My Story - Rob Pezzeca

Hello, my name is Rob Pezzeca. I am in a Pennsylvania state prison for taking a man’s life in August of 1998. I was sentenced to death by incarceration. I am a father; my daughter, Krista, is 28 years old. My grandbaby, Maddy, is almost 2. My girlfriend, Kat, is my age. We are 49. I have been in here for 28 years. I am the product of a broken childhood. We all know the saying: “Hurt people hurt people, and healed people help people.” I am no longer hurt. I can look in a mirror and proudly say that I am healed. But it wasn't always like this. At 21, I was completely broken–such a mentally damaged kid. I was not a man. Character, morals, strong core values—these make you a man. I had none of these. I had no identity. I looked in the mirror every day and saw a child. A victim. I was sexually abused as a child. At 49, I remember it all, but it doesn't control my life anymore. I am healed. 

Today, I fight for a second chance. I had the honor of meeting student journalist Claire Herquet, and this young woman moved me. For all of you reading this, she is a special young woman. I don't know many young people, but I hope this world has millions more like her. I ask you, readers, should you be put to death if you take someone's life? I have been sentenced to die in prison. Cancer, sickness, disease, old age, murder and suicide are my only ways of ending this horrific nightmare I live every day. I'm not asking you to pity me or feel sorry—I'm explaining it to you. I don't expect you to understand, just like I don't understand college. It’s hard, and you kids impress the hell outta me. I like writing, but my writing isn't proper like you guys are taught. So, let me explain it: In Pennsylvania, a murder conviction can mean spending the rest of your life in prison, with little or no chance of release.

Now, people will say, “Your victim didn't get a second chance,” and I can only say that they’re right. My victim cannot get a second chance. But does my death make it right? Does my dying here change anything? Is this justice? If you think so, please elaborate. Does killing someone who kills make things right? I know this answer: no, it doesn’t. I can say this because I have also had a loved one murdered. Her killer’s death didn't heal me. It didn't change anything. It didn't fix me or the situation. I hurt every day, but a life for a life does nothing but create more hurt, more pain and more broken families. So, why do we do it? Revenge? Vengeance? We say it’s our laws, but we can change laws. 44 states allow for second chances, but in Pennsylvania, we are tough on crime. Pennsylvania believes that if you take a life, it will not care why. It will send you to prison for the rest of your life. 

I have been creating events in prison, bringing in lawmakers, for the last 10 years. I have been profiled on ABC27 news in Harrisburg, PA., on a political show called “This Week in Pennsylvania.” I have been on a podcast called “What is Life,” and I have been on a radio show, “The Bob Cordaro Show” on WILK Newsradio 101.3. I have met with more lawmakers than anyone in prison. One of my closest friends is a state senator. My reporter friend is a La Salle graduate. I am very well known by pretty important people who support my release, so why are we unwilling to at least consider me for a second chance? It’s not because I took a man’s life. It’s because I committed a heinous act after my crime. Claire, you sat with me; I watched tears in your eyes as you listened and learned. I fought back tears as I spoke from the podium. I want to cry. But I put on a brave face; I fight back those tears, and I remain strong; I grasp onto hope. 

I met Claire through Jackson Juzang. This young man impressed the hell outta me, and I'm not easily impressed. But Jackson graduated, and he introduced me to Claire, the Executive Director of the Philadelphia Student Press Association. We connected, and I invited Claire and her fellow students into a violent maximum security state prison, SCI Phoenix, to meet me. They also met the elderly incarcerated and were a part of an event I created with my friend, Kevin Evans, who is president of the Gray Panthers, an organization that focuses on the elderly incarcerated population. Her intelligence impressed me immediately. So, we had a Zoom meeting that my girlfriend, Kat, set up for us. Claire was so full of life, energy and positivity that I was in awe. She agreed weeks before this Zoom meeting to come to the prison to meet. As a man who struggles to find hope in here, I immediately saw hope in her. So she came into SCI Phoenix with her team of students. She sat with me in the front row as I hosted and moderated our geriatric prisoners event. We brought in 15 lawmakers, and we discussed the elderly incarcerated people. 

My story is my own. It's the testimony I read in front of 30 lawmakers on April 29, 2025, while incarcerated in SCI Coal Township. You can see it on an August 2025 episode on thisweekinpa.com. I will have this story included with this. But tell me, after reading my story, must I die in here? Why is that a requirement? What does it serve? Justice? Absolutely not. That's a so-called safe answer because everyone uses it. Or they say they won't drag up the past and force victims to relive the crime. That's not an excuse to destroy more lives and families. Does my granddaughter deserve her pop pop? Does Kat deserve her partner? Does my child deserve her father? Does it make sense to make me die in here? Do you believe in forgiveness? Redemption? Second chances? When you mess up, when you make a mistake, do you want a second chance? I think we all do. Would my life be better used by dying in prison or going home, working with my senator friend to help make society a little better, safer and more helpful for all? If I had been free I could've gotten involved with Project S.A.V.E. 

If you're reading this and you're in college, Google it. Project S.A.V.E. was the creation of Ms. Arlana Brown, a young college girl I once knew. My point is, I can make a difference in society. Am I better off working on helping or dying here? 

I say to the readers, if you think I should die in here, then I say, come meet me. Come meet us. Come see the elderly in wheel chairs, those who can no longer walk or stand. They are preyed upon in here by the young. The old protect the old. 

Did you know it costs Pennsylvania taxpayers almost $4 million a month to pay for elderly prisoners’ medications? Dying in here is horrible. You're locked in a small room with a TV in the prison infirmary until you die. I've watched dozens upon dozens of men die here, and it’s not something you can easily forget. 

Will the youth, the future of this nation, help save us? Will you be our voice? I have believed for a long time that the younger generation would be the answer. I watch the news, I watch TV, and I see college students. They can't be bought, they can't be sold, and they fight for what they believe in—what's right—no matter the cause. They know they have a voice and they use it. The students who are reporters and journalists know how to use social media, and they're not FOX news or CNN or local news. They can't be bullied into silence. There is no one to say to them, “You cannot report on this, you cannot tell the truth.” Hope is dangerous in prison. It can be good and bad here. When I saw Jackson on CBS3 Philadelphia, hope immediately came back—hope for a better tomorrow. A better future. 

I am a leader in prison. I have been in Mahanoy, Greensburg (now closed), Huntingdon, Smithfield, Dallas, Forest, Coal Township and now Phoenix. I've met thousands of men and women sentenced to die here. But why? Why is dying in prison the only alternative? Why is there no chance to redeem myself? Why can't the men and women be given a chance to earn redemption? Why in Pennsylvania is it one sentence–a life for a life? Why do we charge taxpayers almost $4 billion per year to warehouse Pennsylvania state prisoners? Prison is a big business in Pennsylvania, and, in some communities, it’s the only job people can get. The state believes it will destroy outside communities if they close prisons. This is not a partisan issue, but we have little bipartisan support. Look at the man who became Pennsylvania’s wealthiest former prisoner, Wallace “Wallo” Peeples. I never knew him, but he is famous now. He co-hosts a podcast called “Million Dollaz Worth Of Game.” He's worth many millions; he has made a career for himself by speaking. He was thrown away by the system as a juvenile. They were wrong about him, and they are wrong about me and so many others. 

District Attorneys in each county are powerful. They have the power to look at old convictions and if something is wrong, they have the power to say, "We need to fix this and make it right." This is what I need from the Bucks County District Attorney Joe Khan. I'm not asking to be freed today. I'm asking for a meeting. I'm asking to meet with District Attorney Khan. His brother, Philadelphia’s own state Rep. Tarik Khan, knows me. Rep. Khan is a great guy who is also a nurse at UPenn hospital. I don't have the power or voice to get a meeting with District Attorney Khan. But you, the readers, do. You have the power. You have the power because you have a voice. I am silenced. 

In 2019, I reported a white staff member in SCI Dallas for calling a black state Representative a racist name behind his back. My mom and dad had both recently died from cancer, and I was lost. My family had been coming to see me after losing my parents. They died nine months apart. My mom was my best friend. I called her everyday, even if it was just to say hello. But I reported the white staff member, and I was put in handcuffs and moved to SCI Forest State Prison, which was four hours west of SCI Dallas. I was then in the twilight zone. I was no longer able to get visits from my family, because I was too far. I was no longer able to see my daughter Krista. After my mom died, I saw my daughter for the first time in many years, and I just cried while I smiled. I kissed every inch of her beautiful little face, and you know what she said? She was almost 21 years old, and she said, “Come on, Dad, you'll mess up my makeup.” I picked her up and hugged her for so long. It took the death of my parents to bring my baby to me, then I was moved so far away I couldn't see her anymore. 

For the next 2 years, during COVID, I had to find reasons why I shouldn't end my life. I picked up a pen and wrote a letter to my first love, a girl I had met when we were both 16 years old. I had never stopped caring for this person. I didn't even know if she was alive, but I knew I had to write. And I did. She got my letter and responded. I was now reconnected with my first love, Kathleen, who now likes to be called Kat. I have only ever loved two women in my life, Justine and Kat. Justine has been gone and buried for a very long time now. Kat came back into

my life. Kat inspired hope. We fell in love all over again, and she is one of the reasons why I fight for redemption. 

My person deserves to have me home with her, helping, being there for her like she is for me, mowing the lawn, fixing things that break in the house and walking the dog—things men do, but also taking her for walks and dates, making her smile and be happy, having her coffee ready for her when she wakes up. These are things she deserves. 

I have been inspired all over again, and I ask the readers of this writing to ask questions, get involved and be my voice. If you're not sure, say so and let me educate you. 

I am sorry, Ron. I did not mean to nor want to end your life that night. I was scared to death. I am a child victim of sexual abuse. I was that child again that night. It does not justify it or make it right. You can't make it right, but, if freed, I can work on atoning for my sins–my crime. Why in Pennsylvania is the only choice a life for a life? I say it again: I am not my crime, and I've grown to become so much more. I'm not asking anyone to jump on my side. I am asking you to listen, ask questions, and, if interested, get involved. The older generation has messed up a lot. We need the younger generation involved to fix the future. As students, I ask you to get the facts first, then pass judgment. Ask the questions that the Bucks County District Attorney didn't ask back then. Why did this crime really happen? I welcome all to reply. You can sign up to email me directly at connectnetwork.com—my name is Robert Pezzeca #DX1148. By emailing me directly, it usually reaches me that same day. It's not free, though. I told you prison is a huge money making business for all. Next year, in the new email contract, they'll charge us 47 cents to send or receive an email! I get paid 50 cents an hour to take care of elderly prisoners. I'm a prison caregiver and I work for an hour just to be able to send an email.

We who are condemned to die here are the forgotten citizens of Pennsylvania. Will you speak for us? Will you speak for me? I am friends with state representatives, state senators, lawyers, college professors and professionals in the community, and it has gotten me nowhere. I now have an amazing new friend who is a La Salle journalist—a young woman who will help me tell my story. I believe in her, and I believe in you, the power of the younger generation's voice. It's so much louder than mine, and you can be heard for miles upon miles. My favorite quote is by President Franklin D. Roosevelt: "People acting together as a group can accomplish things which no individual acting alone could ever hope to bring about." Students, we are that group. Come meet us. Write about your experiences and your feelings, tell social media, tell the world. I've never been on the internet before. Most of us haven't. Your voice is powerful but also innocent. Do not ever let someone else silence you. If you see something wrong, speak up. Do not allow someone else to tell you how you feel. 

I want to thank you for giving me some time in your life today. I am a father, grandfather, boyfriend, uncle, nephew, brother, cousin, friend. I am not my crime. Read my story, ask questions, and learn that I am so much more. Thank you Claire and all of the students that Claire brought with her from La Salle and Rowan Universities to come to our event that focused on the incarcerated elderly. They saw things that outside people don't get to see. It was a packed house of over 100 outside guests and 100 men sentenced to death by incarceration. 

Thank you, Philadelphia Student Press Association. Thank you Jackson Juzang for allowing me into your life and the world of student press. You are the future. You are who I have put my hope in. Take care and from the bottom of my heart, I—we—thank you.