EVERY morning, many of us reach for a cup of coffee to start the day. At Ex-Preso, that cup carries more — hope in the beans, second chances in the sugar, new beginnings in the creamer, and a life slowly brewed with care. 

Ex-Preso, a mobile coffee cart run by the Philippine Jesuit Prison Services (PJPS) in Ina ng Awa Parish, Poblacion, Muntinlupa City, began serving new beginnings last July 27.  In prison, they are Persons Deprived of Liberty (PDLs); once released, they are called Persons Restored to Liberty (PRLs) — a name that carries both hope and responsibility. Not all can be part of Ex-Preso immediately; participants are selected and prepared to commit to change. Before facing customers, participants join a three-month program at Balaya — “balay” meaning home, “laya” meaning free — where they receive barista training, life skills, and renewed confidence.

Seeing Beyond their Past

Imagine sitting across a man who admits he is guilty of murder. Your first instinct would be to react—fear, judgment, or even disgust. A single cup of coffee cannot tell how the whole cup was brewed, one confession cannot capture the fullness of his story. You would not know the years he has lived, the circumstances that shaped him, or the person he is trying to become now. 

This is the weight that PRLs carry into every interaction beyond prison walls — the fear of being reduced to their past. With Ex-Preso, it helps them lift that weight, not by erasing the past, but by showing them that change is possible. Each cup of coffee they serve becomes an invitation: to see them not as prisoners, but as people capable of growth, of dignity, and of hope.

Life after Bars

When a prisoner walks out of the bars, freedom does not always feel free. Not all PRLs have the privilege of coming back to the lives they once knew. Some lose their families, friends, and livelihoods — sometimes, even their sense of belonging. Release does not guarantee belonging; many former prisoners return to nothing.

Without guidance or opportunities, PRLs often struggle to stay on track, facing the risk of returning to the same old habits that once led them to prison. For the past three decades, this is the gap that PJPS sought to fill — offering hope, healing, and a real chance at transformation.

Brewing Dreams Anew

In an ABS-CBN News interview, Ryan Jay Gorospe, a barista in Ex-Preso and a PRL, recalls how those who once ignored him, especially his family, are now returning to support him. He remembers the years when he felt completely neglected, unseen, and overlooked from the  beginning of his imprisonment.

“Tapos nung dumating ‘yung Ex-Preso nakita nila ‘yung pagbabago na nangyayari sa buhay namin bilang ex-convict, bilang PDL, na ngayon na PRL na. Mayroon pa pala kaming halaga. Mayroon pa kaming mission. Gusto naming patunayan kung ano pa kaya naming gawin, ngayon at sa mga susunod pa.” 

Stories like Ryan’s are a testament to many other PRLs still finding their way. His journey was not easy, but he stands as proof that there is light beyond prison walls. 

Even with these stories of hope, the journey towards acceptance is not simple. The reality is harsh: families do not always look at you the same after a crime. Still, the challenge remains for every PRL who holds on to the will to change, to break old habits, to loosen those chains, and to dream again.

They say dreaming is free, but for many Filipinos, that is far from reality . Countless people live with disadvantages that make even the simplest hopes feel out of reach. How does one dare to dream when survival itself already feels like a struggle? For PRLs, this burden is doubled — to rebuild their lives while carrying the weight of their past.

Just like coffee, healing is never instant. It is brewed slowly, dancing with patience, while we wait for it to be ready to serve. For PRLs, healing begins when they are seen not only for their past, but for the person they are becoming. It grows when families learn to forgive, when communities choose to welcome, and when opportunities are given instead of withheld.

By the time you take the last sip of your coffee, let their stories linger with you — a reminder that everyone deserves a second chance. At Ex-Preso, every cup is more than a drink; it is a quiet act of healing and the warmth of belonging placed in the hands of someone once cast aside. It is proof that restoration is possible — not just for individuals, but for communities willing to embrace them. Hope is not something PRLs carry alone; it is something we can share, sometimes beginning with the simplest act — listening to their stories and sharing a sip of coffee brewed with care.