Michigan Needs Second Look Sentencing

 Michigan has much longer average prison sentences than other midwestern states in part because of mandatory minimum sentences, and in part because of unchecked judicial activism. Some court's "hands" are tied by legislation that requires long sentences, but sometimes long sentences are handed out as punishment for refusing a plea deal. 

When I was in the county jail awaiting my own sentencing, another prisoner was offered a 12 1/2 year plea deal. He turned the deal down because he claimed he was innocent. I don't know if he was or not, but when he went to trial and lost, the court sentenced him to a minimum of 75 years in prison. That's a 600% increase over what he'd been offered, simply as retribution for refusing a plea. 

Another prisoner I know was offered boot camp, which is a 3 month program. He too turned down the plea deal because he claimed to be innocent. When he lost at trial, he was sentenced to a 40 year minimum prison sentence. That's a 1600% increase, again, simply for turning down a plea deal. If that's not judicial misconduct, I don't know what is. 

The reality is that long prison sentences, like these, are life sentences. Actually, I call them death sentences because they are long enough to result in the prisoner dying in prison. They are what many prisoners refer to as "basketball score" sentences. 

Some states have begun to recognize that lengthy prison sentences do not always achieve the aims of justice. When prisoners reform their thinking and behavior, but they remain in prison for the rest of their lives, it does no good to the community. The cost of keeping them in prison, and the cost of them not being contributing members of society is too high. 

Many of these prisoners have reformed their lives and give back to their communities in prison. These are the prisoners who can be found facilitating classes for younger prisoners, teaching them to change their own thinking and behaviors. They are the ones working to make amends for the harms they've caused, working to better their communities even from within prison. It is not justice to keep these prisoners who have reformed their ways in prison for the rest of their lives. 

The states that have recognized this injustice have begun to pass what is called "Second Look Sentencing" legislation. This legislation allows the courts to resentence prisoners with lengthy sentences who have demonstrated a history of reform. Instead of dying in prison, many of these prisoners become eligible for early release after serving, usually, fifteen years. 

Some advocacy organizations in Michigan are beginning to work with legislators to introduce Second Look legislation in Michigan. It's something Michigan sorely needs. Both of my friends who were sentenced to "death sentences" after refusing plea deals would be eligible for a second look, after serving much more time than they'd been offered in their plea deals. So would the countless others I know who currently anticipate dying in prison, but who still make every effort they can to do the right thing. 

A group of guys I know were recently discussing the chance for Second Look Sentencing. Many of these guys have life sentences, or terms of years that might as well be life. Yet, I could see hope springing up inside them, that perhaps they'd have a chance at life outside of prison after all. Second Look Sentencing could make that possible.

The reality is that we have to decide what justice is. If a prisoner reforms his life and is, at the minimum, no longer a danger to society, should he die in prison? If he has not only reformed but demonstrated a commitment to making things right, to helping younger prisoners reform their lives, should he still die in prison? If reformed thinking and behavior is not the goal of prison, then Michigan's prison system should be called the Michigan Department of Punishment, not the Michigan Department of Corrections.

Negative Social Influences Cultivate Cynicism in Prison

 One of the major criticisms of prisons has been that they are often criminal "universities." Some low level offenders come to prison where they are socialized into criminal mindsets and behaviors. They literally leave prison with criminal minds much worse than when they entered. 

This criticism is real. I've seen prisoners who have very little creativity (even criminal creativity) socialized into criminal thinking and conduct by other, more experienced prisoners. I've seen naive prisoners used and taken advantage of by other prisoners, hardening into a deeper criminal pathology out of a need to protect themselves. They learn to use or be used, steal or be stolen from, be violent or experience violence. 

But prisoners are not the only ones negatively socialized in prison settings. I have personally heard experienced officers training new officers to treat prisoners "like garbage." I've heard new officers being told that we prisoners are just a bunch of animals who cannot control ourselves, so we should be treated like animals. I've seen new officers come in with hopes of making a difference, with plans to treat prisoners with dignity, with visions of being a positive influence on the outcasts of society. But like everything else, the prison system has a tendency to scatter visions, to spoil plans, and to replace hope with hopelessness.

The sad reality is that prisoners are not the only ones who are corrupted by negative social influences in prison. There exists within America's correction system, especially at certain prisons, a deeply cynical ethos where officers are above reproach and prisoners are not worthy of basic human dignities. Any efforts prisoners make to better themselves, to change that broken image of prisoners is met with fierce resistance. How dare prisoners deem themselves worthy of something better than their past poor choices! 

This officer cynicism is often shared by administration as well. Administrators like to talk about rehabilitation, about lowered recidivism rates, about "excellence" in corrections, but here in the trenches where the public eye cannot pry, it's a different story. Status quo is the name of the game. Don't rock the boat. Don't do anything that attracts attention. Do the bare minimum, but make the paperwork look good. This culture of mediocrity is endemic in corrections. 

Prisoners who deem themselves worthy of something better with their lives are often eager to DO something. They want to invest in their futures and better their chances of success. They want to give back to those they've harmed, to make amends. They want to change their character so they are no longer thinking criminally, instead thinking about how they can better their communities. But these desired changes don't fit the cynical image of who prisoners are supposed to be. Consequently, prisoners who make such efforts to change are villified, mocked, blocked at every turn, and those on the outside who try to help a prisoner's transformation are demonized for trying.

Yes, some prisoners receive a master's level education in criminal behavior in prison, but prisoners are not the only ones schooled by negative social influences. The corrections system encourages negative social influences among staff in order to preserve its cynical mindset. Consequently, it produces exactly what it intends to: a high failure rate, driven in part by their own failure to see prisoners as people worthy and capable of changing.

Floods of Regret Triggered by Remembering Victims of Tragedies

 Saturday was the twentieth anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks. All day long on television, stories of that fateful day were recounted, video footage of the attacks were shown, survivors were interviewed, and family members honored their loved ones killed in the attacks. And I avoided watching it all.

I distinctly remember where I was the moment I heard about the attacks. I was busy at work, doing something that for weeks afterwards felt insignificant. It was also less than a month from my planned wedding, and I was worried about the attacks' effect on our honeymoon plans. I also remember feeling profound sadness and a sense of helplessness for months after the attacks. 

Twenty years later, I still feel a deep sadness for those who suffered horribly from the tragedy, especially for the children who grew up without a father, mother, grandfather, aunt, etc., because of the attacks. So, why would I avoid all the tributes, stories, and news coverage intended to honor the fallen? 

Momentous occasions and tragedies are both difficult to memorialize in a prison setting. Most prisoners have experienced such profound losses in their own lives, both through death and abandonment, that stirring up those deeply buried feelings is very painful. Remembering and honoring others who died tragically is important, but sometimes it's just too painful. The pain of those memories are intensified by our own losses. We have no loved ones present with us to help bear the burden of painful memories.  

For some prisoners, focusing on the pain of others' tragedies also stirs up and intensifies regret over the pain we've caused our own victims. It's difficult, I imagine, for someone who's taken another person's life and who deeply regrets it, not to feel shame and regret painfully triggered when remembering the horrific murder of others. Feeling others' pain is an important part of cultivating empathy, but some pain is too overwhelming to sit in, especially for a day-long marathon of memorials. 

Some prisoners might actually respond to tragedies like 9/11's attacks by comparing their own crimes to those of the terrorists. It's an easy way to minimize our own brokenness. It doesn't even have to be a national tragedy. It could be a story on the evening news. One might not have to feel quite so bad about themselves when they compare their crimes to the horrendous crimes some people commit. But comparing tragedies is a quick way to forget that all crime is a tragedy. Deep down, most prisoners know this, so it's just easier to avoid focusing on tragedies at all.  

Our nation rightly remembers and honors victims of national tragedies. Regionally, we also remember and memorialize victims of highly publicized local tragedies. But as a nation, we too often forget to honor and memorialize the victims of every day crime. I'm grateful that the victim's advocate center in my county has a public memorial to victims of crime. That's the absolutely least we can do. But it's not enough. If we want to honor those who have suffered from the tragedy of crime, we must start by treating them with more respect in the judical process. Instead of the State usurping the offense, victims must have more voice in the process. Finalization of a trial or plea agreement also does not finalize anything for those who have suffered as a victim of crime. That's just the end of the beginning. 

As a nation, we need to do better about walking alongside those who have suffered because of crime. We need to do better to empower victims not forget them. I want to honor those who have suffered from national tragedies. But I also want to honor those whose lives were harmed because of my bad choices. Every day of my life is a dedication to them. Every difficult choice I make that addresses brokenness in me is made as a commitment to do better. Every investment I make in my intellectual, emotional, and spiritual development I make as a memorial to those who deserved better from me. 

I don't expect I'll ever stop feeling the pain of deep regret. But some day, perhaps, I'll be able to sit in the pain of others' tragedies without feeling a flood of self-condemnation and shame for the harm I've also caused. 

Rejecting Permanent Exclusion and Embracing Redemptive Possibilities

Since recently graduating from college, I've found myself with more time to read. So, I'm re-reading an excellent book that addresses identity, otherness, and reconciliation from a theological perspective. It's Miroslav Volf's "Exclusion and Embrace." 

Although this (difficult) book addresses all kinds of exclusion and otherness and how to pursue reconciliation and healing in these conflicts, I saw an important connection to prisoners and their communities. When someone breaks the law, communities, through law enforcement and the courts, hold that person accountable. The lawbreaker is often isolated from the community (via jail or prison) as a way to reinforce the importance of the community's social norms. The problem is that the lawbreaker isn't simply isolated for a time and then welcomed back. Our American justice system permanently marks a lawbreaker as an outsider. 

A jail or prison sentence is meant to remove the offender for a time from the community in order to protect the community, but also in order to pressure offenders to adopt society's social norms. In other words, to turn offenders into law abiding citizens. The rub is that while asking offenders to naturally develop an affinity for a community's social norms, that same community rejects the offender. This rejection isn't a temporary rejection, though. It is permanent. 

Criminal records keep felons from obtaining housing and jobs, and this permanent outsider status often ostracizes the former offender from the very community that demands they "follow the rules." While many reasons contribute to high re-offense rates, one contributing factor is this permanent outsider status. 

It is unreasonable to expect most prisoners to naturally develop an affinity for the communities and cultures that reject them. Without any solid place to ground themselves, any solid sense of belonging, former offenders cannot be expected to resist what opposes society's norms. They have no incentive to do so, other than avoiding more punishment. 

Psychologists and sociologists tell us that positive reinforcement is much more effective than negative reinforcement (punishment), yet our culture continues to major on the negatives. Michigan, for example, is the ONLY state that offers its prisoners no form of time off for good behavior. So, in addition to branding offenders with a permanent outsider status, Michigan only uses negative reinforcement (long prison sentences) to pursuade offenders to adopt social norms. It's simply an illogical approach. 

Communities need to demand more from the justice system. They need to demand a way back for offenders, a way to remove their outsider status and to belong again. Positive incentives give offenders hope for redemption, not hopeless expection of permanent rejection.