by Rick Fisk | Mar 10, 2016 | From the Inside
An excerpt of a letter from Rick in February of 2014, when he was still in county jail, and about six months before he was moved to prison. He writes about his idea to start Adopt an Inmate.
I feel as though I am the most well-taken-care-of inmate in Del Valle. Having friends and family who have professed faith in my innocence and pledged support through cards, letters and books is a blessing more valuable than can be conveyed or repaid. It has allowed me to maintain my sanity. Without these blessings I believe I would have fallen into a bottomless pit of despair. This belief and the eye-opening real-life stories revealed to me by fellow inmates drives me to make some difference here. Now and in the future. For a good while I have been contemplating a non-profit I have tentatively dubbed “Adopt-an-inmate.”
The organization would seek to provide the blessings I have received as well as other services possibly required for those caught up in the system without local resources to help them.
While I suspect it is by design, there is no solid proof of a conspiracy to deprive an inmate the means to defend himself. Conspiracy or not, a confluence of jail conditions can prevent the incarcerated from effectively participating in his own defense. It is this predicament that I’d most like to eradicate. Hope is a scarce commodity in jail. Those who provide it to us are God’s own angels.
by Eric Burnham | Oct 20, 2023 | Uncategorized
Photo by Feliphe Schiarolli on Unsplash
I still can’t believe it. When I think about it, it still feels impossible, but you guys are really gone. Honestly, it is difficult to resist an encroaching sense of bitterness toward a bureaucratic system that failed to take care of the people who made more of a rehabilitative impact upon me than anyone else has during my 22 years in prison, or in my entire life for that matter.
For those readers who are wondering what I’m on about, I was a tutor in the GED program for the last 16 years…and now…I’m unemployed because Blue Mountain Community College felt it prudent to allow a 37 year contract with the Department of Corrections to expire without even an attempt to renew it. Consequently, the GED program at EOCI died along with the contract – and what is worse, there was no effort made by the Department of Corrections to retain the dedicated teachers who made the GED program so successful over the years. The teachers…are gone…moved on and found new employment elsewhere, and even now, months after the contract ended, there is still no GED program at EOCI.
It sometimes feels like the administrative bean counters who think shit up while sitting around an oval mahogany table with their rolled up sleeves, starched white shirts and party approved power ties seem to believe that the task of effectively educating and positively impacting the disenfranchised, broken and discarded is such an easy job that anyone can do it. Well, not just anyone CAN do it, and we are all worse off for that assumption. It is a harsh reality that people often matter so little in the halls of power that support is not given to the change-makers responsible for lifting up those left behind by the fast-past, results-orientated, self-centered nature of contemporary culture. Makes you sort of wonder how the decision-makers feel about those of us who depend on the change-makers. At least the beans are counted, I guess, but I feel like people deserve better, at least those people did.
So…Thank you Mr Villers, Mrs Reed, Ms Doherty, Ms Bennett, Mrs Youncs, Ms Bose and Mrs Shutte. Thank you for weaving love, compassion and respect into your professionalism. Thank you for your time, effort and expertise. Thank you for the knowledge, the skills and the moments. Thank you for the tolerance, patience and acceptance. I took away something special from each one of you and I won’t ever forget you. I will never be the same because I knew you and I’m forever a better person because I was known by you. Working with you over the last 16 years was an incredible and invaluable experience for which I will always be grateful. I may never see you all again, but you are people who exemplified what it means to be teachers – in every sense of the word. I miss you all so much, but I guess teachers are supposed to be missed…at least the good ones are.
by Melissa Bee | Aug 24, 2023 | From the Inside
From a person who has been locked up almost 30 years in the custody of the Illinois department of corrections, I would have thought that communication married to reunification with family & friends would be the foundation (next to protecting society) to their rehabilitation goals. At every turn here in the Dixon correctional center in Illinois those goals have been abandoned! Cruel and unusual punishment under the eighth amendment is exemplified in many ways by administrations throughout the United States by its treatment of inmates and their families and friends.
Here in Dixon, we have been on lockdown exactly 121 days since I arrived from Pinckneyville prison on January 26, 2023. We’re on lockdowns because staff have figured out a way to extend the pandemic benefits for themselves by demanding through their unions that no mandates be allowed related to them being required to come to work (because of virus), so that’s still in play. For this reason, our families and friends are turned away after traveling for in-person visits. Video visits are cancelled. No phone calls. No programs! Nothing. The idea that a correctional center is closed all the time because of unions stopping mandates is ridiculous & violates the Illinois constitution by shutting down programs to restore inmates to productive citizenship! The federal rehabilitation act gives millions of dollars to all state prisons for these programs that are inactive because of lockdowns – three years after the pandemic started. Prices in the commissary are New York City prices! A burger in the staff’s commissary is $5.00 – but in the visiting room the same sandwich is $15.00! A water $4.00, a small bag of chips with exactly 11 small chips in it $4.00! We have no voice nor do our family members or friends. The union AFSCME in Illinois wants to stop the Jpay/Securus tablets from coming in as a new way for inmates to communicate, they want us in this medium security prison to be locked down and oppressed.
Interstate Compact Inmate
Kurtis M. Williams N53299
Dixon, Illinois
by Eric Burnham | Apr 23, 2023 | From the Inside
Prison is a place I have been for over half my life. I was 21 years-old when I stabbed a man during a fight that I started while drunk in 2001. I am guilty, and prison is a place I have been ever since. Prison is a place where I will turn 44 this month (April of 2023).
Prison is a place where nothing is soft. It is a place with concrete walls, chain link fences, razor wire, and gun towers. It is a place with rigid routines, emotional and intellectual atrophy, and long periods of mind-dumbing boredom, interrupted only by sudden bursts of violence. Prison is a place where nothing and no one is safe. It is a place where I have seen a man beaten and kicked while unconscious, a place where I have seen a man sliced open with a razor blade, a place where I saw a man shot and killed for fighting on the yard, a place where I have seen correctional officers stabbed. Prison is a place where I felt the vibrations in my bunk and up into my body as they cut through the belt that a man in the cell next to mine used to commit suicide.
Prison is a place you must fight with your fists to defend against financial, emotional, or even sexual exploitation, a place where brutality is the vernacular. It is a place where men group together for safety but eventually become intoxicated by the power of numbers. Prison is a place where you can go years without hearing your first name, but not a day without hearing your bunk number. It is a place where kindness is considered weakness and therefore not reciprocated, and respect is confused with fear. Prison is a place where the cost of peace is social isolation and emotional withdrawal.
Prison is a place where you are never by yourself but you are always alone, a place where the rare opportunities to make social connections are fractured when people are transferred or released. it is a place where loved ones on the outside forget to remember you for years at a time. Prison is a place where your friends and family can only hear about your growth because they are never allowed to remain close enough to see it. It is a place where your friends and family can only hear about your growth because they are never allowed to remain close enough to see it. It is a place where you can go years without being hugged, a place where the only time you’re even touched is when you’re being patted down by an officer wearing rubber gloves. Prison is a place where you r emotions go unexpressed because they might be taken out of context and used against you. It is a place where you feel cold inside and can never get warm.
Prison is a place where you are expected to live by unrealistic standards of behavior, and your inability to live by them is perceived as evidence of your moral contamination; therefore, disproportionate consequences for minor rule violations are considered justifiable by administrators who are insulated from the counterproductive results of their policies. Prison is a place where security staff will reflexively do an abundance of research into every minor rule violation yet refuse to put forth the slightest effort to input positive observations of your behavior into the record. Prison is a place where the state will pay for your hormone replacement therapy but not for educational programs that demonstrably reduce recidivism. Prison is a place where you are afraid to discuss your struggles over mental health, depression, anger, violence, sexual orientation, or chemical dependency with staff members because if what you say is put into your file, a case worker or the Parole Board may use it against you.
Prison is a place where evil advances freely, unfettered by the pangs of conscience, shaping the culture by working diligently to snuff out any goodness found within you. It is a place where hatred and hypocrisy are so insidious that they will define you if you’re not careful. Prison is a place where you can scream as loudly as you like, but nobody cares to hear you; in fact, the louder you scream the more they laugh at you, so you hold it inside. it is a place where you witness staggering levels of treachery, duplicity, and corruption, but render yourself an outsider if you express a negative opinion about it.
Prison is a place where I grew up and became a man, a place where I took responsibility for the pain I have caused, for my past, my present, and my future. It is a place where my mother gave me the gift of paying for my university education. Prison is a place where I earned by GED (2003), an Associate of Arts degree (2013), a Bachelor of Arts degree in Counseling (2015), a Master’s degree in Counseling (2017), and a Ph.D. in Psychology and Counseling (2021). Prison is a place where I have taken an additional 350 educational units specializing in substance use disorder counseling through an outside academic institution.
Prison is a place where I have earned over 30 certificates from every class and program the Department of Corrections has offered. Prison is a place where I have been a tutor in the GED program for over 15 years, helping over 750 men earn their high school equivalency credentials. it is a place where I have authored four courses for alcohol and drug counselors that have been published for use by clinicians all over the country. Prison is a place where I work to positively impact others every day.
Prison is a place where the stained are hidden from society, a place where no matter how much you change, you are still considered irreparably damaged. It is a place where the regret and empathy you feel and the remorse you display are questioned by those in authority over you and marginalized by those in authority over the system. Prison is a place where the governor told me my efforts at rehabilitation did not warrant an opportunity to see the Parole Board three years early after 22 years of incarceration. Prison is a place where I watched men with less merit and less dedication to rehabilitation be granted early release.
Prison is a place that threatens your perseverance because you know you cannot win. It is a place where enough is never enough, a place where you can never do enough, never accept responsibility enough, become enough, give back enough, positively impact others enough, actualize your own potential enough, or overcome adversity enough to be defined by how you got back up, rather than by how you fell. Prison is a place where rehabilitation doesn’t mean anything.
Prison is a place where the brightness of your accomplishments gets dulled by the uniform you’re required to wear, a place where the lens through which you are viewed is not pointed toward your future but focused on your past. Prison is a place where years of incarceration transform correctional staff into representatives of society who weave resentment into your personality by using dehumanization as a tool, making positive change ever more difficult. It is a place where case workers and rehabilitation managers ware completely absent from your daily experiences but are always present to take credit for your progress in order to make it appear as if they have personally contributed to the success of an otherwise ineffective system.
Prison is a place of emptiness and meaninglessness. It is a place of egocentrism and stagnation. Prison is a place where almost everyone wears a mask, making it impossible to trust anyone. It is a place where people have done horrible things, a place where men run from themselves. Prison is a place where the collective pain left behind by the men in any given room is profound and ugly but almost never thought about by the men in that room. Prison is a place where you can get clean and sober and discover that you are actually a very loving person but have nobody to give that love to, so it decays. Prison is a place where you work your body until the sweat runs down your face in order to hide the tears already there. Prison is a place where freedom is only a confusing sound. It is a place that hurts … all the time. Prison is a place where I am … every … single … day. Prison is a place.
by Melissa Bee | Feb 9, 2023 | Interviews
Our friend Bobby Bostic has a familiar name for many with an interest in prison reform, and juvenile life sentences.
Locked up at 16 years old for crimes committed as a juvenile, Judge Evelyn Baker sentenced him to 241 years in 1995, believing that teens had no ability to rehabilitate. In the end, that same judge, now retired, worked with the ACLU to see him released him on parole after 27 years behind bars.
Now 43, Bobby has been home since November 2022, and is demonstrating what Judge Baker came to realize, that people do deserve second chances. Hear Bobby and Judge Baker tell their intersecting stories. Bobby reads from one of his 14 published books, Life Goes On In Prison.
by Melissa Bee | Feb 1, 2023 | From the Staff, Jacob Schmitt
The 2023 legislative session has begun in most states. My husband, Jacob Schmitt, drafted a bill to correct an injustice for a handful of Washington state prisoners, providing public testimony on January 23, 2023. I received the below note through Washington DOC’s prisoner messaging system, Securus (formerly Jpay), from a friend of Jacob’s after the hearing:
“I did want to share something with you about the Monday that Jacob testified on his bill. When he walked back onto the unit, after many of these guys had watched on TV, he came in and was mauled like a celebrity. These guys weren’t just inmates, they were “fans” and Jacob was very, very humbled and subdued in the energy of the moment. I was so proud of him and for him. I didn’t see what happened on TV because I was at work, but I witnessed the aftermath and I’m telling you, as his loved one, you would have been in awe of his moment. Be so proud of his stand on that day, the way these guys were when witnessing, and I wish you could have been here for his moment after. People don’t often get moments like that in life that make them feel that way. And if all goes as he hopes, encourage more of those moments in the flesh, after he’s released. He did good!”
People who are not justice-involved, might not realize that prisoners are supportive of each other, and celebrate whenever justice is served, whether or not it applies to themselves. I am here to tell you, they are.
A little background. In 2019, the Washington State Legislature removed rob 2 as a most serious offense (prospectively), eliminating the mandatory life in prison sentence for a rob 2 (non-violent) conviction. In 2021, the legislature went a step further, removing rob 2 from the strike list retroactively. ESB 5164 was sponsored by Senators Darneille, Hasegawa, Kuderer, Liias, Saldana, Wilson C., Solomon, and Das. It has been codified as RCW 9.94A.647. This Bill directed resentencing to standard range sentences for individuals that were sentenced as persistent offenders where a rob 2 was a current or predicate strike.
“The ‘three strikes’ initiative promised to put away the ‘worst of the worst,’ but instead deepened the inequities in our corrections system,” then-Senator Darnielle added in a statement. “The resulting mass incarceration disproportionately impacted and severely damaged communities of color. Today, with this legislation, we continue the work of reorienting our system toward its fundamental intent: Justice.” Of those serving life having been convicted under the three strikes law — 40 percent of them are African-American. (According to the 2020 Census in Washington state, Blacks make up 12.6% of the population.)
As wonderful as this piece of legislation was/is, it tragically overlooked cases where the threat of a persistent offender sentence (predicated on a rob 2 conviction) was used as leverage for individuals to enter plea agreements for lengthy exceptional sentences of 30-40+ years. Both the Senate and House have worked very hard to correct the use of rob 2 as a most serious offense. Those who spared the state the expense of a trial, and victims the experience of testifying at a trial, are left to spend decades longer than they otherwise would have if sentenced without rob 2 as a most serious offense — all while the people who went to trial have been resentenced and released.
HB 1108, if passed, would allow resentencing for the small number of people who plead to exceptional sentences in order to avoid a third strike, and thus a life sentence. This bill is the final step to correct the inclusion of rob 2 as a most serious offense, and is now scheduled for executive session tomorrow, February 2nd.
The only opposition to the passage of this bill, is that the state does not have the resources to identify and resentence these people – not that they should not be resentenced. Testifying in support of the bill, Attorney David Trieweiler rightly pointed out that “We never hear those same folks come in when a proposed increase in sentencing was made, or when we’re creating new crimes … they never came in and said ‘that’s too expensive.’ You only hear that when it’s to undo some of the unjust sentences of the past.”
At least 11 states including Washington have eased their three-strikes laws since 2009, often removing property crimes from strike lists or restoring discretion to judges over previously mandatory life sentences.
In the words of Bryan Stevenson: “We’re talking as if we could put crimes in prison. But what I can tell you from my work is we don’t have the power to put a crime in prison. We can only put a person in prison. And what I want you to know is that people are not crimes. We’ve got to think differently about how we respond to trauma. When someone tells a lie, they are more than just a liar. When someone steals something, they are more than just a thief. Even when someone kills someone they are more than just a killer, and justice requires that we understand the other things they are.”
To follow the progress of HB 1108, sign up here.
by Melissa Bee | Feb 1, 2023 | From the Staff
FL, TX, and WA State Adopters: If your adoptee is in TDCJ (Texas state), FDC (Florida Dept. of Corrections), or WA DOC (Washington state), be aware that for emessaging, you’re going to be faced with a Jpay to Securus conversion. If you have an existing Jpay account, you will be prompted to convert it to Securus when the facility for your contact(s) has made the switch. Your contact(s) and stamps will transfer. See the links below for more information.
Other Jpay articles: Jpay
by Melissa Bee | Nov 23, 2022 | From the Staff
Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and Giving Tuesday follows quickly after. If you haven’t selected a nonprofit to donate to this year, this is a perfect time to support our work. Even small amounts make a big difference to those who can’t be with their families. Your support is most appreciated.
We have three easy ways to give.
Click on the grid and choose a square.
Donate through Donorbox on our website.
Send something from our Amazon Wishlist.
by Melissa Bee | Nov 22, 2022 | From the Staff
Our dear friend Tricia in Arizona is looking for a little help to brighten the holidays for as many as 40 other prisoners. If you’d like to contribute a few bucks to this cause, just go to our Donate page and note that it’s for the AZ Secret Santa Project.
Hello Friends,
Every year I do a secret Santa for those less fortunate on the yard. I have purchased 40 pairs of socks, soap, shampoo. I need your help! I’d like to also include a treat for them and I am in need of your financial help. If are able can you please donate? Any amount is welcome and its for a great cause. All you need to do is go to JPAY and donate funds, select my TRUST ACCOUNT. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas! Thank you! trish
by Inmate Contributor | Nov 19, 2022 | From the Inside
To the nonunscrupulous inmate, with a question about your fate, & whether you’re alone?
While pacing in that cell, within that prison hell, without friends or family or home.
There is a rarity in life, born of heart not violence or knife, but by a leader or two,
A teacher or a guide, call her what you will with pride, Melissa Schmitt is there for you.
There are other volunteers, to stem & quell your fears, & lead others under her grace,
To your biographical plane, with picture, place & name, with a picture of your face.
Leading Mentors to an adoptee, for you & for me, supporters, financiers, with the likeminded,
Whether you’re disabled, or bravado enabled, or whether you see or blinded.
Blinded by time & walls, roaming the prison halls, but need a conduit or a place,
To think beyond the clouds, avoid the crushing crowds, to exercise your inner grace.
Not unlike any School, Miss Schmitt has a rule, That screening be done for protection,
This is about inmate adoption, not a love option, but a way to make a connection.
For educational book reviews, Mentors guiding by two’s, networking while your doing time,
Voids in your rhyme, voids in your mind, while doing art with your talent’s you find.
To the prospective visitor, the web site inquisitor, who may be interested to test,
The waters of what’s disloyal, lowly without any toil, to hurt or harm our best.
We are led by compassion, not status quo fashion, but extension to a heart inside,
Where they’ve paid their price, in more ways twice, where they don’t have to live & hide.
Help us help them, create from a loss a win, from their cells where they loom,
While we give them a place, a place filled with grace, adopt an inmate homeroom.
By Kurtis M.Williams N53299 11-18-2022 For Adopt an Inmate and Ms. Schmitt
by Guest Blogger | Aug 24, 2022 | Guest Blogger
Photo by Dustin Humes on Unsplash
We received permission to share a response to a woman’s question on Quora, after her 20-year old son received a 15 year prison sentence. “I don’t want him to feel depressed and give up. Is there anything I can do for him while he is in prison?”
Don Erving responded with the following, based on his own experience in a California prison:
I’ve been out a year after doing 22 years off a 15-to-Life sentence in the California Dept. of Corrections, and I will say to you that you have NO IDEA what your son will HAVE TO deal with in there, depression, though prevalent, being low on the list. There are no pretty words to alleviate your worries, Ma’am, because prison in America is in no way constructed to be a relief of any kind. Your son will face hardships and challenges and experience loneliness that is quite literally unspeakable, especially in such an environment. And he will either grow and gain knowledge and maturity, and physical as well as inner strengths, and be of so intimate an understanding of the harshnesses of Life that he chooses for himself a greater path than the one he’s known…..or not. What you can do for him, Mom, that would be a godsend through the hardships and conducive to his growth and gaining, is to accept them as the reality they are, and encourage him to be not just ‘strong,’ but to be steel. To be iron. Say to him how you have always known that you gave birth to a lion. A leader. Let him know that there is wisdom to be gained from every situation he may be confronted with, and to analyze EVERYTHING. Not with fear, but for what he can learn from it. You tell your son, Ma’am, that YOU are a warrior, and that YOUR blood is HIS blood, so in THAT way, you are always with him. However unlike you these words may be, it is TRULY the only way your hopes and wishes will have as deep down an impact as they must at this point in his life. Pretty words and cliches phrases of love and care, though meant with all your heart, PALE against the blinding light of a flashbang grenade exploding, guntower block-gun firing, smoke-filled, alarm blaring, prisoner rioting prison yard, Ma’am. It will do his courage and Will To Survive immeasurable good if he can draw from YOU a Warrior Mother’s strength and bravery and love, because, please understand, he resides now, and for a generation to come, in a place that can, does, and will become a battlefield, within the span of a second. And it takes a certain level of mental and physical strength to maintain such a constant awareness. To always be ‘on your toes.’ And you, Mom, must be the steel that sharpens that steel in him. I wish I could apologize to you for the picture I painted of your son’s life, Mom, but you can’t apologize for the truth, however harsh. It would mean to live a lie. And sugarcoated lies are not what you and your son need going forward. Be brave, Mom. As brave as you need him to be. BRAVER than you need him to be. The road is long and rougher than you can imagine, Mom. I pray the Lord’s Intervention, but minus that, I wish you, for your son, a Warrior Mother’s heart. This is the best thing you can do for him, Mom. The best thing to BE for him. May God bless you all.🙏❤️🙏❤️🙏
We’re glad you made it through, Don. Thank you for letting us share these uncompromising words of wisdom and experience with our readers.
