Justice … In Black and White

THIS BLOG WAS WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER, 2014.

            She stands blindfolded, the Goddess of Justice, holding scales. Justice, we are told, is blind. It is blind to color, creed, national origin. It is blind to wealth. Justice, the balancing of wrongs and restoration of rights rest on the fundamental tenet that it is fair, that all are equal before the law. “With liberty and justice for all.” Six simple words yet so complicated, so difficult to achieve. “All are equal before the law regardless of the color of your skin or your parents’ wealth.” That is the myth of American justice. And myths aren’t necessarily bad things. They bind us as community when there is truth in the myth. Unfortunately, justice is not equal. Justice sees wealth, and Nationality, and color. Justice is biased … and it is as different as black and white.

            Much of social media (the blogosphere, et al) is devoted to turning visceral reaction into fact. And, as my Poli-Sci professor in college noted thirty plus years ago, “where you stand (on an issue) depends on where you sit (your life experiences)”. So, a Black woman in a housing project who sees her teenage son repeatedly stopped and frisked by police will have a different opinion of law enforcement than the white, suburbanite homemaker in the gated community who watches as the same police make two passes each day through the neighborhood. Neither gut reaction can be challenged. Neither is built on fact, however. Facts matter, perhaps never more so than “Ferguson” and “Cleveland” so soon after “Trayvon.” Facts – and honesty – matter.

            Fact: 93% of all murders of African-Americans come at the hand of African-Americans. And the per capita murder rate is 8 times higher for black than white teens. At the same time, 86% of all white murder victims are killed by whites. This should come as no surprise. Even with the dismantling of de jure segregation we remain a country de facto segregated. My elderly mother lives in fear of young black men marauding through her neighborhood like an angry Viking horde. Know what? There are no black families in her upscale Raleigh neighborhood. There are no black teens and if there were, the chances are they wouldn’t bother it. A member of her church, or “over 55” club is more likely to cause her harm.

            Fact: Blacks and whites use drugs in equal percentages. But, blacks are more likely to be prosecuted for drug possession and more likely to be incarcerated. Blacks are also stopped significantly more than whites even when accounting for demographic data in a community (in wealthy areas, upscale black teens are still disproportionately stopped over their white compatriots). In Virginia, 59% of all DOC inmates are African-American while only 36% are white, yet both races commit crimes at the same level.

            “And justice for all.” One out of three young black men born since 2000 will end up with a criminal arrest record before age 18. Imagine – as a white parent – what your visceral reaction would be if those numbers were applied to your family and friends.

            Crime is color-blind; crime doesn’t care about the size of your bank balance. But, justice, justice does care. Black and poor are disproportionately harmed by arrest and sentencing. A huge bank steals billions in account holders funds and is given a “criminal settlement” of $7 billion – again money from the bank’s investors – while the perpetrators remain free. A young Iraqi War vet suffering from PTSD “robs” a bank with an unloaded shotgun. He gets $8,000; he sentenced to 12 years. “And justice for all.”

            Ferguson, Missouri. Race – on both sides – has driven this entire tragic circumstance. What if Michael Brown had been white? Chances are, he wouldn’t have been stopped, white teens are not stopped like black teens. What of the confrontation with Officer Wilson? Race factored in on both sides. Blacks generally view the police as a mercenary force, a foreign invader. Police – overwhelmingly white – view black teens as criminals – in – waiting; they sense the hostility present in the neighborhood. And the result is the loss of another young black man. Was the teen murdered by a racist cop? Was the cop attacked and in fear for his life when the gun was fired? I don’t know. My gut tells me Officer Wilson was not racist; he was a cop trying to do his job and “things” took a wrong turn. But, as a white cop, he was pre-disposed to see a black teen as trouble. And Michael Brown? He was no saint. That shouldn’t matter because (1) Wilson had no right to even stop him and (2) he shouldn’t be dead.

            Let’s remember, black or white, a mother and a father grieve over the senseless death of their son. Do we “hurumph” when a teenager, driving recklessly, dies in a car accident? No. We show empathy. We show sympathy. We feel for the grieving parents knowing that could be us. Michael Brown’s parents – like Trayvon Martin’s parents – deserve that. That isn’t a race issue, that’s simple human decency and compassion.

            “And Justice for All.” How many times do you think grand juris convene and don’t hand down indictments? It’s unheard of, and yet here we see a grand jury do just that. Makes you wonder, answer: 162,000 US grand jury indictments.

            Cleveland. A young boy flashing a play gun. The 911 call comes in saying that. “There’s a kid with a play gun.” The video shows police roll up to the scene, the boy waves the gun in the air and “Bam” a shot rings out from the police cruiser and the twelve year-old is dead. Silence. No outrage. No questioning about “justice” about living in a land dedicated to “equal justice under Law” where a Black President decries the violence yet allows the Pentagon to sell off military-style equipment to police departments; a President who oversees an “intelligence gathering apparatus” that collects virtually every bit of private data on you. Makes you wonder.

            Race and income matter in police work and in the criminal justice system. They cloud and distort the truth and they leave distrust and anger in their wake.

            I don’t know what happened in Ferguson, Missouri. I know this, race played a role in it. I also know those on the “right” and “left” who use tragedies such as this who spread innuendo and rumor in the name of their political position face a special place in hell. I know there are too many police shootings, too many dead black teens, too many mothers crying.

            Sitting in here I hear a disturbing separation. To the young black men who have had numerous encounters with officers like Wilson it reinforces the idea that America seeks genocide on young blacks; to the white guys, many viscerally side with the white cop and say the “n----- had it coming.” How do you respond to such ignorance? How indeed.

            “Red and yellow, Black and white, they are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

            Justice – real, justice – like mercy, is blind. It is high time we begin in our own lives striving for that ideal.

 

Matt the Vet

I saw Matt arrive a few months ago from another prison. He’s a vet – Post 9/11 – and served two tours in Afghanistan on the Hindu-Kush Range, the mountainous region dividing Afghanistan from Pakistan. I recognized Matt when he walked in; he and I had been at the jail together. He sat there awaiting sentencing – and DOC transfer – for bank robbery. He used a shotgun and robbed two banks in the greater Richmond area of a little over $50,000. “When I mustered out, I couldn’t find a decent job,” he told me back then. For those two robberies Matt received 9 years each – two sentences to be run “consecutively,” i.e. one after the other. Eighteen years, a PTSD rating, a purple heart (shrapnel wound to the leg) … “Thank you for your service to your country.”

            When I first met Matt he was very angry and bitter. He had enlisted after 9/11 to defend his country. Then, he climbed to the ranks of Sargent and did multiple deployments while people at home waved flags, put bumper stickers on new cars that said “we support our troops” – yet less than 1% of the population had anyone in uniform – and the country knew nothing of the places their sons and daughters were sent to fight and die. They cared even less about the ramifications of America’s political decisions being made which effected lives of those troops. Benjamin Franklin said, “Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel flees.” Old Ben understood modern America.

            This generation of vets – the post 9/11 young men and women – are no different than the Vietnam vets. America talks a good game about service, but the political consensus, the political will is “fuck them.” Harsh? Yes. But 9/11 vets have higher PTSD rates, higher homelessness, unemployment, suicides, and incarceration rates than other returning vets … and still no one seems to care.

            Matt’s not the bitter, angry young man he was when I met him in 2009. And he’s here to take advantage of his VA education benefits, earn his degree and move on with his life. Matt mellowed – prison will do that to you. You see how screwed up this place is; you realize how much worse off others have it; and you find your faith. For Matt, that was converting to Islam. For me, it was believing that Sunday school song “Jesus loves me, yes I know …”

            In the weeks to come I’m going to profile Matt and the other vets. I want people to see there is more to some of the felons in here than we might assume. There are fourteen young men in here who served their country after 9/11. For eight of them, they were in harm’s way, saw combat multiple times. Does that excuse their crimes? No. But, there is more to the men in here than just their criminal records.

Major Misinformation

I expect to hear stupid things everyday around here. It goes with the territory. Part of dealing with prison life is learning that the majority of men – and women – behind bars are not the most well versed. Simply put, much of what I consider common, ordinary knowledge – facts and figures and basics of geography, history, language, that I assume everyone knows – isn’t known by most of the men inside. And not knowing breeds problems. Prisons run on misinformation, whether it be rumors, conspiracy theories or worse, falsehoods. And, you learn to live with it; with some difficulty, you ignore it.

            Yeah, you ignore it. At first, I didn’t. I couldn’t. When I would hear an inmate spout as “fact” some ridiculous statement about the power of the Virginia Governor to change, en masse, sentences, I’d explain how the Virginia constitution delineates powers. Usually the response, mumbled of course, would be “fuckin guy thinks he knows everything.”

            Even worse are the race conversations. Black or white, these guys splintered off into prison-built “religions” – spout segregation-themed words. “Blacks are ______.” Or “Whites are _____.” The only commonality is their misogynistic rants and their utter lack of any factual support for their views. And, I use to argue with those knuckleheads. Not anymore. It just isn’t worth the effort.

            But stupid people in prison isn’t what this is about. As bad as that is, I understand it. After all with over 50% of those behind bars lacking a high school diploma, you expect men not to know. What really bothers me is when those responsible for the system perpetuate falsehoods. That is a major problem. And, that is what is going on in here.

            There is a disconnect between what DOC says it’s trying to accomplish inside and what those in charge actually do. For example, DOC says, “90% of those behind bars will return to their communities.” True. And they say, the goal of prison should be not merely to punish those offenders but to prepare them to “successfully reintegrate into the community.” Fancy terms like “healing environment” are tossed around at places like this. Posters are up in chow halls and buildings promoting this facility as a “healing environment.”

            Then there are the re-entry programs: the “cognitive communities,” the classes called “breaking barriers,” “Thinking for a change,” and “Productive citizenship;” beautiful titles and goals. It is all a façade.

            This compound has a chief of Security – a Major, who is responsible for the day-to-day operation of the facility. Forget the fact that there is more drug use, more fights, more gang activity, than before his arrival (perhaps that is because so many in the population are young, short sentence offenders sent here solely to go through “re-entry,” this hot-shot, relatively young Major said the other day – when shown the summer college schedule – “Great more free education for these guys.”

            An educator then told him 1. Most of the men don’t go for “free” (veterans earned education benefits through service; other students are now paying a percentage of the cost); and 2. Higher education is the single best reducer of recidivism. Do you know what our security chief then said? He said, “No, it’s not.” Hey Major Einstein, yes it is.

            Fact, Major – education, primarily college education is the only factor that significantly effects recidivism rates. So, he’s flat out wrong. More troubling – if the ignorance exhibited by the guy in charge can be more troubling – is that his incorrect assumption is shared by a large portion of those who work here. In some ways, that’s understandable. Their livelihood depends on a steady supply of inmates. Less returning inmates means less prisons. Fewer prisons mean fewer jobs for Unit Managers, counselors and Majors.

            But there’s a more insidious problem. Folks like the major miss what Senator Elizabeth Warren calls “the notion that we are all in this together.” See, the Major – and a whole lot of other people working here – see offenders as “thems.” “Those guys” break the law and expect a free education while “we” pay for all of it. The problem with that logic is, there isn’t a “we” and a “they.” There’s an “us.”

            Some of the “thems” the major refers to – they’re young guys, vets of the Afghan and Iraq wars. They have diagnosed PTSD; they were given too many prescriptions and not enough help. They’re young guys who fought for this country while “we” sat on our asses post 9-11 and hung out flags.

            Here’s the thing, the shortsighted mistake guys like the Major make. Treat people like “thems” and they’ll stay “thems.” And “thems” get bitter, and don’t care; “thems” don’t feel connected to what binds “we’s” in society. That’s what education does – it makes you feel connected; it gives you a purpose. And, if you have a purpose, if you feel connected, chances are pretty certain you won’t reoffend.

            Mexican novelist Juan Villoro said it best, “Criminal acts can be redeemed, but nothing can save us from mediocrity.”

            Mediocrity; that’s what’s taught and expected most times in prison. And it all begins with major misinformation.

Gary & Thomas

Gary and Thomas moved out of our building – involuntarily. Neither man was in college. Their assignment to 4A was mere happenstance. They both are under eighteen months and were “ready” for the first phases of re-entry. Building 3 is all re-entry, with 4B twelve to eighteen months and introduction to the “pre-cog” community. Overflow from B side is housed in A’s fifteen non-college beds. So Gary and Thomas were moved to 4A. Neither man could read; both men suffer from mental illness and are loaded up with handfuls of skittle colored pills to “regulate” their behavior. And even with the pills, both men went nuts and were “checked in” to the padded suicide cell in 7 building.

            The pill life. In here close to 50% of the men are on something. Don’t get me wrong; medications have their place in modern society. We live in an age where pharmaceuticals cure or limit the effects of diseases and conditions that one hundred years ago would have meant death at an early age. But we have become addicted to drugs without adequately evaluating the consequences of our over-dependence. And that addiction comes with a heavy price.

            Nowhere is the evidence clearer of our over-reliance on prescription meds than inside prison. Pills – meds – are a means of control. It’s far easier for the state to dole out prescription meds than address the underlying causes of many of these men’s problems. And prison – while an isolated lifestyle – is not an island unto itself. The reason the Department of Corrections allows medications to be the primary method of inmate health care is because the same is true in the “real” world. Pills are the answer.

            I have a friend in here, fifty-one, retired Navy. He made a horrible mistake one night and driving drunk crossed into a controlled intersection and killed two people. That was in 2006. To this day, he can’t even mention the accident without tearing up. While he sat in jail, pondering his responsibility for the loss of two innocent lives he heard from his wife that she was divorcing him. “I’m not going to put my life on hold for ten years while you go to prison,” she wrote. He fell into a deep depression. Unable to cope with the guilt over his reckless deed and now reeling from the loss of his wife, my friend actively contemplated suicide. The jail “routed” him to the facility psychiatrist. After a visit lasting less than ten minutes the doctor called in an 80 mg prescription (twice daily) of Prozac. Three weeks ago he came to the realization that the meds (now one 30 mg dose a day) weren’t doing what he needed.

            What he needed was to come to grips with what he did. What he needed was to own up, admit his responsibility and move forward. The meds kept him from that. About a year ago, this decent man, a wayward Catholic by his own admission, returned to the church. Monthly he would go to confession when the priest would come. The confessions, the readings, the self-examination allowed my friend to begin to heal. It was this healing that led to him stopping the Prozac and sleeping for fourteen hours every day. Now, he exercises, and prays, and takes college classes, and lives.

            A personal confession. I find myself in jail. The first night they put me on suicide watch – standard procedure anytime someone from “my side of the tracks” gets locked up. The next morning, a counselor asked me, “you’re aren’t going to hurt yourself, are you? When I said “no,” I was moved to a low custody pod and forty other men. I walked in the pod dayroom and felt like I stepped into the psych ward of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” I was witness to a range and array of characters and behaviors I didn’t know existed. I was a mess – on the inside – yet no one knew. I carried myself with head high, joking, out-going; all the while I planned to end my embarrassment, pain, and self-loathing. I didn’t. Why I didn’t is between God and me, but my “Damascus” moment didn’t make me brave or responsible or giving. I was still a mess, just a mess who decided to see life through.

            A week after my arrival, I met the jail psychiatrist, an out-going, funny Filipino man who took an instant liking to me. “Are you depressed?” Of course I was – who wouldn’t be? My whole life was destroyed – marriage, wealth, prestige – all was gone. He then read the articles about me from the paper and in less than fifteen minutes came up with a “proposed” diagnosis. “You’re brilliant, personable, successful. You must suffer from mania. We’ll call it a slight disorder and see where that leads.” Mania – that explains my reckless behavior I thought. I’m not responsible; I’m ill. He then prescribed me 10 mg of trazadone (an anti-depressant) nightly to “help” me sleep.

            I clutched onto his diagnosis and treatment. I exaggerated in letters my conversations with the good doctor – anything to get sympathy. And, after only two days of pills, I started flushing the trazadone. I didn’t need it. What I needed to get sleep was to admit to myself and my God what a wreck I’d made of my life. And, I needed to “man up” and do the right thing regardless of the outcome. It was during those very dark, very difficult days that I agreed to plead guilty to all charges without a plea agreement on my sentence and to ensure my family was provided for, I soon discovered self-respect helps you sleep better than a bottle or a pill ever will. Like Tom Cruise’s character in “The Last Samurai,” honor and self-respect may be the best medicine for a broken soul.

            Pills; everywhere pills. The other night there were 38 men getting meds from our side, out of 66. Many of the men getting Zoloft, and Xanax, and Prozac, are in here on drug charges. Their treatment plans require alcohol and drug programs; their mental health plan requires high doses of meds. Even the “real” mentally ill – the schizophrenics – they are over-medicated to the point of being non-functioning. Gary and Thomas would sleep upwards of twenty hours per day. Personal hygiene – cleanliness – is forgotten; all there is is a vacant stare.

            It isn’t healthy and it isn’t right. There is no actual psychiatric treatment, just monthly videoconference “how are yous.” Side effects from most of the anti-depression and anti-psychotics require blood work quarterly to verify the pills aren’t destroying the user’s liver. Men go home with new addictions, new crutches.

            What’s the answer? Let’s face it, as USA Today pointed out in a cover story this week; mental health is the expendable item in most state budgets. It’s the dirty little secret no one wants to discuss until there’s a Newtown, or a Columbine, or PTSD Marine who goes off and kills women and children in an Afghan village. We ignore the problem and then “lock ‘em up.” Worse, we think a pill can solve the problem.

            Pills aren’t the answer. Somebody needs to do better for Gary and Thomas. By the way, what’s in your medicine cabinet?

School's in Session

College classes start Monday. That in itself is amazing. Think about those words, “College classes start” and remember I’m in prison behind three heavy metal fences interwoven with razor wire. Remember that almost 70% of men and women behind bars have less than a high school education. Those three words continue to astound me. Monday we start up again with seed money from a private college foundation. The government will spend $60 billion this year locking up and keeping 2.3 million people behind bars. That’s $6o billion by the states and Federal government on prisons. And yet, Virginia (which will spend $1.3 billion just on its adult prisons) will provide zero dollars – that’s right $0.00 – on higher education in its prisons. “College classes start,” Wow! Liberal arts for the incarcerated (I wonder how that would sound in Latin!)

            In dozens of blogs, I’ve written about the longer term recidivism prognosis for inmates who earn college degrees while behind bars. No rehabilitation or re-entry program used in any prison matches the results achieved when an inmate becomes a college graduate. Recidivism is virtually eliminated. That piece of paper does what no other program behind bars can do: it stops released offenders from returning to prison.

            “College classes start.” Ask the public about support for school behind bars, ask about empathy for the horrible conditions in most prisons, and the average polled law-abiding citizen will say, “the hell with them. That’s what they deserve for breaking the law.” I know, I used to say it myself. Somehow, in spite of that ignorant attitude, there will be college again.

            In March, twenty vets – almost all of whom served post-9/11 – will begin college classes in the IT program. I’m always surprised when I see politicians and citizens line up to say how much they appreciate the sacrifices made by our men and women in the armed forces. Words are cheap. PTSD is in epidemic proportions among the post-9/11 vets. Depression (and suicide), drug-abuse, homelessness, and yes, criminal convictions, are all at watershed levels. The VA is impotent when it comes to Veteran Mental Health. “Thank you for your service.” Yeah right. Still, vets from all five MSR facilities (medium security, re-entry) are signing up to move here and participate in our GI college program. “College classes start.” It has a nice ring to it.

            That’s the “macro” view, the big picture. Here’s the “micro” look. We almost lost the program. For six months, the money had dried up. Guys got discouraged. They put in for transfers. “College is dead,” was the word all over the compound. Try keeping seventy guys positive in this environment. It was tough. Then came “black Thursday” when two of our college aides got locked up. Three times after that I was called to the investigator’s office. “We can lock you up,” they’d tell me and I’d smile. Hell, I’d think, I’m already locked up.

            Three times our building’s been shook down. “Where are the thumb drives? Where are the burned CDs?” Nothing was found and college, well we got the computers back and we’re starting … again.

            One of my new “projects” is to prepare the guys for success in school. Time management, study habits, note taking, research methods, and writing skills – five areas most men here sorely lack competency in. I told the guys the other day, “We’re under the microscope.” Many here – officers and inmates alike – are pulling for us to fail. The night before our class meeting I noticed “Bridge Over the River Kwai” was on one of the classic movie channels.

            “Watch the movie,” I told the guys. “And watch the British Colonel at the beginning.” For you movie buffs, you’ll remember the Colonel shows up and he sees thousands of British P.O.W.s out of uniform, stealing from each other, and carrying on with no discipline. “You are behaving exactly the way the enemy expects you to,” he tells his officer corp. “The men must remember they are soldiers in his majesty’s army.” The Colonel then confronts the Japanese camp officer. The Colonel risks his own life to show his men what it means to conduct yourself with pride and decorum.

            My point? People expect men in prison to behave a certain way. Instead, we need to act with pride and dignity and show all these naysayers we’re better men that our convictions.

            “College classes start.” You could see it in their faces yesterday when guys came by to get their textbooks and when my friend Mike led an impromptu math review class on set theory to get everyone up to speed. I was walking back after work with a few of the guys when one of them started whistling. “It’s ‘Bridge Over the River Kwai’,” another guy said. “Catchy tune.” Yeah, school is back in session. Thought dead and resurrected. “College classes start.”

Job Fair

Something new happened at Lunenburg yesterday.  That in itself is surprising.  The thing about prison that is most difficult to bear is the time, the monotonous rolling forward of time.  Day in and day out there are the same announcements at the same time.  Days repeat days; weeks repeat weeks.  And years?  You watch the calendar click.  It’s maddening.  You live your life almost like Bill Murray did in “Groundhog Day”.  If you’re smart, you avoid the temptation to get comfortable with the monotony.  You design your day according to your needs.  You exercise your mind – and your body – and you resist the urge to be institutionalized.  And, in spite of the drudgery, you remain – at least in your mind – free.

Every so often, however, a day comes along which reminds you the monotony can be broken.  College graduation was one such day and the joy, the freedom I felt that Friday in January has sustained me.  Yesterday was another such day.  Yesterday, the LUCC Transition teacher and his aides sponsored a job fair for approximately 100 inmates who leave in the next 90 days.

This was not your typical job fair.  For one thing the majority of employers were contractors.  Second, there was an emphasis on mini-workshops with the Virginia Employment Commission and various non-profit organizations who assist released felons with a myriad of re-entry issues.

I was asked to attend to assist our Goodwill rep who was meeting with twelve of our IT grads who leave within the next 60 days.  It was remarkable seeing these men, resumes and portfolios (of programs completed) in hand looking a potential employer in the face and answering truthfully about their crime, their incarceration and their skills.

And I learned a few things.  First, there is a national fidelity bond that is free to an employer – providing $5000 (more is available for a small premium) of coverage for employee dishonesty – who hires a convicted felon.  “Even applies to a disbarred attorney convicted of embezzlement.”

Second, a significant number of released felons may be eligible for disability payments.  Extensive periods of incarceration may cause post-traumatic stress disorder.  It seems ironic but the “system” designed to encourage responsible behavior is, in fact, one of the main causes of PTSD and anti-social behavior.  Prisons are viscous, filthy, Darwinian environments.  It should come as no surprise that they do not encourage rehabilitation but promote the opposite.

Third, there are employers willing to give ex-cons a second chance.  One recruiter with a national construction firm told me “God gave me a second chance.  How could I not do the same thing?”  A few guys with significant construction training (and licenses earned while here) were made offers.  A few more were told to “stay in touch”.  The results weren’t great, but there was hope.  And in a place like this hope sometimes is all it takes to get you through.

The job fair wasn’t like anything experienced “out there”.  Recruiters had to clear security.  Guys had to be screened to get in.  There was a two and a half hour window to get the entire program in before 11:30 count.  And, it wasn’t some DOC initiative, some project spurred on by Governor McDonnell’s “re-entry initiative”.  It was the brainchild of this institution’s transition instructor, “Mr. Nick”, a twenty-five year veteran of the DOC prison re-entry process.  Mr. Nick believes in the power of hope.  His four aides – two of whom are college students I tutor – carry out his instructions.  Their goal:  to give every exiting inmate a chance at work after release.

Prison is a terrible experience.  It goes against every human emotion and is counterproductive for changing most lawbreakers into “good citizens”.  And against that backdrop Don Quixote – like men and women still launch themselves against the windmills of hopelessness and recidivism.  They believe a man with a job, a man with an education, can succeed.

We need more job fair days, more college graduation days, more days of hope and less groundhog days.