How a Thief Taught Me Empathy

A few years into serving my sentence, I arrived at a new prison facility. This was the first level two prison I had been to, so it was much more open and far less restrictive than the 23-hour lock-down I had experienced at the level four prisons where I had previously been housed. The nearly all day open yard was a huge relief from the oppressiveness of being confined to a cell most of the day. One major drawback, though, was that I went from having my own cell, a place of respite from the insanity of prison, to being housed in a "pole barn" setting, 160 prisoners separated only by "cubical" style partial walls. My bed was in a "cube" with seven other men, four sets of bunkbeds with eight high school style lockers, and the noise of 160 men drifted easily into my area, making it nearly impossible to get a moment of private quiet.

Another major drawback of the pole barn setting is lack of security. Some prisoners, me included, slept in vulnerable positions with their heads easily accessible from the hallway. Furthermore, theft was a rampant problem, so it was imperative to secure one's property at all times. This created a spirit of suspicion and mistrust and made it difficult to relax into one's environment. 

I was not at this new facility for a week when I returned from lunch (called "chow") to find that my footlocker, containing my personal pictures, important legal paperwork, and other personal property items, had been broken into and many items stolen. While my footlocker was secured with a lock, the flimsy design made it easy for a determined thief to stomp on the locker lid and peel back the corner to access my goods. Understandably, I was very angry when I discovered this intrusion, but it also left me feeling vulnerable and powerless. I was new to the facility and didn't know many people, so I had no one to keep an eye on my things when I wasn't around. Being a middle-aged white guy without any gang affiliations, I was especially vulnerable to the roving thieves. If I was lucky enough to find out who the thief was (I wasn't until months later), my choices were either to do nothing or to fight the guy. My option to fight came with an especially high risk of injury because gang members attack in groups and without any sense of honor or fairness. Retaliation would be a hopeless cycle of who could get to whom first. 

Being a victim of theft in prison was terrible, but it paled in comparison to victimization that some prisoners experience at the hands of other predatory inmates. It also pales in comparison to the vulnerability and powerlessness many victims of crime experience. I hated every aspect of being the victim of theft, but in retrospect I'm grateful for the lessons I learned through it. Primary among those lessons was that it gave me a glimpse into the vulnerability and powerlessness I caused by my own crime. It helped me to appreciate the pain, anger, and even hatred that others felt because of me. It also reinforced my commitment to never again be the cause of such pain. Dealing with the aftermath of my lingering anger, for years even, helped me to realize how difficult it must be for victims of crime to heal from the harms done to them. 

I doubt receiving an apology would help me overcome my anger at the violation I experienced, but knowing that the thief had positively changed his life and no longer victimized others would. I am truly sorry for the harms I caused by my crime, and I hope that my changed life and my commitment to help heal the harms I and others have caused through our crimes will bring healing to the people who suffered because of me.

The Challenges and Blessings of Prison Mail

I recently received a very touching letter from one of my blog readers, and I have to say, this is one of the best parts of publishing a blog as a prisoner! I have received feedback from other readers, and I am even in regular touch with a few who have become good friends. It is important for me to respond to every message I get. But, recent changes in the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) mail policy makes this difficult. For example, I do not receive any original envelopes with any mail sent to me, so the letter I received this week did not have a return address for me to reply to. As part of the new "security measures," all incoming envelopes are destroyed and mail is delivered to prisoners in plain replacement envelopes. This is to prevent the introduction of banned substances into prison. Unfortunately, this sometimes means we prisoners are without a return address to which we can respond. Other mail policy restrictions include: 1. No crayon, non-graphite pencil, highlighter, or other markers used on the paper. 2. No glitter, lipstick marks, unusual stains, perfumes, oils, or other foreign or unknown substances on the paper. 3. No mail that is taped, pasted, or otherwise joined or fastened to another item (this includes no stickers, labels, or whiteout). 4. No mail, photographs, or pictures received on non-white, heavy weight (greater than 24 lb.), construction paper, card stock, or photo paper (which means no traditional photos and no colored paper of any kind, including lined colored paper). We can receive digital pictures and emails through the Jpay.com system, but users must pre-pay for digital "stamps" at a cost of $0.20 or $0.25 per stamp (in $5 or $10 increments). This is a quick and easy way to communicate, and pictures are then readily available to be viewed on our mini-tablets; but U.S. Mail is nice too. Receiving mail is one of the highlights of a prisoner's day. It keeps us connected to the outside world and to the lives of our loved ones, and introduces us to new friends. Strong and healthy community connections is one of the most important aspects of a prisoner's success upon release from prison. This means that maintaining and developing these connections by mail is very important. The MDOC mail policy doesn't make this easy, but it is important enough to learn to work around these often cumbersome restrictions. I hope the reader who recently sent me a letter reads this and will send me another letter with a return address on the letter itself so I can respond! And I want to extend an invitation to my other readers as well; please write me and tell me a little about yourself. I'd love to hear from you, to hear how my blog has helped you or informed you, and to learn how I can make my blog even more informative and helpful to you, my readers. You never know, you might just make a friend in an unusual place--prison. Address: Bryan Noonan #739416 1728 W. Bluewater Hwy. Ionia, MI 48846

Victim-Offender Dialogue Now an Option for Victims of Crime in Michigan

Over the last several decades, a grassroots movement has been growing in the world of criminal justice reform. This movement centers around redefining justice as restorative rather than simply retributive. While it is perhaps easier to view justice as the strong gavel of the law slamming down on a judge's desk, frequently sentencing offenders to long prison sentences for breaking state or federal laws, this restorative-focused idea of justice recognizes that crime is primarily a violation of people and relationships.

Proponents of restorative justice initiatives recognize that while victims may achieve some sense of satisfaction in seeing an offender sentenced for his or her crime, real healing of the wounds of crime does not take place for these victims because the criminal justice system maintains a strict wall of separation between victim and offender. This wall often means that victims are unable to effectively communicate to the offender the harms they experienced, to ask questions of the offender, or to actively participate in designing a rehabilitation or restitution plan for the offender. This wall also means that offenders are unable to effectively express remorse, apologize to the victim, and attempt to make right the wrongs they have done. This has been a constant frustration for me since I long to right my wrongs!

As this movement of redefining justice has been growing, some victims have wanted to reach out to those who harmed them, either directly or through a third-party mediator. Yet, the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) has had strict rules in place prohibiting such dialogue. These policies may have been put into place originally to protect victims from being re-victimized, but now legislators are recognizing that victims need a way to take control of their own healing.

In 2017 the Michigan legislature passed Senate Bill 8, Act No. 5, which modified Michigan's law, making victim-offender dialogue with offenders possible. This bill centers around increasing victim satisfaction with the Michigan criminal justice system, a worthy objective for legislators who have traditionally been more offender-focused than victim-focused. With such a goal in mind, the new law mandates that the MDOC "facilitate victim-offender dialogue if the victim is willing" (MCL 793.33(3)(e)).

Because this language is so new to Michigan, most victims do not yet know about it or have the support networks in place to take advantage of this tool for healing. Victim's rights and advocacy groups, as well as restorative justice programs, must develop processes to facilitate these victim-offender dialogues in such a way where victims experience the healing they seek. Victims also need to be educated that this option is available to them.

Victim-offender dialogue can be scary for both victims and offenders, but if true healing is to take place, healing that centers on the violation of the victim and her or his relationships, victims must have a voice in the process. Victim-offender dialogue is often empowering for victims, but to make use of this process, victims must first know that it is available. 

Laughing at the Mentally Ill?

After returning from breakfast in the chow hall the other day, I was lying on my bunk reading when I heard loud laughter through my window that was only slightly cracked open to let in a little fresh air. It wasn't the kind of laughter in response to a funny joke, or even the kind of laughter at another's expense. This laughter emanated from deep within the person, echoing the joviality in his heart. Involuntarily, I smiled, because that's the kind of laughter you rarely hear in prison. But my smile faded quickly as I thought with sadness about the man who was laughing.

The laughter came from a man who locks in the unit next to mine, a unit known as a Residential Treatment Program (RTP) unit. This unit houses nearly 240 prisoners who suffer from mental illness in varying degrees; the gregarious laughter, for example, is physically functional, but socially and mentally impaired. Around the whole compound, at many different times during the day, one can hear his raucous conversations with himself punctuated frequently by loud laughter. Sadly, this makes him the target of cruel teasing, sometimes by other prisoners, but mostly by prison guards. Knowing they'll get an animated response, some guards will hype him up as he is entering or leaving the chow hall, and I imagine at other times that I haven't observed.

This 240 prisoner unit is not the only RTP unit at this facility. Another 240 person unit houses other mentally ill prisoners who are usually higher functioning than those in the unit next door to mine. When the State of Michigan shut down mental hospitals in the 1990s, they had to do something with its residents who had committed criminal behavior. This led to an explosion in the number of incarcerated mentally ill people. Housing these prisoners together reduces their vulnerability to the predation of general population prisoners and makes providing social services easier, but it still leads me to question the appropriateness of putting many of these mentally ill people in prison in the first place. Certainly, society must protect itself from the mentally ill who behave criminally, but is imprisoning them the humane answer? Is this justice?

Some politicians have begun to recognize the cruelty of holding someone criminally responsible who does not have the mental health to understand his actions. Several months ago, Lieutenant Governor Brian Calley, who is a candidate for Michigan's next governor, wrote an article in the Detroit Free Press titled, "Being Smart on Crime Changes Lives" (11/19/17), noting that "Jail and prisons are not an effective or humane way to deal with untreated mental illness." He goes on to urge treatment over incarceration for those suffering from mental illness.

When a problem is out of sight, it is often also out of mind, but this does not change the injustice of incarcerating low functioning, mentally ill people who need treatment rather than incarceration. Mental illness may be the butt of a joke for some corrections officers, but it is not a joke, and treating, rather than incarcerating, those with mental illness ought to be a top priority for those who want to live in a just society.