San Quentin News

Written By Incarcerated - Advancing Social Justice

Archives for March 2017

Inmates are 20 percent of California fire crews

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Many California prisoners find gratifying work fighting wildfires. Roughly 20 percent of the state’s fire crews are inmates, according to a CBS News report.

“They’re among the first to hit the front lines of California’s dangerous wildfires. The orange uniforms let people know – these firefighters are inmates,” according to Chris Martinez of CBS News.

Certain offenses, often involving violence, exclude prisoners from participating in the firefighting program, however, there are exceptions: Robert Lane, in prison for great bodily injury (GBI – a “violent” crime), has been in the program for about five years, Martinez reports.

“It’s a big opportunity. I’m giving back to the community for what I did. … We’re treated as firefighters … it lets you know you’re worth something,” Lane says.

California’s prisoner firefighting program is the largest of its kind in the country; and the inmates perform dangerous work for $2 per hour, the news report says.

Keith Guillory of the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation says, “It is dangerous work and a volunteer program, so we shouldn’t take it for granted just because they’re inmates that they have to be out there.”

The inmate firefighter crews perform the crucial task of digging fire containment lines and clearing paths so that other crews can reach the flames.

Inmate firefighters say that the experience has impacted them in a positive way, giving them a sense of pride for when they leave prison, CBS reports.

Looking back on 42 years of service at San Quentin

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In June 1975, Donald Graham left the California Department of Corrections’ training academy after two weeks and took his first job assignment at San Quentin State Prison.

An Air Force veteran with college degrees in computer science and mathematics from California State University at Sonoma, Graham came to work for the department with a proactive perspective for problem solving.

His stance toward the incarcerated population was unique. As a new recruit, fresh out of the academy, he acknowledged that many problems with the correctional staff and the general population could be generally resolved without conflict.

“It takes a little time to gain an inmate’s trust, but after that, problems are easily solved,” he said.

Throughout his long career, Graham had the good fortune of spending all 42 years at San Quentin. During the ’70s, new recruits out of the academy worked the graveyard. He spent six months walking the gun rail in West Block.

The ’70s were also turbulent. Prisoners were frustrated and restless. On occasion, cultural tensions soared among the races. Graham was later assigned to work the West Block’s upper yard. There he had opportunities to intermingle and speak with inmates. Even though he spent two weeks at the academy, he knew his on-the-job training would come from working with these men.

How to combine safety and security with compassion toward the inmate population was then and is today a set of contradictory ideas and terms for staff to understand and implement. For Graham, this dexterity was simple.

“I’m paid to work as a correctional officer. These men should be treated with respect when deserving,” he said.

From late 1975 through 1976, he worked H Unit’s kitchen area. Relationships with Blacks, Hispanics and Whites were fragile. Being an enthusiastic new recruit with problem-solving skills, “I often found myself caught in the middle,” Graham said. But he managed to find a simple solution for many complex racial problems. Often “a little patience and understanding” was needed.

After a year, he started working other units. Alpine, Donner and West Block general populations continued to grow. The Adjustment Center, Badger and East Block became the overflow, which gave him broader exposure to the prison.

Working in different units added to his all-embracing perspective of how to enforce the rules of safety and security without being offensive.

During this time, East and North Blocks became the maximum security units. “North Seg” was the only unit that housed condemned and Death Row inmates in the late ’70s and early ’80s. He had to approach these inmates with a different mindset. However, despite their attitude and disposition toward staff and problems with their prison living conditions, interacting with these men taught him their problems, too, were easily resolved. “Take the time and listen to them,” was his mantra.

In 1983, Graham was promoted to sergeant and then went back to West Block. During these times, the general population was in a state of flux. The unit was converted to a reception center. Overcrowded county jails in the Bay Area sent their excess to San Quentin. There was very little stability in the housing unit because inmates were constantly arriving and departing the prison. Violence erupted regularly among the ranks.   

It became difficult to maintain respect with his proactive attitude. Many daily activities resulted in serious rule violations. In many instances, he applied common sense to fix problems, but often he had no choice but to follow the rules and procedures. “I tried to be fair in my assessment of the problems and applied the best solution to the situation.” 

“I’m paid to work as a correctional officer. These men should be treated with respect when deserving”

In 1996, a young correctional officer from East Oakland came to work on Death Row with Graham, who was then a lieutenant. Like most officers fresh out of the academy, Sam Robinson wanted very little contact with his immediate supervisor, let alone a lieutenant. But it was different with Graham. “He was always approachable and easy to get along with,” Robinson said. Death Row inmates require special handling, but he and Graham worked well together. 

Late in 2006, Lt. Graham became San Quentin’s Inmate Assignment supervisor. This new job operated under a completely different set of challenges, procedures, requirements, rules and problems.

Over the next 10 years, the department’s interest in incarceration, rehabilitation and re-entry metamorphosed as a result of federal court orders, and the demand for change became more urgent. Lt. Graham’s days were filled with an onslaught of rapid decisions that had to be made.

His wit and proactive perspective for problem- solving was needed to handle the Prison Industry Authority operations, vocational training programs, joint ventures, assigning inmates to GED classes, to yard and kitchen job positions.

In mid-2015, San Quentin Prison implemented the Strategic Offender Management System (SOMS), a computer system used statewide to monitor inmate programming status. All self-help activities, daily dentist, medical and mental health ducats are processed through Lt. Graham’s office. 

When asked why he never promoted to captain, Graham simply said, “I came to the department to be a correctional officer. I make a good living by working with the general population. I’m committed to them. The political part of being an administrator is of no real interest to me.”

Though not yet retiring, Graham was nonetheless asked about his legacy. He answered, “I want to be remembered for my accountability and commitment.”

DDS Morley’s heartfelt goodbye after 19 years at SQ

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‘The dental department is going to lose a wonderful dentist’

Making people smile is something Jerry Morley is good at; it is something he does for a living. He is not a therapist, and he does not work in a pharmacy. He is San Quentin’s longtime dentist, and he is retiring at the end of this month.

The 69-year-old dentist, whose hands are hardly idle, has worked for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) for the past 20 years. He spent 19 of those years at San Quentin, where he became known as Death Row’s dentist because his dental chair was often occupied by condemned men. 

Over the years Dr. Morley has also gained a reputation among the prison’s general population for not being like typical CDCR dentists who Edgar Salazar, a prisoner serving life for a 1995 murder, describes as “evil tooth fairies” who are “stingy with the gauze.”

Although numerous prisoners share Salazar’s sentiment, Dr. Morley is in a different category.

“I’d like to dispel the rumor that all we do is ‘pull’ teeth,” said Dr. Morley, with pen in hand and eyes roaming over a patient’s chart. “We fix and adjust partials and dentures, conduct annual examinations and do fillings.”

He and his colleagues do a wide spectrum of work under CDCR policies and procedures, but their efforts are often undermined by the stigma their patients attach to the healthcare providers.

“He leaves us better than he found us”

Even though Dr. Morley has pulled his share of teeth over the years, he has also “put some back,” said patient Rodney Baylas, who smiles with confidence because of the partial denture he received.

It is common at San Quentin to see toothless men. Many have a long history of drug use, which often results in the loss of teeth. In addition, prison can be a violent place, so you never know whether an individual got popped in the mouth. Regardless of why people lost a tooth, Dr. Morley has given their smiles back to plenty of them.     

“He leaves us better than he found us,” said Richard Tully, a man who has been on Death Row for more than two decades. “The words ‘going to the dentist’ normally generate feelings of fear and dread, but the extremely sharp and unkind instruments are wielded with skill and gentleness when in Dr. Morley’s hands,” Tully added.

The high praise he receives from most of his patients is mirrored by his colleagues, who benefit from having Dr. Morley around because he increases the quality of their own work. Soon they will miss that benefit. 

“I’ve learned so much from Dr. Morley,” said S. Cooley, one of six San Quentin dental providers. “He has made me a better dentist,” 

Debbie Vasquez Green, a longtime dental assistant who recently retired, expressed similar feelings: “The dental department is going to lose a wonderful dentist.”

Dr. Morley started his dental career in 1973, after graduating from dental school at Creighton University. The same year he joined the U.S. Navy, where he served as captain before retiring in 1996. Only then did he join CDCR at Valley State Prison for Women in the Central Valley before making the Bay Area his home and the people of San Quentin his extended family.

The doctor’s departure is “going to be a sad day for us and great day for him,” said fellow colleague Dr. Eifert.

George Greenwood, a nine-year patient of Dr. Morley, said that the veteran dentist made him feel like he was more than a prison number.

“His care is of the utmost professional quality,” said Ali R. Muhammad, whose past dental experiences both outside and inside prison walls were traumatic. Bottom line, Dr. Morley cares, and people like him “are hard to come by.”

“I don’t make any distinctions about my patients,” Dr. Morley said. “I treat them with their best interest at heart.”

For prisoner James Benson, that makes all the difference because, according to him, healthcare in prison lacks “care.”

It might seem unbelievable that someone could have the type of impact that Dr. Morley has had, but the people who have had bad experiences with dentists while incarcerated know when a gem is in their presence.

“I’d like to think that people will miss you for the work you have done,” Dr. Morley said.

The people at San Quentin are those people.

Consulado Mexicano visita San Quentin

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Prisioneros Mexicanos e hispanos de diferentes nacionalidades en California enfrentan grandes retos para rehabilitarse y cambiar sus vidas.

Esa fue la impresión que se llevaron los oficiales del Consulado Mexicano de San Francisco quienes recientemente visitaron la Prisión de San Quentin.

De acuerdo a Javier issac Delgadillo, quien trabaja en el Departamento de Asuntos Legales y Protección en el consulado Mexicano de San Francisco, la póliza de inmigración de Estados Unidos anuncia la deportación de mexicanos nacionales y otros inmigrantes indocumentados al ser liberados de prisión. Delgadillo comenta que en las audiencias de inmigración los jueces se enfocan en el crimen que la persona cometió, “Prestan muy poca atención en el esfuerzo que la persona a invertido en su rehabilitación”.

Delgadillo acompañado por tres oficiales del consulado vinieron el 4 de Febrero a visitar el programa en español de GRIP (Trasformando la Ira en Poder), escucharon a hombres de habla hispana hablar de que fue lo que paso que los llevo a prisión.

Flag of Mexico

“Creo que si una persona esta por salir de prisión después de completar un programa como este y esta listo para reintegrarse a la sociedad y trabajar por su familia, esa persona merece una oportunidad, solamente basado en los derechos humanos”, comento Gemi Gonzáles, Consulado General de México, San Francisco.

GRIP es un programa de comprensión y aceptación de responsabilidad con una duración de 52 semanas donde los participantes recorren un trayecto de sanacion, para transformarlos en agentes de bien. Agentes de bien que regresan a dar a la comunidad a la que un día ellos le quitaron, trabajan con jóvenes y enseñan a los que todavía están encarcelados.

GRIP es una creación de Jacques Verduin, director ejecutivo de Insight out, la cual es la organización que trajo este programa a San Quentin. Este currículo es el primero en su categoría específicamente diseñado para los prisioneros de habla hispana. Cerca de tres docenas de personas están recientemente tomando este curso, con un total de 609 años combinando los años servidos en prisión. La Dr. Lucia de la fuente es la traductora y facilitadora del grupo.

“Es muy importante tomar este programa en español”, comenta de la fuente. “Es vital y crucial el escuchar y aprender en tu propio lenguaje. Muchos de los hispanos encarcelados no hablan español. Deberían de tener la oportunidad de escoger, si desean tomar un programa para mejorarse ellos mismos, sin basarlo en que el programa este en ingles”.

La sesión tomo lugar en un salón de clase donde los participantes se sentaron formando un círculo. En un pizarrón blanco hay información escrita con detalle y en español mostrando a los participantes como conectarse con sus emociones para evitar tendencias violentas.

Verduin dice que piensa que los hispanos tienen una experiencia más dificultosa por causa de la barrera del ingles, añadiéndole que muchos de ellos están propensos a una deportación.

“Como resultado se mantienen unidos causando la formación de pandillas”, comento Verduin. “Las pandillas en Latino América fueron exportadas de las prisiones de Estados Unidos. Creo que nuestro presidente quiere poner una barda alrededor de estas personas. GRIP les ayudara a romper las paredes interiores, y nadie podrá apuntarlos con el dedo y disminuir su dignidad. Es importante en nuestra sociedad crear mas dignidad para aquellos que llamamos los “otros”.

Con los pies firmemente plantados en el suelo y las manos en las piernas, da comienzo el ejercicio de la meditación. Se trata de relajación, dice Luis Lopez en español. Pongan atención a su cuerpo y piensen en pensamientos placenteros acerca de su familia.

“Es una oportunidad para los hombres de sentirse seguros en mirar dentro de sus almas,” menciono Nadeshda Vargas, abogado para el consulado Mexicano. “Programas como este ayudan a las personas a darse cuenta que no son los únicos que cometen errores. Si una persona se siente seguro de hablar de sus problemas puede haber mas apoyo. Se obtiene mediante la habilidad de compartir el uno con el otro que eres capaz de dar”.

Un preso se paro en frente del grupo para explicar de como se obtuvo el nombre de la Tribu 609. Menciono que se llego a ese número al combinar todo el tiempo que cada uno de los presos a pasado hasta este momento en la prisión.

Los presos hablaron confiadamente y con sinceridad. Pudieron hablar abiertamente porque todos tienen un acuerdo de nunca discutir lo que ocurre en el círculo fuera del círculo.

La confidencialidad permite revelar información confidencial, y es tal la emoción que se coloca una caja de kleenex en medio del salón para el participante que derrame lágrimas.

Otro participante explico brevemente como reconocer cuando una persona esta en peligro inminente a través de las sensaciones corporales. Reconocer las emociones y los pensamientos antes de responder a una situación difícil es importante. De acuerdo al currículo de GRIP, el estar consientes de este proceso permite que los participantes se relajen y tengan la oportunidad de responder sin recurrir a la violencia.

Durante la presentación de un ejercicio conocido como “asuntos inconclusos” era evidente mirar cabezas inclinadas, caras con expresiones de dolor al escuchar a un participante compartir su historia en medio del círculo. Unas sillas son colocadas enfrente del participante que representan personas imaginarias a quienes va dirigida la carta. Es una oportunidad para decir las cosas que nunca se dijeron a las personas amadas: madres, padres, hermanos, hermanas, hijos e hijas. Unos espectadores levantan las manos en oración, otros se cubren sus bocas.

“Aprendí que los programas realmente ayudan a evolucionar a las personas,” comento Wilma Gandoy, Cónsul para Protección y Asuntos Legales, quien anteriormente visito la Tribu 609 dos semanas después que se inicio el curso. “Con esta segunda visita puedo mirar el crecimiento y mejoramiento, los hombres expresan mejor sus experiencias y están mas abiertos al cambio”, comento Gandoy. “Esta clase de programa se debería expandir porque les ayuda a regresar a la comunidad como mejores personas”.

–Traducción por

Marco Villa y Taré Beltranchuc

Mas vivir y menos sobrevivir: la Justicia Restaurativa y el perdón humano

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La justicia suele personificarse con la imagen de una mujer con los ojos vendados, sosteniendo una balanza y una espada. La mujer, inspirada en la diosa griega Temis (algunos dicen que proviene de la diosa Maat del antiguo Egipto), representa el orden y la “divina justicia”, y tiene los ojos vendados como emblema de la imparcialidad y la objetividad. La balanza en la mano izquierda simboliza la justicia moderna y contrarresta el peso de cada lado; busca el equilibrio y nos dice que “nadie va a perder”. La espada en la mano derecha, encarnando la importancia de la ejecución de las medidas (o las normas), constituye la fuerza inflexible de las leyes.

Sin embargo la justicia no es ciega, ni equitativa, ni equilibrada, ni “convencedora”. La justicia moderna occidental, como la conocemos y vivimos, es punitiva y castiga a todos aquellos que la desafían. La justicia es la espada: venga, corta, separa y nos hace duros. Por eso, cuando se viola una norma, la justicia se aplica a la persona que rompió dicha ley. Es decir, las consecuencias las impone la justicia acorde sus leyes y las paga la persona. Pero, ¿qué pasaría si en vez de enfocarnos en el castigo, lo hacemos en el perdón? ¿Quiénes seríamos si en vez de poner rejas, barrotes y sanciones, nos centráramos en el ser humano? ¿Y si en vez de que la justicia castigue al individuo, el ofensor pudiera reparar el daño que causó, directamente con la persona a quien ofendió? Al final de cuentas, la justicia no se hiere, se hieren las personas.

Nuestra sociedad sería distinta si en vez de perseguir el perdón de la justicia, persiguiéramos el perdón de las personas. De humano a humano. Este perdón se llama Justicia Restaurativa. Perdonar a quien me lastimó, pedir perdón a quienes les falté y perdonarme a mí mismo por haber fallado.

Después de décadas de resentimiento, apatía e ira contra todo y todos quienes me rodeaban, me di cuenta de que yo no iba a albergar más que odio, a menos de que me diera a la difícil y dura tarea de buscar el perdón. Me han ofendido, pero yo también he ofendido. Merezco que me perdonen aquellos a quienes lastimé, pero también debo de perdonar a quienes me hirieron. Y si no lo merezco, al menos he de intentarlo. Estoy cansada de pretender ser feliz. Estoy cansada de poner toda mi engría en sentimientos aterradores. Estoy cansada de vivir en un cuarto oscuro. Yo era la mujer con los ojos vendados, sosteniendo una espada. Mi balanza, pesada como una roca, se equilibraba con desesperanza en un lado y odio en el otro. Me quité la venda que me cegaba, tiré la espada y me senté con la balanza. Durante años me dediqué a averiguar de dónde venía esa desesperanza y odio. “Nadie va a perder”, me dijo la balanza muchas veces; pero la que siempre perdía era yo. No tenia forma de ganar. ¿Cómo hacerlo cargando todo ese peso? “Las leyes se hicieron para violarlas”, me dije muchas veces. No. No se hicieron para violarlas; más bien, fueron creadas para substituir nuestra adormecida capacidad de perdón. La figura de “la mujer de la justicia” que tantas veces he visto en los libros y en los periódicos, la tengo grabada en cada neurona de mi cerebro. Normas, reglas, castigos y silencios. Me los sé de memoria. Pero entre tanto estudio y práctica de la ley, olvidé cómo es que se pide perdón a otro igual a mí. A otro humano. Lo olvidé hasta que conocí lo que hoy muchos le llaman “Justicia Restaurativa”. “¡Ja! ¿Y eso qué es?” me pregunté. “Sanar y perdonar”, me respondieron. “Quizá sea el dejar de sobrevivir al dolor y al odio, para empezar a vivir”, me dije.

La segunda parte de este artículo será publicada en el siguiente número de San Quentin News.

Two views of how Prop. 47 is working out:

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Positive: Barriers to employment were reduced

Proposition 47 has allowed many former offenders access to better jobs and opportunities.

The voter-approved initiative downgraded drug possession and some thefts from felonies to misdemeanors.

“This wave of new workers will inevitably benefit the economy, but it also decreases the likelihood of re-arrest,” USA Today reported. “According to recidivism experts and scientific studies, convicts are far less likely to re-offend if they get a good job when their incarceration ends, and yet this is the exact kind of employment that is often out of reach for felons.

“Unable to compete in the job market, they have few choices: suffer perpetual poverty in a low-paying job, hide their felony from employers or return to crime and risk another stint behind bars.”

In 2014, voters passed Proposition 47. It downgraded 198,000 felony convictions to misdemeanors and at least 13,500 inmates were released from incarceration, according to an analysis by USA Today Network-California journalists.

Some companies forbid the hiring of felons and most will turn away an applicant if a candidate with no convictions is available. Felons also have more difficulty obtaining professional licenses — whether they cut hair, sell homes or practice law. For those who reduced all of their felonies under Proposition 47, no conviction now stands between them and employment. Even individuals with some of their felonies reduced become more employable, the newspaper noted.

Lenore Anderson, a prison reform advocate who helped write Proposition 47, stated, “We created a system where there’s so many collateral impacts to having a felony conviction on your record that you cannot sustain yourself. You cannot find employment. You cannot find housing. You cannot integrate back with your family. These are all things that lead to recidivism.”

Economist Sung Won Sohn of Cal State Channel Islands stated Proposition 47’s reduction of convictions will create an influx of new workers and will also allow the state to get more production out of the workers it already has. Some working felons are likely overqualified for their current jobs but now can move up the ladder to better jobs.

Vonya Quarles, who launched the nonprofit StartingOverInc in Corona, said many of the Proposition 47 petitioners have abandoned their “I’ll-take-any-kind-of-job-we-can-get” attitude. Politicians may debate how much money the proposition has saved, and police might worry about a bump in property crime, but Quarles insists the biggest impact of Proposition 47 is also the hardest to measure — new hope.

Negative: Parolees leave prison homeless and jobless

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By David Eugene Archer Sr.

At least 13,500 low-level drug offenders were freed from prisons and jails by California voters in 2014, reported USA Today.

“Did Prop 47 help?” the newspaper asked. The answer appears to be “not much.”

Thousands are now homeless, jobless and again committing petty crimes.

The Prop 47 releases exposed the limits of California’s neglected social service programs.

The proposition earmarked millions of dollars saved from prison costs for inmate rehabilitation, but not one penny was spent — even though expanding rehabilitation programs would be infinitely more effective in combating addiction and less expensive than housing people in prison. California has 565,000 drug-dependent adults, and treating them at a cost of $20,000 per person would be less than a third of the cost a year in jail or prison.

“The problem is, if you don’t actually do anything to change conditions of their lives, they’re going to be back on the streets anyway,” Elliot Currie, a criminologist at UC Irvine, told USA Today reporters.

“Prop 47 was not a cure-all. … It is one piece in … the puzzle in our communities”

“What’s to prevent them from going back to the same old ways when they get out? The answer is nothing,” he added.

“Prop 47 was not a cure-all. … It is one piece in … the puzzle in our communities,” said Michael Romano, Stanford law expert.

In 1968 Governor Ronald Reagan closed nine state mental hospitals, but vetoed the transfer of funds for county treatment programs.

“Jails turned into the mental health system, so in many we have to finally grapple with the problem we should’ve fixed in the first place,” Currie said.

AB 109, passed by the state legislature, changed sentencing laws so thousands of non-serious and non-violent offenders were sentenced to county jail, whereas before they would have served time in state prison.

“If we want criminal justice reform and social justice reform to work … it’s about fixing the system that comes out and supports them when they come out,” said Eunisses Hernandez, a Drug Policy Alliance advocate.

Drug court programs that directed offenders into treatment facilities instead of jail are emptying, according to the USA Today report. The enrollment in Los Angeles’ longest-running drug court program has dropped from 80 people to only four.

David Ramage, who leads the drug court program, said Prop 47 “tore it apart.”

Employment still the biggest obstacle for parolees

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One of the biggest obstacle prisoners face upon release is finding a job. This applies to both violent and nonviolent offenders.

“Recently the American Bar Association estimated that there are 44,000 different barriers to re-entry at the state and federal level,” said Dominik Taylor, a staff attorney with Root and Rebound, an Oakland-based nonprofit organization that offers re-entry support.

A majority of employers still require applicants to reveal their criminal record history, according to Oakland North reporter Andrew Beale.

“Research shows that just that question alone has a dramatic impact on making people a lot less likely to apply for jobs,” Taylor said. “Even if they’re qualified, they see that question, and often times they’re afraid to turn in the application.”

On top of all this, “Your parole officer can violate you, give you a violation, if you don’t have stable employment,” Taylor said. “So usually if you don’t have a job, you’re going to get violated and you’ll go back to prison, you’ll go back to jail.”

Re-entering society requires determination when applying for employment. According to a 2015 study, recidivism drops to around 3.3 to 8 percent when ex-inmates find employment rapidly, according to America Works, a job-training firm, and the Manhattan Institute, a nonpartisan research group.                                                    

San Francisco is the only city in California to “ban the box” for private employment. Even then, if there are fewer than 15 employees, those businesses are exempt from this ban, notes Beale.

Root and Rebound deputy director Sonja Tonnesen said that Title VII federal law prohibits blanket hiring bans against formerly incarcerated people.

“It is very illegal to ban all people with felonies from a job. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (the government agency charged with enforcing Title VII) has said that because people of color are disproportionately incarcerated, arrested, sentenced, convicted in this country, that when you ban all people with felonies, all people with a criminal record, it has an unfair impact, a disparate impact on people of color, and thus violates civil rights laws,” Tonnesen told reporter Beale..

Project Bayview Men’s and Women’s Homes executive director Shawn Gordon is the founder of Huli Huli restaurant. He also served a 12-year prison term for narcotics distribution.

Huli Huli restaurant is a prime example of what ex-inmates can achieve when given the opportunity, according to Beale. The employees of Huli Huli are all ex-cons who have received training in culinary skills.

Project Bayview also offers training in life skills, including anger management and parenting classes. Clients are encouraged to enroll in addiction recovery programs.

Gordon told Beale it’s important to give people opportunities.

“In a time and place in their life where other people would be a little hesitant to take that same chance,” Gordon said, “we’re set up and we’re built to take that chance.”

The re-entry program Root and Rebound recently launched an online site, http://reentrytraininghub.org/ that offers a step-by-step guide called “Roadmap to Re-entry,” instructions for how to obtain an ID-Card, parole, probation and deal any other barriers and or obstacles.

Louisiana lacks funding in juvenile LWOP sentencing hearings

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‘The state public defender’s budget has been “stagnant” at about $33 million’

Louisiana public defenders lack funding to represent life-without-parole (LWOP) juvenile offenders at sentencing hearings, the New Orleans Advocate reported.

In 2012, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled against laws mandating LWOP for juveniles as unconstitutional in Miller v. Alabama. Subsequent rulings made it retroactive.

Today, juveniles facing a sentence of LWOP are required to get “individualized sentencing hearings” before such a harsh sentence can be handed down,” said Carol Kolinchak, a compliance officer for the Louisiana Public Defender Board.

According to the Advocate, during these hearings the public defender is mandated to investigate and present to the court evidence about the youth and the circumstances surrounding his or her crime.

But the mandate isn’t cheap, and it’s also unfunded, and comes at a cost of $60,000 to $75,000 per client, said Kolinchak.

The shortfall in funding is having a systemic impact on cases handled by public defenders, the state public defender’s budget has been “stagnant” at about $33 million for the past several years, (and) the threat of a 5 percent cut looms ahead, said Jay Dixon, a state public defender.

Budget constraints are preventing public defenders from representing indigent juveniles in individualized sentencing hearings, Dixon told SLP. “We don’t have an answer. This is the kind of thing that funding or lack of funding creates.”

According to Kolinchak, there are nearly 300 juveniles eligible for such individualized hearings throughout the state of Louisiana.

Forty Million Dollar Slaves: The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of the Black Athlete by William C. Rhoden

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Professional athletes have always earned higher salaries than the average wage earner. Yet, the lack of African-Americans in sports team ownership is a carefully crafted plan, according to Forty Million Dollar Slaves: The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of the Black Athlete (2006) by William C. Rhoden.

To show athletes are in a slave/master relationship, Rhoden, who is a sports writer for The New York Times and a Peabody Award winner, links a number of historical facts.

Forty Million Dollar Slaves considers how games and sports were acceptable pastimes for slaves, so it was routine for slaves to excel in individual sports, such as running, wrestling and boxing.

“Sports, as well as dance and music, were vehicles through which transcendence and transformation could be achieved, in which slave could be master, the powerless could become powerful,” Rhoden writes.

In American sports teams, players were largely drawn along racial lines. Yet, when Blacks began organizing their own sports teams and created a level of socio-economic independence, the integration of Blacks into baseball, basketball and football had the effect of actually stalling and reversing the gains.

“Integration fixed in place myriad problems: a destructive power dynamic between black talent and white ownership; a chronic psychological burden for black athletes, who constantly had to prove their worth; disconnection of the athlete from his or her community; and the emergence of the apolitical black athlete, who had to be careful what he or she said or stood for, so as not to offend white paymasters. At the same time, it destroyed an autonomous zone of black industry, practically eliminated every black person involved in sports — coaches, owners, trainers, accountants, lawyers, secretaries, and so on — except the precious on-the-field talent,” Forty Million Dollar Slaves concludes.

Rhoden puts forth a clear argument, showing how the socio-economic and political stagnation of Blacks connect to what he terms “The Jockey Syndrome.”

The Jockey Syndrome refers to events that ended African-Americans as the predominant riders in thoroughbred horseracing.

Little known fact:

The first Kentucky Derby winner in 1875 was a Black man named Oliver Lewis; moreover, 13 of the 15 riders in the first Derby were Black.

However, when the earnings from thoroughbred horseracing began to skyrocket, White jockeys, backed by White owners, excluded Blacks from riding by forming the Jockey’s Guild, and overnight there were no more Black jockeys.

This phenomenon was not an isolated incident.

In 1920, Arthur “Rube” Foster created the Negro National League. It was a professional baseball league of Black owners — organized, managed and played by African-Americans.

“It would be a crime for the Negro who has such an abundance of talent in such a progressive age to sit idly by and see his race forever doomed to [be excluded from] America’s greatest and foremost sport,” Foster said, as the reason for creating the league.

When the Negro League faded into the history books, Rhoden wrote, “A black institution was dead, while a white institution grew richer and stronger. This was the result of integration.” The solution, according to Rhoden, is Black ownership.

“At a time when the number of black males attending college is increasing at a slower rate than the number being incarcerated, young black men with stellar athletic ability are still hotly pursued, coddled, and showered with gifts for a promise to attend major colleges and universities,” Rhoden writes.

Forty Million Dollar Slaves is critical of these modern African-American athletes. They have unfettered access to young minds and have more influence than politicians and clergy — “their reach could potentially extend so much wider, and deeper.”

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