What a Memorial Service in Prison Looks Like

 Maybe the title of this post is a little misleading. You see, I've been in prison for over 13 years now, and I've never once even heard of a memorial service for a prisoner who died, let alone attended one. Until this past Friday. 

Normally, when a prisoner dies, other prisoners talk among themselves. "Did you hear so-and-so died?" one prisoner will ask. "Yeah," another will respond. "That's messed up." And that's about the extent of the grief processing. Because prison staff treat us with such little value, we learn to treat each other the same way. Because we've experienced so much loss, we've become desensitized to it. Any processing we do is done internally--alone. 

So when Trice, a member of the prison community to which I belong died, some of us decided we needed to do things a little differently. Although Trice belonged to the Nation of Islam (NOI), he belonged to a larger community made up of Calvin Prison Initiative students and vocational trades students in the same prison facility. So, a few of us in leadership within the Protestant and NOI communities decided to organize an inter-faith memorial service for Trice. 

We planned out a service, complete with prayer, two songs sung and played by a few men, and ten speakers who shared memories of Trice. As the time for the memorial began, people from the prison community poured into the auditorium. Members of the Protestant and NOI services, CPI students who belong to neither faith, and others from the broader community found their seats. Soon, attendance grew to over 100 prisoners.

After an opening introduction and prayer, several prisoners played and sang "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye," by Boys to Men. The tissues came out in droves as men connected the lyrics to the recent loss of Trice, and to other losses they've never processed fully. My mind immediately went to the death of my father just over a year ago, a death I still haven't fully processed. 

Following the song, ten men took turns sharing their memories of and experiences with Trice. As we all shared our memories, similarities emerged, and Trice's personality shown through. We had some laughs at his quirks, and we shed some tears over missed moments. One especially gripping moment for me was when one prisoner shared how he helped hold Trice when he experienced his medical emergency. He broke down as he shared, "If I would have known it was the last time I'd hug him, I'd have held on a little longer, held a little tighter." 

This entire experience was probably the most profound experience I've had in thirteen years in prison. It was painful, but cathartic. It was gut-wrenching, but healing. I'm proud to have been a part of it. I'm proud to belong to a community who rallies around each other, who honors each other's dignity as human beings. This isn't really how a memorial service in prison looks like, but maybe it'll be a model for future memorials, should they, God forbid, be needed.

Prisoner's Death Leaves His Community Shaken

 Several days ago, another prisoner, whom I've known for eight years, experienced a medical emergency that had him leave the prison in an ambulance. He had a similar emergency several years ago that left him rehabilitating for months afterwards. We just weren't sure how bad it was this time, and so we prayed. 

For two or three days the Calvin Prison Initiative community to whom he belonged, along with some other prisoners, prayed for him and his recovery. Yet, on May 19th we received the very sad news that Trice had passed away from complications he experienced with his medical emergency. His death has left many people feeling shaken and deeply saddened.

Trice did not share my faith, and he made a point of irritating me from time to time. But he considered me a friend, and I considered him a friend. One thing we shared a love of was playing Scrabble together, and though he rarely beat me, he kept coming back for more. He liked to claim victory over a game that we had to quit half way through because we ran out of time. He felt like he needed that win on the books, but I wouldn't let him count it as a win. 

We both shared having spent parts of our lives in California and Chicago. We often reminisced about the places (especially food!) we loved in Chicago, and we both were big fans of the Chicago Cubs. We couldn't have been more different in many ways, but it was refreshing to find commonality and shared meaning with someone from a completely different walk of life. 

Trice recently graduated in the class of 2022 with his bachelors degree from the Calvin Prison Initiative (CPI). Some from his family attended to celebrate the momentous day with him, sharing in his (and our) pride in his accomplishment. He and I had talked about sharing a graduation celebration meal, but we ran out of time to make it happen. 

Trice was a good writer who enjoyed helping others write better, even serving in our Rhetoric Center in CPI. He also loved discussing ideas and sharpening his ability to debate different sides of an argument. He often asked me to read through his papers for different classes, and I learned a lot by reading his work. 

Sadly, Trice was only weeks away from a decision he's been waiting for in the courts that would have likely made it possible for him to leave prison. After serving nearly three decades in prison, his life sentence may have been reduced due to a court decision on young lifers (18-21 year olds). I know he was anxiously waiting with anticipation for that decision, a decision that came too late. 

Trice, we'll miss you, but we'll also remember you with fondness. And my brother, I'll let you have that win after all.

Graduation Ceremony Goes off with a Bang

 Blam! Blam! Blam! The sounds of staccato gunfire rang loudly in the background. If you didn't know better, you'd think you were in Kharkiv, Ukraine or maybe the Southside of Chicago. It sounded like a war zone. But it wasn't a war zone. It was in the middle of our graduation ceremony on May 9th, a ceremony three years in the making. 

Covid had tabled the first two years' graduation ceremonies for the Calvin Prison Initiative (calvin.edu/prison-initiative) graduates, but finally we walked with a few family or friends in attendance. Three cohorts graduated with their bachelors degrees, and two with their associates. Every student was anxious with anticipation, not only for the ceremony, but also for the brief time allotted to spend with our family members and friends after the ceremony. 

Sadly, disgruntled corrections officers and administrative staff had other ideas. Some staff are disgruntled because they don't believe prisoners deserve anything good, even if it costs taxpayers nothing. Their attitudes reveal that "corrections" or "rehabilitation" is not their goal at all. Nevertheless, while they could not stop the ceremony from happening because the corrections director was in attendance, they certainly made their pettiness known. 

The loud, raucous gunfire that erupted from the nearby gun range in the middle of the ceremony came from some of the dozen officers who called in "sick" that day. The next day, they bragged and laughed about it at the officers' desk in the housing unit. They also bragged about how they'd planned on delaying the ceremony. A normal "count time," which occurs several times throughout a 24-hour period, takes roughly 30 minutes. But the morning of the graduation ceremony, count time took three times that long. Their second count time later that day also took three times the norm. 

After the ceremony, graduates were supposed to have 45-60 minutes to mingle with their loved ones, but because of the planned delays, we had less than 20 minutes. The officers' and administrators' petty plans robbed us of some of our anticipated joy for that day, but they couldn't take it all. 

Graduation day made dozens of prisoners and families proud, some prisoners being the first in their families to earn a college degree. They couldn't take that accomplishment. One of the two keynote speakers, fondly known as Mother Jerline, gave a profound talk about authentic forgiveness, moving many hearts with her love. She was there to celebrate the graduation of her son's killer, a man she now calls her own son. They couldn't take that demonstration of God's radical grace at work. They also couldn't take the dozen or so positive news stories that resulted from that tremendous day, splashed all over the TV, newspapers, and internet. 

It's tempting to be angry about the pettiness on my graduation day, but then I remember my hero Malala Yousafzai. She persisted in her education despite being actually shot and having her life continually threatened. I suppose I can put up with the childish antics of corrections officers having a tantrum on a gun range.

Prisoner Honors Mother After Her Death

 Every year on Mother's Day, I like to honor mothers of prisoners by highlighting how important they are in the lives of many prisoners. Sometimes, only Mom sticks with you through the consequences of your worst choices. For some, sadly, Mom isn't around any longer, but she's still a motivating factor on turning one's life around. 

This truth is evident in my friend Hank's life. Hank was one of three children born to his mother. Though both of his siblings graduated from high school, Hank dropped out, ran the streets, sold drugs, and committed crimes that landed him in prison. His mother lamented to him that she had beautiful graduation pictures of her other two children, but none from him. 

In 2017, Hank applied for and was accepted into the Calvin Prison Initiative. He told his mom, "I'm going to earn that graduation picture for you!" She was thrilled, and proud, that he'd begun to turn his life around and make better choices. Sadly, Hank's mom died a couple of years before he graduated from college. But on May 9th, Hank will walk with his class of 2022 to receive his bachelor's degree. With every step across that stage, he'll be thinking of his mom and dedicating his success to her and her unconditional love and support for him. 

Hank is just one of many prisoners who are now seeking to make something positive out of their lives. They (we, I should say) chose the wrong path earlier in life, but rather than let those poor choices forever define them, they are now seeking to transform themselves, to form a new identity. For some, that motivation is strengthened by the desire to make loved ones, like mom, proud of them. 

I'm sure Hank's mom, were she alive today, would be deeply proud of her son. Though he did all the work to earn his degree, he did so, at least in part, because his mom believed in him and wanted something better for his life. His success is a big THANK YOU to his mom. 

Not every mother of a prisoner can stand in pride next to her son or daughter, but every prisoner should strive to make that so. I hope that in the thirteen plus years I've been in prison I have made my mom proud of me. She, and so many other mothers, deserve far more than we could ever give them for their many sacrifices and unconditional love. 

So, to all you moms of prisoners, THANK YOU!

Prison Industries Profit from Excessive Fees

In a recent article published in Prison Legal News (www.prisonlegalnews.org), Stephen Raher from the Prison Policy Initiative (www.prisonpolicy.org) writes about his investigation into the excessive fees charged for sending prisoners money. All fifty U.S. states charge a fee for loved ones to send money to a prisoner. Yet, these fees are excessively high, compared to industry standards seen in services like Venmo or CashApp. The rates Raher found across the country vary, from 5% to 37% for online transfers. The average fee, he found, is 19% to send $20 and 12% to send $50. 

Michigan, like many states, only offers one option to send money electronically, essentially eliminating competition with its sanctioned monopoly. Michigan contracts with Global TelLink (GTL), one of the top three services nationwide. GTL charges $3.95 (20% by percentage), for transfers starting at $20. Starting at $50, their fee is $6.95 (14% by percentage). In states with competitive options, the transfer fees are less, on average, though still significantly higher than industry standards. 

Some states (I could not confirm if Michigan is among them) receive kickbacks from the services to whom they offer these monopolies. As with excessive telephone and email rates and high commissary prices, excessive money transfer fees are just another example of predatory profiting among some of the most vulnerable populations. Many prisoners come from families who have little to no financial stability. 

While some changes in telephone pricing in prisons and jails has occurred over the last few years, many states are still charging exorbitant fees for families to keep in touch with their incarcerated loved ones. Excessive money transfer fees only worsen the exploitation of families of incarcerated persons. 

Until state governments (and the federal government) stop seeing prisons as job security and profit-making ventures, this sort of exploitation will continue. Legislatures have no incentive to change the rules, and courts have little incentive to enforce existing laws when prisoners and their families are viewed as gap fillers in state budgets. Prison industries ought to be compensated for their services, but their compensation should be reasonable and in line with industry standards, not exploitative. Furthermore, prison industries ought to have competition so they cannot use their government sanctioned monopolies to force consumers to use their services. 

One other major consequence of no competition in prison services is that providers, like GTL and JPay, have little incentive to improve their services. When JPay, the provider of email services to prisoners in Michigan, uses a completely useless problem resolution service, for example, they have no reason to fix it. When their system steals "stamps" or provides the wrong songs that prisoners purchase, they have no incentive to fix the problem. When prisoners are forced to agree to completely unreasonable terms of use agreements just to use the service, it's exploitative. 

GTL provides both phone services, money transfer services, and is now responsible for managing visit scheduling. Yet, their service is antiquated and spotty, at best, and completely broken at worst. Where are these excessively high fees they are charging going? They aren't going to improving their services, that's for sure. 

If prison industries cannot responsibly manage the services they offer prisoners and their families, without exploiting their government sanctioned monopolies, they ought to be replaced. It makes one wonder who else is profiting from these exploitative services that allows them to continue operating under conditions that would shutter their businesses were they to face real competition. Is accountability too much to ask from a department whose job it is to hold people accountable (us prisoners)?  

Staffing Shortages Limit Basic Prison Function

 The Covid-19 pandemic, together with other factors, has made America's job market tough. Companies are having difficulty finding employees who will stay in the job, so wages and benefits are rising, and those costs are being passed onto consumers. Government agencies and departments are also feeling the pinch of staffing issues, including the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC). 

In addition to the "normal" difficulties in hiring, the Department also contends with a new generation of potential employees who will not part with their electronic devices for an entire day of work. New hires also face immediate mandating of (a LOT of) overtime work, starting pay equal to what they can now make at Walmart or McDonalds, and a work culture rife with corruption, apathy, and constant negativity. I feel sorry for the public relations person who must spin such conditions to make the job sound appealing. 

Because the MDOC continues to struggle with finding and keeping new employees, every prison, and even state-wide administrative jobs, are severely understaffed. Administrative staff, both on a prison level and those who work in the Department headquarters, are working overtime, just to cover basic safety functions in prison. Morale among staff suffers, and prisoners become increasingly frustrated when basic prison functions don't operate due to staffing shortages. 

For months now, the first shift at Handlon Correction Facility has been too understaffed to open yard for prisoners. "Big yard," as it is commonly referred to, is where prisoners can run, lift weights, play basketball, and get other exercise in. The small yards in front of the housing units are often too cramped for prisoners to get much exercise. Big yard continues to only be opened on second shift, meaning prisoners with afternoon and evening classes and other obligations cannot get their recreation time in. The gym has also been closed for months due to "short staffing issues." 

Recently, several new ride-ins (prisoners transferred from other prisons) waited several days to receive their personal property. This means they only had the clothes on their backs to sleep in and wear all day, and no access to hygiene items necessary for taking a shower or even brushing their teeth, for three days. The reason they were given for the delay is the prison is too "short staffed" to hand out property. One of the prisoners transferred from a prison literally across the street from Handlon. 

Michigan's Governor and the State Legislature have options, literally in their hands, to reduce the state's prison population immediately, allowing several prisons to close. But they continue to punt this problem down the road. Reducing the state's prison population will not only save the state millions of dollars per year, but it would help to solve the ongoing staffing shortage. With fewer people in prison, fewer corrections officers and other staff are needed. 

Good time legislation, or some other population reducing mechanism, can ensure that only those prisoners who demonstrate rehabilitation through measurable metrics are released. This should ease the fears of those who worry that releasing prisoners early will lead to an increase in crime rates. When prisoners have to earn reductions in the sentences, it is more likely they will continue demonstrating good behavior after leaving prison. 

The short staffing problem is not going to go away soon because the Department cannot hire enough staff to even replace those quitting and retiring. In fact, the problem appears to only be getting worse. It's time for the legislature to take decisive action to solve this problem. For the safety of Michigan's residents, the state can no longer afford to push this security and safety problem down the road. 

Please contact your state legislators (Representatives and Senators) and urge them to take immediate action on reducing Michigan's prison population. Urge them to vote yes on bringing back Good Time to Michigan.

Grand Rapids Man Shot and Killed by Police Office in Routine Traffic Stop

 Another tragedy involving an officer shooting and killing an unarmed black man has made national news--only this incident occurred in our backyard. About a week and a half ago, during a routine traffic stop, Patrick Lyoya attempted to walk away from the scene when asked for his driver's license. After an ensuing struggle, the responding officer shot Patrick in the back of the head, killing him. 

It is unclear why Patrick attempted to leave or why he refused to comply with the officer's directions. I imagine that information will come out in the investigation. But as video evidence has shown, Patrick was not a danger to the officer or to any bystander, when the officer escalated the situation, eventually shooting Patrick. 

Most people would agree that when stopped by police, the best response is to comply with instructions and not resist. But most people would also likely contend that lethal force is extremely excessive in a situation that does not involve a weapon or immediate danger to anyone. Patrick may have been wrong in how he responded to the officer, but that gave no cause for lethal force. 

Though I am not African American, I have to imagine that the prevalence of these officer involved deaths of black men for seemingly small infractions has got to have a traumatic effect on one's psyche. It's traumatic for entire communities of people. It's little wonder why so many African Americans do not trust law enforcement. 

In prison, the response to George Floyd's death was anger and frustration, especially among the African American population. The response to Patrick's death has been largely sad resignation. It's a double tragedy that these incidents have become so commonplace that entire communities of people are no longer shocked or surprised by such absurdity. 

Grand Rapids' new police chief has his hands full, and he hasn't even been on the job a month yet. He claims to be reform-minded, and I hope he is for the sake of the community. "Something has to change" has become such a trite response that unless something actually changes, nobody can believe it ever will.

When lethal force is used by those in power, excessive for the problem at hand, it illustrates a double standard in our society. When African Americans and other minorities, especially, but the poor, prisoners, and former prisoners of all colors also, are accused of committing even minor infractions, the consequences are often severe. When people in power commit much more severe crimes, they are often protected from public scrutiny and severe consequences. This double standard further erodes the public's trust in law enforcement and the courts.

New officer training might limit the number of tragic cases like those that led to Patrick Lyoya's death, but only a heart-change in society will lead to real change. We, police officers and citizens alike, must start treating people with inherent dignity first, not as threats to be neutralized. 

Michigan Prisons Relax Mask Mandate

 In what has generated a giant sigh of relief among both prisoners and staff, the Michigan Department of Corrections has this past week relaxed its mask mandate. Prisoners and staff are still urged to wear their masks at all times, but they are no longer required to. 

The new rules released by Lansing have continued the mask mandate for prisoners and their visitors in the visiting rooms, and for prisoners during medical appointments. Additionally, prisoners are required to wear their masks during transportation when transfered to other prisons or to outside medical appointments. 

After two years of being required to wear masks, at least half of which included while outdoors, prisoners are relieved to finally free their faces of their cloth fetters. The day of our faces' release, up and down the hallways in the housing units prisoners were heard joking, "Oh! That's what you look like!" and "What a nice smile! I didn't know you smiled!" 

After two years of Covid restrictions, and incessant mask-wearing, we could use a little something to smile about. At least now we can see the delight (and relief) on each other's faces.

Has America Lost its Capacity for Forgiveness?

 In the last five to ten years, America has developed a ruthless insensitivity to the human condition--people making bad choices sometimes. To be fair, America has had this insensitivity for a lot longer, but it's manifested itself in some vicious ways in recent years. 

Of course, America's obsession with handing out longer and longer sentences for crimes is an easy example to cite. Crimes that used to result in two or three years in prison now earn sometimes decades-long sentences. Mandatory minimums, three-strikes rules, and America's growing dependency on the prison industrial complex have all contributed to these growing sentence lengths. 

For all of America's reputation as "the land of opportunity" and the "land of second chances," in practice the American people would rather create a permanently ostracized class of people than provide second chances. Yes, there's been a movement lately to promote second chances for returning citizens, but this movement has grown side-by-side with a counter movement--the cancel culture. 

During the recent Golden Globes, which I'm surprised anyone watches anymore, Will Smith, arguably one of the best actors of his generation, finally received his long-overdue Golden Globe award. But before he could receive his award, he did something stupid. In response to presenter Chris Rock's "joke" making fun of Jada Smith's medical condition, Will walked up on the stage and slapped Chris. 

A lot of people initially felt compassion for Will because he defended his wife's honor, even if they disagreed with his methods. (This is my position, incidentally.) However, the tide seems to have turned against Smith. Now, he is at great risk of being cancelled by a culture that has lost its capacity for forgiveness. 

If Smith is ostracized by the film industry, he will join a long list of people who have acted badly, and been quickly relegated to a second-class status by society. Sure, it's not the same as joining a permanently ostracized "criminal class" because of committing a crime (though technically his was a crime). Still, it illustrates America's lack of capacity for forgiveness. 

What ever happened to second chances? What ever happened to giving someone a chance to make things right? What ever happened to forgiveness? Must everyone in America be defined by their worst (or most public) offenses? Yes, we need to hold people accountable, and Smith should be held accountable for his actions. But if America really is a land of second chances, why don't we actually give people a chance to make things right? 

Whether it's for Smith or the millions of Americans who are now permanently labeled as criminals, America needs to find its compassion again. We need to find a balance between accountability and forgiveness. When people seek to make right their wrongs, we ought to let them, and even help them! And then, we ought to forgive them and invite them back into fellowship with the rest of society, not push them to the outer edges where we can conveniently forget about them. 

Let's stop treating people like dirty little secrets, instead remembering that we all have the capacity to do wrong. Let's find our capacity to forgive again and begin to be a nation that truly offers second chances. Otherwise, let's stop claiming to be what we aren't.

Protecting Healthy People From Each Other Severely Limits Prison Visits

 Two years ago, when the Covid pandemic hit in full force, the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) cancelled all visit between loved ones and prisoners. My mother had planned to visit the next day. This month marked twenty-six months since my last in-person visit with family or friends. It's been a long separation. 

About a year into this pandemic, the MDOC implemented video visitation for most, if not all, prisons in Michigan. It's not the same as in-person, for sure, but it's better than nothing. However, technology limitations and poor implementation has made video visitation limited and often fraught with problems. 

Since the pandemic has begun to wane, most Michigan prisons have brought back in-person visits, but with restrictions. At the prison where I am housed (Handlon Correctional Facility in Ionia, Michigan), both prisoners and visitors must have a rapid Covid test before their visit. They must also wear masks, and they must sit on opposite sides of a large plexiglass shield. It's a bit overkill, if you ask me. 

Because the plexiglass shields are so large, and to limit the number of people in the room, only four prisoners may have visits at any one time. In practice, this means that for my own housing unit of 240 prisoners, only 12 two hour visiting spots are available per week for visits. It's simply not enough. Too many prisoners have been unable to have visits because of these draconian limitations. 

I was one of the fortunate few to have an in-person visit, with my mother, recently, and though it was wonderful to see her again, it was nearly impossible to hear each other half the time because of the masks and plexiglass barriers. Put even a few people in a closed room who are speaking loudly to hear each other through barriers and the volume makes hearing anything difficult. I'm grateful we both know sign language because we resorted to communicating in sign half the time so we could understand each other.

Fortunately, the corrections staff working the visiting room work to ensure the visits are as pleasant as possible, but they are restricted in what they can do. It's important that the MDOC protects people, though I believe their motives are more about protecting themselves from lawsuits. However, everyone is restriction weary. 

It's time to return to normal, including normal visits in prison. If people must sign waivers promising not to hold the MDOC liable if they catch Covid on a visit, so be it. Besides, if the Covid tests are reliable, why all the extra measures? It makes no sense. Allowing only 5% of a prison housing unit to have visits in one week is not tenable. 

Maintaining healthy relationships with family is one of the primary keys to keeping re-offense rates low. I get that the pandemic complicated things and made visits unavailable, temporarily. But mask mandates are dropping all over the place, and restrictions have been lifted around the world. It's time that the MDOC takes a different strategy and makes it possible for prisoners to see, hug, and visit with their loved ones again.

Victims of Crime Deserve Better Than Stopgap Measures

 One of the things I've struggled with a lot in prison is balancing what I know victims of crime need and the often moronic legislative and prison policies that solve nothing. When someone suffers harm at the hands of another person, that person should be held accountable. I believed this before prison, and I believe it even after 13 years in prison. But I also have a keener sense of justice now, and I know that simply locking up offenders for long periods of time does not accomplish justice. 

If I or someone I loved were a victim of crime, especially violent crime, I would want the offender punished for the harm he or she caused. But getting my pound of flesh would solve nothing. It might make me feel better temporarily, but having the state accomplish my vengeance would do nothing to address the WHY of the crime. It would not reassure victims that offenders are safe to return to society (which happens with most offenders). Yet, punishing crime is essential to maintaining order in society. We cannot let crime go unpunished.

So, how do we balance society's need to deter crime by punishing criminals with the larger needs of justice, like addressing the causes of crime? How do we ensure those who commit crimes are not returned to society as bad or worse off than they were when they committed their crimes in the first place? I don't have all the answers to this dilemma, but here are a few places to start:

1. Let victims have a greater voice in the process.
Instead of the state usurping the offense and making it about a violation of state law, let victims participate in crafting a punishment, and use the legal framework as boundaries of what punishments are allowed. Some victims would be better served by acts of restitution and repentance than long terms of incarceration. And prison sentences should be flexible enough to factor in changes in offenders (including time cuts for milestone achievements). Restitution and restoration should be the goal whenever possible, not solely incapacitation. 

2. Start offenders on a pathway of rehabilitation early in their prison term.
Instead of waiting until an offender is ready to leave prison to address their emotional issues, thinking errors, moral failures, and addiction problems, start this process early so their incarceration becomes a proving ground for change. Prison should also reinforce and reward self-directed rehabilitation.

3. Provide opportunities for offenders to address their own trauma. 
Many offenders have long histories of trauma. This is not an excuse for them turning their pain onto someone else, but addressing this trauma and helping them heal from it could go a long way to preventing future victimization. It could also result in significant reductions in addiction issues. It's not a cliche that hurt people hurt people. It's a reality. 

4. Provide education and job training that is comprehensive and multifaceted. 
It does no good to train someone how to fix plumbing and electrical problems, for example, if he fails to show up to work because he is still deep in his addictions. It also does no good to train someone how to have a legitimate job if he knows nothing about managing his finances, filing taxes, paying bills, budgeting, and living within his means. It also does no good to train someone how to fix cars if he can't get past the interview stage. Many offenders need training in basic interpersonal communication skills, which is essential for job interviews and working with others. 

These ideas are just a start. Victims of crime have to become more important to the criminal justice system. While incapacitation is important, for a time, the end goal ought to be ensuring offenders are safe enough to return to society. Our current system fails to aim for that goal, and it leaves victims in the dark about whether or not offenders are even working to change. Victims of crime deserve better than that. 

This past week, Michigan's Governor signed a bill into law allowing the parole board to keep violent offenders longer by extending the time between parole consideration. This is nothing but a bandaid meant to avoid the real problem: Michigan's prison system does little to nothing to reform its charges. That is the real travesty. That is nothing but the state multiplying the injustice victims have already experienced. Victims of crime deserve better than stopgap measures. They deserve real reform.

Too Young to Buy Cigarettes, But Here, Have a Life Sentence

 This week, I was talking to another prisoner whose life may change if the Michigan Supreme Court rules favorably in a case concerning youthful offenders. After Miller v. Alabama ruled in 2012 that juvenile offenders could not be sentenced to a mandatory life sentence in prison, additional cases have challenged life without parole sentences for offenders aged 18-25 years old. These are referred to as "youthful offenders." Scientific studies have concluded that children's brains are not fully developed, including their ability to make fully rational and thought-out decisions, until around age 25. If the Michigan Supreme Court rules that offenders between 18 and 25 (or some perhaps even a lower age, like 21) cannot be sentenced to a mandatory term of life in prison, several hundred offenders will be eligible for resentencing. 

This other prisoner I spoke with falls into this category. But what stuck out to me in our conversation was the irony he faced when he first came to prison. He's 45 years old today, so when he entered the prison system at 18 years old, prisoners could purchase cigarettes. However, because he was only 18, he was not allowed to purchase them. In other words, he could be held responsible, to the same degree as adults, for the tragic choice he made to kill someone, but he could not be responsible enough to know that cigarettes could kill him. Talk about irony. 

Youth between 18 and 20 are considered not responsible enough to buy cigarettes or purchase alcohol because their brains are too immature. Yet, they can be held responsible, with the full brunt of the law applied to adults, for decisions they make while their brains are not fully developed. Clearly, our laws schizophrenically apply scientific knowledge. 

I contend that youth who make terribly tragic choices, like those that take another person's life, should be held responsible for those choices. But when we choose as a society to put these youthful offenders in prison for the rest of their often very long lives, we fail to consider the science that proves they are not using a fully developed prefrontal cortex. Their rationalization is severely diminished. They are unable to fully comprehend the consequences of their actions. Our laws ought to reflect that fact. 

I don't believe that this prisoner should have been able to purchase cigarettes when he first came to prison. But since our laws are smart enough to acknowledge how stupid it is to let children purchase cigarettes, they ought to be smart enough to take the youthfulness of offenders into account in sentencing. I believe the Michigan Supreme Court will rule favorably for youthful offenders, at least up to 20 years old, but if not, then the Michigan legislature ought to make the change. It's time for Michigan to start using science to inform its laws.

Michigan Prison Shorts

After several years of struggling through the many complications prison presents, a book I co-authored about prison life is finally available for purchase on Amazon.com. This book, titled Insider's Guide to Prison Life, seeks to demystify prison for loved ones on the outside. My goal is to help support and build relationships between those who are incarcerated and their loved ones. If you or someone you know has a loved one in prison, https://www.amazon.com/Insiders-Guide-Prison-Life-Prisoners/dp/B08YFGRLG5/ref=sr_1_1?crid=39HD157HSWZ1D&keywords=insiders+guide+to+prison+life&qid=1646912607&sprefix=insiders+guide+to+prison+life%2Caps%2C108&sr=8-1 is a must read. Buy it now on https://www.amazon.com for $14.99. 

Senate Bill (S.B.) 649, one of the two "good time" bill currently in the Michigan legislature, has been held up for months now from even receiving a hearing. The Senator holding up this hearing is Senator Roger Victory, the chair of the judiciary committee. If you would like to see good time for Michigan prisoners passed, or even debated by the legislature, contact Senator Victory and urge him to schedule a hearing. He can be contacted at SenRVictory@senate.michigan.gov or (517) 373-6920. 

Another important piece of legislation held up by Senator Victory is S.B. 487, which would create a community oversight committee for Women's Huron Valley prison. After numerous lawsuits have failed to improve conditions and safety at the only women's prison in Michigan, it is critical that the MDOC be held accountable. A community oversight committee would provide that essential accountability. Other states have implemented such a committee, which provides an important level of accountability, especially when corrections departments fail to correct confinement conditions. Contact Senator Victory to urge him to schedule a hearing on this bill as well. SenRVictory@senate.michigan.gov or (517) 373-6920. 

Although the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 2012 that mandatory life sentences for juvenile offenders were unconstitutional, Michigan has STILL not resentenced quite a few offenders sentenced as juveniles to life in prison. Various prosecutors have also failed to follow the Supreme Court's guidelines, so some who have been resentenced must be resentenced again. It's a complete waste of resources, simply because Michigan continues to view juvenile offenders like adults. A package of bills has been introduced to ensure juvenile offenders cannot be sentenced to life without parole. They are S.B. 848-851. If you would like to track the progress of these bills or give your input regarding them, contact https://www.safeandjustmi.org to receive timely updates. Their email address is info@safeandjustmi.org.   

The Adolescent Redemption Project (TARP) is another organization working tirelessly to end life without parole for youthful offenders (14-25 years old). TARP is active on social media and offers opportunities for people in free society to hear directly from men and women who were sentenced to life without parole as youthful offenders. You can follow their work at www.AdolescentRedemptionProject.org, on Twitter at @TARP4Mercy, on Facebook under The Adolescent Redemption Project, and InstaGram @AdolescentRedemptionProject. 

I hope you'll take the time to support the great work these organizations are doing and to urge the Michigan legislature to finally act on these important bills. 

Capping Life Sentences in Michigan Could Solve Sentencing Dilemmas

 (Guest post by Arthur Cayce)

Michigan legislators face controversial problems when new criminal justice bills are introduced. First, they must figure out whether or not to bar Michigan courts from sentencing juveniles to life without parole, which federal courts and science have determined is unjust and unconstitutional. A second concern is whether or not banning such sentences would flood Michigan's communities with people who had been convicted for crimes that formerly required long indeterminate or life without parole sentences. My answer to this quandary is simple: cap life sentences. Such proposed legislation should serve the concerns of the Michigan legislature as well as those of the public. 

Legislation banning life sentences would cap minimum sentences at 20-25 years. This eliminates any sentence imposed on individuals with outrageous numbers, such as 150 years to life. Under these new guidelines, those who have committed acts of first- and/or second-degree murder, regardless of the offender's age, or other crimes, would have a fair sentence. This adjustment to the law not only coincides with the science that minds under 25 years are underdeveloped, but it also affords enough time where individuals tend to age out of criminal behavior. 

Yet, these sentences would also come with a contingency, where the judge, prosecutor, or parole board can evaluate the heinousness of the crime and apply the maximum end of a life sentence to 30-50 years. Crimes such as serial rape or murder, or domestic terrorism, which are deemed most horrendous, would require intense rehabilitation and psychological investigation before the person is considered for parole. These revisions are not only fair and constitutional, but they protect the public's interest that justice is served and allows the initiator of the crime enough time away from society for proper rehabilitation. 

That said, since currently the MDOC is not geared for rehabilitation and reconciliation but is founded on philosophies of confinement and punishment, the legislature must implement a new process towards corrective behavior. By doing so, offenders will have the necessary means to correct their thought processes and become successful members of society once leaving the corrections system. 

When proposals like mine have been raised, one question posed includes: Will the legislation be retroactive? The answer is, yes! Offenders who are currently serving life without parole sentences, life with the possibility of parole, or numbers that are effectively life sentences (40-80 or 100-150 years, for example) will go before the parole board or a judge for a second look at their sentence length.

Another concern would be that by making this legislation retroactive, Michigan communities may still face a flood of ex-felons, especially when Covid-19 has correlated with spikes in crime. So, why resentence? First, as science has proven, individuals over the age of 40 often age out of criminal behavior. Second, parole board can "flop" people who have high potential to reoffend as shown by their institutional record. 

The parole board also generally releases offenders back to their home counties or states. This dispersal of ex-felons to their origins will help lessen the fears of Michigan's communities. Furthermore, releasing felons that have received higher education, a vocational trade, or have a strong support system awaiting them after release can reduce repeat offenses. These offenders should be considered first. Also, at the top of the list are those felons who are aged 60 years or older. These prisoners are highly unlikely to commit crimes upon release and are usually a burden on the prison health care system.

This potential legislation, capping life sentences, makes a lot of sense and resolves Michigan's current quandary on how to handle juvenile and young adult offenders.

Political Posturing Aims for Re-Election, not for Problem Solving

 For the last decade, or so, criminal justice and prison reforms have trickled through legislatures around the county. Some of these reforms have been motivated by Supreme Court cases, like the ban on mandatory life without parole sentences for juveniles (Miller v. Alabama, 2012). Other reforms have been through grassroots efforts. These reforms have been largely encouraging, though often slow in execution, for those of us in prison. But I sense a shift changing in the conversation, and it's making me nervous. 

The last couple of years have seen significant increases in crime rates in some major cities, and probably modest increases in many smaller cities. This is a disturbing trend. But rather than seeking to address the causes of the recent rise in crime, some politicians are seeking to weaponize tragedy for political gain. 

One such subject that has become increasingly politicized is bail reform. Many politicians and reform advocates considered bail reform low hanging fruit because it was largely uncontroversial and addressed an area of the criminal justice system that disproportionately affected low income people and racial minorities. The argument was that bail reform was necessary to fix occasions where people lost jobs and their children because they could not afford even low bail amounts. The discussion on bail reform centered on non-violent, low-level offenses. 

Unfortunately, many of the bail reform policies have had imperfect application. When a few judges released potentially violent offenders who committed more crimes after their no-bail release, some politicians capitalized on these occasions to deride bail reform in its entirety. They are dead wrong. Bail reform is necessary, even if it needs tweaking to prevent some offenders from committing more violence. We should not trample on the rights of many to justify holding a few. 

When politicians weaponize tragedy, they create fear in the public and motivate people to vote for their party. Just such a strategy is happening as I write. Rising crime rates are not caused by bail or sentence reforms. Bail reform stems from recognizing the injustice and inequality in our criminal justice system that has historically favored those with money and social privilege. Sentence reforms stem from scientific evidence that longer sentences do not lead to greater rehabilitation and do not make communities safer. 

Demands for harsher sentencing, the return of unjust use of bail, or even no-fly lists for unruly plane passengers will not make America safer. These are bandaids that have already proven to be a very costly failure, both monetarily and in terms of broken families and lost years for those incarcerated. Politicians ought to tackle the root of the problem, like economic and job insecurity, crumbling mental health, and the unbearable tension caused by constant political infighting. 

But tackling these issues will not gain votes. The public feels safer with harsh responses to crime, not calls for solving root problems. And so, we continue this senseless rollercoaster of criminal justice policy changes. 

Let's let history teach us something, shall we? Let's look back at the complete failure of the criminal justice policies from the '80s and '90s that led to mass incarceration in America. And let's not repeat these mistakes by thinking the iron fist of the law will solve the causes of crime. It won't. It'll only lead to greater heartbreak for millions of Americans. 

It's time we turn the catchphrase "Smart on Crime" into action. Let's continue to make smart reforms that lower incarceration while making investments in communities (including prison) that address the causes of crime. Yes, crime needs to be punished, and communities need to be safe by removing offenders for a time. But let's not think that historical policies of "lock 'em up and throw away the key" work. They didn't then, and they won't now. It's time that America begins holding politicians accountable for their political slight of hand that aims to do one thing, and one thing alone: get them re-elected.

What Good Time Legislation Would Mean to Me

 When Michigan citizens voted in so-called Truth in Sentencing, eliminating opportunities for Michigan's prisoners to earn time off their sentences, they likely did so thinking it was the right thing to do. Certainly, victims of crime deserve justice for the harms we've caused them. But the authors of the Truth in Sentencing legislation failed to explain to Michigan voters how longer prison sentences equated to justice. 

A basic concept in the field of psychology highlights the fact that positive reinforcement is more effective in changing behavior than either negative or positive punishment. Punishment certainly has it's place in the justice system. Crime should be punished. But removing all positive reinforcements, like reducing sentences for demonstrating good behavior, reinforces that Michigan's justice system's primary goal is retribution. 

This outmoded singular concept of justice fails to acknowledge that most prisoners will one day return to their communities. If we fail to reinforce good behavior while prisoners are serving their time, how can society expect these returning citizens to highly value good behavior upon exiting prison? Most prisoners committed crimes because of misplaced or immoral value systems. Good time legislation will not fix this problem, but it assists in reinforcing the value of positive moral behavior. 

I am currently serving a 17-45 year sentence for criminal sexual conduct. I deserved to be punished for my crime. I needed the time that prison has afforded me to rethink my own value system, to correct faulty thinking patterns, and to build a moral value system that respects all life and seeks to defend the vulnerable in our society. I'm ashamed of my past behavior, but I've fought hard to use that shame to compel me to change. I would have done this work with or without so-called good time legislation because it was critical to my own journey. I have done all of this work of transformation without the help of the Michigan Department of Corrections. Their goal is to simply warehouse prisoners until their release date, fulfilling their obligations on paper rather than focusing on transforming lives. 

To be fair, the work of transformation is difficult and probably expensive. But it cannot possibly be more expensive than funding a revolving door into prison. That's one reason why the Michigan people ought to value the hard work that prisoners do, often on their own, to become safe, contributing citizens who will not only be safe in their communities but who will also work to make amends for the harms they've caused. When prisoners demonstrate initiative to transform their thinking and behavior, society ought to reinforce those positive behaviors. 

Since coming to prison, I have worked on addictive thinking and behaviors, including becoming a group leader for Celebrate Recovery. I have also earned a bachelor's degree in Faith and Community Leadership through Calvin University (www.calvin.edu/prisoninitiative), and written a book about prison for loved ones on the outside ("Insider's Guide to Prison Life"). Additionally, I've worked to help other prisoners better themselves through developing and facilitating college prep classes, facilitating life skills classes, tutoring trades and college students, and participated in restorative justice dialogues. These are only a small sample of the important rehabilitative work I've done during my last thirteen years in prison. 

To be sure, my own journey of transformation will continue on the other side of these fences. I anticipate maintaining a growth mindset for the rest of my life. Those I've harmed deserve at least that much from me. If Michigan decides to reward prisoners who are focused on becoming safe, contributing citizens, it would mean that I can continue giving back on the other side of these fences. It would also mean I can help care for my mother, and help my brother with his business. It would mean I can begin to find ways to help heal the wounds I've caused, and if that is not possible, to help prevent others from causing the same kinds of wounds. 

Justice can never be measured in years. Instead, it should be measured by what prison intends to accomplish. If Michigan simply wants to get offenders out of communities for as long as possible and return them to their communities unchanged, or sadly often worse off, it should not pass good time legislation. If, however, Michigan wants to join the other 49 states in reinforcing good behavior and self-directed rehabilitative efforts, then good time legislation makes sense for Michigan. 

What Exactly Does it Take to Qualify for Parole from Prison?

 The book of Proverbs says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick" (13:12), an experience probably shared by nearly everyone. One doesn't have to be incarcerated to experience deferred hope. It's a common human experience. 

In prisons, the object of one's hope is often freedom. Most prisoners are eligible for freedom at some point, though many more are not. Yet, those with non-parolable life sentences sometimes still hold onto hope that their condition will change. Perhaps a law will change, or new evidence will change their sentence, or, the ultimate unicorn, a governor might commute one's sentence. These all leave a shred of hope dangling precariously in the middle of the powerful trap jaws of disappointment. With nothing else to hold onto, it's difficult for prisoners to avoid reaching out for this hope, even if disappointment has snapped it's vicious jaws down time after time. 

One subset of prisoners, those with parolable life sentences, face a unique situation. Their sentences are technically for one's natural life, but the parolable part means they can be paroled (after 15 years in Michigan) if the conditions are right. But those conditions are not spelled out. So these prisoners are left to try their hardest to demonstrate rehabilitation. The problem is that with a life sentence, they are not eligible for more programming in prison. They are forbidden, by policy, from participating in programming that will demonstrate an effort to rehabilitate. 

Still, many of these prisoners find a way to put in the work. Such is the case with a friend of mine, whom I'll call K.D. K.D. was sentenced, as a juvenile, to parolable life in prison for committing a murder while he was high on drugs. Since that time, K.D. has participated in as many programs as he could find a way into, including training seeing-eye dogs for the blind, and earning a college degree. He has also attended and now helps lead voluntary substance abuse classes. He's done all he knows to do to demonstrate he is rehabilitated. 

In recent years, a U.S. Supreme Court case deemed it unconstitutional to sentence juveniles to a mandatory life sentence. But parolable life sentences are not considered "life" under this ruling. Thus, K.D. does not qualify to be resentenced to a term of years. This should not pose much of a problem since after serving more than two decades in prison he is already eligible for parole. But the victim in his case belonged to a family with political connections. And thus begin the vicious jaws of disappoint to snap shut. 

After having to wait five years since the parole board last expressed no interest in releasing him, K.D. has worked even harder to demonstrate that he is rehabilitated. Yet, despite all of the positive demonstrations in his parole file, the parole board recently announced they were, yet again, not interested. In Michigan, the parole board does not have to give a reason for their denial, either. They simply state, "No interest." 

When a judge sentences an offender to a parolable life sentence, his or her intention is that the offender has a chance to leave prison, provided the prisoner demonstrates rehabilitation. Parolable life sentences were never meant to be used as a tool to curry political favor. Although victims' families have a right to file objections to the release of a prisoner serving a parolable life sentence, those objections ought to be taken into account in light of the prisoner's demonstrated work of rehabilitation. Objections must be measured against the backdrop of demonstrated rehabilitation; otherwise, what's the point? 

The chance at freedom ought to be real to those who qualify for it, not dangled forever out of reach after being served on a platter of hope. Prison is supposed to be part of a system of justice, not a system that perpetuates injustice. Favoring those with political connections is just such an example of injustice. If the justice system never intended to release someone, they should not have issued a sentence based on the hope of eventual releases. 

Today, K.D.'s hope for release is not dead, but he must wait another five years to find out if what he does between now and then will be enough. He must wait another five years to find out if political games, not demonstrated rehabilitation, continue to determine whether or not he'll leave prison.

Trying to Make Sense of Nonsense in Prison

 "It makes no sense!" one prisoner complained to another on his way to chow. "First, they lock the close contact prisoners in the dayroom," the first prisoner continued, "then they let the prisoners who tested positive for Covid run around the housing unit with those who tested negative." His comments came the morning after more Covid testing resulted in twenty-four positive tests in our housing unit. 

"Are you trying to make sense of what the administration does around here?" the second prisoner asked sarcastically. "You know how it is in prison. Common sense is not common, and logic is totally missing."  

This scene, which actually took place on a recent morning walk to breakfast, is common to hear in prison. Prisoners complain about the illogical decision making of the prison administration and prison guards. Usually, after the prisoner grumbles for a minute or two, either reality dawns on him, or someone reminds him of reality. Administrative decisions in prison are often illogical. It's illogical to expect otherwise. 

But it's difficult to not be perplexed by the complete idiocy of some decisions. I suppose several possibilities for this idiocy exists. Perhaps decisions are made out of ignorance. Or, they could be driven by bureaucratic rules that often make no sense on the application level. Finally, and the one most prisoners default to blaming, is idiotic decisions might have nefarious motives. 

When, for example, the twenty-four prisoners in our housing unit who tested positive for Covid-19 were recently allowed to roam around the housing unit for hours before they were moved, it made no sense. They were unnecessarily exposing those of us who tested negative. When their bunkies, who tested negative but were deemed "close contact," were locked in the dayroom for hours during this same time, the decision felt beyond idiotic. At first, many of us believed it was bureaucratic nonsense that led to this decision, but then we heard the officers talking. They were aware of the stupidity of such actions, and they laughed about it. 

Prisoners are often cynical about decisions made by prison staff, and sometimes those decisions, while illogical on their face, have at least a reasonable motive behind them. This is not one of those cases. Despite department claims that it is doing all it can to protect its wards (us prisoners), those public relations sound bites ring hollow. Instead of being driven by the goal to prevent the spread of Covid-19, it often feels like decisions are driven by low staff levels and hazard pay bonuses available during outbreak statuses. 

I admit, prison has made me highly cynical of bureaucrats, especially of those who thumb their noses at rules, laws, and common decency while punishing me for breaking the law. It's difficult to not feel jaded at a time like this. Yet, despite the prison administration's best attempts to spread the virus around, I'll continue to take all available measures in this highly congested system to protect myself.