Sponsor the Vets

Now through November 11th

This is a virtual campaign in which you may choose to donate and support the Veterans. 100% of the proceeds go to supporting VTC. The fundraiser ends at our Salute to Veterans Jamboree on November 10th. Here you will have the opportunity of a meet and greet with the Veterans involved in the campaign.

We were incredibly grateful at the enthusiasm shown by our Veterans when presented with the possibility of participating in this campaign.

Below are Veterans currently in VTC's program and those who have already graduated. We asked them to write about how VTC has impacted their lives. These are their stories..

Harlon Lacapa

Since my arrival here at VTC I have been met with nothing but kindness and professionalism. The LTORR staff made every effort to ensure that I had a smooth and stress-free transition from incarceration back into society. I was provided a wealth of information which helped procure all documents necessary to rebuild a new life for myself here in Marina and I am thankful to Tyler Barola, my initial case manager who seemed to know all the ends and outs of navigating the various agencies that I would have to deal with. But it is without doubt that the only reason I was able to hit the ground running, so to speak was due to the established LTORR curriculum for which Jennie Nestler deserves great credit. A curriculum which starts with having a place to lay your head and a Pantry service that removes the anxiety of wondering where your next meal will come from. For those of us who may not have had much in the way of personal clothing, well the VTC clothing locker provided a means to dress for success. However, I would be remiss if I failed to mention the services of the Job development coordinator, Travis Johnson who was instrumental in assisting me with creating a sterling resume that led to me securing employment here with VTC. As I see it, there is no other organization that I could have chosen

which cares so deeply about the veteran community, even the ones who carry the stigma of being incarcerated and I know this first-hand because I am one of them. VTC has also provided me with various opportunities to engage in volunteer service on its behalf, for I take great pride and joy in serving other veterans and the many supporters of VTC as well as the public in general. Finally, I would like to render a salute to my current case manager, Adrianna Kosinski who continues to provide excellent guidance and genuine care and concern for my success in moving from crisis to self-reliance while still being of service to others; she is the team-leader of my goal-oriented transition plan and never fails in providing the support that I may need for completing my mission. In closing I thank all VTC leadership and staff as well as its supporters for helping to ensure that VTC remains an effective and successful part of the veteran community.

Alphonso Vandersliu

Alphonso is a recent GPD graduate. More coming soon.

Terry Hall

To the VTC,

I have to declare how grateful I am to the Veterans Transition Center.

Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have, as quickly as I have. From someone who doesn’t have any family in California, you are mine. Thank you for affording me a stress-free environment and allowance to springboard forward.

There cannot be enough said about the feeling of acceptance everyone at the VTC exuded. The hardest thing to acknowledge I need is acceptance, but everyone there accepted me as the person I am now. I also thank you for that!

Now, I am in Brookdale, CA in Santa Cruz; At Cabrillo College transferring to UCSC soon for my BS in Computer Science; and in HudVash. It’s what I wanted for a long time. I can look out my window right at a Redwood Forrest.

Thank you for being there for me when I had no one I could count on.

Sincerely yours,

Terry Hall

Thomas Lamphere

I once stood before a door, my hand hovering over the handle. The wood was old, the kind that creaked under the weight of time. Its silence hummed with something I couldn’t quite shake—a sound only I could hear, like the echo of a distant memory, one that refused to fade. My mind tried to reason with me. "It’s just your neighbor’s door," it said, a quiet voice of logic I should have trusted. But my heart? My heart beat faster, as if it knew better, as if it was preparing for war.

I laughed at myself, bitter and hollow. I knew there wouldn’t be any explosions waiting for me behind that door. No bullets slicing through the air. But the fear didn’t listen to reason. The air felt thick, choking, as though death itself lingered on the other side, waiting patiently for me to turn the handle. I tried to shake it off, reminding myself, “I’m not there anymore.”

But the quiet of the hallway made me doubt my own words. In that moment, I was still there. My mind slipped back to the desert, to that burning sun glaring down on us like some angry god. The heat and dust, thick and relentless, clung to our skin. The weight of my best friend’s presence surrounding me... and then, just like that, the weight was gone. I didn’t even have time to say his name. The blood, so much blood. It soaked the ground, turning the sand beneath us dark and heavy, like an ocean that swallowed him whole. We left his outline in the darkened sand, but his shadow followed me home.

I carried him with me. Every step I took, every breath I drew, every unopened door. He was there. I didn’t know how to put him down, how to set his memory to rest. There was one night, when the weight of it all crushed me. The silence, the memories, the shadow that wouldn’t leave me alone—it became too much. I tried to end it. I just wanted the noise to stop, the endless battle in my head. I can still feel the roughness of the rope in my hands, and around my neck, the finality of that knot. I remember hanging, my body convulsing as it struggled for air, but I survived. The darkness of that night, it never really left me. It was still there, just out of reach, always threatening to pull me back.

Every door was a question mark. Every silence, a threat. The unknown lurked just out of sight, like a shadow I could never shake. I told myself, “I’m not there anymore.” But was it true? Or was it that I just didn’t want to be here, in this world where everything was uncertain, and every memory felt like a wound that wouldn’t heal? The scars were hidden, invisible, buried beneath layers of normalcy that felt more like lies. And the battles I fought? They were all in my mind. That’s where the real war was. That’s where survival felt the hardest.

I didn’t want to be there, in that place where every step I took echoed with memories I couldn’t seem to escape. Behind every door could be anything—or maybe nothing at all. But both possibilities terrified me. Because behind every door, I was still there. I was still

fighting an event that ended long ago. My friend was still dying in my mind, and no matter how many times I replayed it, I could never save him.

Part of me knew I’d never stop fighting. Part of me was still behind that door, trapped in the past, unable to move on.

In the darkest corners of my life, when the weight of the past was too much to bear, I thought I had nothing left. I was lost, broken in ways that felt irreparable. But when I thought I’d disappear under the crushing weight of it all, two incredible women stepped into my life—Jennie and Alex, from VTC.

I don’t know how they saw it in me—the smallest flicker of hope still buried under all that pain—but they did. Where I saw a man who had failed, a man trapped in the shadows of his past, they saw someone worth saving. And they didn’t just save me. They brought me back to life. They became my compass when I couldn’t find my way through the maze of memories and guilt that kept me prisoner.

Jennie, with her quiet strength, had this way of seeing straight through me. She never flinched from the ugliness I tried to hide. She wasn’t afraid of the darkness I carried, and somehow, her presence made that darkness feel less suffocating. She told me it was okay to be broken. That healing wasn’t about pretending everything was fine, but about embracing the cracks, the scars, the wounds that ran so deep inside me. She made me believe that I could live with them, that they didn’t have to define me.

And Alex, God, she had this fire in her. She didn’t let me sink into despair. She wouldn’t let me quit, even on the days I wanted to. There was something in the way she spoke to me, something fierce and unshakable. She reminded me that I still had fight left in me. Every time I stumbled, every time I thought I couldn’t take another step, Alex was there to steady me, to remind me that it wasn’t about never falling, but about getting back up.

They didn’t just guide me through the complexities of my struggles; they held my hand through the darkest moments of my life. They gave me the strength to confront my demons, to face the memories that haunted me, and to find the light that I thought had been extinguished long ago. When I couldn’t see my own worth, they held a mirror up to me and showed me the person they saw—the person I was too afraid to believe I could be.

There are no words that can capture what they’ve done for me. They gave me back a sense of self-worth I didn’t think I deserved. They helped me find the man buried beneath the layers of pain, grief, and shame. Jennie and Alex didn’t just save my life—they gave me the support to reclaim it.

I owe them everything. Because of them, I learned how to breathe again. How to live, not just survive. And though the road is long and still filled with challenges, I’m walking it because of them. Every step I take is a testament to their kindness, their patience, and their belief in me when I had none in myself. They helped me walk through the door.

There are some debts you can never repay, and this is one of them. But what I can do is keep moving forward. For them. For me. For the life they helped me rebuild when I thought it was gone forever. Hope isn’t just something you find—it’s something people give to you when you’re too lost to find it yourself. And I’ll carry their gift with me always. “Semper Fidelis”—Always Faithful.

-Thomas

Randy Ennis

Randy of Randy's Plants. more coming soon.

Brandon Le

It was about three or four in the afternoon one late January day when I was sitting in my car contemplating and debating with myself as to call this place (unknown to me at that point) called “The Veterans Transition Center” (VTC for short). I could only infer from its name that it might be able to help me through my predicament. I was bouncing back and forth between “surfing couches” and sleeping in my car. Ultimately what tipped the scale in favor of at least making that initial call/step was the excruciating thought of another “freezing” night in my vehicle turning the engine over a few times throughout the night so as to keep warm.

To my surprise, after a few awkward words (on my part) by way of salutations and greetings, I was extemporaneously interviewed on the spot with a few basic questions about my military service and the nature of my discharge. Apparently I passed the initial screening and was invited to come by the following Monday (as it was a Friday when I made that fateful call) along with my discharge papers (DD-214). That “Monday” could not come fast enough, but when it arrived I was there as early as could be. The “second interview” was more detailed, but after receiving the information they needed I was “off to the races” so-to-speak. After my exhaustive interview with the VA Clinic I came back to the VTC and immediately was housed (given a room in a house) and gifted a set of linens along with various essential kitchen items. It was at this point that a huge sigh of relief overtook my emotional control and I had to surreptitiously turn my head and wipe the few tear drops that went rogue on me.

The initial first few days the VTC staff allowed me to acclimate to my living situation, but after that they assigned to me a “Case Manager” to better tailor how they could maximize the efficacy of their program along with reaching the end game of ultimately being permanently housed. I was very fortunate to have been matched up with not only a Case Manager that was competent but one that cared about my well-being. The care and counseling that I received from first to last was invaluable. I was made aware of and received services and resources that heretofore I was completely ignorant of that were available to veterans like myself. My Case Manager guided and helped me to navigate through the labyrinth of “paperwork” that is the VA Edifice. Aside from being a conduit to the VA, The VTC and in particular my Case Manager availed to me badly needed substance abuse and mental health counseling whilst simultaneously “walking” me through the painful process of repairing/improving my credit score (the latter was done with the end game in mind).

Every Veteran that comes knocking at the VTC’s door comes with his or her special needs, but The Veterans Transition Center and more specifically the staff at VTC do an amazing job sifting through all the nuance and developing a “game plan” that best suits each individual Veteran and thus allowing them (myself included) to matriculate through within a timeframe that is most reasonable. This isn’t to say that the program has a 100% success rate, nor should it be judged by those unreasonable and unfair standards. To expect perfection is impossible, for that domain belongs to Providence, but The Veterans Transition Center and their staff come “pretty darn close” in my eye. I cannot show enough gratitude nor are there enough encomiums for all the help they provided me with in my hour of struggle and need.

Ed Spoon

I am a Veteran and I’m also an addict in recovery. What happened for me was that I was in my addiction period, and I got to the end.. I just didn’t see a way out. Then I found the gift of desperation. There was just no more hope, and I got tired of having no hope. So, I finally reached out. I had been at the VTC before and done some of the programs throughout my life, but around July 28th of 2020, I reached out for help and talked to Dan Scott. He was a God send because I wasn’t going to make it another day or too. So, Dan let me know they had a bed for me, and I headed over to VTC. I said to myself “no more foolishness in my life” and made the promise to myself to do whatever was best for me. I haven’t had a drink or done any drugs since that day. Over 4 years now. My life is great now. I do service work, I have a sponsor, include myself in events. I love the ocean and only live 5 minutes away from it, I’m taking art classes, got my license and have a nice car. Life is simple and I’m happy. Very grateful to VTC and everyone there. I live in Santa Cruz in my own spot and work for the landlord. At VTC I found there was a lot of help and goal planning. They help you figure out what you want to do, where you want to live, and teach you how to budget. They really help you plan for your new life. It was a great experience, and I’d say that if any Veteran out there doesn’t know what to do with themselves, this would be a great place to go.

Amos Johnson

Amos is our Pantry Manager. More coming soon.

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