11th Street

I finished the Austin Marathon yesterday. It was a new course, with plenty of hills. Perhaps with some twisted delight, the race planners routed the final half mile up 11^th street from Red River. This 80-foot climb over a mere three blocks caused fits of rage or tears as fatigued runners turned the corner to see the daunting climb standing between them and the finish line.

I had decided to follow my coach’s advice and adhere to a carefully planned race strategy. I would dial back my effort on early hills to save my legs, increase my pace modestly during flat portions of the race, and close the last few miles at an ambitious speed while retaining some energy for the final hill.

I imagined myself charging up 11^th street. This was not an unrealistic goal, having followed a strict training regimen that pushed me beyond my limits. I had increased my long-run distance to 24 miles, learning to close at marathon goal pace on painfully fatigued legs. I did speed drills on Wednesdays, and woke up early on Mondays to conquer 12-mile runs before work. The training cycle confirmed what I already knew about myself: I am a disciplined and goal-driven person, whether in training or at my job.

I possessed these qualities throughout my life, even though I believed the opposite for many years. Somehow, I had come to view myself through a prism of shame. The messages I told myself sabotaged every goal. Shame stole my resilience, making the challenges of life impact me like a flat tire running over potholes. I look back on that time, and I’m no longer surprised that I descended into anxiety, depression, and addiction. 

No one can endure self-loathing without eventually breaking.

This is how I spun out of control and committed crimes that landed me in prison. I don’t excuse my actions, but I do understand them. I met countless men whose self-image had been similarly corrupted. The lucky ones met kindly people who helped them to shape a new story about themselves, a story that opened the door to their true potential. These men weren’t “rehabilitated” so much as they were awakened.

It’s important for me to make that clarification, because there is a belief in our culture that prison has the power to rehabilitate. There has never existed an intervention where heaping shame upon a broken person leads to positive transformation. Yet, the predominant mode of human interaction between correctional officers and incarcerated individuals is the degrading of human dignity. There are decent people working as correctional officers, but they inevitably quit. 

Texas prisons have one of the highest turnover rates of any state agency.

Harsh treatment was the norm. I remember one female Sergeant who worked as the risk management officer. One day, she and another female officer stationed themselves in sight of the changing tables outside of the mechanical building where I worked. The mechanical bosses were required to strip search us before returning to the main unit, so she decided to monitor the strip search. She and the other female officer laughed wickedly as she’d call out orders to the bosses: “Hey, you didn’t make him spread his cheeks!”

As part of my race strategy, I decided to name 11^th Street after her. Whatever else happened during the race, I was going to run every step of that tortuous hill as fast as I could. 

She was not going to be an obstacle that caused me to limp towards the finish line.

Things did not go according to plan during the race. The temperature was in the 50s with humidity levels above 85%, risking both hypothermia and dehydration. I managed to conquer the first 22 miles a bit slower than my goal pace; but I still had hope of achieving a personal record. Suddenly, a wave of nausea slowed me, and I began shivering and sweating profusely. I pressed on for another mile but had to stop. I sat down and vomited on the grass next to me. I knew that I was dehydrated, and that continuing to run the final miles would be risky.

But 11^th Street was only two miles away. I got up, disoriented, and began to run slowly. Somehow, I made it to the last water station and forced down some water and electrolytes, which caused another wave of nausea. I pressed on, even finding some speed for the final half mile before 11^th.

I turned onto the hill and saw my wife. She ran next to me, and we bounded up the hill together. As the finish line came into sight, the clock indicated that I had 40 seconds to cross the line to beat my personal record. I managed to sprint the final distance in 20 seconds. I received my medal, and struggled to the medical tent where they wrapped me in a hypothermia blanket and helped me to take in fluids.

I know that I’m capable of doing more marathons, but there are so many other hills to climb. This year, I’m building a coalition to transform how local communities respond to drug use. I’m part of the JustLeadershipUSA 2018 Leading with Conviction cohort, where I’m learning to draw out the leadership potential in others. Maybe I’ll do my first Spartan Race this year. 

Whatever my next goal, I’ve put 11^th Street behind me.   

Christmas Mail Call

December, 2016

My Friends,

As I prepare to celebrate another Christmas out here in the "free" world, a flood of memories rise up in my mind.

I remember the night before my sixth Christmas in Prison. The officer arrived in the late afternoon with the last bundle of mail until after Christmas. Most of the men crowded near the duty station, hoping to hear their name called. 

Receiving a card or letter could lift one’s spirit for days, especially around the holidays when homesickness was heaviest. But receiving mail means so much more for people in prison than a mere balm on the pain of separation. Hearing one's name called fulfilled a longing to be remembered and forgiven.

A Christmas card was like a promise that we would be welcomed home, free from shame.

One of my friends didn’t receive any mail that Christmas. His estranged father had died months before, and his mother died decades earlier. His brother was in another prison in South Texas. He so rarely received any mail, that he never bothered to join the crowd near the duty station when the bundle of mail arrived each day. He was very much alone.

This was his fourth stint in prison, always for property crimes to feed his addiction; yet, his incarceration struck frustrating chords of injustice inside me, as though a bright child had been harmed and discarded. Just like most people I met while in prison, incarceration was a detour off the intended path for his life. His mother and father had split while he was still a toddler, and he had to endure a series of increasingly abusive step-fathers before leaving home. He had learned to survive on his own, becoming a whiz at repairing any device powered by an electrical current.

Sadly, the pain and anger of his boyhood had created an unloving inner landscape where he couldn't find peace inside his own skin.

We became unlikely friends. We shared little in common when it came to our past lives and interests; but our inner worlds could not have been more alike. I related with the way shame and anger coiled lethally inside him, and understood how his past drug abuse was the way to cope with these painfully complex emotions. I admired the remarkable ways he had learned to survive. His selflessness humbled me, and his sincere efforts to overcome the destructive pattern within him truly inspired me. When the officer had handed out the last letter, I went to sit next to my friend. I told him how glad I was to be spending Christmas with him.

As I write about my friend, I realize that I’m writing a similar story about so many of the people I met while in prison. My friends in prison emphasized the need to take responsibility for the pain we had caused others, but their stories taught me something deeper about compassion.

"Compassion is defined as a keen awareness of the suffering of another coupled with a desire to see it relieved. People hurt others as a result of their own inner strife and pain. Avoid the reactive response of believing they are bad; they already think so and are acting that way. They aren't bad; they are damaged. -Will Bowen 

I think that is the deeper call of the exhortation to "Remember Those in Prison."

Remembering my friends in prison creates a vision for a world where justice is redefined:

It’s a world where we see crime as evidence of brokenness; 

Where holding people accountable also means helping them find their true potential; 

Where people never need to wear handcuffs to get help for addiction and mental illness; 

Where investments in "public safety" actually strengthen communities rather than tear away the human capital communities need to thrive.

Christmas is named for someone who exhorted His followers to remember those in prison, so I thank you for letting me share these memories with you. 

I hope that you'll receive this letter before Christmas, and know that all of you are remembered, worthy of forgiveness, and free from shame.

Peace,

Doug

Nature of the Crime – Motion to Revoke

In 2014, more than 24,000 people were sent to prison in Texas due to probation violations.[i]  That is a number greater than the size of the entire federal and state prison population in 31 states.  

Probation revocations account for one-third of all people received by the Texas Department of Criminal Justice every year.  Moreover, nearly half of those people sent to prison based on probation violations did not even commit a new crime. They were simply unable to meet the conditions of probation, so the probation officer issued a Motion to Revoke based on “technical violations.”  Technical violations can include anything from not completing treatment to failure to report.

If Texas is going to achieve significant reductions in its prison population, it has to start with making probation more effective. Putting aside all the acclaim associated with drug and other specialty courts, probation is the primary diversion strategy to keep people out of prison.  There are about 221,000 people on felony probation in Texas, a number that is dropping for the reasons I discussed in the previous post.  Further, the felony community supervision revocation rate was higher in 2014 than it was five years ago.[ii] 

Fewer people diverted and a higher revocation rate will reverse the limited progress Texas has achieved in terms of reducing its prison population. 

The issue is about more than just reducing the size of our prison population.  It’s about helping people to address the problems that led to criminal justice system involvement, so that crime rates decrease and people can live productive lives. Successful community supervision reduces the effects of addiction and mental illness, increases employment stability, and improves the quality of the community. Probation officers who define success in this way are providing a valuable service in their communities. 

I met with the Chief of a medium-sized Community Supervision and Corrections Department (CSCD) last week, and hope to meet with several others in the near future.  I asked what it would take to reduce probation revocations and ensure that probationers never return to the criminal justice system. The Chief had a number of interesting ideas. He emphasized incentives over sanctions. Many probationers struggle with fees, so he allows people on his caseload to do additional community service hours in lieu of fees. He goes a step further. He counts participating in rehabilitative programming, from addiction recovery to GED classes, as community service.    

The Chief emphasized the need to improve services to people with special needs. He wants all of his officers to be trained in “trauma-informed care,” recognizing the correlation between past trauma and current addiction and mental illness. He also wants to see more specialty officers for a variety of caseloads, including people with substance abuse issues and veterans. He suggested that every CSCD have a social worker on staff to assist with housing, employment, counseling, and other issues that arise during the course of supervision. 

How a CSCD handles violations is critically important. Studies have indicated that it’s not just harsh sanctions for minor violations that is the problem.  Probation departments that are inconsistent or even lenient when it comes to violations tend to have high revocation rates, just as those departments that are overly harsh or punitive. Studies have shown that anticipated sanctions should be swift, certain, and progressive.[iii] Those states that have communicated expected sanctions for specific violations and are consistent when imposing sanctions tend to have lower revocation and recidivism rates.[iv]

Even when probationers continue to violate or even abscond, however, judges still don’t have to send them to prison. Probationers often abscond due to relapse, unpaid probation fees, or other factors that can be addressed without sending someone to prison.  Judges can refer probationers to Substance Abuse Felony Punishment (SAFP) Facilities (SAFP), which are operated by the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ). When SAFP placements are combined with halfway house placement and aftercare, the recidivism rate for those who complete the program is 17% lower compared to those with similar needs who do not receive these services.[v]  Further, judges may also send probationers to TDCJ Intermediate Sanction Facilities for several months instead of sending them to prison. 

The emphasis should always be on helping people to be successful in the community, but judges must exercise every diversion strategy available before even considering prison placement. 

Even CSCD’s that embrace the goal of helping probationers to overcome addiction and become productive citizens know that they can’t do it alone. During my interview with the Probation Chief, someone passed by the office. The Chief called to the man and asked him to join us. The man had worked in the community supervision field for 37 years and was about to retire. Seeing a wonderful opportunity to learn from the best, I asked him, 

“What will it take to lower revocations and help people to succeed on probation?”  Without missing a beat, he said, “Help them to get jobs.”

Most employers remain entrenched in blanket bans on hiring anyone with a criminal history, particularly a felony record . The veteran probation officer said to me that probation departments need better collaboration with the Texas Workforce Commission and local employers.  The single leading factor in preventing someone from committing another crime is employment stability. 

Probation success leads to safer communities and fewer people in prison, but it will take the entire community, including employers, supporting the work of CSCD’s for them to achieve their goals. 

Citations

[i] Texas Department of Criminal Justice, “Report to the Governor and the Legislative Budget Board on the Monitoring of Community Supervision Diversion Funds,” December 1, 2014, https://www.tdcj.state.tx.us/documents/cjad/CJAD_Monitoring_of_DP_Reports_2014_Report_To_Governor.pdf

[ii] Legislative Budget Board, “Statewide Criminal and Juvenile Justice Recidivism and Revocation Rates,” February,2015, p. 3, http://www.lbb.state.tx.us/Documents/Publications/Policy_Report/1450_CJ_Statewide_Recidivism.pdf

[iii] Kleiman, Mark A. R., “Justice Reinvestment in Community Supervision”, Criminology and Public Policy (2011), Volume 10, Issue 3.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Texas Department of Criminal Justice, “Evaluation of Offenders Released in Fiscal Year 2011 That Completed Rehabilitation Tier Programs, April,2015, p. 15, file:///C:/Users/Douglas/Downloads/TDCJ-Evaluation%20of%20Rehabilitation%20Programs%20-%20April%202015.pdf

Nature of the Crime

Holliday Unit, Huntsville ,Texas

I appreciated Scott Henson’s recent Grits for Breakfast post related to prison release rates in Texas (see “The arithmetic of de-incarceration: TDCJ edition”). Scott has a way communicating about complex issues that paints a simple and easy to understand picture for the reader. It’s one of the reasons why his reporting often leads to tangible policy changes, like the recent adjustment of property offense penalty thresholds.  That measure will likely decrease the number of felony theft cases and shift additional cases into community supervision, hopefully leading to treatment and services for people with addiction and mental illness. 

In Scott’s recent post, he provides a graph comparing the number of people sent to prison each year to the number of people released.  You can immediately see a problem that could stall progress on criminal justice reform in Texas.  

If the number of people received into the Texas Department of Criminal Justice is not equal to or less than the number of people released from prison each year, we will soon have to build more prisons.  

Texas prison populations have declined, but only by 3.6 percent.  We have a long way to go before we come close to the reductions in prison populations achieved by New York and other states.  Most advocates believe that Texas should decrease its prison population by at least 30 percent.

There has been undeniable progress.  The number of placements into pretrial diversion programs has nearly doubled since 2005, with a 63 percent increase in felony diversion.  Also, thanks to the leadership of the outgoing Chair of the Board of Pardons and Paroles, Rissie Owens, with support from former Governor Perry and the Legislature, the number of people approved for parole release has increased by several thousand each year. 

Also, the Parole Board decreased the number of parole revocations each year by 30 percent.  This happened because the Board was given additional options in terms of treatment and intensive supervision, allowing TDCJ to address higher levels of risk and need in the community instead of in costly prisons. 

But the numbers illustrated by Scott Henson bring up important concerns.  The number of people sent to prison each year remains relatively stable when it should be declining along with crime rates and greater use of diversion programs. Further, even with increased parole approval rates, the number of people released from prison each year remains fairly low.  There are at least three issues that need to be addressed by the next Legislature to prevent criminal justice reform from going backwards:

1.      Increase the number of people sentenced to community supervision instead of prison;

2.      Reduce probation revocations; and

3.      Increase parole release rates. 

I’ll follow with three posts to a discuss each of these issues.  As an introduction, I should emphasize why this is important. Despite all of the progress, there remain 150,000 incarcerated people in Texas, a staggering number.  The prison population in Texas increased by 200% during a period when the actual population increased by only 48%. Prison stopped being the last resort for those who commit violent offenses, and the state created an assembly line to process more than 70,000 new prisoners each year.  

If you pass by one of the prison units built rapidly in the 1990s, you’ll see a half mile stretch with two rows of buildings that look exactly like warehouses. 

The state spends $6.2 billion every two years on this out-sized system.  It separates families, often forcing parents and children to travel 600 miles across the state for a brief weekend visit with their loved ones. Even prison officials argue that the system is too large, making it nearly impossible to adequately address the factors that led to criminal involvement in the first place. There is a better way to deal with crime in this state. Stay tuned for the next post on more effectively addressing social issues through community supervision instead of prison.