him to push for a change.

“My mom was like, ‘If you don’t like something, then do something about it. No one’s gonna do it for you,’ ” Haro said.

The guide is a tool to help all students, but it also highlights issues that transgender students seeking basic needs might encounter, such as what to do when their preferred name doesn’t match their legal name. This was not only a way for Haro to help other students on campus, but also a tool for self-empowerment.

“I wanted to create this guide for every student, because getting basic needs is what you deserve. It shouldn’t be so difficult,” Haro said.

While his guide focuses on the experiences of transgender, undocumented and mixed-status students, it is for everyone, and Haro encourages all students to apply for CalFresh.

“More than half of our students probably qualify for CalFresh, and they’re not doing it because they either don’t know what it is or they have some shame around it,” Haro said. “But if you need that help, there’s no shame in receiving it. You don’t need to suffer for your basic needs.”

Breaking the stigma around public assistance programs like CalFresh was also one of Haro’s goals with the CalFresh guide. He saw the shame his mother felt in using programs like CalFresh, Section 8 and Medi-Cal. That shame was amplified by how people reacted when his mom pulled out her benefits card at the grocery store. He said he doesn’t want to see other people struggle the way his mother did just to fulfill their basic needs.

“Your physical health, your mental health, food impacts both of those,” he said. “Statistics show that when you have a lack of basic needs, you’re not showing up to class and your grades are dropping. How are you supposed to thrive in school and get your degree if all you’re thinking about is how hungry you are?”

Haro has found that seeking assistance can be empowering rather than bringing shame.

Creating the guide wasn’t easy. The CalFresh application contains technical language that can be hard for some to interpret. It required cross-referencing documents, taking notes while completing his own application and interviews, and spending hours on research. Every conversation Haro had with a CalFresh representative during this process became a valuable tool to help students.

“I wanted the guide to be empowering for people,” Haro said. “Yes, the process is difficult, but once you get the benefits, it’s totally worth it.”

Along with the CalFresh guide, Haro has also collaborated with various university departments and student organizations to raise awareness about social justice, voting rights and public policy issues. In 2024, he won the Innovation Hub’s Social Innovation Challenge for his proposal to redesign CSUSM’s commuter hub into a lounge focused on students’ comfort and basic needs. Last year, Haro also contributed artwork that centered on transgender joy and the normalization of transgender identities on campus.

The picture, which is on display in the University Student Union, features Haro shirtless, three months after his top surgery. Haro described being open about his transness as “so incredibly scary but so empowering” and “filled with self-love.”

As Haro continues his work with the Cougar Care Network, he’s thinking beyond the campus community. What began as a way to navigate his own challenges is now opening doors for others, a step toward lasting change built on lived experience and compassion.

“This is representation,” Haro said. “I’m happy, I’m thriving and I’m filled with joy because of who I am.”

Media Contact

Eric Breier, Interim Assistant Director of Editorial and External Affairs

ebreier@csusm.edu | Office: 760-750-7314

Diagnosed with hepatitis C, very unusual for a child that young, Jaenisch had been told by doctors that if he didn’t get a liver transplant, he wouldn’t live past 30. That disturbing prediction had hung over his adolescence and early adulthood like a black cloud, casting a pall over every doctor’s appointment and health episode.  

Now here it was, 2016, the year when Jaenisch turned 30, and the doctor’s assessment was feeling eerily prescient. He had not been able to procure a new liver, and his condition was deteriorating rapidly. To borrow his gallows humor, he was as “yellow as a Simpsons character” because of jaundice. He collectively spent more than six weeks in the hospital as a result of various complications from end-stage liver disease.  

“Every single day that year, I had a 30 to 60 percent chance of dying,” Jaenisch said.  

That he didn’t die, that he received a liver transplant on Dec. 3 (only a few months before his 31^st birthday), Jaenisch considers to be nothing short of a miracle. Given the gift of fresh life in his fourth decade, he elected to devote it to ensuring that no one else has to go through the ordeal that he did. 

Three years later, Jaenisch returned to Cal State San Marcos – the university where he had earned a bachelor’s degree in social sciences in 2008 – to pursue a master’s in public health. He now works as the director of education and outreach for Open Biopharma Research and Training Institute, a Carlsbad nonprofit whose mission is to reduce the cost of pharmaceuticals like the ones that helped keep him alive while he waited for the miracle liver.  

More significantly, Jaenisch is a tireless patient advocate, dedicating countless hours to multiple organizations that share a goal of ending the scourge of hep C. He has transformed adversity into community impact, leveraging his CSUSM education to improve lives and strengthen public health across the state.  

“Richard is truly a special person,” said Carrie Frenette, the executive director of global medical affairs for Gilead Sciences and Jaenisch’s liver doctor for nine years starting in 2012.  

“I can’t think of anyone else who has so much expertise and understanding in their medical problems, advocates for themselves and then goes on to advocate for others. Honestly, it made it so easy to care for him, and it made it mean even more when he got his transplant and was healthy again.” 

'I don’t know how you are still alive...’ 

It all started with brown pee. 

Jaenisch was a normal suburban kid growing up in Rancho Bernardo. When he was 12, his parents signed him up for a summer tennis camp. It was a sweltering day and he didn’t drink a lot of water; when he returned home and went to the bathroom, his urine was dark.  

His father took him to Rady Children’s Hospital, where he was put through a battery of tests on his kidneys, spleen and liver. The diagnosis of hepatitis C virus (HCV) stunned them, as did the subsequent wallop of bad news: After the rest of the family was tested, it was discovered that he contracted the infection at birth from his mother, who also was found to have HCV.   

Nothing, though, could have prepared Jaenisch for the haunting prognostication of liver transplant or death.  

“That shook me to my core,” he said. “My childhood was fundamentally changed. And my mom heard that, too, because she was in the room. It’s awkward hearing your own future from your child’s diagnosis. We shared a very odd relationship in that way.” 

At the time, in the late 1990s, there was no cure for HCV, only experimental treatments with low success rates and punishing side effects. Jaenisch’s mom started the drugs – interferon and ribavirin – almost immediately, but as a child, Jaenisch wasn’t eligible. The primary impact of HCV on his teenage years was that he was forced to cease participation in all sports and PE classes (because the disease can be transmitted through blood) and he began to suffer from a type of brain fog named hepatic encephalopathy (HE).   

After graduating from Rancho Bernardo High School, he attended Palomar College for two years, then transferred to CSUSM. There, he threw himself into classes in economics, history and political science – not only to satiate his hunger for knowledge but also to distract himself from the fear that constantly lingered at the back of his mind.  

“I wanted to live as much of my life as I could before everything hit the fan,” Jaenisch said. “Because I knew what was coming. When someone gives you a death sentence, you remember it, to say the least.” 

Jaenisch graduated from CSUSM in December 2008. Only a few weeks later, the trouble started. He attempted to begin the same treatment program his mom had undergone, but because of denials by his mom's employer, he wasn’t able to do so for about nine months.  

Once the snags finally had been resolved, the 12-week regimen of interferon and ribavirin didn’t work. He experienced all the negative effects of the drugs – in his case, painful inflammation and wild emotional swings – without any decrease in his body’s viral load. A second round at double the dosage early in 2010 similarly yielded no response.  

By this point, more than a decade after his HCV first had been discovered, Jaenisch had descended to the most serious stage on the scale that measures liver fibrosis, or scarring. F0 equates to no fibrosis, F1 is mild, F2 is moderate, and so on. He was at F4, which indicates the presence of cirrhosis, a condition in which the liver is extensively scarred and permanently damaged.   

Jaenisch had reached the dreaded end-stage liver disease, which essentially meant that the ticking of his clock was only accelerating. All the while, he was encountering roadblocks in his career. He had hoped to enter the niche field of traffic economics, but graduating into the Great Recession scuttled that plan. For a time, he held a job in tech support that he found unfulfilling. 

The work that did bring Jaenisch joy was for a group that offered before- and after-school services for elementary and middle schools in the Poway district of his youth. He envisioned a long-term future in that field but was stymied by both the ailing economy (which led to layoffs) and his illness (he claims he was a victim of disability discrimination but chose to spend his remaining time trying to get better rather than pursue a case.)   

While he tried to piece together enough work to retain his vital health insurance, Jaenisch’s health continued to deteriorate. In 2014, two years into her stint as his liver doctor, Frenette proffered a grim evaluation. 

“She said, ‘I don’t know how you are still alive with this liver,’ ” Jaenisch recalled. “She showed me pictures and was like, ‘Your liver is an old shoe. It is not doing what it’s supposed to do. But you’re still functioning.’ ” 

Every moment of optimism, it seemed, was followed by a stroke of misfortune. He began taking a new drug called Sovaldi (a direct-acting antiviral, or DAA) that was considered a game-changer for HCV patients in that it had an 86% cure rate in six months. Sure enough, Jaenisch’s viral load was approaching zero and his liver was curing. But then he contracted a C. diff bacterial infection (the suspect: spoiled food from a restaurant), which caused acute liver failure and brought his HVC roaring back.  

He later tried another second-generation DAA – Harvoni – that sounded promising but failed in the last week of treatment. As his liver continued to deteriorate, in 2016 he became too sick for treatment and, following a now-common hospitalization, an ER physician gave him outdated medical advice, which resulted in a case of sepsis that nearly killed him. 

End-stage liver disease is typically a rapid descent lasting as little as two years. For Jaenisch, it was an eight-year slog, from age 22 to 30.  

“He was in and out of the hospital multiple times, and he nearly didn’t make it to transplant multiple times,” Frenette said. “I can’t imagine anyone going through it with the courage and strength that he did.” 

Even after the liver transplant, Jaenisch wasn’t out of the woods. The operation addressed the issue of the failing liver, but it didn’t eradicate the HCV (the virus lives in the bloodstream). Frenette advised a treatment plan of Sovaldi, Zepatier and ribavirin, and that pharmaceutical concoction proved to be a magical formula.  

In September 2017, 18 years after the fateful diagnosis, Jaenisch was cured. 

“Honestly, I cried,” Frenette said. “He had been through so much, and to finally get rid of this awful virus that he had lived with his entire life and had caused his liver to fail … I don’t have words.” 

‘I have to be more than a self-advocate' 

It was during one of his dozens of hospital stays that Jaenisch decided on the next course of his life, provided he would live long enough to choose.  

In the fall of 2014, he had been admitted to Sharp Memorial Hospital after the HCV returned via his C. diff infection. His medical team was struggling to lower his levels of bilirubin, a substance found in bile that was causing jaundice, the yellowing of the skin now so familiar to Jaenisch. He knew that ultraviolet rays help break down bilirubin, so he convinced the nurses to bring him outside for an hour a day at peak sun. As he had theorized, his bilirubin numbers declined. 

“It was at that point where I was like, ‘I have to be more than a self-advocate. If I can survive through transplant, I need to go to a Master of Public Health program,’ ” Jaenisch said. “I realized that that path would help me better understand how to become an advocate not only for myself but also for others.” 

His commitment would be nurtured in an environment like CSUSM, as he was accepted into its accelerated MPH program. His time back at the university overlapped with the pandemic, which he took advantage of by choosing as his thesis topic the emergency use authorization of COVID-19 tests.  

“He was very inquisitive and passionate,” said Asherlev Santos, an associate professor of public health and Jaenisch’s thesis adviser. “Sometimes that passion was more visible than the evidence of the inquiry, but all came from a place of helping others in some sort of need. He used his personal and professional experience to spur on what he did for his MPH degree.” 

His master’s allowed him to land his job at Open Biopharma, but it’s passion that mostly fuels Jaenisch in his advocacy connected to HCV. In 2016, while his body was still racked with the disease, he traveled to Sacramento with an organization known as CalHEP to talk to state legislators and raise awareness about viral hepatitis.  

The next year, when Congress was preparing to vote on a bill to repeal the Affordable Care Act, Jaenisch enlisted in the fight. He told his story of overcoming HCV in half a dozen TV interviews, worked at a call center, wrote letters – he did so much that the American Liver Foundation named him its liver champion of the year.  

“I wanted to preserve the things that help people get access to health care,” he said. “Because to me, it saved my life.” 

He also has volunteered for state and local groups such as End the Epidemics, the California Department of Public Health and the Eliminate Hepatitis C San Diego County Initiative. Their shared objective (in line with a goal established by the World Health Organization) is to eliminate hep C by 2030, which means a reduction of new infections by 90% and deaths by 65%. 

And the barriers are much lower than they used to be. Jaenisch says his family spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on treatment and other expenses to keep him alive. Today, treatment could run as cheap as a few hundred dollars, and that’s for more effective drugs, too.  

“I was raised in a middle-class suburban household, and I wouldn’t have known I had hep C if I didn’t pee a brown color,” Jaenisch said. “I’ve always maintained that I think we’re missing a lot of people, and I keep trying to push for us to find them and knock this virus out. We’re taking a lot of steps, and eventually we’ll get there.” 

Thanks to Jaenisch’s focus on access and innovation, those steps are becoming strides – toward a healthier, more equitable future for all. 

Media Contact

Brian Hiro, Communications Specialist

bhiro@csusm.edu | Office: 760-750-7306

The award is given yearly by the Migrant Clinicians Network (MCN), a national nonprofit focused on the health needs of migrants, immigrants, asylum seekers and other underserved communities. This honor is awarded to early-career clinicians who show a significant dedication to health justice, demonstrate leadership and make an impact at the intersections of vulnerability, migration and health. 

Merino-Gonzalez has worked in the Migrant Health department at Vista Community Clinic for three years, providing critical support to the migrant and immigrant community of San Diego County. Merino-Gonzalez uses her unique perspective, background of understanding and empathetic nature to provide her community with the best care possible. 

Candace Kugel and Ed Zuroweste, award creators and namesakes, explained that the former social science major, “clearly personifies the criteria we look for in a recipient of the Kugel & Zuroweste Health Justice Award.” Merino-Gonzalez will receive a gift in the amount of $1,000 and recognition across MCN’s network of partners, collaborators and constituents.

Merino-Gonzalez and other finalists will be honored on Jan. 30.

Media Contact

Eric Breier, Public Affairs Specialist
ebreier@csusm.edu | Office: 760-750-7314

To understand the reasoning behind this report, Cortes conducted empirical research examining important aspects of Latino wellness such as food and culture, sense of belonging and mental health treatment.  

“I wanted to further explore what made the Cougar Pantry such a great resource on campus,”  Cortes said. “And I wanted my research to be relevant to myself and my community.” 

His hard work paid off when he was announced as one of six winners of the 2022-23 CSUSM Library Award for Undergraduate Research and Creative Activity award, which comes with a $600 cash prize for each recipient. 

“It is inspiring to see the work that our students are doing here at CSUSM,” said Rosa Rodriguez, CSUSM’s award chair and outreach librarian. "I am proud of our awardees and all those who submitted their amazing research and creative works.”  

Cortes was encouraged to apply by sociology professor Jill Weigt as this was an excellent opportunity to showcase his research and expand his professional experience.  

The library helped with his research process by providing access to the databases and resources on how to correctly write citations, literature reviews, abstracts and narrow down research questions. And there was one other advantage. 

“Everything was free,” he said.  

Cortes’ paper details that understanding the mechanisms beneath the reasons why Latinos reported mental health benefits from using the pantry can provide the university with information that can help it better support students. 

Other winners 

Creative works category 

Submission: Photographic Reflections on Landscape, Post-Colonial Society and Colonial Artifacts 

Student: Ken Waddy 

Program: Art, Media, and Design 

Adviser: Nancy diBenedetto 

Summary: This photobook highlights landscape, focusing on Rancho Guajome Adobe, the location of a settler colonial project that was built on the servitude of the Payómkawichum people (native to California). The photos reflect the different factors of settler colonialism, most notably how all of the subjects are a product of the process erasing and replacing.  

Submission: “Triggers” 

Student: Kelly Ibarra Perez 

Program: Art, Media, and Design 

Adviser: Siobhan Arnold 

Summary: “Triggers” (Transeúnte) is a short film that conveys how living somewhere between two places feels, physically and mentally. As an immigrant and a first-generation Mexican daughter, Perez portrays the relationship with her family and roots, and the distance between herself and her memory of home. 

Empirical research category 

Submission: Altruism and Mindfulness in Prosocial Helping Behavior 

Student: Alyssa Hudkins 

Program: Psychology 

Adviser: Virginia Tasulis 

Summary: This study’s results reveal how participants with higher mindfulness rates did not show significantly higher altruistic tendencies, and participants who rated themselves higher in altruism were not statistically more likely to help others in a high-risk situation.  

Submission: ‘Don't Jew Me’: How Antisemitism is Expressed, Experienced, and Ultimately Challenged 

Student: Eric Wilsker 

Program: Sociology 

Adviser: Mary Roche 

Summary: Through interviews, an in-depth literature review and a content analysis of items from contemporary American culture, this paper examines how Jewish people experience antisemitism, how antisemitism is expressed through various social mechanisms and a means by which antisemitism may be challenged.  

Interpretive analysis category 

Submission: Engendering Binaries: The Transhistorical Experiences of Catalina de Erauso 

Student: Hugo Daniel Peralta-Ramirez 

Program: History 

Adviser: Miriam Riggs 

Summary: This paper examines the crossdressing Basque Monja Alferéz Catalina de Erauso to demonstrate how gender performance iconography and symbolism are rooted in the way people experience and interact with Erauso and their performance within the archetypal standards of their contexts.  

Media Contact

Eric Breier, Public Affairs Specialist

ebreier@csusm.edu | Office: 760-750-7314

Dean had known heartache in other ways, but was always able to find a measure of satisfaction in helping others through his work. But that all ended with David’s death.

“When David died, nothing was fulfilling,” Dean said. “I mean nothing. There was this emptiness that I just could not explain.”

Dean tried filling that emptiness in the worst ways possible. He went down a harrowing path that included drug addiction and multiple incarcerations. But Dean is nothing if not resilient. It’s what led him to Cal State San Marcos and will see him become the first in his family to graduate from college in December.

Coming out

Dean grew up in North Augusta, S.C., on the border of Georgia, with dreams of becoming a naval officer. In high school, he worked as a page for South Carolina Sen. Strom Thurmond. After graduating, he attended The Citadel, a military college in Charleston, S.C.

But Dean’s time at The Citadel didn’t last long.

At the end of his freshman year, both David and Dean came out to their parents as gay. That can be difficult for anyone at any time. But doing so in the South in the early 1990s brought a different level of scrutiny.

“That changed the trajectory of my life,” Dean said. “In the early ’90s there just weren't any systems in place to provide support. There was nothing in place, so we rejected everything that we previously had in terms of our lives, our faith, tradition. But our parents were struggling, too.”

Dean’s father refused to provide any financial support after his sons came out, and Dean was forced to drop out of college.

For a time, Dean found fulfillment in his work, from a role with an AIDS organization to working as a union organizer, the latter leading him to move to California in 2001. But David’s death sent Dean spiraling.

David had been a meth user who contracted HIV in the early ’90s and was later diagnosed with AIDS. David contended for years with a low count of T cells, and when he developed an infection in the hospital, he didn’t have the necessary defenses to protect against it.

Dean had already been feeling like he was in an identity crisis, and his brother’s death made him lose any sense of the purpose he found in his work. It also led him down a path of drug addiction.

“I decided I was just going to satisfy this curiosity and try meth so that I knew what David was really attracted to about it,” Dean said. “But I didn't do the meth, the meth did me.”

From addiction to scholar

As Dean’s meth use turned into addiction, he looked for ways to support his habit.

“It wasn't long before I started doing crimes,” he said. “I did financial crimes primarily, and I ended up in prison right off the bat.”

Dean had three stints of incarceration covering nearly six years. He tried treatment programs to overcome his addiction, but suffered multiple relapses.

Eventually, a sponsor and working through a 12-step program helped get him on the right track. He enrolled at San Diego City College before finding his way to CSUSM where he is majoring in social sciences.

Dean joined Project Rebound, which empowers formerly incarcerated students and those who are impacted by the criminal justice system. He also found a mentor in social sciences professor Jill Weigt, who has encouraged him to pursue fellowship and research opportunities.

“Dean has taken two classes with me and is always that good energy, super-engaged student in the front row who greets everyone as they come into class,” Weigt said. “It has been great to work with him one-on-one; he is so curious, motivated and passionate about learning and doing good in the world. He’s a true scholar, and I am looking forward to his next academic steps.”

Dean expects that next step to be pursuing a Ph.D. in sociology with a goal of becoming a professor and researcher.

Dean’s father, who died in 2013, never came to terms with his sons being gay. But Dean’s relationship with his mom is stronger than ever. They FaceTime every day and she’s planning to be there for commencement in 2024.

David’s death still hurts two decades later. There used to be days when Dean would just start crying uncontrollably with an overwhelming grief. It doesn’t happen as often anymore, but there are still moments when the anguish hits.

After all he has been through, Dean is careful to take things day by day.

“Am I in a good place? Just for today,” he said. “The lesson that I really have learned in all this is self-compassion. I’m human and I'm going to make mistakes, but I don't have to get stuck in the mistakes. And the only way I cannot get stuck in the mistakes is to be compassionate with myself. And all of it is just for today. That's all it is. I'm just another guy trying to get through today.”

Media Contact

Eric Breier, Public Affairs Specialist

ebreier@csusm.edu | Office: 760-750-7314