Christopher Zoukis's Blog, page 14
February 28, 2016
Virginia wants to make the electric chair its back-up, in case execution chemicals are not available
The Virginia House of Delegates has passed a bill (HB 815) to allow executions by electric chair in case the state cannot procure the lethal chemicals it would otherwise use, and a battle over the proposal is shaping up in the state Senate.
lethal injection
The measure passed February10 by a 62-33 margin in the GOP-controlled chamber. During the floor debate, the bill’s sponsor spent over a quarter hour recounting the gruesome details of the torture and murder of a Richmond family of four, including two young girls, by Ricky Javon Gray, who is scheduled to be executed on March 16. According to that sponsor, Del. Jackson Miller (R) of Manassas, the case represents “exactly why” Virginia has “this punishment on our books.”
The Virginia Department of Corrections says it may not have an adequate supply of pentobarbital, a sedative that is one of the chemicals required by the state’s lethal injection protocol. Officials in Texas supplied Virginia with two doses of the drug, which have an April expiration date. The state says any delay would leave the state unable to conduct the execution by lethal chemicals; some legislators and other opponents of capital punishment have criticized what they say is a lack of transparency by state corrections officials. If the Virginia Senate passes the House-cleared bill and Gov. Terry McAuliffe signs it – although a professed opponent of capital punishment, the governor allowed the state’s most recent execution to proceed last October – Gray could face electrocution anytime from July on.
The outcome of the state Senate vote remains in doubt. That chamber stalled a similar House-passed bill two years ago, and, unlike the House of Delegates, Republicans hold only a narrow majority in the upper chamber. If the bill is enacted, Virginia would be the only state where the state could order a prisoner to be electrocuted.
Since 1995, Virginia law has allowed a Death Row prisoner a choice of execution method: lethal injection or electric chair (only seven of the 87 prisoners executed in the state given that choice opted for the chair); if a condemned prisoner fails to name a choice within 15 days of the execution date, the state uses its default method, a combination of three chemicals.
Unavailability of lethal chemicals – drug makers, facing protests and potential boycotts, resisting supplying them for executions – has forced states with capital punishment to search for sources and led some states to postpone executions or authorize other methods. Tennessee has recently taken the same action as the Virginia lower house, authorizing the electric chair if lethal chemicals are not available, and last year Utah adopted firing squads as its back-up execution method, although neither state has thus far employed that alternative method since passing their new law.
Virginia has a long history of capital punishment, recording its first in 1608 and leading all states in the number of persons condemned to death during its history (it’s third behind Texas and Oklahoma for executions within the last 40 years).
lethal injection
The measure passed February10 by a 62-33 margin in the GOP-controlled chamber. During the floor debate, the bill’s sponsor spent over a quarter hour recounting the gruesome details of the torture and murder of a Richmond family of four, including two young girls, by Ricky Javon Gray, who is scheduled to be executed on March 16. According to that sponsor, Del. Jackson Miller (R) of Manassas, the case represents “exactly why” Virginia has “this punishment on our books.”
The Virginia Department of Corrections says it may not have an adequate supply of pentobarbital, a sedative that is one of the chemicals required by the state’s lethal injection protocol. Officials in Texas supplied Virginia with two doses of the drug, which have an April expiration date. The state says any delay would leave the state unable to conduct the execution by lethal chemicals; some legislators and other opponents of capital punishment have criticized what they say is a lack of transparency by state corrections officials. If the Virginia Senate passes the House-cleared bill and Gov. Terry McAuliffe signs it – although a professed opponent of capital punishment, the governor allowed the state’s most recent execution to proceed last October – Gray could face electrocution anytime from July on.
The outcome of the state Senate vote remains in doubt. That chamber stalled a similar House-passed bill two years ago, and, unlike the House of Delegates, Republicans hold only a narrow majority in the upper chamber. If the bill is enacted, Virginia would be the only state where the state could order a prisoner to be electrocuted.
Since 1995, Virginia law has allowed a Death Row prisoner a choice of execution method: lethal injection or electric chair (only seven of the 87 prisoners executed in the state given that choice opted for the chair); if a condemned prisoner fails to name a choice within 15 days of the execution date, the state uses its default method, a combination of three chemicals.
Unavailability of lethal chemicals – drug makers, facing protests and potential boycotts, resisting supplying them for executions – has forced states with capital punishment to search for sources and led some states to postpone executions or authorize other methods. Tennessee has recently taken the same action as the Virginia lower house, authorizing the electric chair if lethal chemicals are not available, and last year Utah adopted firing squads as its back-up execution method, although neither state has thus far employed that alternative method since passing their new law.
Virginia has a long history of capital punishment, recording its first in 1608 and leading all states in the number of persons condemned to death during its history (it’s third behind Texas and Oklahoma for executions within the last 40 years).
February 18, 2016
Flint, Michigan Lead-Tainted Water Scandal Also Affects Prisoners
By now, you’ve surely heard about the tainted drinking-water crisis in Flint, Michigan, an industrial city of about 100,000 located 70 miles northwest of Detroit. You’ve probably seen videos of angry residents displaying bottles of tap water from their homes, and were appalled to see those unappetizing samples ranged in color from beige to rusty brown. Or maybe you’ve seen press coverage of pop stars, rap singers and pro athletes donating money or delivering supplies of drinking water to affected homeowners.
You may also be aware of some of the places – private lawsuits, official and media investigations, political debates – where disputes are being aired over who’s responsible for not preventing or properly warning about and responding to the public health threat from elevated lead levels in Flint’s water (high levels of lead are especially dangerous to pregnant women, who face elevated risks of miscarriage, and infants and young children, who may suffer permanent brain damage or lasting harm to their nervous system and kidneys).
But here’s one aspect of the Flint water emergency you may not have heard about: a group of Flint residents who could well be the most victimized, and the least able to protect themselves: the hundreds of inmates of the Genesee County Jail, located in the county seat, Flint.
In a report aired in a Democracy Now! broadcast, recently released Genesee County Jail inmate Jody Cramer told of prisoners there were given bottled water for just five days after the mayor’s October declaration of emergency. The bottled water they received was for drinking, washing and all needs, and was less than half the daily amount for adults recommended by the National Academies of Sciences.
After that, for the next three months, inmates were forced to use the contaminated city water. The sheriff wrongly assured them the tap water was safe – though inmates noticed jail guards only drank bottled water.
The Flint water crisis first came to widespread public attention last October, when the city’s mayor announced an emergency and warned residents not to consume the lead-contaminated water. After the city switched – apparently for budgetary reasons – in April 2014 from getting its water from Detroit’s system to drawing it from the nearby Flint River, it failed to treat the city’s aging cast-iron water pipes with chemicals needed to prevent lead from leaching from the pipes into the water supply).
One ignored warning sign: Flint’s GM plant stopped using city water in its manufacturing, when it found the city water was corroding its auto parts. Testing showed there was so much lead in Flint’s water that what was running in the pipes of Flint homes satisfied environmental law’s definition of “toxic waste.”
While in the Flint jail, Cramer worked as a kitchen trustee, so he saw the lead-tainted city water routinely used in preparing inmate meals, including those for several pregnant prisoners. Except for the five days in October immediately after the mayor’s declaration of an emergency, until bottled water was restored this January 23, Genesee County Jail inmates had no choice – short of dying from thirst or starvation – other than to drink badly contaminated water and eat food prepared with it.
Sadly, this is not an isolated incident: in 2014 alone, similar episodes of failures to protect prisoners against known environmental hazards occurred in Charleston, West Virginia (inmates exposed to water contaminated by a severe chemical spill hazard) and Navasota, Texas (prisoners’ water contained four times allowable limits for arsenic).
Which raises the inevitable question: is this the best we can do?
You may also be aware of some of the places – private lawsuits, official and media investigations, political debates – where disputes are being aired over who’s responsible for not preventing or properly warning about and responding to the public health threat from elevated lead levels in Flint’s water (high levels of lead are especially dangerous to pregnant women, who face elevated risks of miscarriage, and infants and young children, who may suffer permanent brain damage or lasting harm to their nervous system and kidneys).
But here’s one aspect of the Flint water emergency you may not have heard about: a group of Flint residents who could well be the most victimized, and the least able to protect themselves: the hundreds of inmates of the Genesee County Jail, located in the county seat, Flint.
In a report aired in a Democracy Now! broadcast, recently released Genesee County Jail inmate Jody Cramer told of prisoners there were given bottled water for just five days after the mayor’s October declaration of emergency. The bottled water they received was for drinking, washing and all needs, and was less than half the daily amount for adults recommended by the National Academies of Sciences.
After that, for the next three months, inmates were forced to use the contaminated city water. The sheriff wrongly assured them the tap water was safe – though inmates noticed jail guards only drank bottled water.
The Flint water crisis first came to widespread public attention last October, when the city’s mayor announced an emergency and warned residents not to consume the lead-contaminated water. After the city switched – apparently for budgetary reasons – in April 2014 from getting its water from Detroit’s system to drawing it from the nearby Flint River, it failed to treat the city’s aging cast-iron water pipes with chemicals needed to prevent lead from leaching from the pipes into the water supply).
One ignored warning sign: Flint’s GM plant stopped using city water in its manufacturing, when it found the city water was corroding its auto parts. Testing showed there was so much lead in Flint’s water that what was running in the pipes of Flint homes satisfied environmental law’s definition of “toxic waste.”
While in the Flint jail, Cramer worked as a kitchen trustee, so he saw the lead-tainted city water routinely used in preparing inmate meals, including those for several pregnant prisoners. Except for the five days in October immediately after the mayor’s declaration of an emergency, until bottled water was restored this January 23, Genesee County Jail inmates had no choice – short of dying from thirst or starvation – other than to drink badly contaminated water and eat food prepared with it.
Sadly, this is not an isolated incident: in 2014 alone, similar episodes of failures to protect prisoners against known environmental hazards occurred in Charleston, West Virginia (inmates exposed to water contaminated by a severe chemical spill hazard) and Navasota, Texas (prisoners’ water contained four times allowable limits for arsenic).
Which raises the inevitable question: is this the best we can do?
February 13, 2016
Sen. Warren Assails America’s ‘Two Systems of Justice’
When Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D) took to the Senate floor on Feb. 3, she delivered a speech chastising the American legal system: she declared that despite common claims of equal justice under the law and a single set of enacted laws, America in fact has two separate and unequal legal systems. As she described it, one “for big corporations, for the wealthy and the powerful.”
In the second system, used for wrongdoing by the powerful, government enforcers hesitate to be too tough, and regularly decline to bring criminal charges against executives of companies that have admitted felonies. It’s totally unlike the other legal system, which applies to everyone else, where the law is aggressively enforced with little concern for the consequences, so as when people are imprisoned for lengthy terms for minor drug charges.
If there were equal justice for all, Warren noted, a youth would not be thrown in jail for car theft while a company steals billions and its CEO receives not a jail sentence but a gigantic raise. Nor in a system of equal justice would someone with an opioid habit be jailed for buying pills from a street dealer while bankers escape any significant punishment for money-laundering almost $1 billion for a drug cartel.
Sen. Warren’s speech also spotlighted a brief report she had released a few days earlier, detailing cases in 2015 when the federal government found lawbreaking by major corporations and their executives but elected to go easy on them. That 12-page report, ‘Rigged Justice: How Weak Enforcement Lets Corporate Offenders Off Easy’; was prepared by Warren’s staff and contains 20 examples of corporate misconduct – bankers’ exchange rate price-fixing, manufacturers’ cover-up of product defects, pharmaceutical kickbacks, and much more – which in her view lacked adequate enforcement responses. (In an aside, the report notes Sen. Warren plans to make release of similar compilations of government leniency towards corporations and their executives an annual event.)
The report, as well as in her Senate speech and a similar New York Times op-ed article she contributed the same day, Sen. Warren took extended whacks at some federal enforcers she views as being asleep at the switch – for instance, she calls the Securities and Exchange Commission “particularly feeble” and says it suffers from “weak management.”
The central problem she identifies in the varied cases is that the government may impose fines but doesn’t require corporate admissions of guilt and rarely prosecute corporate executives. Further, the fines are a relative drop in the bucket to the corporate offenders, who may even be able to deduct a portion on their taxes.
Yet in her concern over corporate misdeeds, in my view, Sen. Warren seems to feel what needs to be done is to subject the mighty to the same system now used for everyone else, rather than to remedy the defects of that system.
While in passing refers to the current criminal justice system as “broken,” she did not sponsor the sentencing reform bill you’ll look in vain in this onslaught of publicity for proposals from her for creating a more rational, productive and fair system for everyone. Perhaps she believes that reform needs to wait until the corporate bigwigs are brought under the same unfair system.
In the second system, used for wrongdoing by the powerful, government enforcers hesitate to be too tough, and regularly decline to bring criminal charges against executives of companies that have admitted felonies. It’s totally unlike the other legal system, which applies to everyone else, where the law is aggressively enforced with little concern for the consequences, so as when people are imprisoned for lengthy terms for minor drug charges.
If there were equal justice for all, Warren noted, a youth would not be thrown in jail for car theft while a company steals billions and its CEO receives not a jail sentence but a gigantic raise. Nor in a system of equal justice would someone with an opioid habit be jailed for buying pills from a street dealer while bankers escape any significant punishment for money-laundering almost $1 billion for a drug cartel.
Sen. Warren’s speech also spotlighted a brief report she had released a few days earlier, detailing cases in 2015 when the federal government found lawbreaking by major corporations and their executives but elected to go easy on them. That 12-page report, ‘Rigged Justice: How Weak Enforcement Lets Corporate Offenders Off Easy’; was prepared by Warren’s staff and contains 20 examples of corporate misconduct – bankers’ exchange rate price-fixing, manufacturers’ cover-up of product defects, pharmaceutical kickbacks, and much more – which in her view lacked adequate enforcement responses. (In an aside, the report notes Sen. Warren plans to make release of similar compilations of government leniency towards corporations and their executives an annual event.)
The report, as well as in her Senate speech and a similar New York Times op-ed article she contributed the same day, Sen. Warren took extended whacks at some federal enforcers she views as being asleep at the switch – for instance, she calls the Securities and Exchange Commission “particularly feeble” and says it suffers from “weak management.”
The central problem she identifies in the varied cases is that the government may impose fines but doesn’t require corporate admissions of guilt and rarely prosecute corporate executives. Further, the fines are a relative drop in the bucket to the corporate offenders, who may even be able to deduct a portion on their taxes.
Yet in her concern over corporate misdeeds, in my view, Sen. Warren seems to feel what needs to be done is to subject the mighty to the same system now used for everyone else, rather than to remedy the defects of that system.
While in passing refers to the current criminal justice system as “broken,” she did not sponsor the sentencing reform bill you’ll look in vain in this onslaught of publicity for proposals from her for creating a more rational, productive and fair system for everyone. Perhaps she believes that reform needs to wait until the corporate bigwigs are brought under the same unfair system.
February 7, 2016
Obama Orders Curbs on Solitary Confinement of Juveniles, Other Reforms
President Barack Obama on Jan. 25 announced he was ordering an end to most solitary confinement of juvenile prisoners in federal prisons and implementing other reforms recommended by a Department of Justice (DOJ) working group.
In a speech last July to the NAACP national convention, the president had announced he had asked Attorney General Loretta Lynch to lead a review of what he said was overuse of solitary confinement, and to develop strategies for reducing its use.
The newly-released DOJ report concludes corrections facilities may occasionally need to use solitary confinement for safety reasons, but adds the practice should be subject to reasonable limits and employed fairly and only rarely, as a last resort, not the default response. The Bureau of Prisons has reduced by almost 25% the number of federal prisoners in solitary, DOJ notes (using the term “restrictive housing”).
DOJ’s new restrictions on subjecting juvenile prisoners in the federal prison system to solitary confinement were taken from a section of a broader criminal law reform bill (S. 2123) introduced last October with bipartisan backing. Other reforms ordered by the president include: disallowing solitary confinement as a punishment for minor inmate misconduct; reducing maximum and minimum time limits on its use for more serious behavior; increasing the capacity of secure mental health facilities, so more inmates suffering from serious mental illness can be sent there for treatment; ordering wardens to draw up plans to maximize prisoners’ out-of-cell time; developing less restrictive housing units for prisoners nearing release; and publishing system-wide statistics on restrictive housing monthly on the Bureau of Prisons website.
To explain his actions, the president also contributed an op-ed article to the next day’s issue of the Washington Post. It began by recounting the story of Kalief Browder. Starting shortly before his 17th birthday, Browder spent three years in New York City’s Rikers Island jail, two of those years in solitary confinement. While a high school sophomore, he was arrested on charges of stealing a backpack – which he denied – but was never tried.
Unable to post bail, Browder languished at Rikers, where he claimed he was often mistreated by guards and inmates. In jail, he several times attempted suicide. After being released when prosecutors finally dropped charges, he returned home to the Bronx and began attending a community college, but within a few years, hanged himself at his mother’s apartment. The president noted solitary confinement “doesn’t make us safer” but stands as an “affront to our common humanity.”
The changes announced by the president are welcome and overdue, but will directly reach just a small part of the problem. Only a few dozen federal prison inmates are younger than 18; as of last December, the entire federal prison system had fewer than 10,000 inmates in restrictive housing. While the president notes American jails and prisons may hold 100,000 inmates in solitary confinement at any given time, most of them are in state or local facilities.
The real test will be whether the new White House action is followed by greater interest and action by states and localities, and whether DOJ and the Bureau of Prisons perform needed follow-up. Legislators and corrections officials in a growing number of areas have in recent years - whether prodded by litigation or by discovering its inhumaneness and ineffectiveness – begun to seek alternatives to solitary confinement. To help that effort, the latest DOJ report contains numerous examples of general principles and specific policy recommendations they would do well to consider.
Similarly, at the federal level, good intentions at the top are not a practical substitute for effective scrutiny of how well or poorly federal prison officials are carrying out the president’s new directives, and some parts of the plan will require new Congressional funding. Let’s all work for greater progress at both levels.
In a speech last July to the NAACP national convention, the president had announced he had asked Attorney General Loretta Lynch to lead a review of what he said was overuse of solitary confinement, and to develop strategies for reducing its use.
The newly-released DOJ report concludes corrections facilities may occasionally need to use solitary confinement for safety reasons, but adds the practice should be subject to reasonable limits and employed fairly and only rarely, as a last resort, not the default response. The Bureau of Prisons has reduced by almost 25% the number of federal prisoners in solitary, DOJ notes (using the term “restrictive housing”).
DOJ’s new restrictions on subjecting juvenile prisoners in the federal prison system to solitary confinement were taken from a section of a broader criminal law reform bill (S. 2123) introduced last October with bipartisan backing. Other reforms ordered by the president include: disallowing solitary confinement as a punishment for minor inmate misconduct; reducing maximum and minimum time limits on its use for more serious behavior; increasing the capacity of secure mental health facilities, so more inmates suffering from serious mental illness can be sent there for treatment; ordering wardens to draw up plans to maximize prisoners’ out-of-cell time; developing less restrictive housing units for prisoners nearing release; and publishing system-wide statistics on restrictive housing monthly on the Bureau of Prisons website.
To explain his actions, the president also contributed an op-ed article to the next day’s issue of the Washington Post. It began by recounting the story of Kalief Browder. Starting shortly before his 17th birthday, Browder spent three years in New York City’s Rikers Island jail, two of those years in solitary confinement. While a high school sophomore, he was arrested on charges of stealing a backpack – which he denied – but was never tried.
Unable to post bail, Browder languished at Rikers, where he claimed he was often mistreated by guards and inmates. In jail, he several times attempted suicide. After being released when prosecutors finally dropped charges, he returned home to the Bronx and began attending a community college, but within a few years, hanged himself at his mother’s apartment. The president noted solitary confinement “doesn’t make us safer” but stands as an “affront to our common humanity.”
The changes announced by the president are welcome and overdue, but will directly reach just a small part of the problem. Only a few dozen federal prison inmates are younger than 18; as of last December, the entire federal prison system had fewer than 10,000 inmates in restrictive housing. While the president notes American jails and prisons may hold 100,000 inmates in solitary confinement at any given time, most of them are in state or local facilities.
The real test will be whether the new White House action is followed by greater interest and action by states and localities, and whether DOJ and the Bureau of Prisons perform needed follow-up. Legislators and corrections officials in a growing number of areas have in recent years - whether prodded by litigation or by discovering its inhumaneness and ineffectiveness – begun to seek alternatives to solitary confinement. To help that effort, the latest DOJ report contains numerous examples of general principles and specific policy recommendations they would do well to consider.
Similarly, at the federal level, good intentions at the top are not a practical substitute for effective scrutiny of how well or poorly federal prison officials are carrying out the president’s new directives, and some parts of the plan will require new Congressional funding. Let’s all work for greater progress at both levels.
January 31, 2016
Keeping disabled students off the fast track to prison
Leroy Franklin Moore, Jr. has cerebral palsy. He’s also an author, rapper and music & documentary film producer, co-founder of the National Black Disability Coalition and an outspoken activist for students and musicicians with disabilities.
black-kripple-delivers-poetry-and-lyrics
In interviews with the Huffington Post, the Krip-Hop Nation founder recently outlined a serious problem which minority students with disabilities face in public schools: staying out of the school-to-prisons pipeline - and suggested ways to address it.
Statistics linking school discipline to the criminal justice system are striking, how much more likely minority students are to face school discipline, and how closely problems at school correlate with becoming involved with the criminal justice system.
leroy-franklin-moore-jr
Start by realizing over two-thirds (68%) of male inmates in federal and state prisons haven’t completed high school. Then note black and Latino students are twice as likely not to finish high school, three and a half times more likely to be suspended from school, and comprise 70% of students arrested at school. Black students by themselves account for 40% of students expelled from school.
A major part of the school-to-prisons pipeline problem, according scholars in that area, is that teachers and school administrators resort too quickly to law enforcement to enforce school discipline policies. This may be because school personnel lack training in alternative ways to maintain control of their classes, or due to an unduly strict zero-tolerance policies that may treat even minor infractions of school rules as requiring a law enforcement response.
Moore maintains that for students with disabilities, the problem is aggravated by unfamiliarity with the behaviors often linked with particular disabilities, and that an angry outburst by a minority student with a disability is often treated much more stringently than if it came from a non-minority or non-disabled student.
Even though a basic law, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, forbids penalizing a student with a disability for behavior characteristic of their disability, the law is both often ignored by school officials and special education programs chronically underfunded.
Improved teacher training could make educators better versed in ways to de-escalate classroom problems. But, Moore says, rather than provide needed counselors and teacher training, too many school districts pour resources into bringing police into the schools, often with little or no training in disability-related issues.
But there are better ideas being implemented by some schools. With encouragement from community groups, some schools are rejecting calls for zero-tolerance policies, and working to ensure school officials have adequate training and sufficient resources to deal with special-education challenges. This results in thinking through and outlining responses to student behavior, and identifying specific steps to be followed before bringing police into school problems. Another suggestion Moore makes is to encourage the hiring of more black male teachers, noting some schools have worked to attract more young black graduate into public school teaching careers.
He adds parents of students with disabilities can help protect their children from running afoul of overzealous or inappropriate disciplinary steps. Since schools and parents are supposed to work together to develop an appropriate Individualized Education Program (IEP) for each special education student, he advises parents to insist their child’s IEP specify that police, whether external or the school’s own police liaison officer, not interview the child without a parent being present.
Parents and community groups can also work to see that summoning the police to school is officials’ last resort, not their first.
black-kripple-delivers-poetry-and-lyrics
In interviews with the Huffington Post, the Krip-Hop Nation founder recently outlined a serious problem which minority students with disabilities face in public schools: staying out of the school-to-prisons pipeline - and suggested ways to address it.
Statistics linking school discipline to the criminal justice system are striking, how much more likely minority students are to face school discipline, and how closely problems at school correlate with becoming involved with the criminal justice system.
leroy-franklin-moore-jr
Start by realizing over two-thirds (68%) of male inmates in federal and state prisons haven’t completed high school. Then note black and Latino students are twice as likely not to finish high school, three and a half times more likely to be suspended from school, and comprise 70% of students arrested at school. Black students by themselves account for 40% of students expelled from school.
A major part of the school-to-prisons pipeline problem, according scholars in that area, is that teachers and school administrators resort too quickly to law enforcement to enforce school discipline policies. This may be because school personnel lack training in alternative ways to maintain control of their classes, or due to an unduly strict zero-tolerance policies that may treat even minor infractions of school rules as requiring a law enforcement response.
Moore maintains that for students with disabilities, the problem is aggravated by unfamiliarity with the behaviors often linked with particular disabilities, and that an angry outburst by a minority student with a disability is often treated much more stringently than if it came from a non-minority or non-disabled student.
Even though a basic law, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, forbids penalizing a student with a disability for behavior characteristic of their disability, the law is both often ignored by school officials and special education programs chronically underfunded.
Improved teacher training could make educators better versed in ways to de-escalate classroom problems. But, Moore says, rather than provide needed counselors and teacher training, too many school districts pour resources into bringing police into the schools, often with little or no training in disability-related issues.
But there are better ideas being implemented by some schools. With encouragement from community groups, some schools are rejecting calls for zero-tolerance policies, and working to ensure school officials have adequate training and sufficient resources to deal with special-education challenges. This results in thinking through and outlining responses to student behavior, and identifying specific steps to be followed before bringing police into school problems. Another suggestion Moore makes is to encourage the hiring of more black male teachers, noting some schools have worked to attract more young black graduate into public school teaching careers.
He adds parents of students with disabilities can help protect their children from running afoul of overzealous or inappropriate disciplinary steps. Since schools and parents are supposed to work together to develop an appropriate Individualized Education Program (IEP) for each special education student, he advises parents to insist their child’s IEP specify that police, whether external or the school’s own police liaison officer, not interview the child without a parent being present.
Parents and community groups can also work to see that summoning the police to school is officials’ last resort, not their first.
Lessons we learn from 'Making a Murderer'
The true-crime documentary Making a Murderer has been making huge headlines since being released on Netflix last month. As you most likely already know, the controversial documentary tells a sad, tangled story about Steve Avery, who’s currently serving a life sentence without possibility of parole in a Wisconsin prison for the 2005 murder of Teresa Halbach, a photographer for AutoTrader magazine.
The investigation and prosecution of the Halbach murder was highly unusual on several fronts, but most namely because of Avery’s history: in 1985 he was wrongly convicted of rape and attempted murder and served 18 years in a state prison before being exonerated on DNA evidence and released.
So viewers understandably came to the program with some sympathy for the accused in the new crime, knowing he had suffered an earlier miscarriage of justice.
This has squarely raised the show’s first lesson: the criminal justice system is fallible, and not every convict is guilty of the crimes listed on the rap sheet. And the sad reality is that it doesn’t just happen on television. I hear these stories almost every day.
Avery, who ran a tumbledown auto salvage yard on the outskirts of Manitowoc, had called the company saying he had a car to sell; he requested Halbach by name to photograph it. She went reluctantly (recalling on a previous occasion Avery had emerged from his trailer wearing only a towel); within days, her car, Palm Pilot and burned bones found on or near Avery’s property.
Through the ensuing investigation and prosecution, another lesson emerged: the workings of the criminal justice system are often unattractive and sometimes unfair. Police can be overbearing, and defense lawyers can be inept or worse (this lesson was driven home by scenes like police interrogations of 16-year-old Brendan Dassey, Avery’s learning-impaired nephew, without either a parent or defense lawyer being present. (Dassey is now serving time after being separately convicted as an accomplice in the murder.)
Avery’s lawyers put on a generally spirited defense, but had to overcome a mountain of evidence: some of Halbach’s burned bones were found in a fire pit on Avery’s property, blood stains revealed by DNA testing to be from Avery turned up inside Halbach’s car, and police found her car keys in Avery’s bedroom.
Avery’s lawyers offered a defense reminiscent of the one advanced by O.J. Simpson’s “dream team” - the bloodstains, car keys and other incriminating evidence was planted by the Manitowoc Sheriff’s Department to frame Avery. Their motive? After being released from prison in 2003, Avery had brought a $36 million lawsuit against Manitowoc County, including some members of the sheriff’s department, for his wrongful conviction.
Viewers of the series have hotly debated whether its creators played fairly in what they chose to depict, and to exclude; both the defense and prosecution maintain important information for their side was omitted from the programs. (As it now stands, Avery has tried unsuccessfully to challenge his conviction, but recently filed a new appeal).
Some infuriated fans of the show have denounced police and the prosecutor in virulent terms, and at last report, more than 300,000 people have signed petitions demanding President Barack Obama pardon Avery. (It’s worth noting Obama can only pardon persons convicted of federal crimes, not state crimes like those in this case.)
At the end of the day, there are many morals to this story – but the overriding lesson of Making a Murderer may be that many people unfamiliar with the criminal justice system don’t like what they see when exposed to even an incomplete version of it.
The investigation and prosecution of the Halbach murder was highly unusual on several fronts, but most namely because of Avery’s history: in 1985 he was wrongly convicted of rape and attempted murder and served 18 years in a state prison before being exonerated on DNA evidence and released.
So viewers understandably came to the program with some sympathy for the accused in the new crime, knowing he had suffered an earlier miscarriage of justice.
This has squarely raised the show’s first lesson: the criminal justice system is fallible, and not every convict is guilty of the crimes listed on the rap sheet. And the sad reality is that it doesn’t just happen on television. I hear these stories almost every day.
Avery, who ran a tumbledown auto salvage yard on the outskirts of Manitowoc, had called the company saying he had a car to sell; he requested Halbach by name to photograph it. She went reluctantly (recalling on a previous occasion Avery had emerged from his trailer wearing only a towel); within days, her car, Palm Pilot and burned bones found on or near Avery’s property.
Through the ensuing investigation and prosecution, another lesson emerged: the workings of the criminal justice system are often unattractive and sometimes unfair. Police can be overbearing, and defense lawyers can be inept or worse (this lesson was driven home by scenes like police interrogations of 16-year-old Brendan Dassey, Avery’s learning-impaired nephew, without either a parent or defense lawyer being present. (Dassey is now serving time after being separately convicted as an accomplice in the murder.)
Avery’s lawyers put on a generally spirited defense, but had to overcome a mountain of evidence: some of Halbach’s burned bones were found in a fire pit on Avery’s property, blood stains revealed by DNA testing to be from Avery turned up inside Halbach’s car, and police found her car keys in Avery’s bedroom.
Avery’s lawyers offered a defense reminiscent of the one advanced by O.J. Simpson’s “dream team” - the bloodstains, car keys and other incriminating evidence was planted by the Manitowoc Sheriff’s Department to frame Avery. Their motive? After being released from prison in 2003, Avery had brought a $36 million lawsuit against Manitowoc County, including some members of the sheriff’s department, for his wrongful conviction.
Viewers of the series have hotly debated whether its creators played fairly in what they chose to depict, and to exclude; both the defense and prosecution maintain important information for their side was omitted from the programs. (As it now stands, Avery has tried unsuccessfully to challenge his conviction, but recently filed a new appeal).
Some infuriated fans of the show have denounced police and the prosecutor in virulent terms, and at last report, more than 300,000 people have signed petitions demanding President Barack Obama pardon Avery. (It’s worth noting Obama can only pardon persons convicted of federal crimes, not state crimes like those in this case.)
At the end of the day, there are many morals to this story – but the overriding lesson of Making a Murderer may be that many people unfamiliar with the criminal justice system don’t like what they see when exposed to even an incomplete version of it.
How to Fix the School-to-Prison Pipeline
We often talk about the need to educate prisoners to better prepare them for life after release. But we also need to look at what happens much earlier - before youth become involved in the criminal justice system. Like so many of America’s social ills, early intervention is key.
That’s exactly what a forthcoming article in the Arizona State Law Journal explores. The article is written by Jason Nance, a professor at the University of Florida Levin School of Law who studies how education law intersects with constitutional rights. The title of his soon-to-be-published article – ‘Dismantling the School to Prison Pipeline: Tools for Change’ – captures both the problem and potential solutions.
Making abundant use of social science statistics, Prof. Nance begins by noting the “distinct shift” in recent decades of how teachers and school administrators deal with routine student disciplinary matters. Too often, he argues, relatively minor issues that schools would once have handled internally are now dealt with by summoning the local police – even in the early grades of elementary school, for such minor infractions as tardiness, dress code violations and the like.
While current statistics nationwide are elsuive, this trend to criminalize school discipline is clearly on the rise. According to U.S. Department of Education data for the 2011-2012 school year, public school authorities referred more than a quarter million students to law enforcement, and about 92,000 students were arrested at school.
School suspensions and expulsions are similarly increasing; during the same school year, about 3.45 million students were suspended and 130,000 expelled (actions likely to affect students’ academic performance - linked to the likelihood of incarceration) and to increase the likelihood they’ll drop out of school entirely, get arrested, and land in jail. For high school students, suspensions and expulsions rose from about one student in 13 in the early 1970s to about one in nine. There’s ample data disciplinary actions disproportionately affect minority students, at every level.
Prof. Nance blames a variety of factors for the growth of this school-to-prison pipeline: educators’ bias against minority students or inability or unwillingness to deal with minor disciplinary issues; inadequate funding for school counseling and other support services; the rise of “get-tough-on-crime” attitudes; and state and federal accountability laws that incentivize school administrators to push out potential “problem” students.
He also slams as lacking evidence of practical effectiveness some much-used strategies as zero-tolerance policies bringing suspension or explusion for minor infractions; adopting intrusive school surveillance methods; and adding in-school police as “resource officers” (whose presence has exploded from fewer than 100 officers in the early 1970s to around 19,000 today).
To reverse the trend of schools channeling more students into the criminal justice system, Nance calls for stressing solutions that improve student performance, reduce drop-out rates, and bring lower rates of suspension, expulsion and referrals to law enforcement. He also recommends that if schools feel the need to have in-school “resource officers,” they adopt memos of understanding clearly setting forth limits of their activities.
That’s exactly what a forthcoming article in the Arizona State Law Journal explores. The article is written by Jason Nance, a professor at the University of Florida Levin School of Law who studies how education law intersects with constitutional rights. The title of his soon-to-be-published article – ‘Dismantling the School to Prison Pipeline: Tools for Change’ – captures both the problem and potential solutions.
Making abundant use of social science statistics, Prof. Nance begins by noting the “distinct shift” in recent decades of how teachers and school administrators deal with routine student disciplinary matters. Too often, he argues, relatively minor issues that schools would once have handled internally are now dealt with by summoning the local police – even in the early grades of elementary school, for such minor infractions as tardiness, dress code violations and the like.
While current statistics nationwide are elsuive, this trend to criminalize school discipline is clearly on the rise. According to U.S. Department of Education data for the 2011-2012 school year, public school authorities referred more than a quarter million students to law enforcement, and about 92,000 students were arrested at school.
School suspensions and expulsions are similarly increasing; during the same school year, about 3.45 million students were suspended and 130,000 expelled (actions likely to affect students’ academic performance - linked to the likelihood of incarceration) and to increase the likelihood they’ll drop out of school entirely, get arrested, and land in jail. For high school students, suspensions and expulsions rose from about one student in 13 in the early 1970s to about one in nine. There’s ample data disciplinary actions disproportionately affect minority students, at every level.
Prof. Nance blames a variety of factors for the growth of this school-to-prison pipeline: educators’ bias against minority students or inability or unwillingness to deal with minor disciplinary issues; inadequate funding for school counseling and other support services; the rise of “get-tough-on-crime” attitudes; and state and federal accountability laws that incentivize school administrators to push out potential “problem” students.
He also slams as lacking evidence of practical effectiveness some much-used strategies as zero-tolerance policies bringing suspension or explusion for minor infractions; adopting intrusive school surveillance methods; and adding in-school police as “resource officers” (whose presence has exploded from fewer than 100 officers in the early 1970s to around 19,000 today).
To reverse the trend of schools channeling more students into the criminal justice system, Nance calls for stressing solutions that improve student performance, reduce drop-out rates, and bring lower rates of suspension, expulsion and referrals to law enforcement. He also recommends that if schools feel the need to have in-school “resource officers,” they adopt memos of understanding clearly setting forth limits of their activities.
January 6, 2016
Private Prison Healthcare Providers: The ultimate recidivists
The Florida Department of Corrections (FDC) is making a lot of headlines—this week I’ve even written about it over at Prison Legal News. It seems like nearly every story about prisoner abuse these days is coming out of Florida, and this should have us all worried. It means that an entire state’s corrections system is so fundamentally broken as to be falling apart at the seams. Incarcerated individuals are being dehumanized in ways that we’d think more typical of a police state or dictatorship.
As we pointed out in the piece on Lowell, funding cutbacks have played a serious role in creating an environment where corruption not only survives, but thrives. With levels of institutional corruption seemingly so high, one would be tempted to point to the problems being fundamentally related to individual activities, but there is another factor at play that must be examined: corporate corruption.
Part of the Florida corrections puzzle right now has to do with the growing levels of corporate involvement in corrections. It simply cannot be a coincidence that in the 100-days following privatization of prison health care the state saw monthly prisoner mortality rates reaching a 10-year high (especially given that the number of prisoners has decreased).
At the end of November prison health care provider Corizon announced its intention to withdraw from their contract with the state of Florida to serve roughly 75,000 prisoners.
The announcement took place just shortly after the Miami Herald announced the record number of prisoner deaths in the state over the last year—176 of the 346 listing no “immediate cause of death,” and a number of those deaths classified as “natural” being highly suspicious.
Corizon cited that the state’s contract was “too constraining,” the translation of which is that they couldn't see themselves making enough of a profit while being able to provide a decent standard of care.
As any health care policy analyst will tell you, the dividends earned by privatizing health care are short-term only. When you cheap out on preventative or early intervention care, you pay for it later. Such care allows you to nip problems in the bud for relatively little cost, whereas waiting until a problem becomes acute results in astronomical costs.
Think of it this way, providing a preventative course of antibiotics to someone who has a serious wound in the beginning stages of an infection is a heck of a lot cheaper than having to deal with a bout of necrotizing fasciitis and the resulting amputations and round-the-clock care. Most medical interventions can be thought of this way. Health is not a commodity that can be bought and sold like a stereo, so why do we continue to apply a market model to it? It’s not rocket science, but DOCs complete failure to understand this logic would make you think it was.
Add to the mix that prisons typically have higher rates of mental illness and addiction than found in the general population, and you have a client base where the need for prevention and early intervention are absolutely critical.
Florida privatized its prisoner health care system in 2012. The switch was supposedly to save the state money, but as predicted by virtually every observer who understands how health care privatization works, it did nothing of the sort:
“The contract requires that both companies provide medical care to inmates for 7 percent less than it cost the state in 2010, but both companies sought and received increases in the terms of their original agreement.
In 2014, former FDC Secretary Michael Crews agreed to raise the annual contract with Corizon and Wexford by $3.2 million. Subsequent audits revealed that even after the increased payments, Corizon failed to meet its contract obligations regarding staffing and medical care.”
Corizon’s medical practices have fallen under intense scrutiny over the last year, even well before to the Herald investigations regarding suspicious deaths. The Palm Beach Post. This isn’t the first time Corizon has been under scrutiny for some time, losing myriad contracts due to serious concerns over the quality of care and facing a number of investigations and lawsuits across the country. Palliative cancer patients were given Tylenol to deal with unimaginable pain, pain that couldn’t even be eased with morphine once prisoners were finally transferred to hospital. Diabetics are withheld insulin for months. The mentally ill are inexplicably taken off their medications. Cancer patients are misdiagnosed leading to (potentially avoidable) deaths.
People are often quick to criticize the amount of money spent on prison health care, yet remain completely silent when we privatize the industry and companies swoop in and double both the social and economic costs. Companies like Corizon are reaping billion dollar profits, but we give them a free pass when it comes to killing our prisoners. Killing prisoners out of neglect stemming from a desire to grow profits is a criminal act, no less deserving of imprisonment than the crimes committed by the inmates themselves.
Since the major shift towards privatizing prison health care swept across the country in 2012, the overall standard of care in these institutions has fallen consistently while raising the very costs to the state the private companies purported they could reduce. Research on the effectiveness of applying a private market model to prison health care has demonstrated a clear correlation: “we find that a 20 percent increase in percentage of medical personnel employed under contract increases mortality by 2 percent.” None of this news, investigations had revealed this nearly 15 years ago, yet we continue to repeat the same mistakes over and over and over again ; it’s recidivism in action.
As we pointed out in the piece on Lowell, funding cutbacks have played a serious role in creating an environment where corruption not only survives, but thrives. With levels of institutional corruption seemingly so high, one would be tempted to point to the problems being fundamentally related to individual activities, but there is another factor at play that must be examined: corporate corruption.
Part of the Florida corrections puzzle right now has to do with the growing levels of corporate involvement in corrections. It simply cannot be a coincidence that in the 100-days following privatization of prison health care the state saw monthly prisoner mortality rates reaching a 10-year high (especially given that the number of prisoners has decreased).
At the end of November prison health care provider Corizon announced its intention to withdraw from their contract with the state of Florida to serve roughly 75,000 prisoners.
The announcement took place just shortly after the Miami Herald announced the record number of prisoner deaths in the state over the last year—176 of the 346 listing no “immediate cause of death,” and a number of those deaths classified as “natural” being highly suspicious.
Corizon cited that the state’s contract was “too constraining,” the translation of which is that they couldn't see themselves making enough of a profit while being able to provide a decent standard of care.
As any health care policy analyst will tell you, the dividends earned by privatizing health care are short-term only. When you cheap out on preventative or early intervention care, you pay for it later. Such care allows you to nip problems in the bud for relatively little cost, whereas waiting until a problem becomes acute results in astronomical costs.
Think of it this way, providing a preventative course of antibiotics to someone who has a serious wound in the beginning stages of an infection is a heck of a lot cheaper than having to deal with a bout of necrotizing fasciitis and the resulting amputations and round-the-clock care. Most medical interventions can be thought of this way. Health is not a commodity that can be bought and sold like a stereo, so why do we continue to apply a market model to it? It’s not rocket science, but DOCs complete failure to understand this logic would make you think it was.
Add to the mix that prisons typically have higher rates of mental illness and addiction than found in the general population, and you have a client base where the need for prevention and early intervention are absolutely critical.
Florida privatized its prisoner health care system in 2012. The switch was supposedly to save the state money, but as predicted by virtually every observer who understands how health care privatization works, it did nothing of the sort:
“The contract requires that both companies provide medical care to inmates for 7 percent less than it cost the state in 2010, but both companies sought and received increases in the terms of their original agreement.
In 2014, former FDC Secretary Michael Crews agreed to raise the annual contract with Corizon and Wexford by $3.2 million. Subsequent audits revealed that even after the increased payments, Corizon failed to meet its contract obligations regarding staffing and medical care.”
Corizon’s medical practices have fallen under intense scrutiny over the last year, even well before to the Herald investigations regarding suspicious deaths. The Palm Beach Post. This isn’t the first time Corizon has been under scrutiny for some time, losing myriad contracts due to serious concerns over the quality of care and facing a number of investigations and lawsuits across the country. Palliative cancer patients were given Tylenol to deal with unimaginable pain, pain that couldn’t even be eased with morphine once prisoners were finally transferred to hospital. Diabetics are withheld insulin for months. The mentally ill are inexplicably taken off their medications. Cancer patients are misdiagnosed leading to (potentially avoidable) deaths.
People are often quick to criticize the amount of money spent on prison health care, yet remain completely silent when we privatize the industry and companies swoop in and double both the social and economic costs. Companies like Corizon are reaping billion dollar profits, but we give them a free pass when it comes to killing our prisoners. Killing prisoners out of neglect stemming from a desire to grow profits is a criminal act, no less deserving of imprisonment than the crimes committed by the inmates themselves.
Since the major shift towards privatizing prison health care swept across the country in 2012, the overall standard of care in these institutions has fallen consistently while raising the very costs to the state the private companies purported they could reduce. Research on the effectiveness of applying a private market model to prison health care has demonstrated a clear correlation: “we find that a 20 percent increase in percentage of medical personnel employed under contract increases mortality by 2 percent.” None of this news, investigations had revealed this nearly 15 years ago, yet we continue to repeat the same mistakes over and over and over again ; it’s recidivism in action.
December 14, 2015
Be an angel for the children of prisoners
We all know that the holidays aren’t a joyful time for everyone. For many, this time of year brings up feelings of intense sadness and loneliness. Nowhere is this truer than for those incarcerated and their loved ones. Last year was especially hard for me, as I’d lost my communication privileges over a trumped-up violation (which was summarily dismissed, to no one’s surprise), and for the first time in my life I was unable to speak with my family on Christmas Day. But as difficult as that was for me, I can only imagine how incredibly devastating it is for those individuals with families.
Aside from the practical considerations that many families live too far away from prisons to be able to visit, the impact on inmates who can’t contribute to their children’s joy over the holidays can be shattering to everyone involved. And while none of us want to suggest that our holiday focus should be on material goods, the fact is that a gift to a child from an incarcerated parent can mean the world. Those left behind to care for children typically face serious economic burdens when a loved one is imprisoned, which means that they often have to make the very real decision between buying Christmas gifts, and keeping the heat on.
When 1 in 14 children in the United States has a parent who is incarcerated, we’re talking about millions of children for whom the holidays hold additional stigma. Children whose parents are incarcerated are among our most vulnerable; many will experience serious negative impacts throughout their lives. On top of every day struggles with feelings of abandonment and loneliness, the holiday season emphasizes the importance of being with family- something they may not be able to do.
For the cost of a few lattes, you can, quite literally, help change the course of a child’s life. There is nothing more important to the long-term welfare of these children than to let them know that they are loved. That no matter what their circumstances, what their parents may or may not have done, that they matter, that society cares what happens to them.
Programs exist all across the country to help deliver Christmas gifts to the children on behalf of their incarcerated parents. And so I’d like to urge everyone out there to consider donating to any one of the organizations out there helping to deliver a message of love and hope to the children of prisoners.
Aside from the practical considerations that many families live too far away from prisons to be able to visit, the impact on inmates who can’t contribute to their children’s joy over the holidays can be shattering to everyone involved. And while none of us want to suggest that our holiday focus should be on material goods, the fact is that a gift to a child from an incarcerated parent can mean the world. Those left behind to care for children typically face serious economic burdens when a loved one is imprisoned, which means that they often have to make the very real decision between buying Christmas gifts, and keeping the heat on.
When 1 in 14 children in the United States has a parent who is incarcerated, we’re talking about millions of children for whom the holidays hold additional stigma. Children whose parents are incarcerated are among our most vulnerable; many will experience serious negative impacts throughout their lives. On top of every day struggles with feelings of abandonment and loneliness, the holiday season emphasizes the importance of being with family- something they may not be able to do.
For the cost of a few lattes, you can, quite literally, help change the course of a child’s life. There is nothing more important to the long-term welfare of these children than to let them know that they are loved. That no matter what their circumstances, what their parents may or may not have done, that they matter, that society cares what happens to them.
Programs exist all across the country to help deliver Christmas gifts to the children on behalf of their incarcerated parents. And so I’d like to urge everyone out there to consider donating to any one of the organizations out there helping to deliver a message of love and hope to the children of prisoners.
Illinois sets out to punish former inmates into poverty
An arcane law is being given new life in Illinois, and the results are coming at a serious social cost. A recent investigation has revealed that the state of Illinois has been ramping up efforts to sue inmates for “fees” related to their tenure in prison. While they claim to be targeting only those who can “afford” it, outside scrutiny has revealed that is simply not the case. People like Melvin Moore who inherited a whopping $14,000 he had planned to use to ease his re-entry, was sued by the state for $338,650. Johnny Melton who’d received roughly $30,000 as a result of a settlement over his mother’s death, died homeless and destitute after a similar suit was filed against him.
Such laws have been “on the books” for many years, and exist in many states. But recently the number of claims on behalf of the state have jumped significantly in Illinois. Whereas two lawsuits were filed between 2012-2013, at least ten were filed in 2015. And the timing seems particularly absurd, given that the state has among the highest levels of recidivism in the country; Illinois seems unable to comprehend the concept of cause and effect when it comes to the cycle of poverty and crime. Because as long as this practice remains on the books anywhere, it serves to undermine the ethos of rehabilitation and reduction of recidivism.
Even the briefest glance at the demographics of prisoners makes clear that they tend to be from marginalized backgrounds, be it financially or socially. And just as with the extortionist fee regimes of private prison banking and telecommunications companies, the idea that you are punishing only an inmate with these policies is beyond naive. Because for every individual incarcerated, there is a family left behind, dependants who are scraping together their pennies to keep things afloat, to stay in contact, to try and right past wrongs. These are who we punish with these kinds of laws.
It keeps coming back to the same situation. When we strip away everything from these individuals, when we push them into the streets without access to food or housing, why are we surprised when they reoffend, or worse? When we send individuals to prison, that is the punishment—we take away their freedom. And to what end? Half a million dollars won, and for what? It’s unlikely that even covers the costs for litigation. And guaranteed, the costs associated with increased recidivism will far outweigh any gains from such frivolous suits.
What do we think is going to happen when prisoners re-enter society? Because nearly all of them will. Do we want them to have the tools and social supports to succeed? You simply cannot be serious about rehabilitation and reducing recidivism when you remove the means by which these individuals can be to do so. We all know the old definition of insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result; the state of Illinois is taking it up a notch, doing something they know doesn’t work, and then making sure it works even less.
Such laws have been “on the books” for many years, and exist in many states. But recently the number of claims on behalf of the state have jumped significantly in Illinois. Whereas two lawsuits were filed between 2012-2013, at least ten were filed in 2015. And the timing seems particularly absurd, given that the state has among the highest levels of recidivism in the country; Illinois seems unable to comprehend the concept of cause and effect when it comes to the cycle of poverty and crime. Because as long as this practice remains on the books anywhere, it serves to undermine the ethos of rehabilitation and reduction of recidivism.
Even the briefest glance at the demographics of prisoners makes clear that they tend to be from marginalized backgrounds, be it financially or socially. And just as with the extortionist fee regimes of private prison banking and telecommunications companies, the idea that you are punishing only an inmate with these policies is beyond naive. Because for every individual incarcerated, there is a family left behind, dependants who are scraping together their pennies to keep things afloat, to stay in contact, to try and right past wrongs. These are who we punish with these kinds of laws.
It keeps coming back to the same situation. When we strip away everything from these individuals, when we push them into the streets without access to food or housing, why are we surprised when they reoffend, or worse? When we send individuals to prison, that is the punishment—we take away their freedom. And to what end? Half a million dollars won, and for what? It’s unlikely that even covers the costs for litigation. And guaranteed, the costs associated with increased recidivism will far outweigh any gains from such frivolous suits.
What do we think is going to happen when prisoners re-enter society? Because nearly all of them will. Do we want them to have the tools and social supports to succeed? You simply cannot be serious about rehabilitation and reducing recidivism when you remove the means by which these individuals can be to do so. We all know the old definition of insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result; the state of Illinois is taking it up a notch, doing something they know doesn’t work, and then making sure it works even less.
