Longing for the Gift of Healing and Restoration

 I find myself trying to write a Christmas-themed post, but my mind keeps wandering towards how chaotic and isolating this year has been. Usually, right after Thanksgiving I begin to feel the Christmas spirit, even in prison. I begin listening to Christmas music, and reminiscing privately on good holiday memories with those I've loved. That hasn't been the case this year. Other than playing a few Christmas songs on my guitar, I've thought very little about the holidays. 

Many people outside of prison are scrambling to purchase gifts online and figure out what sort of Christmas gatherings they are allowed to have. Surely, Christmas will look different for many people this year. But frankly, it's not really that different than most years in prison. Sure, we're not allowed face-to-face visits this year, and that'll be hard for those of us who may have loved ones normally visit around or on Christmas. For most prisoners, though, Christmas in 2020 is as isolating as any other year. 

To be sure, there's a lot about the holiday season I don't miss. I don't miss the obsessive consumerism, economic stress, family drama, holiday work rush, crazy store crowds, and holiday traffic. What I do miss, though, are the little things. I miss family tree decorating, baking cookies, drinking hot cider, driving around looking at Christmas lights with the family, caroling to hospital patients, and watching my children's faces light up with surprise and joy. 

Mostly, I miss the spirit of togetherness the holidays bring. Prison has a way of shedding light on what is most important, and I've discovered how much I value family togetherness and unity. Maybe these have become so important to me because I no longer have them. Relationships have taken on a significance that no Christmas lights, tree surrounded by gifts, or any other holiday trapping can ever replace. 

It's depressing to think about the relationships I no longer have because of the damage I caused with my crime. Repairing those relationships from within prison has proven to be a nearly impossible task. I guess if I were to wish for one thing this Christmas, it'd be for the chance to make things right with those whom I care about the most. Repairing relationships is hard, for sure, but it's worth the effort. At least, it's worth the effort to me. 

Memories of past holidays are worth cherishing. Although they are tinged with regret for the damage I've caused, I hold those memories in my heart. But I hope to create new memories someday, too. The hope that Christmas brings, hope of a future time when God will free this world from its current chaos, is the same hope that fills my heart with longing for restoration and healing in my relationships. That gift would truly be the best I could ever have. 

Now, may the peace, joy, and love of Christ fill each of you this Christmas season and in the coming year.

Prison Workout Routine or Comedy Routine?

 It's Sunday afternoon, and after a lunch meal of hotdogs, beans, corn, and cake, it's time for a workout. It's upper back day, so my workout partner, Kevin, and I plan on doing pull-ups, upside down rows, and some core exercises. 

The weight pit and gym have been closed for months due to Covid-19, so our prison workout routines have consisted of callisthenic and body weight exercises. It's not bad, actually. I enjoy the routines. Push-ups, dips, pull-ups, squats, lunges, and quite a few very creative exercises have served quite well to keep me relatively in shape. 

After changing into our workout clothes, including gloves to protect against the cold, we head out to small yard. We walk a couple of laps to warm up, and then we head over to the pull-up bars. There are only two, and the bars are surrounded by a group of eight other guys. Fortunately, Kevin and I are both over six feet tall, and the other guys are only using the shorter of the two bars, so we start our pull-ups on the taller bar. 

On my first set, I make the mistake of facing the group of guys standing off to the side. It feels awkward, them staring at me while I grunt my way through my set. So, I make light of it when I get down.

"Hey guys!" I call out. "Rather than awkwardly watching me do my pull-ups, how about some motivational encouragement!"

"Oh, sorry," one guy responds good naturedly. "I did notice your form. It was pretty good. Inspirational." He picks up on my joke and humorously lobs one back at me, even if it is a stretched truth. 

Kevin and I make a lap between sets. It's too short of a break, but we head for another set. I'm already feeling sore from the last few days' workouts, but I push on. In the background, I hear the other group laughing and joking as they each take a turn on the bars. Occasionally, one of the men needs assistance, so another guy provides a spot for his pull-up. Basically, the second guy assists the first guy to take a little of the weight. It's how I had to start, too, when I first came to prison and couldn't do a single pull-up. 

I remember being embarrassed the first time I tried a pull-up. The guys doing them made it look so easy. I quickly discovered, then, just how out of shape I was in. Grateful to have those days behind me, I settle in for another set. Four sets of pull-ups, two sets of chin-ups, and two sets of parallel pull-ups. There was a time when I'd do more, but my school schedule over the lasts few years has me in maintenance mode. I just want to stay healthy, that's all. 

The good-natured ribbing happening in the other group interrupts my reverie. 

"That's not really a kip," one guy says. "We'll call it a half-kip." 

"Yeah it is!" the target of the criticism responds in a whiney voice. "That was a full kip!" Even though it's not a competition, he wants the validation of having successfully completed the challenge. Then he says something that makes me smile and draws a laugh from Kevin. 

"Wait. What's a kip again?" His timing, though unintentional, was perfect. It couldn't have been funnier in a comedy club. A kip is a swinging motion-assisted pull-up made popular by Ironman competitions. It's apparent that he's been claiming to successfully complete an exercise with which he is unfamiliar. 

Kevin and I glance at each other smiling. We wish everyone on small yard provided a humorous break from prison's drudgery. We move on to our next exercise, upside down rows, and then on to core. The cold doesn't feel so cold anymore, and what could be better than working out with a little comedy to lighten the mood?

More than Coronavirus Sweeps through Prisons

 The coronavirus pandemic has had many unforeseen consequences, including crashing job markets, increased social anxieties, and skyrocketing usage of home gyms and homeschooling. Perhaps due to increases in anxiety, access to government rescue money, increased generalized stress, or some combination of these causes, drug usage has also skyrocketed during the pandemic. 

This same phenomenon has also occurred in prison. When family and friend visits and normal activities were stopped in prison due to the virus, drug usage increased. It is unclear whether this increase is due to added stress, reduced structure and activities, or some other reason. What is clear, though, is that while the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) has blamed much of the prevalence of drugs in prison on visitor and mail smuggling, even after these are no longer options, drug use remains high. 

In another useless attempt to stop the inflow of drugs into prison, the MDOC recently made significant changes to its mail policy. All incoming mail, including envelopes, are photocopied, and only the photocopies are delivered to prisoners. This means Christmas, birthday, and other holiday cards are delivered as black and white photocopies. It also means prisoners lose the vibrancy of drawings created by children for their fathers, and other mail, likewise, has a more impersonal feel to it. 

Changing the mail policy has not helped to stop the influx of drugs into prison. Access to Narcotics Anonymous and Celebrate Recovery groups, and peer-to-peer addiction mentoring also did little to stem these destructive choices before these options were shut down by the pandemic. Those prisoners who actually want to change (normally) have support from these programs, and that is a good thing, but if someone does not want to change, they'll find a way to continue destructive habits. 

Almost daily, it seems, ambulances enter this prison to take another prisoner who overdosed to the hospital. Watching another prisoner act crazy or have a medical emergency because of using a toxic chemical does not deter those who are chasing a high or seeking relief from their mental or emotional pain. Some of the same prisoners who leave in an ambulance are back to their same destructive patterns within a day or two. 

Clearly, the MDOC has to do something. They need to at least appear proactive at stemming the problem, but punishing all prisoners with overreaching mail policies is not solving the problem. It is unclear if the problem is being addressed at staff levels, but this ought to be done, and it ought to be a high priority. Positive peer pressure among prisoners has not proven very effective, but a few trained peer mentors continue to work with other prisoners who express a desire for change. For the rest, well, you can't force someone to change. 

Once the pandemic is behind us, corrections staff will likely resume regular shakedowns, and fear of consequences will deter a few prisoners from breaking the rules. Others, those committed to their addictions, those who are easily swayed by peer pressure, and those for whom addiction has a stranglehold, will continue to find ways to avoid facing trauma from their past, including trauma for which they are responsible. They'll continue to self-medicate to relieve boredom and stress, and as has already been shown, greater restrictions on prisoner rights and privileges will not make an ounce of difference to their access.

Keeping Your Head Down Leads to Life-Changing Lessons

 Entering prison for the first time (and hopefully last!) is a confusing time. This is especially true for those not raised in a culture where incarceration is the norm. Whatever one's personality, no matter how outgoing, the best policy is to "keep your head down." Of course, keeping one's head down does not mean literally looking at the ground. It refers to the virtues of restraint, caution, and prudence. Keeping one's head down means to lay low and not attract attention. It means observing and learning from one's surroundings. Caution is especially useful in prison, but so are prudence and restraint. Many "fish" (those new to prison), and frankly many who have served years in prison, haven't learned to use restraint or prudence. They are reactive to perceived disrespect, and they are slow to recognize manipulative behaviors of other prisoners. These are the ones who look for opportunities to be seen and heard, the ones who want to make a name for themselves. 

Prisoners who keep their heads down are more likely to quickly learn useful lessons. They are more likely to not only survive but thrive in an often chaotic and violent culture that wants to consume everyone in it. It is far too easy to lose one's identity, relax one's morals, and pick up or reinforce bad habits in such a toxic environment. Keeping one's head down, conversely, helps one hold onto important values and behaviors and discard or avoid those that are undesireable. 

The coronavirus pandemic has made everyday citizens similar to "fish." Our world is a different place than it was a year ago. People are more distrustful of others (partisan politics might also have something to do with that), hold vastly different opinions about masks and social distancing, and live with a generalized fear about getting sick or dying, about jobs and the economy, and about what's next after the vaccine comes. 

Some people have chosen to respond to this pandemic by keeping their heads down. This looks different for everyone. Some choose near total isolation. Some choose the middle ground by exercising caution and prudence in their potential exposure. Others, heads up, choose to ignore the warnings entirely. 

The key to living successfully with your head down is that you do not make such a posture your identity. In prison, that means speaking up when it is appropriate. It means handling conflict responsibly, not running from it. It mean consciously choosing to hang out with positive-minded people who contribute to your growth, and you to theirs, not with those who seek your corruption or destruction. 

Yes, keeping one's head down in prison can serve one well. It's easier to be introspective when you are in an evaluative mindset. Rather than simply observing others, you learn to observe yourself. You learn to ask questions about your own beliefs, values, and behaviors. And in that observation and evaluation, you learn to discard values and behaviors that have been destructive. 

Similarly, the coronavirus pandemic has afforded many people the opportunity to keep their heads down, to evaluate their lives, and to make changes if they don't like what they see. Many people have learned to appreciate their spouses and children again. They have come to discover that the rat race they have been in has lied to them about what is important in life. Some have chosen to reset or recommit to their values. They have truly set a "new normal" in their lives.

Prison, too, affords an opportunity for a reset. It provides the time to keep your head down, to evaluate your life, and to refocus on what is truly important. Nobody would choose prison for this purpose, just like nobody would choose a pandemic for this purpose, but why not use what may be the worst year of your life to reset your direction? Why not use this year's suffering to change the focus of your life and to make the years ahead better than they would have been otherwise? Prison or pandemic, they can make you suspicious and anxious or they can give you the opportunity to choose differently, to live a life that matters.

Covid Chronicles--Prison Edition; Surprising Gratefulness

 The last several weeks have been difficult as the coronavirus spread throughout MTU prison. As I have written about, chaos has been the norm, and lack of planning and communication has been a problem. For someone who generally has a glass-half-full mentality, it's been tough to stay positive. But this morning, I woke up feeling grateful. Perhaps it is the approaching holiday, but I'd like to think that I have just adjusted my perspective a little. Time alone to reflect can do that for me. 

You might wonder what there is to be grateful for in the midst of a pandemic racing through prison. I am locked up, after all, and I am powerless to protect myself from the virus. All of this is true, and many more negative things on which I could choose to focus. But it could be worse...much worse. 

For the last four-and-a-half years, I have been part of a college community in prison. I have formed deep and lasting friendships with other prisoners in the program, and we have formed a community, a brotherhood behind bars. When I first arrived to the program, I was surprised and blessed by the community I found. But familiarity breeds discontent, or it can if you let it. 

As our community experienced a breakup due to many moves, I (and other student-prisoners I have talked to) realized just how precious our community has been. It has been a nearly five-year reprieve from "normal" prison. I'm grateful for the opportunity to realize just how amazing I have had it for the last five years. I cherish the friendships I have formed, and I'm grateful for the example of how communities should work (even if imperfectly). 

This pandemic, and getting moved out of my cell, out of my housing unit and into another, was frustrating. But I'm also grateful that it offered me the chance to connect with friends I haven't spoken to or seen in a month or two, or hung out with for over nine months. I'm grateful that despite being moved, I have a cell to myself (for the time being). 

Having a cell to myself has afforded me the chance to practice my guitar unhindered until my fingers hurt each day. I have also enjoyed the quiet time to read, listen to music, study Spanish, and reflect on my life. My life has been busy the last five years, which I enjoy. But that busy-ness has meant less time for personal reflection. It has meant less time to think about what is next (after prison). I'm grateful for the time I've had lately to think about and (tentatively) plan for what's next. 

I'm also grateful that, although I did catch coronavirus, I suffered only minor symptoms. I've had flus worse than what I experienced. It wasn't pleasant, but it could have been much worse. Other prisoners here, including some I know, have suffered much more through their sickness. Sadly, one or two prisoners here (whom I did not know) have died. I'm grateful to still be alive. 

Although I went nearly ten days without access to daytime yard, I'm grateful to now be able to enjoy the sunshine, breathe fresh air, and begin to rebuild my endurance through exercise. A sedentary lifestyle is not for me. This down time has shown me just how crucial exercise is to good mental health. I'm grateful I enjoy exercising and that I am healthy enough to do so. 

This morning we received our first communication from the administration about what to expect in the days ahead. The administration is tentatively planning to partially open things back up (we'll return to the chow hall for meals, for example), on November 30th. I'm grateful for the anticipation of a return to "normal," whatever that may look like. Whatever it does look like, I hope I choose to focus on the positives. Waking up with gratefulness in my heart is much more pleasant than feeling anxious and frustrated all the time.

Covid Chronicles--Prison Edition, Chapter Two

 The coronavirus continues to spread throughout MTU. Rumor has it that all but fewer than 200 prisoners have now tested positive (out of roughly 1200). The administration continues to move prisoners around from housing unit to housing unit, ostensibly to put all the positive cases in certain units and the negative cases (and recovered prisoners) in other units. Avoiding lawsuits by appearing proactive seems to be the motivation for such moves, while in actuality the moves are spreading the virus faster throughout the institution. 

On Friday, six of us prisoners who had tested positive were moved from our unit to the "negative" unit, just 10 days after we tested positive. I still have a cough, stuffy nose, and no taste or smell. Apparently, I must not be contagious any more, though, since I was moved to the "negative" housing unit. We were not retested before we moved. It is unclear why we were moved. Nobody was moved into our emptied beds, so the moves appear pointless. As has been the case this entire pandemic, evidently nobody has a plan. Moves are haphazard, and prisoners are on edge, not knowing whether they will have to move (again) at any moment. 

When I moved I was placed in an empty cell, so I have no bunkie at the moment. I have unpacked just enough of my property to use what I need, but I anticipate another move back to my original housing unit within the next couple of weeks. When I was in the "positive" unit, we were allowed between 30 and 90 minutes of yard time right outside our unit, only at night. During the beautiful weather last week, we were not allowed outside at all or only for a short time at night. Now that the weather is back to cold and rainy, yard schedules have changed, and prisoners in each unit are allowed slightly more yard time. 

The disruption of a pandemic, as even free people know, is very frustrating. But we are making the best of it. Many prisoners are volunteering to help clean the housing units and pass out food. I've begun to exercise again, which feels great after weeks of being nearly sedentary. I have to build up my stamina again after so little movement for weeks. Although college classes are paused until we can go to the school building again, many of us college students have completed as much work as we are able. We're anxious to finish our semester, but we do not know what this pandemic delay will mean for the rest of the school year. 

Most of the prisoners who have been sick with the coronavirus have had mild symptoms. Most report a scratchy throat, cold symptoms, and losing taste and smell. Others, like me, have had slightly worse symptoms that include body aches, headaches, and a fever. A few have had bad symptoms, including dehydration, nausea, difficulty breathing, and chest pain. Some of these prisoners have had trips to the hospital, and according to reports one prisoner at MTU died from complications from the coronavirus. He was in my guitar class, although I didn't really know him. 

Someone asked me recently what the election results have meant in prison. I hear other prisoners talk about the election, but it's been hard to focus on anything but the sickness spreading throughout the prison. Some prisoners are happy about the results, and others are angry. But mostly, we just want to be healthy, get out of prison, and put our lives back together. Neither party inspires much hope in making that goal come to pass any sooner. 

Despite all the frustration we've experienced over the last few weeks, including the lack of communication and poor planning on the administration's part, I feel optimistic. Since so many of us have been sick, we expect that within a few weeks we will return to "normal" operations, that is, still under restrictions but back to regular movement within the facility. Perhaps this is too optimistic, but while 2020 has been an epic disaster in many ways, it is almost over. It's been a tough year with no visits from loved ones, restricted movement, no in-person college classes, abysmal playing by the Michigan football team, moronic pandemic management, and political chaos the likes of which many of us have never seen. Perhaps the New Year will usher in a new, new normal, one that leads to healing and joy again. That's what I'm hoping for.

Covidvirus Chronicles--Michigan Prison Edition

 Surviving a pandemic in prison is a tricky business. While Michigan's Governor urges people to stay at home in order to social distance, the nature of prison makes it impossible for prisoners to avoid exposure from others. Once the virus enters prison, it is inevitable that nearly everyone in that prison will be infected, no matter how careful we are to wear masks, wash hands, and avoid others. The small bathrooms alone, which serve 120 prisoners, are super-spreader events. 

We are now in our third week of the virus sweeping through the MTU prison. Hundreds of prisoners have tested positive for the virus. I am among the latest batch of positives. The following tells the tale of a day in the life of prison pandemics. 

November 2nd the prison shut down for virus testing. Testing goes quickly, but we remained locked down most of the day. I had what I thought was a sinus infection for two days, but that morning I had a low-grade fever. That night, I was up most of the night with severe chills, body aches, and a fever. I was convinced at that point that I was infected, so I stayed in my cell as much as I could. The next day things returned to quarantine "normal" with people milling about the unit. On November 4th everyone was locked down again as testing results had come back. Before we were told if we were positive or not, I told an officer I had been feeling ill. As a result, my bunkie and I were locked in our cell for the remainder of the morning (with a couple of bathroom breaks). We were told to pack all of our belongings since we would likely move. Those of us who tested positive were called to the dayroom in groups where we were informed we were positive. We were given a handout with symptoms (might have been helpful to have that before!), and we were promised supplements (vitamins) as a treatment. Two days later, less than a quarter of us have received those vitamins. 

Around 11 AM a captain came to the unit yelling at the 100+ prisoners who had tested positive to pack all of our belongings in ten minutes and bring them to the small yard. The captain said we were moving to temporary beds set up in the school. Several of us loaded our belongings on a trailer and had a short "hayride" to the school, where we were told we were not on their list and to take our property back to the unit. After waiting outside with our property for several hours, we were finally told to return to our cells without our property. Apparently, nobody in administration had a plan (even seven months into a global pandemic), so chaos and confusion resulted instead. Finally, more than eight hours after the captain first yelled at people to pack up in ten minutes (or else), we were told we were not moving after all. Now, those who had tested negative had to move, and more yelling and chaos ensued. The rest of us retrieved our property and were told we could unpack. My bunkie and I didn't trust those instructions, so we waited until morning to unpack. Since it took all day for the administration to formulate a plan, the same captain who yelled at people all day was back in our housing unit at 12:30 at night yelling at people to get their property outside (or else). Those who tested positive in another unit were moved to the school, the negatives from our unit were moved to that unit, and the next morning the positives in the school were moved (again) to our unit. It was a very chaotic two days. 

Today, my fever is gone, but I still have symptoms of a bad cold, body aches, and a headache. I feel like I'm on the upswing though. On another positive note, we've been receiving our meals in our cells each day, and the food service people have been the most consistent in the prison. The food hasn't been half-bad either (mostly). We even had scrambled eggs one morning, which I haven't had in several years. Too bad I couldn't taste them.

Director's Cut--Violent Villain Turns Encouraging Hero

 Marcus is a funny guy who is fun to be around. He's a Marvel Comics nerd (his friend's fondly refer to him as "Spider Marcus") who can quote movies like nobody I've ever known before. He's also quiet, a great listener, and very courteous to others around him. He's a far cry from the person who killed someone else over a drug dispute nearly twenty years ago. 

Marcus was raised in a physically and emotionally abusive lower middle-class home as the youngest of six kids. His dad was an alcoholic, and both of his parents were apathetic about the dangers their children faced. Two of Marcus' brothers went to prison, and he figured he'd end up there too, or be killed first. Early on, Marcus learned that respect was earned through violence and money was earned through hustling. To avoid being seen as weak or being preyed upon by others, he copied the negative influences in his life. Tellingly, Marcus notes that he had nobody in his life to follow who emulated a positive influence. Although he reflects that he wasn't satisfied with his life and wanted to be a better person, he says he had nothing better to which he could compare his life. 

At twenty years old, Marcus was sentenced to parolable life in prison for killing a fellow drug dealer. At such a young age, Marcus was shaken by his actions, and he says that sitting in jail reflecting on what he'd done, he knew something had to change in his life. That change, though, didn't occur for a few more years when another prisoner led Marcus to become a Christian. That was when he finally had a way to renew his mind in a different way. He gave up drinking and smoking weed (yes, it's illegal but possible in prison), fighting, and cussing, and he learned to be vulnerable with others. He says he wishes he would have had the confidence to be himseslf when he was younger. He would tell his younger self to be a leader, not a follower, and to be mindful of other people's feelings. 

Today, Marcus is not the self-centered out-of-control person he used to be. He says his faith guides him to be empathetic and loving towards others and to trust people more. He also feels far more comfortable just being himself. It's obvious that his openness to others makes people relax being around him. He also says that he's learned to be more of a critical thinker, a skill he uses regularly as he works to earn his bachelor's degree in the Calvin Prison Initiative. Marcus is shocked that he's in college because he never thought he'd be a college student, but he's more shocked (and proud) that he did well in his oral rhetoric class, since he's terrified of public speaking. He's come a long way since proudly earning his GED shortly after coming to prison. 

For Marcus, it is important to honor his victim's memory by learning the difficult lessons his crime taught him. He says he has an obligation to be a better man, to live a life of repentance, and to strive to help others avoid the same choices he made. Television and movies do not tell an honest story about prisoners, so Marcus, who dreams of being a film director, wants to change that image. He wants to shatter the Hollywood norm and make films that have good messages, not films that glorify the worst parts of people and prison. "There are good people in prison," Marcus says. "Some guys are here because they made a terrible mistake, but they are learning from those mistakes and becoming better people." Using his love of films, Marcus aims to use his own prison experience to tell the compelling stories of those the world prefers to demonize. 

Someday, Marcus hopes to be able to care for his aging parents, the same ones who gave him such a rough start in life. Longing to be forgiven for his crimes, he's learned to forgive his parents, too. Since he's been in prison, his parents also became Christians, and he says their lives have changed dramatically. He has a great relationship with them now, and they have stayed involved in his life. Marcus hopes he can leave a positive legacy in life. He'd like to be remembered as someone who makes a positive impact in others' lives, not as the sum of the worst choice he ever made.

Ignorance Interrupted--Motivated to Change through Education

 I met Dustin about seven years ago when I started my education journey in prison. I had decided to finish my college degree, and Dustin was a part of the same prison educational community. I only knew him through our college prep classes, so I did not know that education was a recent endeavor for him. Just a year or two before, Bruce, who had also encouraged me to pursue college in prison, had motivated Dustin to pursue a new path. He had formerly been involved in prison violence, which kept landing him in trouble. After Bruce urged him to spend his energy in positive ways, Dustin began investing in his future, and following Bruce's example, he invested in others too. Today, Dustin is a college graduate who mentors other prisoners, continuing to invest in others and himself. He's also a fellow English nerd like me, and my main Scrabble opponent.

Dustin grew up in a "normal" middle class family on the East side of Michigan. He was an averge student in school with decent friends, but he felt drawn to bad influences. He wanted to be a "gangster," so he smoked weed and gravitated towards a "rough crowd." In 2000 at seventeen year old, he stole a gun from a family friend, and while playing with it and showing it off, he accidentally shot and killed his younger sister. The authorities did not believe it was an accident because as a scared kid, Dustin lied about what happened and tried to cover it up. Consequently, he was convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to 27 years in prison. He is grateful that despite losing both of her children, one to death and the other to prison, his mother remained his rock, showing him unconditional love, until she died ten years ago. 

Although he fears society will stigmatize him for killing a sibling, even accidentally, he is committed to honoring his sister with his life. His goal is to be the best person he can be, to be a positive influence in the world, and to take every opportunity to pay forward all the undeserved blessings he has received. Dustin is very busy, involved in many positive things, but he reminds himself of the advice he'd give his younger self: slow down and do things right the first time. He says the greatest blessings he experiences always follow his own investment in other people's lives. It's a lesson he learned from Bruce, and from complete strangers, Victor and Mary, who took an interest in him and sponsored his early college education and continue to support his pursuit of a better way of living. 

When Dustin started down the education path, he started reading classics written by philosophers and other great thinkers. These books influenced him to think deeply and to be formed by the ideas he was exposed to in these books. Although he still struggles with the idea of "religion," Dustin finds the Christian virtue ethics inspiring and transformational. In fact, a theology class on spiritual disciplines was one of his favorite college classes, along with psychology, social work interviewing, English literature, and political science. He says that without education, he'd still be the blind leading the blind. "Education," he claims, "gives people the impetus to change." Nevertheless, he acknowledges that someone has to first want to change. 

Prison is dehumanizing, stripping people of nearly everything that makes them human. But good, decent people can be found in prison, too. Dustin's own journey was influenced by Bruce, and others, who encouraged a new, positive focus. And today, Dustin pays it forward, encouraging others to grow, to invest in their lives through education and moral development. His future likely involves earning a master's degree, continuing to work hard for success, and still investing greatly in the lives of others. For Dustin, paying it forward is the best way to say "thank-you" to those who have blessed him beyond what he believes he deserves.

Class Clown Learns The Terrible Price of Being a "Gangster"

 Curtis grew up in Pontiac, Michigan in a white, nuclear family. Although his family was quite poor when he was young, they gradually moved solidly into middle class. In school he was popular and had a reputation as a class clown. When he was in middle school, he fed off the approval and acceptance of his peers, which led him to begin smoking and drinking. His friends reinforced these bad behaviors with their approval, and soon Curtis developed a tough-guy image to go along with his rebellious ways. Eventually, his self-image as a "gangster" turned into a full-blown identity, leading to a night that forever ruined many lives. 

At seventeen-years-old after a day and night of excessive drinking and smoking weed with friends, Curtis picked up his sawed-off .22 to heighten the evening's inebriated fun with target practice. In the very early morning, he and his friends exchanged words with some other guys who were also out late. The conflict escalated, and Curtis turned the gun on the other car's driver. His decision to fire the gun resulted in the driver's death and eventually to Curtis' sentence to parolable life in prison. 

Curtis is now thirty-eight years old. After years in the weight pit, Curtis is now muscular, but as a juvenile his short stature and small size gave him a complex. He had a reputation for being crazy, but his desperate need for approval from others led him to extreme measures to protect his image. When asked what he would say to his younger self, he laughs and states, "The younger me wouldn't have understood anything but hands." He says his younger self couldn't see past himself, but he wishes that version of himself could have understood how little he actually knew, how precious life is, and how heavy regret is for taking another's life. Today, he reflects on how precious all of life is. It is important to Curtis not to take any moment of life for granted, whether his life or others'. 

Although he fears dying in prison (mainly from the poor prison food), he prays that God grants him a chance to live a peaceful life, with meaning, outside of the razor wire fences. He wants to contribute to society in positive ways, helping others, a desire he already fulfills by helping other prisoners. Curtis feels that he can never atone for taking another's life, but he feels strongly that he owes society to spend the rest of his life making life better--for others and for himself. 

Curtis' change process, like many who come to prison so young, was slow. It involved several significant events in prison, but the first event occurred before he even made it to prison. While awaiting sentencing in jail, Curtis had reached a desperate low and decided to take his own life. After what he describes as miraculous intervention that could only have been the hand of God, Curtis commited to live better. Sadly, that decision was short-lived, and it wasn't until he was 26-years-old and sitting in the hole for fighting that he hit another low. This time, Curtis recognized his selfishness and all the lives he had ruined. He made a fresh commitment to do right, and with the help of other mature prisoners, he began to build a transformed life. 

Today, Curtis is just over a year away from earning a bachelor's degree, an accomplishment that makes him proud. He has also trained dogs, both seeing-eye dogs and "pound puppies," for almost seven years and is a peer-to-peer substance abuse mentor. He wishes that people in free society really believed that people can change, like he has. He can't even imagine being his old self again. Although prison contributed to his change process, he believes that time in prison after undergoing such a change is actually damaging to the changed person. 

Like many prisoners, Curtis hopes his victim's family has whatever closure is possible. He wishes crime victims knew that offenders cannot initiate dialogues (because it risks re-victimizing), but that crime victims can if they want to. Curtis embraces restorative justice practices, because it reflects the Christian faith he now embraces, because it puts victims and their needs first, and because it is the right thing to do.

From Terrorizing Teenager to Tonal Thespian

 Eleven months after his father died, seventeen-year-old Jamie's life was out of control. Easily influenced by his friends, Jamie and a friend went on an unprovoked three-day crime spree. Robbing and carjacking people led the two to rape one of their victims. As a seventeen-year-old juvenile, Jamie was arrested, charged, and sentenced to parolable life in prison, along with a 35-75 year sentence. 

Jamie's traumatic childhood influenced some of his criminal decisions. His father's death, feeling unloved by important people in his life, his socially learned lack of respect for women, and self-seeking attitudes led to his terrible decision to victimize others. Despite recent court decisions recognizing the immaturity of juvenile minds, since Jamie's life sentence is parolable, he does not benefit from those decisions. He will be eligible for parole only after serving the 35-year minimum on his term-of-years sentence, in 2027. 

After constantly finding himself in trouble due to his poor decision-making, even in prison, Jamie knew something had to change. He just didn't know how. When he encountered people, especially prison volunteers, who loved him unconditionally, something clicked for him. He realized that he was looking for love in all the wrong ways. These people helped him to understand how to love himself and to experience love appropriately. Today, he says the greatest lesson he's learned is that nobody has the right to victimize others. He feels deep shame and grief that he took his victims' freedom to feel safe. 

Although he fears he won't be released when he's eligible for parole, Jamie's dreams for the future are almost boring in their normality. Since he came to prison as a kid, he can't wait to get a job working 40-60 hours a week, buy or rent a home, watch football on the weekends, and be the "average, single, middle-aged man." After being the first person in his family to earn a college degree (an associate's), he continues to work towards a bachelor's degree, for which he is very proud. 

Jamie isn't the same person he was at seventeen. Instead of being impulsive, he's now a deep thinker. He knows his choices affect others, and they affect his future, so he thinks carefully about his actions. He wishes he could tell his younger self to be a leader instead of a follower. Although he felt powerless as a young man, he now knows that having resilience through feelings of powerlessness will eventually give way to having more power over his own life and circumstances. 

Two experiences Jamie had in prison were transformational for him. His sister was murdered, which made him face the pain he had caused his own victims. Learning to heal from that loss, and the deaths of his mother, uncle, and cousin, made him stronger. Today, he thinks about his sister and what she wanted for his life. It motivates him to want the best for himself, too. He lives to make his sister proud through the eyes of her two daughters. 

Someone also stole from Jamie, and he later found out it was a close friend (in prison). Being betrayed by someone close to him devastated and enraged him, but it also gave him insight into his victims' expectation of safety. Through this experience, Jamie learned to empathize with his victims and the much greater harm he caused them. The harm he caused is a weight he carries every day. 

Today, Jamie is an avid Shakespeare fan (due to Shakespeare Behind Bars) who also loves to work out, tend the volunteer garden, and sing in a choir. But more importantly, he works hard to be honest and transparent, and to remember the terror he caused so he never causes someone to feel that way again.

RBG--Defender of Justice, Courageous Leader, Kind Dissenter

 Although I just started a series on prisoner stories, I'm taking a short break this week to honor the late Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The news of her recent passing occasioned a far too brief moment of unique, and desperately needed, unity for America. Although she was known as a member of the liberal bloc of Justices, Ginsburg was an icon of justice for all Americans--even for those who sometimes disagreed with her decisions. 

Long before her appointment to the US Supreme Court by President Bill Clinton, Ginsburg was a tenacious defender of women's rights. The most important people in my life have been and still are women (including my mom, sister, and daughters), and I'm forever grateful that Ginsburg fought so hard to ensure their equality in dignity and rights. 

Ginsburg's brilliant jurist mind is seen in her 483 Supreme Court majority opinions, concurrences, and dissents. She fought hard for her judicial decisions, but she always did so respectfully and with a determination that her opponent's dignity be honored. She once stated, "Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you" (2005 Harvard luncheon). She did just that. She lived out her own advice, embracing the late Justice Antonin Scalia as a very close friend, despite their often polar opposite ideological positions. We could use more examples like that. 

It's easy to find people with whom you disagree. It's also easy to avoid them, disparage them, or insult them, especially from afar. But Ginsburg demonstrated that people can disagree, sometimes on fundamental issues, and still treat each other with kindness and dignity. In her book, My Own Words, Ginsburg wisely advises, "When a thoughtless or unkind word is spoken, best tune out. Reacting in anger or annoyance will not advance one's ability to persuade." Our country's leaders, its protesters, its counter-protesters, and the partisan and divisive media could all make a significant difference in lowering the temperature of conflict in our nation by heeding these wise words.

Our nation is a little poorer today because of Ginsburg's death. Nevertheless, regardless of which ideology we espouse, let's embrace Ginsburg's example and respect each other, speak kindly even when we disagree, and fight for those who have no power to fight for themselves. 

A good friend of mine, who I will dearly miss, also passed away this past week. He was a kind and encouraging person who remained my friend through the worst choices of my life. He was a shining example of self-giving love. Rest in peace, my friend...

On a separate, but also important note, this past week the Michigan Senate passed Clean Act legislation. This package of bills expands expungement of criminal records for hundreds of thousands of Michigan citizens, clearing the way for many with criminal histories to put that past behind them and push towards a brighter future. The legislation has limits, of course, but it is a much-needed move to open up opportunities for hundreds of thousands of people who have been disenfranchised, sometimes for years, by a poor choice or two from their younger years. After Governor Whitmer signs the legislation (she is expected to), the state has two years to implement the changes.

Not a Dead Beat Dad

 After experiencing years of emotional and verbal abuse in his marriage, in 2018 Kevin went through a contentious divorce. He turned to alcohol to dim the pain he was feeling, but his ex-wife then used his alcoholism to keep him from his young boys. Nothing in life is more important to Kevin than his boys. Fueled by his growing stress, loss of control over his life, and fear of losing his boys, Kevin assaulted his ex-wife. Alcoholism had not only served to dull his pain, but it also contributed to his poor decision-making in dealing with stress. It's a decision he deeply regrets. He said it does not reflect the person he knows himself to be. 

Kevin was arrested, charged, and convicted of felonious assault, with intent to do great bodily harm less than murder. His sentencing guidelines would have had him serve 5-23 months in prison, but his sentencing judge had a reputation for abusing his judicial powers. Kevin was sentenced to 48-120 months in prison. 

Since coming to prison, Kevin's ex-wife has continued to keep him from communicating at all with his young sons, making this the most difficult part of his incarceration. However, he acknowledges that he needed the interruption prison has provided to gain perspective on his life. Kevin has re-discovered, in prison, the centrality of his faith, the importance of consistency in prayer, and the urgent necessity of maintaining sobriety. He is anxious to teach his sons some of the important lessons he has learned while incarcerated. 

One important period in his incarceration as what he described as a "spiritual awakening" during a Keryx retreat weekend. Run entirely by religious volunteers, the Keryx weekend is an intense weekend of spiritual renewal. One of the most important aspects of that weekend for Kevin was experiencing the compassion of complete strangers. He notes that discovering strangers genuinely care about him, a prisoner, contributed to his renewed commitment to his faith. Even more than a year later, his renewed faith continues to be central to his life. He says the assurance of God's presence in his life, even in prison, has been comforting. 

In addition to this weekend of spiritual renewal, Kevin has benefitted from his time as a Leader Dog trainer and his acceptance into the auto mechanics vocational trade program. He is excited about earning his master mechanic certification and has dreams of one day owning his own repair shop. He looks forward to being able to provide financially for his boys again. His deep love for and devotion to his sons is evident in almost all of his conversations. Mixed into his undeniable love for his boys is an underlying fear that his ex-wife will continue to keep him out of their lives. One of his greatest desires is to be an active presence in their lives. 

Kevin noted how prison has humbled him and given him a clearer vision for his (and his boys') future. He said this experience has made him a "better person," meaning God-fearing, sober, and committed to being a productive person. He has also committed his time in prison to helping other men gain and maintain sobriety. Although he has tried to make amends to his ex-wife for the harm he caused her, he has been unable to thus far. However, he is committed to showing her and others that he is serious about his transformation. 

Kevin is fortunate to have the love and support of a few family members, but he notes that others are conspicuously absent from his life. Losing a beloved uncle who was like a father has been a difficult part of his incarceration. He states that it doesn't yet feel real because he hasn't been able to experience closure yet. Coping with this loss by himself has been difficult. 

While Kevin has clearly benefitted from his time in prison, he believes prison does serve well its intended purpose and is now focused on rehabilitation. He observes that only those who want to change, who are willing to do the work on their own, are going to change. The rest, he says, treat prison like a "boys club" where they take pride in earning the "social stature" of having spent time in the joint. Kevin, though, takes no pride in being in prison. Instead, returning to his sons and being the best father he can be is his number one focus.

Prisoners in Profile: My Story

 Soon, I will be starting a series on this blog called "Prisoners in Profile." This series will briefly feature the stories of various prisoners, highlighting who they were when they committed their crimes and who they are today. I will tell each story following personal interviews. My intention with these stories is to demystify the image of prisoners. We are people with stories, often filled with brokenness and bad choices, and some of us are determined that prison will not be the final word in our lives. So, I thought it might be helpful to start with my own story, although in very abbreviated form. 

In 2009 I was a husband and father, experiencing business success, was active in my community, and basically appeared to have my life together. But looks were deceiving. In March my house of cards fell apart, and I was convicted of first-degree criminal sexual conduct involving someone close to me. I had been privately living very differently than the image I was projecting for others around me. Eventually, I was sentenced to 17-45 years in prison, of which I have served 11 1/2 years. 

Several factors contributed to me committing my crime. I believed at the time that I didn't need anyone else, so when I found myself struggling with a pornography addiction, I was too proud to ask for help. Although I appeared confident, I had a deep insecurity that I could never be good enough. This insecurity led me to wear masks, to project power and control, to value only my own views and opinions, and to put my needs above others'. Shame dominated my life, but my pride kept me from seeing this and from addressing that shame. Instead, I deepened it with my choices.

Although I accepted responsibility for my crime right away, I found ways to minimize my responsibility, to "save face" by justifying or explaining my behavior. After a few years, I came to understand the full impact of what I had done, and my sole responsibility for my behavior. Several things influenced this change in me, but one that stands out is Daniel Goleman's book Emotional Intelligence. He recommended telling your story from the perspective of the one you've harmed, and that completely changed how I viewed myself and my crime. I could no longer minimize what I had done. Another impactful author has been Brene Brown, whose expertise in shame research has changed the way I view others and myself. 

Besides these books, discovering the role of addiction in my life has helped me to address the underlying issues that led to my addiction and find healing. I'm grateful for the prisoner who was courageous enough to speak honestly into my life and start me on this journey of recovery. I'm also grateful for my sponsor and accountability partners (mainly prisoners) who have helped me in my journey of healing. These men have discipled me into a deeper, more authentic life of faith. What had once been a part of my "image" has become a deeply held and authentic reality in my life. It baffles my mind that I had to come to prison to experience such rich and deeply rewarding friendships. As a result, I am challenged to be more present and active in all of my relationships. 

What my future holds is uncertain. One of my greatest fears is probably the stigma society will hold against me, despite serving my sentence and doing so much work on myself. Regardless of how I will be viewed though, I have much repair work to do to the damage I've caused. My recovery work is just the beginning of my lifelong obligation to those I harmed, including my former faith community and my family who has been shamed by my crime. 

I'm grateful for Calvin University who has invested so much into my life through the Calvin Prison Initiative. Earning a bachelor's degree is great, but learning how to authentically live out my faith in practical ways, to live life with purpose, and to know that God can and will use even my broken story for His glory gives me hope that my life might still have meaning in the end. Prison took everything from me, but God has used this prison experience to shape me into the man I should have been all along.

Critical Ads Reveal Double-Standard

This past week the Michigan Corrections Officers' union (MCO) took out ads in the Detroit Free Press giving Heidi Washington a "Failing" grade in her job as Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) director. The ads list several categories the MCO claims Washington has failed in. These include safe staffing levels in prison, employee morale, leadership, communication skills, corrections officer wellness, and transparency. The MCO's ads come on the heels of an open letter they also wrote calling for Washington's ouster as director. 

Former Republican governor Rick Snyder originally appointed Director Washington, but Democratic governor Gretchen Whitmer retained Washington as director because of her successful record of leadership and innovative programs. Under Director Washington's leadership, Michigan's recidivism rate among returning citizens (paroled prisoners) has dropped to historic lows. 

The MCO's criticisms may have some element of truth to them. Operating a department the size of the MDOC is bound to have problems. But these criticisms are, at their core, politically motivated and self-serving. The MCO represents around 6,000 corrections officers. It is their job to represent the interests of those officers. Nevertheless, the MCO's criticisms reflect fear in their declining membership as incarceration rates fall in Michigan. They also reflect double standards. 

The MCO criticizes Director Washington for failing to "hold prisoners accountable for their action." However, the MCO fights to keep officers on the job who have patterns of physical abuse of prisoners and others who engage in regular practices of lying on prisoners in misconduct reports. The MCO also criticizes the director for failing to provide officers with "adequate and effective PPE in many instances" during the coronavirus pandemic. However, some MCO members routinely fail to properly wear the masks they are provided, and the MCO itself fought against mandatory covid-19 testing for its members. 

While the MCO would like to deny that officers are to blame for introducing the coronavirus into prisons, they are the most likely candidates. Prisoners are unable to leave prison, except for emergency medical reasons, so staff members are most certainly the ones introducing the virus into prisons. This is not a criticism of those who do so unknowingly (as we know may happen). The Governor's comments acknowledging this fact are not reckless. They are self-evident. Prisoners already know this fact. 

The MCO's open letter and quarter-page newspaper ads criticizing the director's leadership and asking for her ouster are nothing more than political moves to get rid of a leader who works hard to make Michigan safer. Fewer people going to prison means fewer corrections officers are needed. Let's be honest now. THAT'S the real reason the MCO wants Director Washington gone. 

Governor Whitmer continues to support Director Washington (as she should), despite the MCO's criticisms. Maybe before they start pointing the finger at a corrections director whose vision is a safer Michigan, the MCO ought to clean its own house and stop defending and supporting officers who fail to live up to standards the MCO wants to impose on Director Washington. It's time the MCO recognizes the old way of corrections and policing are no longer tolerable. 

Virus Intensifies Already Stressful Prison Environment

It's another week in enhanced isolation. The normal isolation of prison is bad enough, but add on top of that the increased isolation caused by the coronavirus, and it feels like a bad dream from which we can't awaken. So far, MTU, the prison where I am housed, has avoided the virus, but administrative staff, officers, and prisoners are on edge. The virus has continued to sweep through other prisons, leaving death and chaos in its wake. The restrictions at these and other prisons are similar to level five restrictions, with almost no prisoner movement. All activities are cancelled, including religious services and schooling, and prisoners are largely restricted to their cells. While that reality has not yet hit MTU, many of us fear it is only a matter of time. 

We have been required to wear masks for several months now, everywhere we go except while we shower or eat. Social distancing, even at a prison that is not on lockdown, makes it difficult to connect with people we normally hang out with on yard or at school. On the news I hear some people complaining about having to wear masks to shop or work, but we have to wear them all the time. We have no choice. 

What's more, we are severely isolated in prison. While prison is meant to isolate law-breakers from society, studies have shown that maintaining social connections with family and (law-abiding) friends outside of prison is critical for the mental health and well-being of prisoners. These studies also show how critical these social connections are for reducing re-offense rates. Because of the virus restrictions, prisoners are unable to visit with loved ones, except over the phone. Many prisoners and their families cannot afford regular phone calls, further exacerbating feelings of isolation. Other factors, like college or trades schooling, addiction support groups, and religious services, are also either limited or eliminated during this pandemic, further reducing prisoners' rehabilitation tools. 

Because prison is such a boring existence, prisoners count on spending energy on yard, attending school or vocational trades, working prison jobs, and social interaction with other prisoners to pass time. The more social restrictions imposed on prisoners, at some prisons even isolation to cells, the greater the level of stress prisoners experience. When prisoners experience high levels of stress, tensions rise between prisoners and between prisoners and staff. 

Additionally, corrections officers experience stress of their own with the complications the coronavirus brings to their lives. As they encounter prisoners who are acting out because of their own stress, the officers' stressed out responses combine with the prisoners' stress to create tense hostility, sometimes leading to heated verbal exchanges and prisoner discipline. 

I don't know what the answer is. We all have to deal with added stress from this virus, both inside and outside of prison. I simply highlight the added stressors of prison because this is my current reality. As the saying goes, "this too shall pass," but in the meantime, life in prison is increasingly complicated and stressful. 

Disappointing News Should Not Derail Rehabilitative Goals

In the last week or two, the Michigan Prisoner Rehabiliation Credit Act suffered a fatal end--for now. Because the organizers were not able to collect enough signatures (probably largely due to the coronavirus shutdown), the Act will not be on the ballot this fall. This is very disappointing news to prisoners and their loved ones who had hoped for earlier release dates.  Rumors of good time bills have been circulating for many more years than I have been in prison. Decades of rumors have yielded no good time or disciplinary credit legislation. The MPRCA was the closest we have seen to a potential change to sentence terms in Michigan. However, prison reform is not dead. Just last year one Michigan legislator introduced a good time bill in the House (which went nowhere), and he has indicated that he may do so again.  The time is ripe for Michigan to pass legislation to reduce prison sentences. With one of the longest average prison sentences in the United States, and with the state desperately short on funding, offering prisoners an opportunity to earn time off their sentences through good, responsible behavior, as well as proactive educational involvement just makes good sense. Longer prison sentences do not make communities safer. Rehabilatative programming does.  For those who have loved ones in prison, even though Michigan is unlikely to enact good time or rehabilitation credits this year, it is imperative that you encourage your incarcerated loved ones to work diligently to rehabilitate themselves. Possibly earning time off one's sentence is a nice bonus, if that ever happens, but the more important benefit is changing one's heart and mind. Leaving prison, no longer a danger to one's community, is a gift prisoners can give to those they have harmed. It shouldn't take a good time credit bill to cause us to put in the work of rehabilitation.  I will continue to hold out hope that Michigan will soon shift from a retributitve mindset to a rehabilitative and restorative mindset. And in the meantime, I'll continue to advocate for prisoners to adopt restorative justice attitudes and practices: crime harms relationships, these harm create obligations to victims and communities, and our central obligation is to make right those harms. Cultivating these attitudes and practices is, perhaps, the best way offenders can show their sincerity and change of heart.

 

Corrections Officers Can Make a Big Difference

The job of a corrections officer is not extraordinarily difficult. For much of their shifts, correction officers are glorified babysitters. They make their rounds to ensure prisoners are not harming themselves or others, occasionally enforce rules, and generally provide an authoritative presence to ensure prisoners govern themselves appropriately. That said, though, corrections officers face complexities in their jobs that many other people do not. 

A primary complaint of prisoners is that some corrections officers treat prisoners like they are less than human. We are nothing more than numbers or bodies to many officers. That does seem to be changing some with newer (i.e. younger) officers who appear to view prisoners as worthy of dignity. Perhaps it is just that these officers have not yet been corrupted by the influences of prisoner behavior and other officers who hate prisoners. 

The prison environment is fraught with negativity, so I admire officers who can come to work every day, be exposed to hateful coworkers' attitudes, be treated with disdain and disrespect by some prisoners, and work a terribly boring job--and still keep a good attitude. I imagine that it must be difficult to maintain a positive, hopeful attitude about prisoners when officers see so many return to prison again and again. The abysmal re-offense rate has got to affect how some officers view us. 

Officer training changes with the times, and from what I hear newer officers are receiving more training in conflict management, rehabilitative measures, and social work. As the primary authorities who interface with prisoners on a daily basis, it makes sense for corrections officers to be trained in these areas. They, more than anyone else, have the ability to closely observe a prisoner's need for thinking and behavior changes. Some officers also have the ability to help transform a prisoner's focus and thinking--as I've seen happen with several prisoners I know. 

Changing lifelong thinking and behavior patterns is hard work, and it's bound to include some failures. When officers recognize these facts and continue to encourage and counsel prisoners who, to others, appear hopelessly committed to stupidity, they deserve praise for a job well done. We need more corrections officers who come to work with this sort of purpose rather than simply punching a time clock to pay bills. Perhaps it is unfair to ask such an extraordinary thing of corrections officers, but if prisons are to turn out more reformed people who will go on to live productive lives as safe citizens, something has to change. 

The corrections industry likes to tout "safety" as its primary aim. If that's true, "safety" must include a day one focus on returning prisoners back to their communities as safer, more responsible citizens. To that end, the job of corrections officer should not be filled by retributive-minded people who believe it is their job to "punish" prisoners by making their lives miserable. These jobs should be filled by people who care about releasing prisoners who have been changed for the better by their prison experience. They should be filled by officers who are properly trained and willing to encourage and facilitate the transformation process necessary for many prisoners to become safe citizens. Such a task requires a lot more than reform-minded officers, but that's a great place to start.

Budget Shortfalls Highlight Bad Corrections Policies

Coronavirus restrictions have caused the state a great deal of financial hardship, and the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) is no exception. The state budget for the MDOC is roughly $2.2 billion for 2020. A deficit of nearly $400 billion has been covered by federal funds, but next year's budget is anticipating cuts of at least 25-35% in the corrections budget. It is yet unclear how state lawmakers anticipate saving such a massive amount of money. 

One possible way the state could save money on its massive corrections budget is by reducing its prison population. The state of Michigan has the lowest crime rate in over 50 years, but it continues to incarcerate its prisoners for longer average sentences than any of the Midwestern states. The state has recently acted to reduce criminal sanctions for minor driving infractions, some of which had included incarceration. In strongly bipartisan action, the state trimmed or eliminated jail time requirements for several driving offenses, and has encouraged non-jail sentences for low level offenses, as well as eased punishments for some minor offenses committed by parolees. 

This recent legislative criminal justice reform is an encouraging sign. However, lawmakers could do more. A recent bid to put a ballot measure before the people in November targets the state's truth in sentencing law. The ballot measure would restore the ability for Michigan's prisoners to earn reductions in prison sentences for good behavior in prison, including voluntary participation in education and vocational opportunities, and maintaining a job in prison. Unfortunately, the state has staunchly opposed the ballot measure, including using court action to try to keep the initiative off of the ballot in November. 

Thankfully, the federal courts have disagreed with Michigan, so far, and the ballot initiative is currently slated for inclusion on November's ballot. For more information on this initiative, visit www.mprca.info.

Although many prison reform advocates would argue for reduced prison sanctions on both moral and economic grounds, the coronavirus pandemic has highlighted the state's wasteful corrections spending. Rather than making drastic cuts to education funding, reinforcing the school to prison pipeline, courageous lawmakers ought to take this opportunity to rethink the state's prison industrial complex policies. Excessive punishments do not make communities safer. They only serve to drain the state budget and give some lawmakers political points for being "tough on crime." But we can no longer afford to pay the outrageous costs, with very little benefit, of mass incarceration. 

To cut 25-35% from the corrections budget is going to take drastic policy changes. And if the legislature won't do it, it's time for Michigan's citizens to use their political voices--vote FOR the Michigan Prisoner Rehabilitative Credit Act in November.