NEWSINCARCERATION

We're were in rural, rebel flag country over the weekend, where razor ribbon, re-po joints and roadkill adorn these flat Georgia highways.

After waking up in a parking lot to the bang of garbage trucks doing their job, Pat LaMarche and I finished our posts (hers can be found at Huffington Post). We left our "camping" spot in Georgia Southern University's parking lot and headed to Tallahassee, rolling diagonally across the Peach State.

Speaking with folks at our GA Southern event the previous night confirmed what we've seen so far on this 2,000 mile, 8-state journey: rampant poverty and hidden homelessness take the "shine" off bucolic rural life. A school social worker, obviously stressed by her day-to-day challenges, begged for information about how to start a shelter for the desperate families in her community.

You've heard of halfway houses, right? Halfway to independence is the claim. These residences are designed to assist individuals who are recently released from prison, substance abuse, and/or mental health in-patient facilities and other institutionalized settings to make a smoother transition back to independent living. In theory, they are essential boarding houses that maximize successful independent living and minimize the chances of recidivism back to institutional living. Yet, the reality often does not match the mission.

In New York City we also have three-quarter houses. The name would imply even more support and a smoother transition, yet this is not the case. These "residences" have illegally subdivided apartments with a dozen or more people sleeping on bunk beds in each small apartment. The buildings usually have hundreds of housing code violations. Shelters would claim these were housing placements, even though many of the residents would end up leaving these inhumane conditions to go back to shelters or the streets. In addition, many of the homeless shelter residents placed in these three-quarter houses suffer from severe mental illness, including schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and major depression. There are no supportive services on site, which are critical for these vulnerable New Yorkers.

Is prison meant to punish and demoralize or teach and rehabilitate? To look at the U.S. prison system, you might conclude that our aim is the former. Too bad the latter is a more effective approach, less damaging to individuals and their families over time — including victims and their families. The U.S. prison even causes inmates to experience significant wage decreases after they get out of jail. Lack of rehabilitation, less money ... doesn't seem like a recipe for success.

With close elections all over the country, the debate about the economic upside of early release has been raging in battleground areas. Florida has the nation's third largest prison system, and by 2030, one third of the Florida prison population will be over 50.

Accordingly, politicians in the Sunshine State are arguing about whether non-violent elderly prisoners should be up for early release. In a frighteningly bad economy, the idea is simple. Implementing an early release program saves the state millions of dollars, and also frees non-violent offenders who have suffered unusually harsh sentences. In particular, aging female prisoners — who were many times acting in self-defense against an abuser — pose no threat to society. Fifteen percent of Florida's prison population is already elderly, and that group accounts for one-third of the inmates expected to die behind bars.

Florida's Senate Bill 484 (and companion House Bill 1515) would create the Elderly Rehabilitated Inmate Program, which would allow inmates who have served over 25 years to be eligible to petition for early parole. Those released would be required to perform an additional ten hours of community service for every year served and would be electronically monitored for at least the first year after their release.

As if the nation's 9.6 percent unemployment rate wasn't bad enough, a new report (pdf) from the Pew Charitable Trusts points out that the rate does not include the 2.3 million Americans who are currently behind bars. What's more, when those prisoners are released, they will experience an average 40 percent drop in earnings, severely limiting their economic mobility.

Among the many disheartening statistics in the report: two-thirds of male inmates had jobs and more than half were the primary financial providers for their children before they were incarcerated. After release, the economic reality for former inmates is very different; on average, they work nine fewer weeks and take home almost $16,000 less per year than they did pre-prison.

You might guess that moving up the economic ladder is rather difficult under such conditions. Indeed, the report finds that among former inmates who were at the bottom of the earnings distribution in the mid-80s, the majority (two-thirds) were still there in 2006. By comparison, the rate of economically stagnant non-incarcerated men was half that.

The report also highlights some disturbing racial/ethnic divides:

• One in 87 working-age white men is in prison or jail, compared with 1 in 36 Hispanic men and 1 in 12 African-American men.
• More young African-American men without high school diplomas or GEDs are behind bars (37 percent) than are employed (26 percent).
• The post-prison drop in earnings is also variable by race/ethnicity: white men earn 52 percent less after serving time, Hispanic men earn 41 percent less and African-American men earn 44 percent less.

We've all done it — zipped along at 35 mph in a 25 zone, accidentally missed a stop sign, gone without the headlights on at dusk. Many of us have also gotten caught. For most people, the officer issues a ticket, which the offender knows in the most reluctant corner of his mind he deserves, and the next day he drops a check for $75 in the mail. Besides being a little more careful about speed limits for the next few weeks, his life goes on as usual.

Imagine a different scenario — you're a single mother of three making minimum wage, and you need your car to get to work. When you can't pay the $75, the state suspends your driver's license. In no time at all, you've lost your job, putting you in an even worse position to make good on the fine. The fine increases as months go by. Background checks for other jobs reveal your "criminal" past and paint you as a liability, but you're also ineligible to receive government benefits. You become, in legal terms, a fugitive. It's a strong word for someone who has no history of violence or even petty crime. One speeding ticket can derail your life for years.

The U.S. Marshalls Service describes the Fugitive Safe Surrender Program as an option which "offers individuals with felony and misdemeanor warrants the ability to turn themselves in to law enforcement and have their cases adjudicated in a safe and non-violent environment." The program, currently run in 18 states with financial support legislated by a section of the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act of 2006, does not guarantee amnesty. However, it is a safe place for America's thousands of petty fugitives — many of them low-income Americans who were unable to pay their fines — to plead their cases in a non-threatening environment, and often have their sentences and fines reduced.

While the program is useful for a wide range of crimes, I see the most positive application being in the cases of people like the hypothetical situation above. If a person voluntarily comes to a safe surrender event explaining why her living situation precludes her from paying, fines can be reduced to as little as one percent of the original amount. That's a 75-cent speeding ticket for our hypothetical mom.

How would you feel if you were just walking to your apartment — say carrying some groceries home from the store or on your way home from school — and you got stopped by the police, questioned and frisked, right in front of your own building?

If you said "outraged," you're not alone. Tenants in public housing in New York are suing the NYPD over its "stop-and-frisk" policy. When police representatives were asked to explain and answer questions about the policy for residents, they were silent.

Under the policy, whether or not the police catch you doing anything wrong, your name goes into a database kept by the NYPD. The state branch of the American Civil Liberties Union says the policy violates a state law that requires that criminal records be sealed if someone is acquitted. Tell the NYPD to end its invasive "stop and frisk" policy.

Chicago police have a similar tactic, called "contact cards." Out and about? If the cops notice you, they'll pull you to the side and ask you to fill out a contact card with your name, address and Social Security number. What for? Well, if there's a crime committed in the area by a suspect matching your description, they'll know who to contact.

I know this happens — it happened to me. I went to a public housing complex to interview a resident leader there and was waved down by a cop when I tried to enter the building. "What are you doing here?" she asked, telling me I needed to fill out a contact card. "Why are you here alone?" she persisted. I explained that it was my job, that I was a reporter covering public housing and she was free to call my boss. "That won't be necessary," said the officer, as she eyed me suspiciously. "But we're going to keep an eye on you while you're here."

As my colleague Colin Asher notes over on the Criminal Justice blog, there is something very interesting afoot in Harlem: a new housing development is making its units available not only to low-income New Yorkers, but to people who have been incarcerated and are now homeless.

Castle Gardens, as the development is known, is offering more than half of its 113 units to homeless people who have served time in prison, while the rest of the apartments will go to individuals and families making 40 to 60 percent of the median income for the area.

Of course, 113 apartments is but a drop in the bucket when it comes to addressing the housing needs of down-on-their-luck New Yorkers. (Predictably, the development has already received over a thousand applications.) But Castle Gardens is still significant. For one thing, as Colin notes, there was relatively little controversy surrounding the development's opening, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, we're starting to see a shift in the public's attitude towards ex-convicts, who we all know face an incredible number of challenges finding work and avoiding poverty after they're released.

Now, I'm not deluded: I do know that if this development was opening on Park Avenue, rather than Harlem, there sure would have been some controversy of the NIMBY (or "not in my backyard") variety. This is a fine start, though. Plus, there's reason to believe that the project will be successful, which means it could serve as a model for other projects around the country.

Imagine that you're an employer looking to hire, paging through résumés on a Monday morning. One applicant has an uninterrupted work history and a master's degree. The next has an employment gap of 15 years — and a felony conviction. Who are you more likely to call for an interview?

Now imagine the other side of the process. You were just 19 when you made the biggest mistake of your life. Theft, drugs, assault — whatever it was, you were guilty. You went to prison. You made amends, even earned a degree while you were there. Now you're 34 and ready to move on. Who is going to give you the second chance you need to get by?

Unemployment and poverty among the 650,000 people released from prison in the United States each year are both a drain on the economy and a surefire way to raise recidivism rates. Further, they represent the failure of our federal government to rehabilitate, rather than reincarcerate, prisoners re-entering mainstream society. Prison is too often a revolving door; according to a report by the Commission on Safety and Abuse in America's Prisons, 52 percent of newly-released prisoners will end up back in jail within three years.

Successful reentry depends on many factors, but one of the most important is employment. However, jobs are increasingly difficult to find in this economy and a criminal record just adds a red flag. One guide offering advice to ex-cons seeking employment recognizes this problem, and encourages them to try for entry-level positions like fast food work, dishwashing, and telemarketing — the very same jobs this blog pinpointed last month as being the lowest-paid in America. If such a job is secured, it could mean very little more than putting an ex-offender below the poverty line — a lifestyle that might not even seem like a great alternative to life behind bars. Being trapped in poverty is, as we have seen, a prison of its own.

Cuts to federal jobs programs means that more prison inmates are getting laid off from their jobs. The number of prisoners working has been reduced over 30 percent, and it seems to be causing more violence, tension and serious unrest in an already difficult environment, USA Today reports.

In 2008, 23,152 inmates were working for Federal Prison Industries, making up to $1.15 per hour doing jobs such as furniture, cable and electronics assembly, creating products that are sold to the federal government. Their wages, in turn, go toward child support and court-ordered fines that the inmates owe. In 2010, only 16,115 inmates are working in these programs, and the cuts are planned to continue. Last week, the government announced it would close nine prison factories and reduce positions at 11 more.

Considering the state of our current economy and how many Americans are feeling the bite of the recession, it's hard to find sympathy for prisoners. Yet these jobs provide an outlet for inmates, giving them something productive to do. Without them, violence at prison facilities has increased, and prison officials are bracing for even more. A reduction in the number of prison jobs also mean fewer inmates leave prison with job experience and training.

Getting locked up for unpaid bills is about as depressing a problem as I can imagine, but there's a ray of hope in a story I previously covered about the resurgence of folks with unpaid debts being jailed. The Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune is reporting that following the newspaper's investigation and at the urging of legislators, the Federal Trade Commission will be further investigating the use of arrest warrants by debt collectors to recoup lost money.

Among the concerned advocates for the poor is Minnesota Senator Al Franken, who sent federal regulators a letter demanding immediate action, explaining that debt collection agencies are "abusing the state court system to reap profits." (I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who thinks Franken is all class, and this sure confirms what I'd long held to be true.) In defense of the families he represents, Franken also wrote, "Minnesota families are hurting right now. They didn't cause this economic crisis, and they shouldn't be victimized by rogue debt collectors."

Arrest warrants in Minnesota against debtors rose a shocking 60 percent in the last four years alone — some warrants against people who owed as little as $100. Last Monday, an FTC report urged for better consumer protection in these matters, though it did not make mention of the (ab)use of arrest warrants. The agency is also calling on states to handle this matter, which has not yet been determined to be a federal issue.