FriscoLady
09-04-2003, 06:03 PM
TRANSITION AFTER JAIL TOUGH FOR EX-INMATES
September 3, 2003
By Darrell Laurant
Lynchburg News and Advance
The proverbial "debt to society" isn't always paid when an inmate is released from prison or jail. Very often, interest has accrued at the other end - sometimes, literally.
"If you have fines that are unpaid when you go to jail," said Sherman Calloway of the ex-offender support group Virginia CARES, "they're still there when you come out. And the clock keeps ticking - most of the time, interest has been building up.
"So what happens is, an ex-offender is released and finds he or she can't get any credit because of those fines. And all they have when they leave prison is $25."
Moreover, if you have a felony on your record in Virginia:
You can't live in subsidized housing for at least five years. If your family happens to be living there when you get out, you can't live with them.
You can't receive food stamps for five years if your offense was drug-related.
You can't vote, at least not until you petition the governor.
You are barred from working in a wide range of occupations, including some types of health care, banks and schools.
You can't go hunting (even if your offense was non-violent and did not involve firearms), an especially painful penalty in rural areas of Virginia.
"Another problem," Calloway said, "is that since Sept. 11, we've been having a real hard time getting ID cards made up for people who are coming out, especially if they no longer have their birth certificate."
Calloway said his organization, which operates in conjunction with the Lynchburg Community Action Group and is partially state funded, served more than 500 former prisoners from July 2002 to July 2003.
"They're referred to us by probation officers and some other organizations," Calloway said, "and we help them with clothing, financial assistance, housing and employment."
The latter is the cornerstone of rehabilitation, but often difficult for an ex-inmate - especially an ex-felon - to grasp.
"We work with men who are in recovery," said Stephanie Beckner, director of the Gateway at 12th and Church streets, "and usually a drug or alcohol problem and trouble with the law go hand-in-hand. So we do get ex-offenders, but they've been through their initial treatment before they get to us, and they're very closely monitored when they're here. Even so, it's extremely hard to find work for them.
"I've been all over town for some of these guys, and nothing. Of the 11 men on our short-term floor, only two are currently employed."
Complicating matters for short-term Gateway residents is their 10 p.m. curfew, which can eliminate them from consideration for jobs with rotating shiftwork.
Gloria Slayden, who is living at the Courtland Center in downtown Lynchburg while she completes ARISE drug and alcohol treatment, has a similar problem.
"I got a job in a restaurant," she said, "but I'm not able to get that many hours, and I'm barely making enough for the $110 a week it costs to live here. They have a meeting every Tuesday night where I'm living, and I always dread it, because I know the subject of rent is going to come up."
For the majority of released inmates, drug and alcohol treatment is critical - and for many of those, the window of opportunity before relapse is small. Unfortunately, although many inmates are paroled under the condition that they check into a rehab center, that's not as easy as it seems in Central Virginia.
"We have 22 beds in our residential center," said Augustus Fagan of Central Virginia Community Services, which administers the ARISE program, "and for every bed, there's someone waiting for it. Right now, we don't have an opening until October."
Meanwhile, emerging inmates may have "dried out" from the physical effects of a drug or alcohol habit, but not the psychological effects.
"They have drug treatments in prison," said Community Services spokeswoman Christy Johnson, "but they're usually not very effective."
Slayden said she tried unsuccessfully to go back to a better-paying job she had held before serving nine months at the Blue Ridge Regional Jail.
"I had gone to court one day, got convicted and got locked right up," she said. "When I went back to my work after I got out, they said they wouldn't rehire me because I didn't give them two weeks notice."
Robert Flood, a former basketball star at E.C. Glass who served time in the 1980s, recalled: "What I kept hearing was, 'Thanks, but we've got somebody who's more qualified.' I wound up working at the YWCA, scrubbing floors on my hands and knees. But at least I was working."
Some inmates are directed to their home community under conditions of parole. Others, however, face a difficult choice - return home, where they may get financial help from family members but face temptations from their old crowd, or try a new place where they have no past, but also no support.
"I'm originally from Altavista," said Slayden, "but I'm not going back there. It would be too much, because there's always people who don't want you to succeed. I'm proud of what I've accomplished so far."
Gerard Hutcherson, on the other hand, never considered leaving Lynchburg - even though being the brother of Mayor Carl Hutcherson added to his embarrassment over having served 12 months for habitual driving offenses.
"I never got any DUIs or anything like that," he said, "but I kept getting caught driving without a license. Eventually, they label you a habitual offender, and the second time you get caught after that, it's a mandatory 12 months."
One reason Hutcherson was driving without a license was because he didn't have the money to pay some earlier fines.
"When I got out, though, I paid off all $2,400 of it," he said. "Then I started rebuilding my life."
While in BRRJ, Hutcherson started a Bible study and worked with a fatherhood group. "I felt like Judge Perrow gave me 12 months in jail, but God gave me 12 months to change," he said.
He also realized how ill-equipped many of his fellow inmates were for the outside world.
"I met quite a few people who couldn't read and write," Hutcherson said. "They'd just learned how to fake it. These are people who really need to be able to feel a sense of accomplishment, because they haven't had that."
Self-esteem can be difficult to come by for a released inmate, however, especially if he or she receive daily reminders of their past.
"We get some hateful looks from people when we get out," said a BRRJ inmate named Diane. "I don't think people realize that not everyone in jail is a bad person. Some of them are even innocent."
That self-esteem issue is why former Lynchburg City Council member Gilliam Cobbs has lobbied relentlessly over the past 10 years to change the commonwealth's law barring felons from voting.
"We have a awful lot of people in jail," Cobbs said recently, "so I guess that law can't be much of a deterrent."
Current Gov. Mark Warner did reduce the pardon application from a dozen pages to a single page, Cobbs said, and pledged to answer any request within six months.
"That's half a loaf, which I guess is better than none," Cobbs said. "I'd like to see voting rights restored automatically when a person is released, and I'm still working for that. Not letting someone vote sends the wrong message to them. They're still having to pay taxes, so that's really taxation without representation."
Not only do ex-offenders not have any effective lobbyists, but those with felony records can't vote.
"These are people who are very poorly organized, and have no political clout," Cobbs pointed out. "That makes it very hard to get some of these laws changed that were passed so that legislators could appear to be tough on crime."
That lack of clout has become quite evident to groups like the Interfaith Outreach Association (which teaches Progressive Release classes in the Blue Ridge Regional Jail) and Virginia CARES.
"There's nowhere near enough funding," Calloway said. "These people need a lot of help."
Or, as Beckner put it: "I just wish somebody would give some of these guys a chance."
This article does deal with Virginia, however, I thought it would give some idea as to what ex-inmates face nationwide.
Patti
September 3, 2003
By Darrell Laurant
Lynchburg News and Advance
The proverbial "debt to society" isn't always paid when an inmate is released from prison or jail. Very often, interest has accrued at the other end - sometimes, literally.
"If you have fines that are unpaid when you go to jail," said Sherman Calloway of the ex-offender support group Virginia CARES, "they're still there when you come out. And the clock keeps ticking - most of the time, interest has been building up.
"So what happens is, an ex-offender is released and finds he or she can't get any credit because of those fines. And all they have when they leave prison is $25."
Moreover, if you have a felony on your record in Virginia:
You can't live in subsidized housing for at least five years. If your family happens to be living there when you get out, you can't live with them.
You can't receive food stamps for five years if your offense was drug-related.
You can't vote, at least not until you petition the governor.
You are barred from working in a wide range of occupations, including some types of health care, banks and schools.
You can't go hunting (even if your offense was non-violent and did not involve firearms), an especially painful penalty in rural areas of Virginia.
"Another problem," Calloway said, "is that since Sept. 11, we've been having a real hard time getting ID cards made up for people who are coming out, especially if they no longer have their birth certificate."
Calloway said his organization, which operates in conjunction with the Lynchburg Community Action Group and is partially state funded, served more than 500 former prisoners from July 2002 to July 2003.
"They're referred to us by probation officers and some other organizations," Calloway said, "and we help them with clothing, financial assistance, housing and employment."
The latter is the cornerstone of rehabilitation, but often difficult for an ex-inmate - especially an ex-felon - to grasp.
"We work with men who are in recovery," said Stephanie Beckner, director of the Gateway at 12th and Church streets, "and usually a drug or alcohol problem and trouble with the law go hand-in-hand. So we do get ex-offenders, but they've been through their initial treatment before they get to us, and they're very closely monitored when they're here. Even so, it's extremely hard to find work for them.
"I've been all over town for some of these guys, and nothing. Of the 11 men on our short-term floor, only two are currently employed."
Complicating matters for short-term Gateway residents is their 10 p.m. curfew, which can eliminate them from consideration for jobs with rotating shiftwork.
Gloria Slayden, who is living at the Courtland Center in downtown Lynchburg while she completes ARISE drug and alcohol treatment, has a similar problem.
"I got a job in a restaurant," she said, "but I'm not able to get that many hours, and I'm barely making enough for the $110 a week it costs to live here. They have a meeting every Tuesday night where I'm living, and I always dread it, because I know the subject of rent is going to come up."
For the majority of released inmates, drug and alcohol treatment is critical - and for many of those, the window of opportunity before relapse is small. Unfortunately, although many inmates are paroled under the condition that they check into a rehab center, that's not as easy as it seems in Central Virginia.
"We have 22 beds in our residential center," said Augustus Fagan of Central Virginia Community Services, which administers the ARISE program, "and for every bed, there's someone waiting for it. Right now, we don't have an opening until October."
Meanwhile, emerging inmates may have "dried out" from the physical effects of a drug or alcohol habit, but not the psychological effects.
"They have drug treatments in prison," said Community Services spokeswoman Christy Johnson, "but they're usually not very effective."
Slayden said she tried unsuccessfully to go back to a better-paying job she had held before serving nine months at the Blue Ridge Regional Jail.
"I had gone to court one day, got convicted and got locked right up," she said. "When I went back to my work after I got out, they said they wouldn't rehire me because I didn't give them two weeks notice."
Robert Flood, a former basketball star at E.C. Glass who served time in the 1980s, recalled: "What I kept hearing was, 'Thanks, but we've got somebody who's more qualified.' I wound up working at the YWCA, scrubbing floors on my hands and knees. But at least I was working."
Some inmates are directed to their home community under conditions of parole. Others, however, face a difficult choice - return home, where they may get financial help from family members but face temptations from their old crowd, or try a new place where they have no past, but also no support.
"I'm originally from Altavista," said Slayden, "but I'm not going back there. It would be too much, because there's always people who don't want you to succeed. I'm proud of what I've accomplished so far."
Gerard Hutcherson, on the other hand, never considered leaving Lynchburg - even though being the brother of Mayor Carl Hutcherson added to his embarrassment over having served 12 months for habitual driving offenses.
"I never got any DUIs or anything like that," he said, "but I kept getting caught driving without a license. Eventually, they label you a habitual offender, and the second time you get caught after that, it's a mandatory 12 months."
One reason Hutcherson was driving without a license was because he didn't have the money to pay some earlier fines.
"When I got out, though, I paid off all $2,400 of it," he said. "Then I started rebuilding my life."
While in BRRJ, Hutcherson started a Bible study and worked with a fatherhood group. "I felt like Judge Perrow gave me 12 months in jail, but God gave me 12 months to change," he said.
He also realized how ill-equipped many of his fellow inmates were for the outside world.
"I met quite a few people who couldn't read and write," Hutcherson said. "They'd just learned how to fake it. These are people who really need to be able to feel a sense of accomplishment, because they haven't had that."
Self-esteem can be difficult to come by for a released inmate, however, especially if he or she receive daily reminders of their past.
"We get some hateful looks from people when we get out," said a BRRJ inmate named Diane. "I don't think people realize that not everyone in jail is a bad person. Some of them are even innocent."
That self-esteem issue is why former Lynchburg City Council member Gilliam Cobbs has lobbied relentlessly over the past 10 years to change the commonwealth's law barring felons from voting.
"We have a awful lot of people in jail," Cobbs said recently, "so I guess that law can't be much of a deterrent."
Current Gov. Mark Warner did reduce the pardon application from a dozen pages to a single page, Cobbs said, and pledged to answer any request within six months.
"That's half a loaf, which I guess is better than none," Cobbs said. "I'd like to see voting rights restored automatically when a person is released, and I'm still working for that. Not letting someone vote sends the wrong message to them. They're still having to pay taxes, so that's really taxation without representation."
Not only do ex-offenders not have any effective lobbyists, but those with felony records can't vote.
"These are people who are very poorly organized, and have no political clout," Cobbs pointed out. "That makes it very hard to get some of these laws changed that were passed so that legislators could appear to be tough on crime."
That lack of clout has become quite evident to groups like the Interfaith Outreach Association (which teaches Progressive Release classes in the Blue Ridge Regional Jail) and Virginia CARES.
"There's nowhere near enough funding," Calloway said. "These people need a lot of help."
Or, as Beckner put it: "I just wish somebody would give some of these guys a chance."
This article does deal with Virginia, however, I thought it would give some idea as to what ex-inmates face nationwide.
Patti