SPANISH FORK — The large blue and black tattoo on Josh Solis' neck is a reminder that he's done with gang life.

"It's my independence sign," the inmate says, pointing to the four-pronged symbol above the collar of his v-neck jail-issued shirt. "I'm done. My old gang buddies ... disowned me. They think I'm a worthless piece of crap."

But that's OK, he quickly adds. He's moved on. He's grown up.

Many inmates at the Utah County Jail sport physical labels linking them to gangs. Even when they've had a change of heart, they're still trapped by the ink in their skin. And that's something Utah County sheriff's deputy Mike Coyle wants to change.

"I think in a way (a gang tattoo) kind of keeps them stuck in the circle they're in," Coyle said.

He tells the inmates: "Every time a cop sees you, he'll know what you are. He's going to pull you over because you've identified yourself with the gang and the gang lifestyle."

Coyle wants to see a program in Utah County that helps inmates get their gang tattoos removed for free in exchange for a promise and proof of flying right, much like the Gang Tattoo Removal Program in Salt Lake City that began in 1991.

In conjunction with the University of Utah Medical Center, the Salt Lake Area Gang Project helps former gang members who qualify break from the gang lifestyle, said detective Rich Stone with the Salt Lake City Metro Gang Unit.

"This is a good program that helps people," Stone said. "They might have some memories of past behavior, but at least the tattoos won't be there, and they can move on."

All the physicians' time and equipment is donated, but it still costs around $400 for five minutes of laser-removal work.

Coyle's efforts to start such a program in Utah Valley have hit dead ends. The program would need an altruistic doctor or dermatologist — and Coyle is still searching for volunteers.

"It's almost like being reborn," Coyle said of the program. "You're not wearing your past on you anymore."

A symbol of Solis' previous life is etched in elegant calligraphy across his chest. It reads: "Brown Pride." He got the tattoo when he was 16 for his gang-related bravado.

He's now 24 and those days are behind him, but the images stay, permanent reminders of who he doesn't want to be anymore.

"It's what I look like when I'm on drugs," he says, pointing to the wide-eyed skeletal face and vampire-like creature on his right arm. "I look at it every day. It's a reminder to not go back down (that) road."