An unassuming “gentle giant,” Richard Ross is a photojournalist who spent five years traveling 30 states to interview more than 1,000 incarcerated youths in the U. S. He captured pictures and stories that he has published in a book called “Juvenile In Justice.”
“At the outset of this project I wanted to give a voice to those with the least amount of authority in any U.S confinement system…These are stories of young lives reduced to a paragraph of information. What they have in common is poverty, violence and a diminished view of the possibilities that the world can offer,” states Ross.
His book provides an intimate portrait of elementary school-aged kids to youths in their teens, all in confinement for juvenile delinquency or even murder.
More than a focus on crimes that these youths have committed, Ross’ book captures the pure essence of young innocence and vulnerability that only a photograph can show.
Picture an ordinary school kid from your average elementary school. Now imagine that child in a stark white room, with a concrete slab for a bed, and a metal sink and toilet.
Here they describe some of the crimes they committed that led to their confinement:
“I’m from Newburgh. It’s a tough town. I think I was first charged when I was nine years old. I was a robbery lookout. I got caught in a big raid they did in town. I’m still in elementary school,” says L.R., age 11, who is serving time in a Juvenile Treatment Center in Red Hook, New York.
“I have been running away my whole life. My parents divorced when I was four. My father sexually abused me from age five to nine. My stepmother physically abused me. I was kidnapped by a pimp and prostituted out. I tried to run at one point and was shot in my butt. I was paralyzed for two weeks. I shouldn’t be here, they are not charging me with anything, but they have set bail at $250,000” – R., age 16, at Multnomah County Detention Facility, Multnomah County, Oregon.
“I’m a sophomore in high school. My father abused me, and he told me he was going to do the same to my little brother and sister. When he told me he was going to hurt them…I couldn’t let that happen. He was asleep, so I took his gun and shot him. I pled guilty to manslaughter. I had just turn 14 when it happened. My brother and sister can’t visit. I miss them a lot. I don’t like showing my emotions. I would rather keep things neutral. If I let my emotions get into it… control can all fall away. Being able to control, this is my real strength.” – Z., age 16, serving time in Juvenile Corrections Center, Nampa, Idaho.
Ross explains: “I learned how to speak to children in detention and confinement. I learned to neutralize the authority of my age, height and race by sitting on the floor and allowing the children to have control over the conversation and they always had the option of saying, ‘Don’t want to talk about that.’… Sitting on the floor of a cell and listening to a kid try to explain why his mother hasn’t visited him in the four years he has been in prison is an odd gift to be given.”
According to the American Correctional Association, it costs, on average, $88,000 per year to incarcerate a single youth in a juvenile correctional facility. By comparison, a four-year public university can cost less than $8,000 a year.