“The System” Is Not Broken

“The System” Is Not Broken

It’s true: the American criminal justice system is not broken — it’s doing exactly what it is designed to do.

Far gone are the days when the only things that distinguished prisons from college campuses were the barbed-wired fences, gun towers, and . . . oh yeah, the fact that people couldn’t go home when class was over. But the most prominent features that make colleges what they are (classrooms full of eager, studious learners and willing instructors looking to advance the specialized knowledge of these students) were no different in prison settings across this vast country. But that was also when college tuition was available to inmates via the federal Pell Grant program — before President Clinton abolished this all-important rehabilitative mechanism with a single stroke of his presidential pen. Out went the funding for college degrees for inmates, and in came the rapid increase of mandatory minimum sentencing laws that would balloon the prison population to the staggering 2.2 million individuals that we see locked up (state, federal, and county jails) today.

Such laws came about with the introduction of the now infamous Crime Bill signed into law, incentivizing states to build new prisons by allocating billions of dollars for such projects. Logically, it then makes sense to devise laws that would sweep large numbers of bodies off the street and into jails and prisons for extended stays. Mandatory minimums made perfect sense during this era as an extremely sinister means to this egregiously inhumane ends. Moreover, the majority of those who make up the system are — wait for it — black and brown. Without attempting to litigate the veracity of the claim that there is inherent and even calculated bias and racism behind this outcome, it is fair to assert that the radical disproportionality of who is affected by this system is, at the very least, a problem that warrants being addressed.

Every year there are approximately 650,000 people released from incarceration. Within three years, two-thirds return to confinement for a host of reasons — they are unable to find gainful employment, housing, loans for higher education, etc. At every turn they are denied opportunity to fully reintegrate into their communities, whether it be through voting, participating in many volunteer programs, and/or furthering their careers. These folks succumb to the insidious notion that life is far too arduous for their withstanding, and it would be much easier to revert back to what they have always known. And like a conveyor belt that never stops moving – transporting its products from the beginning of the process to the end continuously – these people are swept back up, placed on the conveyor belt, and whisked away to the next arm of the system to be processed.

We often refer to our criminal justice system as “broken” because we are viewing it strictly from a humanitarian standpoint. We find it reprehensible that our country incarcerates its citizens at a much higher rate and for lengthier stays, on average, than any other nation on earth. We are repulsed at the fact that we funnel far more money into constructing and maintaining prisons in America than we do our schools and extra curricular activities — things that could actually deter kids from turning to crime when they are most impressionable. But the reality is, our nation is not concerned with preventing crime and offering its help to those who are most at-risk for committing such crime, but rather its focal point is rounding up as many people as it possibly can to keep an industry (yes, people actually can buy stock in private prison corporations) — a big business — thriving and ever-expanding. We endorse warehousing humans, not rehabilitating them. The latter would surely be counter-productive to this cause. The object is not to keep people out of the system by funding initiatives that have been proven to prevent crime and reduce recidivism; but rather to ensure that a large number of people stay ensnared in the criminal justice system, that they continue to take their place on the proverbial conveyor belt – over and over again. Therefore, when viewed more accurately for what it is, the system is not broken — it’s more like a well-oiled machine; fluidly carrying out its mechanical mission by doing exactly what it’s designed to do.escents who struggle with substance abuse.

Calling All Angels: Stamps, please!

Calling All Angels: Stamps, please!

We are working night and day on a few projects – one of which is catching up with a significant backlog of mail. We owe several hundred replies which must go out through regular USPS mail, and that means …. we need stamps. Lots of stamps.

This is an easy and painless way to give in support of the most fundamental part of our daily work. Everything we do revolves around the mail: collecting it daily from the post office, and carefully reading, logging, replying to, and filing each piece – as many as 300 each week. Each letter carries a message filled with both despair and hope. 

Please help us respond to these heartfelt letters. Our goal is 500+ stamps. 

Check out some of these groovy stamps available now at your local post office, or online through usps.com.

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Log on to usps.com and have some stamps sent directly to us (fill in our address below on the online order form), or buy from your local post office and drop them in the mail to us. Your generosity delivers hope, healing, and human connection.

** One book of twenty stamps means forty people will hear their name called out at mail call. **

Adopt an Inmate
Stamp Campaign
PO Box 1543
Veneta, OR 97487

Please share this post to help us reach our goal.

An Open Letter To Survivors of Gun Violence

An Open Letter To Survivors of Gun Violence

Our hearts are saddened. I know this event just happened and you’re trying to make sense of it. You can’t. Crazy people have been doing senseless stuff like this since time began. Whether it was the Romans massacring Jewish people or terrorists flying planes in buildings, they want attention and to force their opinions or religious beliefs on the rest of us.

My heart goes out to you and I cannot fathom the living hell and agony you are experiencing.

It is a sad fact that bad things happen to good people, and no matter what laws are in place you cannot prevent every crazy person from getting their hands on weapons. Yes as I watch the news, I know the attacker’s name. I will never say it because he sought attention for himself and his cause. Do not make him immortal in the annals of history. It is only a minor victory when you refuse to say the name of a attacker like this. Sometimes little victories are the only ones we can create.

Tragedies like this are twofold as we will be soon at each others throats over who’s fault it is and how can we prevent this from happening again. This is a sad fact. We want somebody to hurt as bad as we hurt. We want somebody to pay for making us fearful and for showing just how fragile life is. When we have no one to punish, we turn on each other. We verbally attack somebody who thinks differently then we do. We miss the irony that it was a difference in opinions on how people should live that caused a crazy person to attack to begin with.

We as a society try to create something positive out of something negative. Sometimes it’s just not possible. I hope I am wrong in this case.

It is my hope the two major political parties will take the high ground and not try to make the victims suffer more by using them and their families as political props.

We live in a world where terrible things happen. The best we can do is to be a light in somebody’s darkness.

Blessed be.

Poetry From Prison: Angel Dedication

Hello Angels,

I received this beautiful poem from Michael and want to dedicate it to all of you. My title would be, “Ode to Angels.” Love & Light!  

~Leah


Ode to a Friendship

I shed a tear
When I thought no one could see,
I couldn’t imagine
Your words were for me.

I shed a tear
Deep in the night,
So no one could hear
As I put up the fight
To not slip away
Far from the light.

This part of my sojourn;
If lived by the sword,
Could sever the lines
To the life that I long.

But you share your words,
That keeps me moored.
There’s no question of might,
The pen or the sword.

So I’ll live each day
As if I were done,
In the secret of life;
That we’re all one.

And yes,
I’ll shed more tears.
But I won’t be as coy,
Because of your words
They’ll be tears of joy.

Michael Henderson, Florida

Letters From Prison: No Mental Health Help For Ohio Inmates

From www.rehabcenterforwomen.org:

According to a report by the Treatment Advocacy Center, in 2012 the United States had 10 times more mentally ill individuals in its prisons than the amount who are treated in psychiatric hospitals (356,268 in prison, vs. 35,000 being treated in a hospital).
The unique and stressful environment created in prisons can many times actually enhance symptoms of a mental disorder and make its side effects harder to manage. Having these individuals in prison instead of a mental facility has many negative repercussions.

Below is a letter from a prisoner in Ross Correctional Institution in Ohio.


The state of Ohio has effectively gutted its Mental Health obligations in prisons and untrained and unprepared staff are left to pick up the pieces.

In November of 2014, six of the eight mental health professionals turn in their notice at Ross Correctional Institution. Three months later, the head of the Mental Health Department and five others leave. The prison does not have a plan in place to replace the much needed Mental health workers despite having 90 days notice. Many inmates are automatically kicked off of the Mental Health caseloads, not because they are stable, but because there is no one to see them.

I was one of those inmates and it took a year to get back on the Mental Health caseload. After two short visits I find myself kicked off of the caseload again because I do not have a recent suicide attempt or hunger strike. I suffer from manic depression, fugue states, and auditory hallucinations. While I do admit I need help, I do not wish to hurt myself or others at the moment. There are others here that are not so lucky.

I recently had the extreme displeasure of sharing a cell with a 58 year-old man in the grips of severe dementia.

Mike is three years into a seven year sentence. By his own admission during the times he is a able to communicate, he was a career alcoholic, smoked crack, and drew Social Security because he had severe memory issues. Mike must have staff and inmates constantly tell him when to go to a meal, when to stand, when to sit. Mike has no concept of time. He will often try to go on a pass the second he gets it. We get our passes a day before we are suppose to go. Mike will try to go to a 1:15 pm pass at 7 am. He will ask you the same question six times in ten minutes. His personal hygiene habits require him to shower two to four times a day, and he often puts the same soiled clothing back on.

When I celled with Mike, it was not uncommon for me to have to scrub the walls and floor around the toilet while he was in the shower. Mike will wolf down his food as quickly as possible and then stare at you while you try to finish yours. He has been known to lie about missing chow and then go begging for food. Sometimes people will toss him a soup only to see him wolf that down and go begging at the next table. Mike would ask me every two minutes after I turned the light off at night, “are you awake?” He will do this every two minutes for hours sometimes. He often gets angry and rude if you try to correct him. He goes to chronic care medical visits every two weeks where he is asked if he is willing to go to a camp for older inmates with issues. Mike does not believe he has any problem and that all of the inmates and guards are working together to make him look bad. Ross is not equipped to handle my issues, let alone somebody like Mike, who recently asked me when his son was going to pick him up, because he didn’t care for this hospital. Mike has a whole block trying to keep track of him. The state knows he needs to be in a different type of facility but because of the added expense, refuse to do the right thing.

I had to move out of the cell Mike was in. He is not suitable for anyone to cell with unless they want to care for a man who acts like a spoiled two year-old with potty training issues. To be honest, Mike is the kind of inmate who could die in the middle of the night due to natural causes. Nobody wants to wake up to that or spend a week in the hole while waiting for a cause of death to clear themselves. I wish Mike the best, but elsewhere.

Review of Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mendel

Review of Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mendel

Station Eleven is one of those books that is so well-conceived and executed that you are sad when there’s no more to read. After reading so many post-apocalyptic novels, many which barely bother to explain what caused society’s collapse, I expected another contrived and unimaginative version of The Hunger Games or Divergent. While I did enjoy both afore-mentioned series’ this standalone far surpasses either in both imagination and quality of prose.

The story crosses both sides of a global catastrophe from several characters’ point of view, all of whom, in one way or another, are satellites of a famous actor who, in the opening pages is performing King Lear at the Elgin Theatre in Toronto.

Emily St. John Mandel draws us into a horrifying and totally plausible world-wide catastrophe and then through ingenious flashbacks and historical reference sews together a tale that is as rich as any great myth.

Even if this type of story isn’t one’s ‘cup of tea,’ I would bet that even the most reluctant would find it riveting.

Station Eleven refers to a self-published comic, written and illustrated by one of the main characters, a frustrated artist who settles for corporate doldrum, yet still manages to complete a few issues of her creation. One of the more interesting facets of this plot device is the way in which the comic influences the characters. Mandel also hints of how all art is a reflection of the creator’s own life and times. That theme is further hammered home when members of the book’s post-apocalyptic theatre troupe, The Symphony, discuss Shakespeare’s own relationship with the plague.

Mandel leaves nothing undone in this novel that needed to be sewn up. Everything has its place, making me  hungry for anything else she may have written.

Four stars. 

The Hardest Part of Prison

The Hardest Part of Prison

After a while, even the horrid conditions of prison become normal to its occupants. Waking up everyday in a concrete cell, being told when you can shower, use the phone, or even use the bathroom eventually fall into place as routine. No big deal — it just is. I suppose as humans, this is an essential feature and component of our survivability. We must and do adapt to even life’s most trying and tumultuous circumstances. Of course this is usually always preceded by the five phases of grief/loss (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance) that we undergo; but we do inevitably reach that final phase of acceptance at some point. After which, things settle and become normal again. Yet, the most dreaded, sinking feeling that I experienced for the third time in my incarceration last Thursday is something that I will never adapt to. It counters the most fundamental needs of humanity and leaves a scar that, unlike those made of flesh, don’t fade with time.

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If You Love Me

manipulation

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been on the phone while regrettably being forced to listen to another inmate on the phone next to me scold his girlfriend or mother for not doing something he had asked them to do. “Why haven’t you sent the money? . . . you said you’d send it a week ago! You’re worthless!” Or the classic, “If you love me . . . ” only to manipulate the poor soul on the other end of the phone into feeling guilty for not doing something in a “timely” fashion.

Sadly, this mentality is prevalent in prison. It appears that when people come to prison they automatically expect the world to stop, wait for them, and make themselves available on a moment’s notice for whatever they need. They expect people they claim to love to stop what they’re doing anytime they call to do something they ask — right then and there. There’s no consideration or allowance for what their loved one is doing — it’s all about them.

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Families Pay The Price

Families Pay The Price

We often hear of the exorbitant costs to operate prisons. State budgets are stretched thin and perpetually strained in order to incarcerate tens of thousands of people, for many years at a time. But other costs are absorbed by the casualties of incarceration that often go unreported. Yes, the families pay a heavy price to ensure their loved ones behind bars can have a “comfortable” existence during the years they’re incarcerated.

When an inmate is indigent (in the state of Oregon anyway), he or she will be provided baking soda to brush their teeth, a toothbrush, small bars of soap, and shower shoes. They are also given two envelopes per month to write family and friends. Obviously this is the bare minimum on which one can get by, but most inmates do not live this way.

I am grateful to be incarcerated in a state that “rewards” us (points that are converted into money because technically they can’t “pay” us) for working; however, the highest paying jobs (I have one as a GED tutor) yield approximately $75 a month. Most jobs average between $30 – $40 a month. Our canteen items are marked up exponentially. For instance, one of the highest selling items — instant Taster’s Choice coffee (8 oz) — goes for $9.83. Other staple food items such as Top Ramen soups ($.24 each) are also marked up. Our wages, after buying soap, toothpaste, deodorant, lotion, envelopes, etc., are rapidly depleted, leaving no money left to buy food, let alone electronic items (television, radio, mp3 player) to help divert our attention from our current reality. So who do we turn to?

Our families and loved ones often feel compelled to help us through our incarceration, especially in terms of financial expenses. They know things cost, so they do what they can to help, but their bills at home don’t stop just because we came to prison and now are unable to support ourselves the way we would like. So they send hundreds of dollars throughout the year to enable us to purchase commissary items (food, shoes, electronics) that will bring us a semblance of comfort and normality. But this doesn’t even factor in the expense they pay for the most basic need that we and our families have: phone calls.

The telephone allows us to maintain the most fundamental form of communication on a regular basis with our families and loved ones, yet this turns out to be the most expensive cost of prison for families. They are forced to pay thousands of dollars over the course of each year in order to talk to us. For instance, in Oregon we go through a company called Telmate. Our calls are $.16 per minute, and calls last thirty minutes, so a full call is $4.80. Calling once a day for thirty days amounts to $144. In a year this will cost a family member $1,728.

When inmates are written up for violations of institution rules, such as “disrespect” or “unauthorized area,” for example, there is usually a penalty fee assessed as well. The fee charged to the inmate can range from $25 – $200 (unless there are medical expenses incurred due to injuring another inmate in a fight, which can run in the thousands of dollars). If the inmate does not have adequate funds on his or her spending account, a negative balance will be reflected. Subsequently, if and when a family member or friend sends money to the inmate, the department of corrections confiscates half of that money to go toward the fines incurred by the inmate. The other half stays on the inmate’s account for spending, but if there is any amount remaining on the last day of the month, it too will be taken to go toward paying off the fine.

It pains me to think about how much innocent people are essentially forced to pay to keep in regular contact with their incarcerated loved ones and/or help them live more comfortably while here. As if life isn’t expensive enough, now they’re asked to pay even more in out-of-control fees imposed on them by the state and federal prison systems. One could make the claim that they end up paying two prices — the emotional, and the monetary cost of losing their loved ones for years.

CHAT