Anti-ICE Protests in LA
This is part of our Civics 101 series ā breaking down the structures behind the headlines.
What happens after a bill becomes law, and why most people still wait.
You did it. The bill passed. The president signed it. You throw some confetti and wait for the change to kick in.
But here’s the part they left out of Schoolhouse Rock:
Just because a law passes doesnāt mean itās enforced, or that it helps the people who need it most.
Letās break down what really happens after a bill becomes law, especially in the criminal legal system.
Passing a law is just step one. Now agencies have to write the rules to carry it out.
Worse, if a department doesn’t want to implement the law?
They can drag their feet, āinterpretā it narrowly, or underfund enforcement.
This is the heartbreak of justice reform.
Most new laws donāt apply to people already convicted under the old law.
š Example: California changed its Three Strikes law in 2012. But it took another separate campaign (Prop 36) to allow people already sentenced to apply for release.
Any new law can be challenged in court ā and many are.
Even if the law survives, court decisions can weaken its impact.
Without advocates and watchdogs, new laws can sit on the books collecting dust.
People say ājust change the lawā like thatās the end of the story.
But the people most harmed by bad laws are often excluded from the reforms that follow.
And when a new law takes effect, it still needs funding, enforcement, outreach, and oversight.
š£ļø Have a civic question you want us to cover? Want to break down a specific law or policy?
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See all Civics 101 posts here.
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š Missed Part I? Start here ā How a BillĀ Becomes a Law.
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At first glance, our website font might look like a throwback, but itās much more than a design choice.
At our core, we celebrateĀ the enduring spirit of communication within the prison system. In an era dominated by digital interactions, prison remains a stronghold for the art of letter-writing, both handwritten and typewritten. This tradition is not just a means of keeping in touch; it is a lifeline for many inmates.

Our use of the typewriter font pays homage to these resilient communicators. It symbolizes the importance of every letter written and every word typed within the confines of prison walls. It is a nod to the struggle and the perseverance of those who continue to reach out and connect, despite the barriers they face.
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MYTH:Ā
People in prison are well-fed.
š FACT CHECK:
Many are forced to eat food thatās spoiled, nutritionally hollow, or barely edible.
Heavily armed, masked agents:
What weāre witnessing in cities like Los Angeles and Nashville isnāt āimmigration enforcementā - itās extrajudicial abduction. It's kidnapping and human trafficking.
Itās a civil offense,Ā not grounds for violent raids.
Yet workers - cooks, janitors, dishwashers, farmhands - are being hunted like fugitives, while real threats walk free in positions of power.
Iāve never in my life feared an immigrant or a trans person. Iāve feared the men in my church, the white men in office, and now the armed men hiding behind masks, badges, weapons, and lies.
[...] and i hope they remember the Nuremberg trials, because this fever is going to break, and you will be held accountable for your crimes.
Monte Mader
This is not about safety.
Itās not about law and order.
Itās about control and power, and using fear, and cruelty to get it.
That's called fascism.
ā
You do not have to open the door to ICE without a signed judicial warrant.
ā
You have the right to remain silent.
ā
You have the right to record in public.
ā
You have the right to protest.
ā
You have the right to legal representation.
Know them. Use them. Defend them.
š§µ Share this post.
š¬ CALL AND WRITE your lawmakers.
š¤ Speak out.Ā
š° Support local immigrant aid organizations.
Because when they come for them, theyāre coming for us all.
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Share this post with someone who needs to see it
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āļø Take the Quiz
Have you or a loved one faced an unfair sentence or wrongful charge?
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š Note: To all of our new adopters – welcome!
Youāre bringing hope and human connection to people who need it most. Whether you’re already in contact, or are still waiting for your match, weāre grateful youāre here.
Each month, weāll send a short note like this one, just a gentle nudge to check in with your adoptee, along with a few ideas of what you might write, send, or say. We know life gets busy, and sometimes the hardest part is knowing where to start. We’re here to help you keep that connection strong.
Itās the start of a new month and a good time to drop a quick note, card, or poem in the mail. For folks inside, time stretches differently. Hearing from someone on the outside can change the whole rhythm of their week.
June brings Fatherās Day, graduation season, and longer days – any of which might stir up hard feelings. If youāre not sure what to write, a simple āthinking of youā goes further than you think.
āļø Need inspiration?
š Friendly Reminder:
Make sure you’re adhering to mail policies for your adoptee’s institution – let us know if you’re unsure.
The Sun Does Shine by Anthony Ray Hinton
A powerful reminder of hope, connection, and the long reach of injustice, and how love, humor, and letters sustained him through nearly 30 years on death row.
š Extra This Month:
Is your adoptee a veteran? Check out our veteran series from Memorial Week on the blog.
Have a question? Email info@adoptaninmate.org
Letās make someoneās June a little brighter.
Go hug your adoptee.
With appreciation,
š Melissa Bee
Adopt an Inmate
āļø PS: Weād love to hear how your connection is going – good, bad, or in between. Use this form to share a little about your experience. You can stay anonymous if you prefer.
Policy says: If you follow the rules, take classes, and work hard, youāll earn time off your sentence.
Reality: Many never see the time they earned, and some never knew it was taken away until it was too late.
Many state prison systems offer earned time or good conduct credits meant to reward people for:
In theory, it encourages rehabilitation. In practice? Itās a bait-and-switch.
One man wrote:
āI earned my time. I have the certificates. But they told me the rule changed last year, and no one said anything. Now Iām still sitting here.ā
This isnāt just clerical error. Itās systemic.
Some corrections departments quietly reclassify programs, others fail to track credits at all. And many donāt have a transparent way to appeal.
The result? People serve more time than they should, at taxpayersā expense, while states brag about āreform.ā
āļø Take the Quiz
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Have you or someone you know earned time off that was never honored? We want to hear how these policies are playing out in real life.
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Support our work to expose injustice and fight for fair representation.
Before we dive into today’s post about the case of Mahmoud Khalil, a Palestinian rights advocate detained under a vague and rarely used immigration statute, letās pause with this quote.
āWhat would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?ā
āYes, Iād cut down every law in England to do that!ā
āOh? And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned round on you – where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat? This countryās planted thick with laws… and if you cut them down… do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, Iād give the Devil benefit of law, for my own safetyās sake.āā Sir Thomas More, A Man for All Seasons by Robert Bolt
Thomas More isnāt praising the Devil. Heās warning us. Even the worst among us deserves the protection of law, because once we start ignoring laws for people we dislike, the ground beneath all of us gets dangerously shaky. What protects one of us must protect all of us, or it protects no one at all.
This weekās Civics 101 is about exactly that: how obscure laws, vague language, and unchecked power can be used to silence people, and how the courts are sometimes the only line of defense.
A legal mess. And a civics lesson.
Last week, a federal court ruled that the Trump administrationās use of a little-known immigration provision (Section 1227) to detain Mahmoud Khalil was likely unconstitutional. Khalil, a Palestinian rights advocate and father, was ripped from his family in New Jersey and transferred 1,400 miles away to a detention facility in Louisiana.
Why? For foreign policy reasons, they said.
Itās part of the Immigration and Nationality Act. In rare cases, it lets the Secretary of State remove a non-citizen if theyāre deemed a foreign policy āthreat.ā
But hereās the problem: the law is so vague that it opens the door to abuse. In this case, the government used it not because Mahmoud committed a crime, but because he spoke out in support of Palestinian rights.
The ruling made it clear: this kind of power grab is not okay.
Judge Michael Farbiarz called the government’s argument āunprecedentedā and said Khalilās detention under this law is likely unconstitutional. He warned that using vague laws like this could eventually be applied far beyond immigration cases, including against U.S. citizens in criminal contexts.
The implications are chilling.
Immigration law isnāt just about who gets to stay. Itās about how power is used, and misused.
When the government uses obscure laws to target people for their speech or identity, it threatens all of us. If itās possible for one man to be imprisoned for speaking out, it becomes possible for anyone to be next.
This is exactly why civics matters: so we know when our laws are being bent into weapons.
āIf Section 1227 can apply, here, to the Petitioner, then other, similar statutes can also one day be made to apply. Not just in the removal context, as to foreign nationals. But also in the criminal context, as to everyone.ā
āļø Learn more about the case from the Center for Constitutional Rights.
š£ļø Speak out about unjust detention. It happens more than you think, both inside and outside prison walls.
ā¤ļø Support organizations fighting detention and deportation abuses.
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Welcome to Bee Sides
short reflections on justice, hope, and the human spirit
This series is a corner of our blog where I gather books, stories, and unexpected moments that linger long after the first glance.
Most will tie back to incarceration, justice, and the quiet fight for dignity. But sometimes? Itāll simply be whatever refuses to let go. The echoes that stay with me. Because thatās what Bee Sides are for.
Let me know what youāre reading, watching, or wondering about. Maybe itāll make the next issue.
This oneās aboutĀ holes in the wall, agile mindsets, and not knowing what youāre doing until you do.
Thereās a shelf Iāve been meaning to hang for weeks.
Okay months.
Hanging a shelf is like building a support system, it takes planning, the right anchors, and the patience to start over when it all crumbles.
The instructions were simple, and Iām reasonably handy. But somehow, despite good intentions, careful planning, and a decent drill and level… I still got it wrong.
More than once.
What started as a small project turned into a full-blown architectural battle with my wall. I patched holes. I repainted. I watched youtube videos. I made peace with the mess and tried again.
While prepping for another go at it, I went to buy a new can of wall texture spray because the one I found in the garage had lost its will to live and just spit out clumps like a grumpy llama.
My local Ace only had giant cans, enough to texture the Taj Mahal. I asked if they had smaller ones.
The clerk said no, then offered this:
āUse the whole can. It wonāt last anyway. Spray it in the corners. Baseboards. Gaps. Anywhere. Keep critters out. Just use it upā
Um ….
What?
I nodded. I smiled. I did not ask follow-up questions.
Iām still not sure what she thought was in the can.
Foam? Spackle?Ā
Rat poison?
I walked out thinking: this is how most advice works.
Part experience, part imagination, and just enough misplaced confidence to keep you from trying it.

And even better: itās level. Perfectly level.
But let’s zoom in a little. There she is. That one recalcitrant screw. That’s as far as I can get her. Sheās giving āI tried my best with what I hadā energy.
And that uncommitted wall anchor in the background? A ghost of methods past.
And yet, the shelf? She’s solid.
And ... isnāt that just life? If thatās not a metaphor for advocacy and DIY perseverance, I donāt know what is.
It reminded me of something Rick said years ago, back when he was still inside and coaching me through the early days of Adopt an Inmate. I had to redo something Iād built that wasnāt working.
āThat’s called agile methodology,ā he said.
It’s a good thing, he told me.
(My) translation:
āThat was a shitty way to do it. Letās try something else.ā
Weāre taught to equate mistakes with failure.
But growth? Growth is drywall dust and painter’s tape and trying again with better anchors.
Eventually, I finished the job. Here’s the āafterā photo that hides the errant screw completely.
And hereās the thing: behind every picture-perfect space, thereās always a recalcitrant screw.
Something unsightly but functional, and only you know the backstory.
And thatās okay. Maybe itās even the point.
Behind the shelf, there are holes I patched.
Behind the polish, there’s a mess I worked through.
And behind the level bubble⦠there’s a lesson.
Success isnāt about doing something perfectly.
Itās about making just enough wrong decisions to land in the right place.
Coming Soon Sometime: Shelf Life, Part II
Now that the wall is patched and the shelf is steady, what deserves to live there?
(An essay on curation, memory, and the weight of beautiful things.)
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šŗšø Each day this Memorial Week, weāre sharing the words of a living veteran. Someone who served their country and is now incarcerated, waiting to be seen, heard, and remembered. These are real voices from our waiting list. Real people. Still here. Still hoping.
Some veterans keep serving, even from prison.
Steven spent eight years in the U.S. Navy, stationed in Southeast Asia and the Middle East. Now, heās serving a 30-year sentence, which, at his age, likely means life.
But he hasnāt stopped showing up.
Prison is a rough place, but what Iāve learned most is that prison is not only intended as punishment, but even more for the purpose of exploitation and abuse. Itās large-scale business built on the bodies of those in its grasp.
I have therefore dedicated my life now to being a writer and a prison reform advocate. Iāve written more than 200 reform-related essays.
I would love to be adopted by someone as a pen pal. My family does not stay in touch, and Iāve had only one visitor in the past 8 years.
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This is what service looks like when no oneās watching.
This is what resilience looks like in the absence of recognition.
**Many incarcerated veterans become writers, educators, and advocates,** but rarely receive outside recognition or support.
They fight for justice from within a system built to silence them.
The veteran who shared these words is on our waiting list and could really use a friend.
If you’d like to get connected, or even just send a note of encouragement, contact us and mention his name. Weāll take care of the rest.
šŗšø Each day this Memorial Week, weāre sharing the words of a living veteran. Someone who served their country and is now incarcerated, waiting to be seen, heard, and remembered. These are real voices from our waiting list. Real people. Still here. Still hoping.
Richard was injured by an IED while serving in Iraq.
He suffered a traumatic brain injury.
Now, heās in prison, looking for connection.
I want to find good friends. I am a disabled Veteran, while serving in Iraq I as hit by an IED. I suffered traumatic brain injury. The VA has rated me as permanently disabled.
I have seen all the destruction and greed that the human race can create. I have come through struggles with addiction. I need to find friends who are gonna have my back. People who lift each other up, people like I had when I was in the Army.
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This is what community sounds like.
This is what loss feels like.
And this is what hope still looks like.
The veteran who shared these words is on our waiting list and could really use a friend.
If you’d like to get connected, or even just send a note of encouragement, contact us and mention his name. Weāll take care of the rest.