In the '90s and throughout the 2000s, television schedules exploded with new police and criminal justice shows. Law and Order (and its many offshoots), NYPD Blues, Blue Bloods, Criminal Minds, Cops, and dozens of other shows climbed the ratings and held the attention of the public for years at a time. Not coincidentally, this was also the same time the American prison population exploded to all-time highs. The close correlation revealed the truth of the popular saying, "Art imitates life." America's fascination with the world of crime and criminal justice could not be satisfied. But one major problem with art imitating real life is that much of the truth is missing.
These popular television shows sensationalize crime, which is often much messier and clumsier than portrayed. They also glorify law enforcement, which is often much more mundane and prone to mistakes and corruption than portrayed, and deify the courts, which are riddled with injustice. Also missing from a one-hour television show is the reality that the time from crime to prison is often months-long, and sometimes years-long. It's rarely quite so neat and quick as the crime shows lead one to believe.
Recently, a new television show began on Fox called "Proven Innocent." While the show, like all TV shows, has its issues, I'm encouraged to see that art is now imitating a shift in public interest. People are still fascinated with the world of crime, law enforcement, and the courts, but they are also much more aware of and concerned about the prevalent problems in the criminal justice system. Proven Innocent centers on a woman who, with her brother, was falsely imprisoned for ten years for the murder of her best friend. After her conviction was overturned, the protagonist in the show earns her law degree and starts an innocence clinic to fight for others who were wrongfully convicted. Also highlighted in the show is a corrupt district attorney who is running for state's attorney general. His story line illustrates the problem in the court system when conviction rates are more important than justice.
Throughout my now ten years in prison, I have met dozens of men who claim to be innocent. I am not naive enough to believe all of them are telling the truth, but I have heard some compelling stories and read some disturbing court records of convictions off of the weakest circumstantial or hearsay evidence. Another television show currently playing on HLN delves into the stories of people on Death Row, and some of their stories are riddled with inconsistencies, questionable evidence, and serious doubts of guilt. Yet, some states continue to put to death people whose guilt is questionable. How does this happen in a country like America?
Nevertheless, I am encouraged to see that entertainment is now beginning to focus on the problems in the criminal justice system instead of simply dramatizing and exalting a system that has led to rampant injustice. Politicians, too, are beginning to recognize the many problems in this system, and slowly they are making changes. As the public becomes more educated about the problems in the criminal justice system, and the lies that led to America's exploding prison population are debunked, perhaps we'll see fewer innocent people incarcerated. Hopefully we'll also see alternatives to incarceration that honor human dignity gain ground, and we'll see a system that respects victims enough to put their needs above the dishonest goal of high conviction rates.
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
Monday, February 18, 2019
Listen Up! It Will Change Your Life
Lately, I've been digging a lot into the relevance of stories. My interest is in part because I desire that my story will have meaning, and that the stories of those I've harmed will also have meaning, no matter how ugly our stories may be in parts. My interest in stories is also because I want to understand other people through listening to the stories of their lives. My compassion for others, especially others whom I find difficult to get along with, increases when I listen to their stories. When we understand that people are who they are today because of their past, that the decisions they have made were not made in a vacuum, we can't help but respond with compassion.
But sometimes compassion is the exact opposite of what we want to feel towards someone. Perhaps we know enough of their story to be disgusted with them, or even hate them, or we've simply heard enough to know we don't want to hear any more. We'd rather hold onto our self-righteous anger, at the harm they've done, the tragedies they've caused, or even the lack of responsibility they've taken (or are still refusing to take) in their lives. It's easier when we can let our emotions go where they feel the most comfortable.
Anger and apathy are two emotions that are easy. Anger is usually an active response to an injustice we experience or an injustice we see someone else experience. Sometimes anger is a good motivator. It can help us to intervene when an injustice occurs, or it can empower us to be an agent of change so the injustice doesn't happen again. Yes, anger can be good, but it can also be harmful. It can cause us to become the harmer rather than seeking to heal a harm. Apathy, on the other hand, is almost always dangerous. Apathy gives us permission to check out, to ignore an injustice, or to relieve ourselves of any compulsion to be the change we wish to see in the world. Yet, apathy is often the easiest route to take because it's the safest.
Apathy protects us from the ugly parts of people's stories. It keeps us safe from the danger. It keeps us from feeling the tension of compassion and anger at the same time. Because, let's be honest, some stories *should* make us angry, but healing for both harmer's and the harmed requires compassion. Sometimes that compassion means listening to painful stories. It means helping the story teller make sense of an otherwise senseless story, for when we enter with compassion into another's story we might just help them write a meaningful future.
Yes, some stories will tear at your heart. They'll keep you awake at night, or bring tears to your eyes at the most inappropriate times. Some stories will make you feel powerless because the tragedies have already been written. Some stories will make you feel hopeless because the harm was so great. But if you dare to enter these stories, if you dare to open your heart to the stories that have shaped people--harmer or the harmed--you can't help but respond with compassion. And if you truly listen to one's story and respond with compassion, you might just write a paragraph, a sentence, or even a simple word that could change how the story ends. But beware compassionate reader--it'll change your story too.
But sometimes compassion is the exact opposite of what we want to feel towards someone. Perhaps we know enough of their story to be disgusted with them, or even hate them, or we've simply heard enough to know we don't want to hear any more. We'd rather hold onto our self-righteous anger, at the harm they've done, the tragedies they've caused, or even the lack of responsibility they've taken (or are still refusing to take) in their lives. It's easier when we can let our emotions go where they feel the most comfortable.
Anger and apathy are two emotions that are easy. Anger is usually an active response to an injustice we experience or an injustice we see someone else experience. Sometimes anger is a good motivator. It can help us to intervene when an injustice occurs, or it can empower us to be an agent of change so the injustice doesn't happen again. Yes, anger can be good, but it can also be harmful. It can cause us to become the harmer rather than seeking to heal a harm. Apathy, on the other hand, is almost always dangerous. Apathy gives us permission to check out, to ignore an injustice, or to relieve ourselves of any compulsion to be the change we wish to see in the world. Yet, apathy is often the easiest route to take because it's the safest.
Apathy protects us from the ugly parts of people's stories. It keeps us safe from the danger. It keeps us from feeling the tension of compassion and anger at the same time. Because, let's be honest, some stories *should* make us angry, but healing for both harmer's and the harmed requires compassion. Sometimes that compassion means listening to painful stories. It means helping the story teller make sense of an otherwise senseless story, for when we enter with compassion into another's story we might just help them write a meaningful future.
Yes, some stories will tear at your heart. They'll keep you awake at night, or bring tears to your eyes at the most inappropriate times. Some stories will make you feel powerless because the tragedies have already been written. Some stories will make you feel hopeless because the harm was so great. But if you dare to enter these stories, if you dare to open your heart to the stories that have shaped people--harmer or the harmed--you can't help but respond with compassion. And if you truly listen to one's story and respond with compassion, you might just write a paragraph, a sentence, or even a simple word that could change how the story ends. But beware compassionate reader--it'll change your story too.
Sunday, February 10, 2019
ANONYMOUS
My story's just too ugly to be told in public places.
It'll make you gasp, or cringe, or blush uncomfortably.
It'll probably make you angry, and rightfully so.
I was controlling, cold-hearted, and cared only for myself.
I left a trail of destruction in my wake too.
It wasn't just my own life I threw away--no,
innocent lives, too, I left in shambles.
My story's just too ugly to share the grimy details.
If you hear it, it'll stain your soul with hopelessness.
It's better if you hear my story in abstract terms.
I'll tell you I was broken, but I'll just leave it there.
I'll tell you that I caused some pain, but nothing more.
You'll hear how I understand the harm I've done,
how I hold myself accountable now.
You'll smile warmly because you're safe from the real mess.
"God is good!" You'll say, because you hear I've changed.
"God redeems!" You'll cry, content with formless hope.
Redeemed from what? A selfish state? A hopeless future?
How could you really know? My story is intangible.
You don't even know me, for I am Anonymous.
But I have a name, and I have a story.
My name is "Everyone," for we all have ugly stories.
Some uglier than others, but all with redemptive potential.
God is good--not because of who I am now,
but because of Who He has always been.
God redeems, from selfishness and hopelessness,
but from the power and devastation of sin too.
My story may be messier than you can handle,
but you'll never know how great is God's redemption
unless you know from what I'm saved.
You might not know my name,
but you know the Name of Who redeemed me.
My sin was great, but my Savior is greater.
And from my ugly, anonymous story, God
wrote a new story, and gave me a new name.
It'll make you gasp, or cringe, or blush uncomfortably.
It'll probably make you angry, and rightfully so.
I was controlling, cold-hearted, and cared only for myself.
I left a trail of destruction in my wake too.
It wasn't just my own life I threw away--no,
innocent lives, too, I left in shambles.
My story's just too ugly to share the grimy details.
If you hear it, it'll stain your soul with hopelessness.
It's better if you hear my story in abstract terms.
I'll tell you I was broken, but I'll just leave it there.
I'll tell you that I caused some pain, but nothing more.
You'll hear how I understand the harm I've done,
how I hold myself accountable now.
You'll smile warmly because you're safe from the real mess.
"God is good!" You'll say, because you hear I've changed.
"God redeems!" You'll cry, content with formless hope.
Redeemed from what? A selfish state? A hopeless future?
How could you really know? My story is intangible.
You don't even know me, for I am Anonymous.
But I have a name, and I have a story.
My name is "Everyone," for we all have ugly stories.
Some uglier than others, but all with redemptive potential.
God is good--not because of who I am now,
but because of Who He has always been.
God redeems, from selfishness and hopelessness,
but from the power and devastation of sin too.
My story may be messier than you can handle,
but you'll never know how great is God's redemption
unless you know from what I'm saved.
You might not know my name,
but you know the Name of Who redeemed me.
My sin was great, but my Savior is greater.
And from my ugly, anonymous story, God
wrote a new story, and gave me a new name.
Sunday, February 3, 2019
Imprisoned Within Prison: Saga of a Deep Freeze Shutdown
Recently, a historic deep freeze blanketed a large portion of the United States, including Michigan. For several days the weather was breaking records with sustained "feels-like" temperatures around -40 degrees (F). Even the United States Postal Service, who is known to deliver mail "in rain, snow, sleet..." etc., shut down delivery service. Schools closed, much to the delight of children and chagrin of parents, and people were told to stay off the roads. Those who didn't heed this advice risked their lives navigating treacherous roads, and sometimes were involved in pile-ups on the highways involving dozens of cars. Millions of people found their normal schedules interrupted, and many people were just plain stressed out.
Weather events like these don't affect prisoners quite as much as they do those in the free world. But they do affect us. Prison facilities enter into an "essential staff only" mode where all non-essential staff are told to stay home. Only prison guards, a couple of medical staff, kitchen staff, and sometimes a maintenance worker remain on prison grounds. All non-essential activities are cancelled, and prisoners are kept in their housing units except for meals. Recent problems with the housing unit heating at MTU (the facility where I am housed) made staff nervous, and large torpedo heaters were attached to some of the units with especially ineffective heat.
Forced closures like these increase the level of stress among prisoners because they are cooped up all day without any outlet for their anxiety or energy. The gym and yard are closed because of staffing shortages and dangerous temperatures. This means that housing units are at full capacity twenty-four hours a day. Bathrooms are busier, day rooms are packed, microwaves have long lines behind them, and anxious and bored prisoners wander around the unit looking for things to busy themselves with.
Officers, too, experience higher stress levels during these shutdown periods. Many of them have to fight the weather just to make it to work safely, some even leaving their families at home to figure out how to manage the weather themselves. Upon arriving at work, sometimes late due to road conditions, they are now tasked with supervising stressed out prisoners who don't know how to manage their stress. Since prisoners are not allowed to wander the unit hallways, officers yell at them to get out of the halls, but since the day rooms are full there is no place to go but back to their claustrophobic cells. Those who are in the day room are yelled at to find a seat--in a room where every seat is already taken.
The fact is, when prisons are on restricted movements or completely shut down for any reason, weather or otherwise, naturally the prisoners' levels of stress rise. So too do the officers' stress levels. These can be some of the most dangerous times in prison. Fortunately, this recent historic freeze didn't result in any major problems at MTU. Yes, some prisoners and staff let the stress get the best of them, but nothing major. I'm not sure which was more notable though: the historically low temperatures or the fact that a five-day prison shutdown didn't result in a major crisis. Either way, I'm just happy to get back to normal operations.
Weather events like these don't affect prisoners quite as much as they do those in the free world. But they do affect us. Prison facilities enter into an "essential staff only" mode where all non-essential staff are told to stay home. Only prison guards, a couple of medical staff, kitchen staff, and sometimes a maintenance worker remain on prison grounds. All non-essential activities are cancelled, and prisoners are kept in their housing units except for meals. Recent problems with the housing unit heating at MTU (the facility where I am housed) made staff nervous, and large torpedo heaters were attached to some of the units with especially ineffective heat.
Forced closures like these increase the level of stress among prisoners because they are cooped up all day without any outlet for their anxiety or energy. The gym and yard are closed because of staffing shortages and dangerous temperatures. This means that housing units are at full capacity twenty-four hours a day. Bathrooms are busier, day rooms are packed, microwaves have long lines behind them, and anxious and bored prisoners wander around the unit looking for things to busy themselves with.
Officers, too, experience higher stress levels during these shutdown periods. Many of them have to fight the weather just to make it to work safely, some even leaving their families at home to figure out how to manage the weather themselves. Upon arriving at work, sometimes late due to road conditions, they are now tasked with supervising stressed out prisoners who don't know how to manage their stress. Since prisoners are not allowed to wander the unit hallways, officers yell at them to get out of the halls, but since the day rooms are full there is no place to go but back to their claustrophobic cells. Those who are in the day room are yelled at to find a seat--in a room where every seat is already taken.
The fact is, when prisons are on restricted movements or completely shut down for any reason, weather or otherwise, naturally the prisoners' levels of stress rise. So too do the officers' stress levels. These can be some of the most dangerous times in prison. Fortunately, this recent historic freeze didn't result in any major problems at MTU. Yes, some prisoners and staff let the stress get the best of them, but nothing major. I'm not sure which was more notable though: the historically low temperatures or the fact that a five-day prison shutdown didn't result in a major crisis. Either way, I'm just happy to get back to normal operations.
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