I’ve had another lousy week, lousy enough that it reminded me that God has a warped sense of humor. There’s an old joke about God proving He was a funny, quirky guy by creating the platypus, a mammal that lays eggs, carries its young in a pouch, has a duck bill and webbed feet. It is a complete genetic mish mash.
Tuesday evening I received “legal mail”. Legal mail is the term prisons use to describe any letter, any envelope you receive from an attorney, court, or governmental agency. All “regular” mail is examined prior to delivery to inmates. Envelopes are opened and shaken out (to check for contraband being mailed in – drugs, cash, nude photos). Inmates on the prison “watch list” (known gang members) actually have their mail read before delivery.
Legal mail is different. It has to be opened in front of the inmate. It cannot be read, only shaken out for contraband. Inmates must sign a log book acknowledging receipt of the legal mail.
Tuesday night I was sitting in my cut, writing when the CO hands me an envelope. I looked at it and realized it was from the Court Clerk. I tore open the envelope and find an executed copy of the Court’s order dismissing my Habeas Corpus Petition.
I knew this was coming. I knew I’d lose at the state court level. It’s an exercise in futility. You file with the same judge who convicted and sentenced you and you tell him “judge you screwed up. You didn’t realize my attorney violated my 6th Amendment right to effective assistance of counsel”.
In my case, I went even further. In response to the Attorney General’s motion to dismiss, I challenged the court to face itself and admit the sentence imposed was wrong. I called the judge every non-profane name in the books, daring him to revisit my case.
He held the AG’s proposed order 90 days. Frankly, I started thinking “maybe I’m right. Maybe justice will be done”. No such luck. He did as I expected.
I already had my Notice of Appeal drafted. I already had my pleadings in the works to proceed to the Virginia Supreme Court, and then Federal Court (you have to exhaust your state remedies first before getting in to Federal Court).
But, reading the order – an order drafted by the AG – I started to think “why bother appealing. I’m never getting out of here”. In the last month, I’ve been able to get two guys their hab’s granted and one guy’s pardon request has now moved to the parole board for final processing. My own case, nothing.
I knew then what the platypus feels like going through life. I knew I was the punch line of God’s joke. “Did you hear the one about the lawyer who got everyone he met a new chance in court, except himself?”
Fortunately, Big S and the “Old Heads” (the three convicted murderers I’m tight with) made me realize I had to keep fighting. “You can’t give up. Do you know how many guys are optimistic now because you’re optimistic? You got to fight these bastards.”
Which got me thinking about Job. A close friend in here gave me some advice that I’m trying to take to heart. Funny thing is, it’s the same advice two therapists gave me. Simply put, they all said I needed to quit being so hard on myself and remain patient and hopeful.
I wrote my ex this week. First time in a year. I wrote her because it was 30 years to the day that I found the courage to tell her “I love you” for the first time. In the letter I told her I was sorry the way things ended, sorry she hadn’t been happy and didn’t love me, sorry for letting her down. I also told her I’d always love her.
My friend said “you have nothing. You gave everything to her; you went against your own self-interest with your case to protect your wife and kids. You acted more noble and compassionately than anyone I know. Isn’t it possible her behaviors wrong? Isn’t it possible she’s just about her own selfish interests?”
And then this. “You can’t change people and you’re not responsible for everyone’s actions. Yeah, you screwed up. Good people do that. You’re a good guy and it’s not all your fault.”
I took what he said to heart. I’ve been dealt a lousy hand, no doubt. But, I’ve realized along this path I’m a pretty decent guy. I don’t know why God’s letting all this happen to me. But, I know this; I’m going to get through it.
One of the toughest lessons I’ve had to learn in here is knowing what I can control. I can’t make my ex love me, can’t make her admit she was wrong to divorce me. I’m not responsible for our marriage failing.
I can’t make guys in here decide they need to focus their lives and change. So many guys do their bids, run their hustles in here, get out, screw up again, and come right back. I can’t make them “learn” from their experiences.
So, here’s the “Job” part: I’m not sure why I had to lose everything. In my mind, it just isn’t fair. I’m not sure why I keep getting smacked in the face on my own case while I find it so easy to help other guys get another chance. But, I’ve learned I’m more resilient, kind and loving than I ever thought. I am a good guy, not perfect, but a guy who deserves better than he’s getting.
This isn’t the way I’d play this out if I was “in charge”. But, I’m not. And neither is DOC, or my ex, or the Governor. Ultimately, God’s in charge and I have confidence He’ll see me through this.
There’s a wonderful message about justice in David’s 9th Psalm. It says, in part:
“The Lord also will be a stronghold for the oppressed,
A stronghold in times of trouble;
And those who know Your name will put their trust in You,
For You, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You.”
I’ve had a couple of lousy weeks. I may have more. But, I finally realized, no matter what others may think, the platypus is happy being a platypus. My life may suck right now, but I’m OK with that. At least I know who’s in control.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
It's All About the "Benjamins"
Any young guy can tell you “Benjamins” (slang for money) make the world go round. DOC spends annually over $1 billion. And yet, as sentences have increased and parole abolished, the number of inmates and cost to house those inmates continues to increase.
In a newsletter release put out this week, DOC’s Director admitted DOC has lost 2400 beds due to prison closings. Additionally, there are currently 3500 DOC inmates being housed in regional jails. Director Johnson then admitted more cuts are likely in the next budget. The Director stated, “DOC would prefer to close facilities than cut programs.”
Most inmates believe prisons flourish and sentences are so long because “the people in power make money off inmates”. Conspiracy theories run rampant in the prison about money made by prisons. And conspiracy theories lead to anger, distrust, and disrespect for the justice system.
“They did away with parole ‘cause the Federal government pays ‘em $100 a day.”
“They make millions off us . . .”
Try and explain to these guys that DOC actually bleeds the state budget and they look at you like you’re crazy.
“If it costs so much, why they lock us up for so long?”
Good question. Locking up a drug user doesn’t help him overcome his addiction. Locking up the mentally ill doesn’t treat their mental illness. Locking up white collar criminals doesn’t help their victims get repaid.
Those are just a few examples. Try these as well:
What is the cost to society for all those children growing up with their fathers incarcerated? How many of those kids live below the poverty level, end up using drugs, quitting school, and end up in prison themselves?
Maybe there’s some truth to all the conspiracy theories. The Commonwealth must be making money off corrections because no sane person would quietly sit by while such an obviously flawed system continued to perpetuate itself and fail over and over.
Instead, politicians lie to voters about “getting tough on crime” and they blindly follow. Here’s a basic truth (and the DOC Director agrees with me): sentences are too long for the vast majority of convicted felons. Too many felons locked up for too long overwhelms the system. Programs can’t keep up; inmates get bitter and on release they’re willing to try almost anything to get back what they lost.
Virginia is one of the worst at treating released felons. As USA Today reported on October 3rd, Virginia is one of the 15 states with the largest prison population (ironically Virginia is not one of the 15 most populous states). Indigent defendants are saddled with exorbitant court costs. Virginia is one of only 13 states that assess public defender costs back to the indigent defendant. Paying off court costs is a term of probation. Inmates in here leave owing thousands. Then, they’re restricted on getting a drivers license. No license, no employment. The conspiracy theorists are starting to look even more credible.
Released felons have to apply to get their voting rights restored. Virginia is one of only three states that doesn’t automatically restore a felon’s rights.
In Virginia your felony conviction affects your creditworthiness, your employability, where you live, who you associate with.
The idea behind prisons in this country was originally quite noble. Sentenced to the “penitentiary” a person would reflect on his wrong doing. Through work and study he would be “corrected”. On release, restored to society.
That’s not what we have today. It’s all about the “Benjamins”. $100 million here for a new prison; $10,000 there in court costs to the defendant that he can’t pay back. The money keeps adding up and the cost, in dollars spent and lives altered, grows and grows. Something’s got to change.
In a newsletter release put out this week, DOC’s Director admitted DOC has lost 2400 beds due to prison closings. Additionally, there are currently 3500 DOC inmates being housed in regional jails. Director Johnson then admitted more cuts are likely in the next budget. The Director stated, “DOC would prefer to close facilities than cut programs.”
Most inmates believe prisons flourish and sentences are so long because “the people in power make money off inmates”. Conspiracy theories run rampant in the prison about money made by prisons. And conspiracy theories lead to anger, distrust, and disrespect for the justice system.
“They did away with parole ‘cause the Federal government pays ‘em $100 a day.”
“They make millions off us . . .”
Try and explain to these guys that DOC actually bleeds the state budget and they look at you like you’re crazy.
“If it costs so much, why they lock us up for so long?”
Good question. Locking up a drug user doesn’t help him overcome his addiction. Locking up the mentally ill doesn’t treat their mental illness. Locking up white collar criminals doesn’t help their victims get repaid.
Those are just a few examples. Try these as well:
What is the cost to society for all those children growing up with their fathers incarcerated? How many of those kids live below the poverty level, end up using drugs, quitting school, and end up in prison themselves?
Maybe there’s some truth to all the conspiracy theories. The Commonwealth must be making money off corrections because no sane person would quietly sit by while such an obviously flawed system continued to perpetuate itself and fail over and over.
Instead, politicians lie to voters about “getting tough on crime” and they blindly follow. Here’s a basic truth (and the DOC Director agrees with me): sentences are too long for the vast majority of convicted felons. Too many felons locked up for too long overwhelms the system. Programs can’t keep up; inmates get bitter and on release they’re willing to try almost anything to get back what they lost.
Virginia is one of the worst at treating released felons. As USA Today reported on October 3rd, Virginia is one of the 15 states with the largest prison population (ironically Virginia is not one of the 15 most populous states). Indigent defendants are saddled with exorbitant court costs. Virginia is one of only 13 states that assess public defender costs back to the indigent defendant. Paying off court costs is a term of probation. Inmates in here leave owing thousands. Then, they’re restricted on getting a drivers license. No license, no employment. The conspiracy theorists are starting to look even more credible.
Released felons have to apply to get their voting rights restored. Virginia is one of only three states that doesn’t automatically restore a felon’s rights.
In Virginia your felony conviction affects your creditworthiness, your employability, where you live, who you associate with.
The idea behind prisons in this country was originally quite noble. Sentenced to the “penitentiary” a person would reflect on his wrong doing. Through work and study he would be “corrected”. On release, restored to society.
That’s not what we have today. It’s all about the “Benjamins”. $100 million here for a new prison; $10,000 there in court costs to the defendant that he can’t pay back. The money keeps adding up and the cost, in dollars spent and lives altered, grows and grows. Something’s got to change.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Thou Shalt . . .
I finished running the other afternoon and headed back from the track to sit on the benches outside our building door. It was a beautiful, crisp fall afternoon. While sitting there I saw another inmate jog back to the building. He stood on our basketball court and faced east. He then began to call, in an Arabic chant, his fellow Muslims to prayer. Within a minute or so five other inmates came to the court and they began their afternoon prayers. I bowed my head and prayed as well.
That evening and the night following, USA Today ran interesting stories on our ignorance about our own faith and our views on God. The troubling story: most Christians know little about Christianity and the Bible. Atheists, Muslims, Jews and Mormons know more Christian doctrine, than Protestants or Catholics (and Catholics, you guys score the lowest).
In the other piece, people’s views of God were placed in four different categories. Most Americans view God as either “critical” (i.e. passing judgment) or “benevolent” (loving, forgiving, helping).
As I thought about the discipline I see exhibited daily by the Muslim inmates, I began to consider both stories and my own faith experience while in here.
I was a poor Christian before my arrest. I grew up in a “church family”. We went every week; my folks still do. But, we never read the Bible. Candidly, I never read the Bible until I was locked up. Then, I read it cover to cover, highlighting and underlining verses and words, memorizing lines and parables, and psalms.
My wife and I went to church each Sunday. She taught Sunday school. We were both church elders. Our kids grew up in the church. I knew doctrine, but I didn’t know what it meant to have a real relationship with God.
Then, I got arrested and my life came crashing down. My church family abandoned me. My minister refused to visit me in jail (“I don’t want to get in the middle of their marital issues”); only three members ever wrote me, and my wife ignored her vows and Jesus’ teaching on divorce and ended our marriage.
In spite of all that, slowly I began to heal, find peace and joy. I realized how wrong I had been about so many things. I read and reread Psalms, Epistles, Gospels and I learned and believed.
I’m one of those who think God is benevolent. I believe we all fall short, we all fail, we all deserve condemnation. Yet, somehow God loves us anyway. He forgives us and if we just trust Him, He’ll see us through.
Having said that, I have a sobering thought for anyone who considers themselves a good Christian: it’s a whole lot tougher than just going to church.
The key, when all is said and done, is forgiveness. That doesn’t mean saying “I forgive you, but I’ll never forget”. No, it means forgiving and forgetting.
Jesus spoke over and over about forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthews. Words like this in chapter 6: “If you forgive, your Father in heaven will also forgive you . . . If you do not forgive, your Father will not forgive you”.
Or how about chapter 18 when Peter asks if he had to forgive someone seven times. Imagine his surprise when Jesus said “you must forgive seventy times seven” then makes the point with the parable about the unforgiving servant.
I still sit there stunned and in awe each time I read those passages. I realized I had no justifiable reason to be angry at anyone. I had made a mess out of my life. I hurt terribly the woman I loved and my two sons. Yet, I know I’ve been forgiven by my God. If I could be forgiven for what I did, how could I not do the same?
Back in August I had to decide whether I would file suit against my former employer. With two other “disgraced” lawyers, I fashioned a unique argument about their handling of my arrest and events leading up to it. I knew all the company “dirt”, the questionable financial activity, the “who’s sleeping with who”. The point of the suit was to be to bring heat on them. I finally told the guys I couldn’t do it. I let it go.
The saddest experience in my life has not been the arrest, conviction, and imprisonment. It was my wife divorcing me and telling me she no longer loved me. I never really got angry, but the hurt cut me deeply.
I’m still sad, always will be. But, I found a way to unload so much of the pain. Now, I only have those wonderful memories of our time together. Do I wish we were still together? Yes. Do I miss her? More than words can express. But, I’ll be OK. I’m at peace.
She was a wonderful companion. She is an amazing woman. In my heart, I will always love her. I can’t really worry about why she did what she did. She had her reasons.
In multiple places the Bible references God “setting the prisoners free”. Each of us, when we let anger, bitterness, and sorrow consume us are imprisoned.
We all could pay better attention to our faith. We all could be more forgiving, more loving, more kind. If we were, the prisons would be less filled, marriages stronger, families more stable and we’d all feel better.
Prison sucks, but I’m blessed. Perhaps that’s the key to all of this, to finding joy in any circumstance. And perhaps, if we realize God loves us, we can love and forgive those that hurt us and all be really free.
That evening and the night following, USA Today ran interesting stories on our ignorance about our own faith and our views on God. The troubling story: most Christians know little about Christianity and the Bible. Atheists, Muslims, Jews and Mormons know more Christian doctrine, than Protestants or Catholics (and Catholics, you guys score the lowest).
In the other piece, people’s views of God were placed in four different categories. Most Americans view God as either “critical” (i.e. passing judgment) or “benevolent” (loving, forgiving, helping).
As I thought about the discipline I see exhibited daily by the Muslim inmates, I began to consider both stories and my own faith experience while in here.
I was a poor Christian before my arrest. I grew up in a “church family”. We went every week; my folks still do. But, we never read the Bible. Candidly, I never read the Bible until I was locked up. Then, I read it cover to cover, highlighting and underlining verses and words, memorizing lines and parables, and psalms.
My wife and I went to church each Sunday. She taught Sunday school. We were both church elders. Our kids grew up in the church. I knew doctrine, but I didn’t know what it meant to have a real relationship with God.
Then, I got arrested and my life came crashing down. My church family abandoned me. My minister refused to visit me in jail (“I don’t want to get in the middle of their marital issues”); only three members ever wrote me, and my wife ignored her vows and Jesus’ teaching on divorce and ended our marriage.
In spite of all that, slowly I began to heal, find peace and joy. I realized how wrong I had been about so many things. I read and reread Psalms, Epistles, Gospels and I learned and believed.
I’m one of those who think God is benevolent. I believe we all fall short, we all fail, we all deserve condemnation. Yet, somehow God loves us anyway. He forgives us and if we just trust Him, He’ll see us through.
Having said that, I have a sobering thought for anyone who considers themselves a good Christian: it’s a whole lot tougher than just going to church.
The key, when all is said and done, is forgiveness. That doesn’t mean saying “I forgive you, but I’ll never forget”. No, it means forgiving and forgetting.
Jesus spoke over and over about forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthews. Words like this in chapter 6: “If you forgive, your Father in heaven will also forgive you . . . If you do not forgive, your Father will not forgive you”.
Or how about chapter 18 when Peter asks if he had to forgive someone seven times. Imagine his surprise when Jesus said “you must forgive seventy times seven” then makes the point with the parable about the unforgiving servant.
I still sit there stunned and in awe each time I read those passages. I realized I had no justifiable reason to be angry at anyone. I had made a mess out of my life. I hurt terribly the woman I loved and my two sons. Yet, I know I’ve been forgiven by my God. If I could be forgiven for what I did, how could I not do the same?
Back in August I had to decide whether I would file suit against my former employer. With two other “disgraced” lawyers, I fashioned a unique argument about their handling of my arrest and events leading up to it. I knew all the company “dirt”, the questionable financial activity, the “who’s sleeping with who”. The point of the suit was to be to bring heat on them. I finally told the guys I couldn’t do it. I let it go.
The saddest experience in my life has not been the arrest, conviction, and imprisonment. It was my wife divorcing me and telling me she no longer loved me. I never really got angry, but the hurt cut me deeply.
I’m still sad, always will be. But, I found a way to unload so much of the pain. Now, I only have those wonderful memories of our time together. Do I wish we were still together? Yes. Do I miss her? More than words can express. But, I’ll be OK. I’m at peace.
She was a wonderful companion. She is an amazing woman. In my heart, I will always love her. I can’t really worry about why she did what she did. She had her reasons.
In multiple places the Bible references God “setting the prisoners free”. Each of us, when we let anger, bitterness, and sorrow consume us are imprisoned.
We all could pay better attention to our faith. We all could be more forgiving, more loving, more kind. If we were, the prisons would be less filled, marriages stronger, families more stable and we’d all feel better.
Prison sucks, but I’m blessed. Perhaps that’s the key to all of this, to finding joy in any circumstance. And perhaps, if we realize God loves us, we can love and forgive those that hurt us and all be really free.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Oh Warden Where Art Thou?
We’ve got a new warden and she’s a doozy. I’m starting on my third warden here and I’ve only been at this compound eleven months.
The first, Carol Wallace, was universally hated by inmates. She played favorites, supported a snitch environment and micro-managed the compound. Worse, she was dishonest. She’d say things to inmates then renege. Her word was no good. She allowed her officer corps to act absolutely arbitrarily toward inmates.
When she left at year-end she wrote a venomous letter to the inmate population. It was self-serving and self-righteous. “You will never turn your life around with the behavior and attitudes you exhibit in here.” What she didn’t realize (or maybe she did, but just didn’t care) was that if you treat inmates like crap, they’ll reciprocate in kind. Guys who are locked up almost always feel like they’re getting screwed. She made them realize just how badly.
You can’t help but have a chip on your shoulder when you’re in prison. Even knowing you were wrong, knowing you deserved to be punished, doesn’t make the loss of freedom any easier. Add to that mix a tyrannical, dishonest warden and you have a toxic pool of gang activity, stealing and general disrespect for the rules and the officers.
Carol Wallace was a poor excuse for a compassionate human being; she was a poor excuse for a department manager; that probably made her an excellent DOC employee.
The first of the year a new warden started. Kimberly Runion had been warden at DOC’s Brunswick facility which included Virginia’s sexual offender therapy program. Of the 1100 inmates housed there, over 800 were in the treatment program.
Runion was “pro-inmate”. She started her career back in the 1970’s as a counselor at “the wall”, Virginia’s notorious state penitentiary in Richmond. An avowed opponent of capital punishment and firm believer in the possibility of redemption, Runion was honest and straight forward. She had very few rules:
1) Proper attire
2) No cursing at officers
3) No spitting on sidewalks
4) No drugs
5) No gang activity
She expected, no demanded, that her officers treat inmates fairly and with respect. The number of charges written dropped. Rec hours increased, food improved. She would sit outside the chow hall everyday at lunch and talk to inmates.
Life was easy with Runion as warden. Actually, too easy. A lot of guys started acting like they weren’t in prison. They viewed their stay here as something akin to a poorly planned vacation. Guys got comfortable and, as any “old head” will tell you, there is nothing more hazardous in a prison than a bunch of guys who get comfortable.
Gangs made an appearance. Extra investigators were brought to the compound. It took months to clear them out. Guys began making demands for new food, new commissary items, crazy stuff. And, when they didn’t get their way, they bitched and moaned. The officers got bitter because control, in subtle ways was lost.
Runion left August 27th. She was asked to run Virginia’s therapeutic, long-term sexual offender facility in Nottoway. There was a gloom that fell over the compound on her departure. Most guys realized they had it good, probably too good for prison.
Enter Saturday, September 25th, the day the new warden, Ms. Avent, started. Already things are in upheaval and rumors are flying everywhere:
“Ya hear she’s gonna close the rec yards ‘cept for three hours in the afternoon?”
“I hear she’s closed the dog program and movin’ all the kitchen and VCE guys to one building.”
“Oh yeah, hear she’s makin’ all the guys with long bids move to other compounds.”
“I hear she’s gonna close this prison. They gonna give her a big bonus to do it by year-end.”
She clearly “ain’t no Miss Runion”.
On her first day she walked up to a large group of COs outside west chow hall and said “I need two inside and two outside shaking down. The rest of you, get to work.” She then put in place “controlled movement”. If your name isn’t on the “master pass list”, you don’t leave your building.
For months, guys would simply tell their building CO “I need to run up to the school” or the library, or the barber, and you’d walk out of the building. The master pass list wasn’t maintained. It is now. Everyone’s scrambling at school, programs, security, to get the pass list correct.
Then today, the building Lieutenant came in and announced “only two books on your bunks or we’re writin’ charges”. Being OCD about organization, my area was already up to par. But, there are a huge number of rules that are impossible to comply with. Guys just simply lack adequate storage space.
Things are tense. And, when things get tense, tempers flare. There’ll be fights. Guys will start filing grievances. It’s all part of the “circle of life” in prison.
I don’t mind rules. I put myself in here so like it or not I have to live with the hand I’m dealt. Hopefully, she’ll be stricter (a little anyway) than Runion, but not arbitrary or dishonest like Wallace.
You have to pick your battles in here. I’m willing to let things shake out, but if pushed by a dishonest warden, one who jeopardizes my safety and well-being, I’ll file suit. We’ll know more over the next 90 days.
The first, Carol Wallace, was universally hated by inmates. She played favorites, supported a snitch environment and micro-managed the compound. Worse, she was dishonest. She’d say things to inmates then renege. Her word was no good. She allowed her officer corps to act absolutely arbitrarily toward inmates.
When she left at year-end she wrote a venomous letter to the inmate population. It was self-serving and self-righteous. “You will never turn your life around with the behavior and attitudes you exhibit in here.” What she didn’t realize (or maybe she did, but just didn’t care) was that if you treat inmates like crap, they’ll reciprocate in kind. Guys who are locked up almost always feel like they’re getting screwed. She made them realize just how badly.
You can’t help but have a chip on your shoulder when you’re in prison. Even knowing you were wrong, knowing you deserved to be punished, doesn’t make the loss of freedom any easier. Add to that mix a tyrannical, dishonest warden and you have a toxic pool of gang activity, stealing and general disrespect for the rules and the officers.
Carol Wallace was a poor excuse for a compassionate human being; she was a poor excuse for a department manager; that probably made her an excellent DOC employee.
The first of the year a new warden started. Kimberly Runion had been warden at DOC’s Brunswick facility which included Virginia’s sexual offender therapy program. Of the 1100 inmates housed there, over 800 were in the treatment program.
Runion was “pro-inmate”. She started her career back in the 1970’s as a counselor at “the wall”, Virginia’s notorious state penitentiary in Richmond. An avowed opponent of capital punishment and firm believer in the possibility of redemption, Runion was honest and straight forward. She had very few rules:
1) Proper attire
2) No cursing at officers
3) No spitting on sidewalks
4) No drugs
5) No gang activity
She expected, no demanded, that her officers treat inmates fairly and with respect. The number of charges written dropped. Rec hours increased, food improved. She would sit outside the chow hall everyday at lunch and talk to inmates.
Life was easy with Runion as warden. Actually, too easy. A lot of guys started acting like they weren’t in prison. They viewed their stay here as something akin to a poorly planned vacation. Guys got comfortable and, as any “old head” will tell you, there is nothing more hazardous in a prison than a bunch of guys who get comfortable.
Gangs made an appearance. Extra investigators were brought to the compound. It took months to clear them out. Guys began making demands for new food, new commissary items, crazy stuff. And, when they didn’t get their way, they bitched and moaned. The officers got bitter because control, in subtle ways was lost.
Runion left August 27th. She was asked to run Virginia’s therapeutic, long-term sexual offender facility in Nottoway. There was a gloom that fell over the compound on her departure. Most guys realized they had it good, probably too good for prison.
Enter Saturday, September 25th, the day the new warden, Ms. Avent, started. Already things are in upheaval and rumors are flying everywhere:
“Ya hear she’s gonna close the rec yards ‘cept for three hours in the afternoon?”
“I hear she’s closed the dog program and movin’ all the kitchen and VCE guys to one building.”
“Oh yeah, hear she’s makin’ all the guys with long bids move to other compounds.”
“I hear she’s gonna close this prison. They gonna give her a big bonus to do it by year-end.”
She clearly “ain’t no Miss Runion”.
On her first day she walked up to a large group of COs outside west chow hall and said “I need two inside and two outside shaking down. The rest of you, get to work.” She then put in place “controlled movement”. If your name isn’t on the “master pass list”, you don’t leave your building.
For months, guys would simply tell their building CO “I need to run up to the school” or the library, or the barber, and you’d walk out of the building. The master pass list wasn’t maintained. It is now. Everyone’s scrambling at school, programs, security, to get the pass list correct.
Then today, the building Lieutenant came in and announced “only two books on your bunks or we’re writin’ charges”. Being OCD about organization, my area was already up to par. But, there are a huge number of rules that are impossible to comply with. Guys just simply lack adequate storage space.
Things are tense. And, when things get tense, tempers flare. There’ll be fights. Guys will start filing grievances. It’s all part of the “circle of life” in prison.
I don’t mind rules. I put myself in here so like it or not I have to live with the hand I’m dealt. Hopefully, she’ll be stricter (a little anyway) than Runion, but not arbitrary or dishonest like Wallace.
You have to pick your battles in here. I’m willing to let things shake out, but if pushed by a dishonest warden, one who jeopardizes my safety and well-being, I’ll file suit. We’ll know more over the next 90 days.
In the Valley
I often recite the 23rd Psalm three, even four times a day. It perhaps is the best known Bible verse and the words give great comfort. As I’ve noted before on the pages of this blog, there are many days when I head out for my afternoon run, feeling as though I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I begin my quick sprint strides and whisper the words “The Lord is my shepherd. . .” Gradually, with each line, with each sprint completed, my sorrow begins to fade and I again convince myself I “can endure”.
I had days like that this week. I was stuck on the line “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death!” Wednesday was a dreary, rainy day here. I felt alone, forgotten, depressed about my circumstances. I missed my ex wife, my kids, what I had, what I’d lost.
I was returning from work and kept thinking on the walk across the compound “God, you’ve had me in this valley 25 months, when will it end?” Big S convinced me to go out in the rain, “run it out”. Don’t ever doubt that in any circumstance you will find angels in your midst.
The rain was cold and steady. The gravel track covered in puddles. It didn’t matter. I began running my 125 yard sprints. Five completed, then ten, fifteen, finally twenty. I ran and I thought. Soaked through my shirt, my shoes soggy, I realized for all those years I lied, all those years I stole and betrayed, I had been in the valley. Then, I was in a fog of rationalization, self-deception and denial.
For the past 25 months I’ve struggled in this valley, but I’ve never been alone. Each step I take somehow has me convinced I am on the right path.
I heard an interview with New Orleans Saints QB Drew Brees the other day. The interviewer described how he had suffered an apparent career ending shoulder injury during the 2005 season. His old team – the Chargers – cut him. Only two teams were even willing to consider him as their quarterback.
He and his wife traveled to New Orleans. The Saints coach took them on a tour of “good neighborhoods” to show them New Orleans was bouncing back from Katrina. He made a wrong turn, however, and he and the Breeses ended up in the Ninth Ward. They saw the destruction brought by the Hurricane.
The coach said later “I thought right then and there we lost our new quarterback”. He was wrong. Brees and his wife decided they were called to New Orleans. If he was given a second chance with a healed arm, then he would work to heal New Orleans.
Everyone knows how the story goes. Brees led the Saints to a Super Bowl victory and was MVP. He and his wife have given and raised over $6 million for rebuilding homes and schools. But, it wasn’t all easy. His mother, who long battled depression, committed suicide shortly before the beginning of the Saints Super Bowl season.
On that rainy Wednesday, I thought of the story of Jesus calming the rough seas. He told his disciples “have courage . . . have faith”.
This place, this imprisonment may be my New Orleans. I don’t know if it was his plan that I needed to lose everything to find my way. I don’t believe He wanted me to do the things I did, nor did He want my wife and me to divorce. But, He knew our weaknesses, our selfishness.
I’m in a valley and I hate it. But, I’m blessed by it. Every day I see a reason to hope, to go on. “For Thou art with me. . .” the valley may appear long and unending, but it isn’t. I will eventually walk through.
I had days like that this week. I was stuck on the line “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death!” Wednesday was a dreary, rainy day here. I felt alone, forgotten, depressed about my circumstances. I missed my ex wife, my kids, what I had, what I’d lost.
I was returning from work and kept thinking on the walk across the compound “God, you’ve had me in this valley 25 months, when will it end?” Big S convinced me to go out in the rain, “run it out”. Don’t ever doubt that in any circumstance you will find angels in your midst.
The rain was cold and steady. The gravel track covered in puddles. It didn’t matter. I began running my 125 yard sprints. Five completed, then ten, fifteen, finally twenty. I ran and I thought. Soaked through my shirt, my shoes soggy, I realized for all those years I lied, all those years I stole and betrayed, I had been in the valley. Then, I was in a fog of rationalization, self-deception and denial.
For the past 25 months I’ve struggled in this valley, but I’ve never been alone. Each step I take somehow has me convinced I am on the right path.
I heard an interview with New Orleans Saints QB Drew Brees the other day. The interviewer described how he had suffered an apparent career ending shoulder injury during the 2005 season. His old team – the Chargers – cut him. Only two teams were even willing to consider him as their quarterback.
He and his wife traveled to New Orleans. The Saints coach took them on a tour of “good neighborhoods” to show them New Orleans was bouncing back from Katrina. He made a wrong turn, however, and he and the Breeses ended up in the Ninth Ward. They saw the destruction brought by the Hurricane.
The coach said later “I thought right then and there we lost our new quarterback”. He was wrong. Brees and his wife decided they were called to New Orleans. If he was given a second chance with a healed arm, then he would work to heal New Orleans.
Everyone knows how the story goes. Brees led the Saints to a Super Bowl victory and was MVP. He and his wife have given and raised over $6 million for rebuilding homes and schools. But, it wasn’t all easy. His mother, who long battled depression, committed suicide shortly before the beginning of the Saints Super Bowl season.
On that rainy Wednesday, I thought of the story of Jesus calming the rough seas. He told his disciples “have courage . . . have faith”.
This place, this imprisonment may be my New Orleans. I don’t know if it was his plan that I needed to lose everything to find my way. I don’t believe He wanted me to do the things I did, nor did He want my wife and me to divorce. But, He knew our weaknesses, our selfishness.
I’m in a valley and I hate it. But, I’m blessed by it. Every day I see a reason to hope, to go on. “For Thou art with me. . .” the valley may appear long and unending, but it isn’t. I will eventually walk through.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
On Evil
I just finished reading a book called “The Death of Satan” by a Harvard-educated psychologist. His premise is that modern society has lost the concept of evil, of sin, of wrongdoing, and as a result has plunged into a moral void where we explain away wrongdoing with psychological evaluation rather than confronting and judging it. As a result, the universal framework of our moral existence is endangered (at least that’s what I got out of it).
I’ve thought about his premise a great deal this week. I confess, I have historically chosen to believe that pure evil did not exist. I know now that is not correct. There are, in fact, evil people, people who have no empathy for anyone else. They view people solely as a means, a tool if you will, to achieve their desired end. Sociopaths exist. Our human experience is littered with examples. In my own lifetime, I’ve seen millions slaughtered by leaders devoid of goodness, leaders who are evil.
But what about the vast majority of us who have a conscience, subscribe to a moral code, yet still do wrong? It is this question, given my own personal experience, that has caused me the most difficulty.
I was at my absolute best, most altruistic, most loving, and responsible, the first meeting I held with my criminal defense attorney. It was five days after my arrest and I was a mess. Depression, anxiety, fear gripped me. My life had come completely unhinged. I was secretly suicidal. The thought of going on even one more day was beyond my comprehension.
I met with my attorney and said the following: “I don’t care what happens to me. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life in prison, I’ll admit to anything, accept responsibility for anything, as long as my wife and kids are protected from all this”. I frankly didn’t care about anything other than their well-being.
Since uttering those words I have had them used against me numerous times by the Attorney General’s office as they challenge my legal attempt to have a fair sentence imposed.
Ironically, I knew what the right thing to do was. My wife presented me with the most one-sided property settlement agreement ever drafted (I don’t even own my underwear!). She was able to get all our possessions because I told the prosecutor “give my family our assets and I’ll plead out”. Two weeks after the papers were signed and my sentence finalized, she filed for divorce.
Evil. It took me a long time to admit this to myself, but what I did, stealing and lying to the woman I loved and who loved me, was evil. It was wrong. I did it for selfish, self-centered reasons.
That doesn’t make me evil, but it does mean I have to accept responsibility for what I did. Yes. I had crap happen to me growing up that messed me up. Yes, I went out of my way to not disappoint people and as such, my self identity, my fear of being rejected was so great I was willing to steal to get that acceptance.
But that doesn’t excuse what I did. Perhaps the most difficult question I had to answer for myself was why. Why would I hurt the most important people in my life? Reinhold Niebuhr, a renowned twentieth century theologian said, “Evil is the capacity to render invisible another human; sin the confusion of self with the world”.
I understand what Dr. Niebuhr meant. Whenever we act out of selfishness, self-interest, we run the risk of succumbing to evil. What concerns me so much about the present state of prisons is that, by there very organization and structure, they promote and encourage evil to flourish. Prison is supposed to be a place of repentance, reflection, rehabilitation, and ultimately restoration – at least for the vast majority of those incarcerated. Instead, it is a warehouse of revenge, refuse, and retribution. No good comes out of prison.
Some may find salvation; some may find meaning and purpose in their imprisonment. But that is not the result of anything the prison system accomplishes. That result occurs in spite of the prison system. It is a replay of Dr. Frankl’s premise that even in the worst of circumstances, light shines through the darkness.
The darkness, I have concluded, is that we all have the capacity to do evil, to cause hurt and pain to another, to violate a moral precept we say we hold dear, yet willingly breach to satisfy our own selfish desire.
My ex-wife is a “good” person. She is pleasant, sweet, loving, kind. Yet, her decision to end our marriage was evil. I remember early on after my arrest she wrote and told me how many people in our church were bringing her meals. I wondered then – and now – how many of those same people spoke honestly with her and said “your professed faith requires you to love and forgive him. Your vow is stronger than his crime.”
We don’t do that. We stand idly by as evil is perpetuated on a personal scale and global scale and do nothing, say nothing. We worry so much about offending. We don’t want to appear judgmental. Yet, we have an obligation to speak the truth, not in condemnation, but in love.
I had a friend who was ignoring his wife. He was totally self-absorbed. They ceased making love. In truth, he was having an affair. His wife would cry about the state of her marriage to my wife. In hindsight, I should have said something to him. I didn’t because of my own guilt over the secret life I was leading.
Months after my arrest she came for a visit with my friend. She always was a beautiful woman, but seeing me imprisoned she broke down. Shortly after their visit, I wrote him. I never mentioned what I knew. Instead, I told him he needed to realize how blessed he was. He needed to love and cherish his wife because at the end of it all it won’t matter how much we made, how much we owned. In the end, it’s all about how much we loved.
One of my favorite movie lines of all time occurred in Primal Fear. Richard Gere played a brash criminal defense attorney, a female reporter asked him “how can you represent those kind of clients?” He said, “I choose to believe that even good people can do bad things.”
We are so consumed with evil, the sociopathologic, that we ignore our own flirtations with it. Perhaps that’s why Jesus’s teaching on the commandments is so profound and difficult: “Love the Lord with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself”. Our lies would be much better spent if we lived by that law.
I’ve thought about his premise a great deal this week. I confess, I have historically chosen to believe that pure evil did not exist. I know now that is not correct. There are, in fact, evil people, people who have no empathy for anyone else. They view people solely as a means, a tool if you will, to achieve their desired end. Sociopaths exist. Our human experience is littered with examples. In my own lifetime, I’ve seen millions slaughtered by leaders devoid of goodness, leaders who are evil.
But what about the vast majority of us who have a conscience, subscribe to a moral code, yet still do wrong? It is this question, given my own personal experience, that has caused me the most difficulty.
I was at my absolute best, most altruistic, most loving, and responsible, the first meeting I held with my criminal defense attorney. It was five days after my arrest and I was a mess. Depression, anxiety, fear gripped me. My life had come completely unhinged. I was secretly suicidal. The thought of going on even one more day was beyond my comprehension.
I met with my attorney and said the following: “I don’t care what happens to me. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life in prison, I’ll admit to anything, accept responsibility for anything, as long as my wife and kids are protected from all this”. I frankly didn’t care about anything other than their well-being.
Since uttering those words I have had them used against me numerous times by the Attorney General’s office as they challenge my legal attempt to have a fair sentence imposed.
Ironically, I knew what the right thing to do was. My wife presented me with the most one-sided property settlement agreement ever drafted (I don’t even own my underwear!). She was able to get all our possessions because I told the prosecutor “give my family our assets and I’ll plead out”. Two weeks after the papers were signed and my sentence finalized, she filed for divorce.
Evil. It took me a long time to admit this to myself, but what I did, stealing and lying to the woman I loved and who loved me, was evil. It was wrong. I did it for selfish, self-centered reasons.
That doesn’t make me evil, but it does mean I have to accept responsibility for what I did. Yes. I had crap happen to me growing up that messed me up. Yes, I went out of my way to not disappoint people and as such, my self identity, my fear of being rejected was so great I was willing to steal to get that acceptance.
But that doesn’t excuse what I did. Perhaps the most difficult question I had to answer for myself was why. Why would I hurt the most important people in my life? Reinhold Niebuhr, a renowned twentieth century theologian said, “Evil is the capacity to render invisible another human; sin the confusion of self with the world”.
I understand what Dr. Niebuhr meant. Whenever we act out of selfishness, self-interest, we run the risk of succumbing to evil. What concerns me so much about the present state of prisons is that, by there very organization and structure, they promote and encourage evil to flourish. Prison is supposed to be a place of repentance, reflection, rehabilitation, and ultimately restoration – at least for the vast majority of those incarcerated. Instead, it is a warehouse of revenge, refuse, and retribution. No good comes out of prison.
Some may find salvation; some may find meaning and purpose in their imprisonment. But that is not the result of anything the prison system accomplishes. That result occurs in spite of the prison system. It is a replay of Dr. Frankl’s premise that even in the worst of circumstances, light shines through the darkness.
The darkness, I have concluded, is that we all have the capacity to do evil, to cause hurt and pain to another, to violate a moral precept we say we hold dear, yet willingly breach to satisfy our own selfish desire.
My ex-wife is a “good” person. She is pleasant, sweet, loving, kind. Yet, her decision to end our marriage was evil. I remember early on after my arrest she wrote and told me how many people in our church were bringing her meals. I wondered then – and now – how many of those same people spoke honestly with her and said “your professed faith requires you to love and forgive him. Your vow is stronger than his crime.”
We don’t do that. We stand idly by as evil is perpetuated on a personal scale and global scale and do nothing, say nothing. We worry so much about offending. We don’t want to appear judgmental. Yet, we have an obligation to speak the truth, not in condemnation, but in love.
I had a friend who was ignoring his wife. He was totally self-absorbed. They ceased making love. In truth, he was having an affair. His wife would cry about the state of her marriage to my wife. In hindsight, I should have said something to him. I didn’t because of my own guilt over the secret life I was leading.
Months after my arrest she came for a visit with my friend. She always was a beautiful woman, but seeing me imprisoned she broke down. Shortly after their visit, I wrote him. I never mentioned what I knew. Instead, I told him he needed to realize how blessed he was. He needed to love and cherish his wife because at the end of it all it won’t matter how much we made, how much we owned. In the end, it’s all about how much we loved.
One of my favorite movie lines of all time occurred in Primal Fear. Richard Gere played a brash criminal defense attorney, a female reporter asked him “how can you represent those kind of clients?” He said, “I choose to believe that even good people can do bad things.”
We are so consumed with evil, the sociopathologic, that we ignore our own flirtations with it. Perhaps that’s why Jesus’s teaching on the commandments is so profound and difficult: “Love the Lord with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself”. Our lies would be much better spent if we lived by that law.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Iceberg Dead Ahead
DOC settled a 1st Amendment lawsuit on September 23 with the publishers of “Prison Legal News”. DOC agreed to pay PLN $125,000, allow issues previously banned to be delivered to inmate subscribers, and change the book/magazine subscription policy to allow third parties to order books and magazines for inmates.
This is a major victory for advocates of prisoner rights and 1st Amendment rights and another costly lesson for DOC – and Virginia’s taxpayers – for their hubris. DOC has long thought that Constitutional safeguards didn’t apply to them. This year, they are learning, at taxpayer expense, that they do.
For those “get tough on crime” readers: get ready. You want long sentences for inmates. It’ll cost you. And, the cost is staggering, over $1 billion a year.
This year DOC has already lost/settled three significant 1st Amendment cases. Beside the PLN lawsuit, DOC’s prohibition on spoken word CD’s was overruled. An inmate, prohibited from ordering CD’s of a minister’s sermons, successfully sued and had the DOC prohibition on spoken word tapes and Cd's thrown out.
As reported in an earlier blog, another inmate successfully challenged DOC’s censorship policy. U.S. District Court Judge James Turk found the DOC policy void as in violation of the 1st Amendment.
Still pending, a suit brought by the National Lawyers Guild over DOC’s refusal to give inmates access to a legal self-help manual.
Each of these suits cost taxpayers thousands of dollars. And, each of these suits could have been avoided, but for DOC’s arrogance. DOC is its own worst enemy. They are charged with the rehabilitation of incarcerated offenders. Instead, they create and enforce arcane rules that bear no legitimate relation to the safety, security, discipline and order of the institutions they manage.
In the PLN case, DOC took the position that inmates could not have access to court case citations and reviews. In the case before Judge Turk, a senior DOC Director attempted to suggest James Joyce’s classic novel Ulysses was properly banned because “inmates were bartering the book to read sexually explicit passages”. The Judge himself found DOC’s position “laughable”.
As I’ve noted on this blog before, DOC is broken. Literally, inmates are running the asylum. Virginia clings to the hard-hearted, illogical, unsupportable notion that longer sentences mean less crime. Study after study concludes that premise is wrong. Virginia abolished parole in 1995. At that time, there were approximately 9,500 inmates in the system. Fifteen years later, there are over 38,000 in DOC facilities and another 5,000 housed in regional jails awaiting transfer.
Over $1 billion is spent annually on DOC. Yet, the vast majority of that money is for housing and maintaining the inmate population.
Rehabilitation programs are laughable. Big S attended alcohol awareness. It met once a week, 30 minutes, ten weeks.
In my situation, I owe more than $1 million in restitution. Assuming I have to complete my entire sentence, it will cost Virginia taxpayers in excess of $300,000 to house ad maintain me. On my release I will be eligible for Social Security which is not subject to collection. I will pay nothing toward my restitution order.
Instead of creating a system that rewards good behavior, a system that gets an offender to confront his wrongdoing and make amends; DOC oversees a system that tries to make inmates feel hopeless. And, out of hopelessness comes anger and resentment.
Guys in here will challenge any rule. And, every challenge costs money. And, asinine rules cost lots of money. It is becoming painfully clear; there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of lawsuits on the horizon waiting to sink DOC and Virginia’s taxpayers.
Everyone knows the story of the Titanic; the ship that was “unsinkable”. The owners and the crew placed so much credence in their own abilities that they saw themselves as creating the indestructible. But on a dark, starless night a watchman looked up and yelled out the immortal words “Iceberg dead ahead”. Little less than three hours later the “unsinkable” Titanic went below the water.
DOC is the Titanic. Difference is, it’s already hit the iceberg. It’s taking on water. But, it doesn’t have to sink. It will take drastic efforts to save it. First, a complete new mindset. That means the old way of doing things must go. Those senior staff who have presided over this corrupt system must be replaced.
Second, reinstate parole. Have a sliding scale for inmates. Nonviolent felons would be eligible for release after 10% to 30% of their sentence is served; violent offenders’ eligible after 40% of their sentence is served. But, make it based on merit. Work hard in prison, show remorse, seek to rehabilitate, you then earn parole.
Third, make rehabilitation really mean something. Have real treatment programs, more education and vocation opportunities. And, institute “restorative justice” as a central tenet of DOC’s mission statement.
Write your delegates, write the Governor and express your views on prison reform. Better still, suggest to him that he read my blog and meet with me. I’m available 24/7. Through this experience, I’ve been given a life preserver. I don’t want the ship to sink, but I’ll be OK if it does.
This is a major victory for advocates of prisoner rights and 1st Amendment rights and another costly lesson for DOC – and Virginia’s taxpayers – for their hubris. DOC has long thought that Constitutional safeguards didn’t apply to them. This year, they are learning, at taxpayer expense, that they do.
For those “get tough on crime” readers: get ready. You want long sentences for inmates. It’ll cost you. And, the cost is staggering, over $1 billion a year.
This year DOC has already lost/settled three significant 1st Amendment cases. Beside the PLN lawsuit, DOC’s prohibition on spoken word CD’s was overruled. An inmate, prohibited from ordering CD’s of a minister’s sermons, successfully sued and had the DOC prohibition on spoken word tapes and Cd's thrown out.
As reported in an earlier blog, another inmate successfully challenged DOC’s censorship policy. U.S. District Court Judge James Turk found the DOC policy void as in violation of the 1st Amendment.
Still pending, a suit brought by the National Lawyers Guild over DOC’s refusal to give inmates access to a legal self-help manual.
Each of these suits cost taxpayers thousands of dollars. And, each of these suits could have been avoided, but for DOC’s arrogance. DOC is its own worst enemy. They are charged with the rehabilitation of incarcerated offenders. Instead, they create and enforce arcane rules that bear no legitimate relation to the safety, security, discipline and order of the institutions they manage.
In the PLN case, DOC took the position that inmates could not have access to court case citations and reviews. In the case before Judge Turk, a senior DOC Director attempted to suggest James Joyce’s classic novel Ulysses was properly banned because “inmates were bartering the book to read sexually explicit passages”. The Judge himself found DOC’s position “laughable”.
As I’ve noted on this blog before, DOC is broken. Literally, inmates are running the asylum. Virginia clings to the hard-hearted, illogical, unsupportable notion that longer sentences mean less crime. Study after study concludes that premise is wrong. Virginia abolished parole in 1995. At that time, there were approximately 9,500 inmates in the system. Fifteen years later, there are over 38,000 in DOC facilities and another 5,000 housed in regional jails awaiting transfer.
Over $1 billion is spent annually on DOC. Yet, the vast majority of that money is for housing and maintaining the inmate population.
Rehabilitation programs are laughable. Big S attended alcohol awareness. It met once a week, 30 minutes, ten weeks.
In my situation, I owe more than $1 million in restitution. Assuming I have to complete my entire sentence, it will cost Virginia taxpayers in excess of $300,000 to house ad maintain me. On my release I will be eligible for Social Security which is not subject to collection. I will pay nothing toward my restitution order.
Instead of creating a system that rewards good behavior, a system that gets an offender to confront his wrongdoing and make amends; DOC oversees a system that tries to make inmates feel hopeless. And, out of hopelessness comes anger and resentment.
Guys in here will challenge any rule. And, every challenge costs money. And, asinine rules cost lots of money. It is becoming painfully clear; there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of lawsuits on the horizon waiting to sink DOC and Virginia’s taxpayers.
Everyone knows the story of the Titanic; the ship that was “unsinkable”. The owners and the crew placed so much credence in their own abilities that they saw themselves as creating the indestructible. But on a dark, starless night a watchman looked up and yelled out the immortal words “Iceberg dead ahead”. Little less than three hours later the “unsinkable” Titanic went below the water.
DOC is the Titanic. Difference is, it’s already hit the iceberg. It’s taking on water. But, it doesn’t have to sink. It will take drastic efforts to save it. First, a complete new mindset. That means the old way of doing things must go. Those senior staff who have presided over this corrupt system must be replaced.
Second, reinstate parole. Have a sliding scale for inmates. Nonviolent felons would be eligible for release after 10% to 30% of their sentence is served; violent offenders’ eligible after 40% of their sentence is served. But, make it based on merit. Work hard in prison, show remorse, seek to rehabilitate, you then earn parole.
Third, make rehabilitation really mean something. Have real treatment programs, more education and vocation opportunities. And, institute “restorative justice” as a central tenet of DOC’s mission statement.
Write your delegates, write the Governor and express your views on prison reform. Better still, suggest to him that he read my blog and meet with me. I’m available 24/7. Through this experience, I’ve been given a life preserver. I don’t want the ship to sink, but I’ll be OK if it does.
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