New DOC chief: ‘We have what it takes” – We’ll See! – kra
Yeah, yeah, I have heard it all before. We shall see whether she has what it takes. The test will be whether she hold officers and medical staff accountable for their wrongdoing, or whether she goes along with what I heard criminal, abusive staff say over and over and over: “We stick together”!
Time will tell.
Excerpts from the Article:
Claire DeMatteis officially replaced former Department of Correction Commissioner Perry Phelps in a swearing-in ceremony held at the department headquarters in Dover on Monday. Ms. DeMatteis, addressing DOC staff at the ceremony, said that rather than providing a list of her departmental priorities she wanted to reassure officers working for DOC on two questions: “Does she have my back?” and “Does she have what it takes?”
She promised to answer these challenges in the same way she said she has all the others in her life: with “leadership, grit and grace.”
The ceremony drew a large portion of DOC administrative staff, politicians, bureaucrats and other officials from throughout the state — including Gov, John Carney and the majority of his cabinet. Gov. Carney in his welcome speech rehashed Ms. DeMatteis’s qualifications for the position at the head of the 2,500-strong department. “Commissioner DeMatteis has worked hard over the past two years helping lead reform efforts at the Department of Correction — modernizing equipment and training to make our facilities safer, and helping recruit correctional officers to do one of the toughest jobs in state government,” he said.
The DOC has been struggling over the past decade with understaffing concerns, steadily growing overtime requirements and lawsuits claiming substandard inmate living conditions and medical care.
The department’s systemic ills lurched into the limelight on Feb. 1, 2017, when a riot broke out at the state’s largest prison, resulting in the death of a correction officer. Ms. DeMatteis was appointed in mid-2017 as Gov. Carney’s special assistant to help implement a list of “41 key recommendations” provided by an independent investigation team.
In the role she worked alongside DOC leadership implementing a series of reforms intended to strengthen security, safety, officer training, recruitment and retention, prison-based programming and services. Ms. DeMatteis is an Adjunct Professor at the University of Delaware and serves as a University of Delaware Trustee. She received her undergraduate degree from the University of Delaware and her law degree from Widener University’s Delaware Law School. Ms. DeMatteis was also former senior counsel to then-U.S. Sen. Joe Biden. Though the current presidential candidate didn’t make an appearance at the ceremony, Gov. Carney read out a letter from him extolling Ms. DeMatteis’s “exceptional” strengths.
Working together for more than a year, Mr. Phelps and Ms. DeMatteis claimed great progress has been made addressing the department’s ills, but that work still needed to be done — specifically with staffing numbers and overtime requirements.
“I just want to thank him for his tremendous support and leadership of this department,” said Gov. Carney. “He would often remind me that he could retire at any time. But I kept saying: ‘don’t even think about it.’”
The announcement of Mr. Phelps’s retirement came in late May. Two weeks prior to the announcement, the Associated Press had reported that Gov. John Carney refused to say whether he still had confidence in Mr. Phelps following allegations that contract medical workers were falsifying inmate treatment records.
Since then, it has been announced that DOC’s medical contractor is under investigation by the Department of Justice and both an inmate’s family and a former employee have filed separate lawsuits against the provider.
The day Mr. Phelps was sworn in on Feb. 1, 2017, the riot broke out in James T. Vaughn Correctional Center that would largely go on to define his career as commissioner.
Though the violent 19-hour hostage stand-off that resulted in the death of correctional officer Lt. Steven Floyd received only briefly alluded to during the swearing in ceremony on Monday, Ms. DeMatteis memorialized the officer in her speech.
“We will face challenges, it is the nature of the job we signed up for,” she said. “But with the memory of Lt. Steven Floyd, and the ultimate sacrifice he and his family made for us never far from our hearts and souls, we will meet every challenge and exceed every expectation because we have what it takes.
“We have what it takes to carry out the dual mission entrusted to us of public safety and second chances.”
Ohio Mayor’s Courts Are Huge Sources of Unjust Revenues
What a racket! If the changes sought by the ACLU are not enacted, lawsuits should fly, to hold these people ACCOUNTABLE!
Excerpts from the Article:
U.S. jurisprudence generally strives to avoid conflicting interests and even the appearance of impropriety. This practice apparently does not apply to the system of mayor’s courts in Ohio. Reminiscent of ancient Star Chamber of England, Ohio mayor’s court proceedings have no court reporters or even recorders present. In this manner, they are able to operate in open secrecy in order to avoid scrutiny.
However, this is, after all, the United States of America. So, unlike Star Chambers, defendants in Ohio’s mayor’s courts are allowed to be present while their cases involving traffic and local ordinance violations are decided … sort of.
The American Civil Liberties Union (“ACLU”) of Ohio observed defendants in Newburgh Heights, North Olmsted, Parma Heights, Lockland, Highland Heights, Mt. Orab, and Reading being coerced and pressured by prosecuting attorneys and magistrates to plead guilty to charges even after the defendants protested and attempted to plead innocent. Kind of like the old Star Chamber proceedings.
Mayors recruit municipal employees like police officers and magistrates or justices of the peace. Some mayors even preside in their mayor’s courts to hear and pass judgment on cases that provide revenue for their municipality through guilty findings. This is a textbook example of conflicting interests and judicial impropriety.
ACLU of Ohio investigations of mayor’s courts in 2015 found the above-mentioned North Olmsted mayor’s court collected a total of $1,300,000 that year. Mayor’s court cops in 51 municipalities issued 168.8 misdemeanor citations each on average for that year.
Fine payments are coerced in these courts by magistrates threatening defendants with arrest and jail time for failure to comply. Nine of these courts of coercion issued 8,232 arrest warrants in 2016. Eight of the nine suspended 1,912 driver’s licenses.
With apologies to William Shakespeare, concerning Ohio’s mayor’s courts, “Extortion by any other name is still extortion.”
ACLU of Ohio is urging that all mayor’s court proceedings be recorded, with the publication of the defendant’s demographic information and publication of case outcomes. In addition, these courts should be funded by state taxes instead of revenues they themselves generate. Finally, these courts’ discretion should be limited to the point that they are unable to arrest and jail defendants or divest them of their driver’s licenses when the accused cannot pay their fines.
It was noted that people of color and low-income areas were the hardest hit by mayor’s courts. Faced with dire consequences that far outstrip those of people who can afford to pay their fines, a disproportionate number of these disadvantaged populations are routinely hit with compounding fines, increasing legal sanctions, arrests with jail time, and the loss of their driver’s licenses.
Essay on being Different – Baxter – Nobody is “better” than another; we’re all just different.
Too many folks look down their noses at ex offenders, or “convicted felons”. Big mistake, especially when you consider that tens of thousands of them were wrongly convicted. Maybe this little essay helps make the point. Nobody is “better” than another; we’re all just different.
Essay on Being Different
When my son was 5 or 6, we were enjoying the day swimming and playing at one of the many lakes in Orlando. Had a picnic in the park … just having fun “hanging out”.
A van with 7 or 8 children with Downs Syndrome pulled up and the kids got out and sat at two nearby tables/benches. As others stared and whispered I said to my son, Baxter, “Come on, son, let’s go say Hi”. We went over and visited with them for about ½ hour*, and then I went to a nearby fast food place and got a ton of chicken nuggets, which they all enjoyed.
Baxter got the point: these kids weren’t poison, they were just different. I reminded him often as he was growing up: “the only thing you can tell by what a person looks like is what a person looks like”!
Do YOU get the point?
*They really liked our water balloon toys – the best toys for pool or lake. You put a balloon under the tap and add 3 or 4 ounces of water. Inflate to only about 4 or 5 inches in diameter and tie it off. The balloon has enough weight to make it skip over the water, roll off a roof, etc., but is still strong enough that it does not break. Beats the hell out of all the expensive pool toys we had!
Kra 2009
Louisiana Prison Officials Sued for Trying to Block Investigation into Abuse of Disabled Prisoners
You know that having SEEN it for 5 years, “up close and personal”, and realizing how counterproductive it is, and how lawless it is, prison abuse is my #1 issue.
See so many articles here under that subject. This article is yet another instance of it, and echos much of what I have been saying for 7 years now.
Knowing what really goes on in our prisons, I could only laugh at this statement! LDPSC spokesman Pastorick called the claims in the lawsuit “outlandish,” adding that prison officials “look forward to our day in court.” The case remains pending.
God Bless the Plaintiffs’ lawyers and the judge in this case!
Excepts from the Article:
Alleging a “culture of cover-up and excessive force,” the MacArthur Justice Center and the Advocacy Center of Louisiana (ACL) filed a class-action lawsuit in February 2018 against officials at the Louisiana Department of Public Safety and Corrections (LDPSC) and the David Wade Correctional Center (DWCC).
The suit followed a contentious investigation by ACL, which was itself the subject of litigation that settled in August 2017, after the New Orleans-based non-profit accused DWCC staff of interfering with and impeding its efforts to investigate alleged abuse of disabled prisoners.
ACL is Louisiana’s designated advocacy organization for individuals with disabilities under the federal Protection and Advocacy system.
Prior to filing its initial suit in June 2017, ACL received “alarming reports of serious abuse of people with disabilities incarcerated in the lockdown units” at DWCC. A review of written complaints from prisoners and interviews led the organization to conclude that probable cause existed to investigate DWCC.
ACL then set up an appointment to tour the facility and interview prisoners. But when its investigators arrived at DWCC on June 21, 2017, they were not allowed to enter cells or recreation areas; they also were prohibited from asking staff or prisoners questions. Nor were prison employees allowed to talk to investigators or answer their questions.
After the initial tour, when personal interviews were finally allowed, investigators and prisoners were not allowed to exchange documentation – not even a business card.
MacArthur Justice Center attorney Katharine M. Schwartzmann and ACL investigators returned to DWCC on July 13 to see prisoner “J.W.,” because “the Advocacy Center had reason to believe that he was extremely suicidal and at risk of immediate harm.” However, Warden Jerry Goodwin and Col. Lonnie Nail refused to allow the visit because J.W. “was on suicide watch and hunger strike.”
ACL staff also wanted to investigate several alleged problems at DWCC, including:
• Failure to provide adequate mental health care to prisoners,
• Failure to properly screen for mental illness,
• Extended solitary and segregated confinement of mentally ill prisoners, and
• Other “acts and omissions.”
The latter included incidents of verbal and physical abuse – such as mentally ill prisoners who were struck or sprayed with bleach. Some were reportedly stripped of clothing during the winter, with fans turned on and windows opened. Others had heaters turned on during summer time and were not allowed to remove their jumpsuits to cool off. One allegation detailed how mentally ill prisoners were forced to kneel or get on all fours and bark like dogs in exchange for food. One prisoner was made to unclog a toilet by hand.
The settlement in the initial suit did not resolve any of those claims but merely allowed them to be investigated by ACL. Although concerned about the use of chemical agents on prisoners – LDPSC spokesman Ken Pastorick admitted to 149 incidents in 2016 and the first half of 2017 – Advocacy Center investigators also wanted to know how mental health complaints were being handled at DWCC. Prisoners said those seeking mental health care were charged with malingering at disciplinary hearings and punished with prolonged use of physical restraints and a restraint chair.
In addition to Warden Goodwin and Col. Nail, LDPSC Secretary James LeBlanc was named as a defendant in both lawsuits, filed in U.S. District Court for the Middle District of Louisiana in Baton Rouge.
The settlement terms for the initial suit gave ACL complete access to prisoners and their records when conducting a lawful investigation. The only limitation was that ACL staff must be on an approved list of DWCC visitors and complete a training seminar in prison operations, safety concerns and security risks.
The settlement agreement spelled out details for ACL’s access to DWCC, prisoners, records and staff, including hours and advance notice requirements, as well as the equipment ACL investigators were allowed to bring with them. They were also provided a visitation room to conduct confidential interviews. The parties further agreed to the payment of attorneys’ fees to the ACL and MacArthur Justice Center.
“We’re very alarmed about how people are being treated,” said Schwartzmann. “There are some serious allegations that we’re trying to get in there to investigate.” See: Advocacy Center v. LeBlanc, U.S.D.C. (M.D. La.), Case No. 3:17-cv-00468-JWD-EWD.
The subsequent class-action lawsuit filed in February 2018 was a result of the investigation into claims that DWCC prisoners were subjected to unconstitutional cruel and unusual punishment due to “extreme, abusive conditions” at the facility.
Prisoners seeking mental health care were placed on suicide watch. Stripped naked, they remained in solitary confinement for weeks, leading some to mutilate themselves or attempt suicide to escape the conditions, according to the 53-page complaint. The suit concluded that “virtually no mental health care is provided to prisoners on extended lockdown, aside from scattershot, poorly administered and inconsistent medication.”
Two prisoners are named as plaintiffs in the case. Anthony Tellis claims his mental illness developed only after he was placed on extended lockdown in February 2016, where he remains. Bruce Charles, who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder before entering DWCC, says he also has been on extended lockdown since June 2016.
A third prisoner named in the suit, Terrance Goudeau, was on extended lockdown when he hanged himself and died in June 2016, never receiving mental health care despite frequent requests.
In addition to the improper use of segregation, the class-action alleges widespread physical abuse of mentally ill prisoners at DWCC. The use of temperature extremes as a punishment tool – particularly cold weather, which ill-clothed or naked prisoners are forced to endure – is reportedly so common that it has a nickname: “bluesing” or “getting bluesed.”
LDPSC spokesman Pastorick called the claims in the lawsuit “outlandish,” adding that prison officials “look forward to our day in court.” The case remains pending. See: Tellis v. LeBlanc, U.S.D.C. (M.D. La.), Case No. 3:18-cv-00161-SDD-RLB.
Why Facts Don’t Change Our Minds – New discoveries about the human mind show the limitations of reason. VERY Interesting – kra
It is baffling to many of us why some people, most notably tRump supporters these days, will hold to certain beliefs DESPITE ALL OF THE EVIDENCE THAT THEY ARE INCORRECT!
I know from my 72 years of associating with thousands of ALL sorts of people – super smart, Chief Justices, other professionals, homeless folks, drug addicts, criminals … and everyone in between, that there is NO understanding the human mind … but this article takes a stab at it and is a very good read.
This New Yorker article reminds me of why I used to subscribe. Today I have neither the money or the time! 🙂 Doing my work is #1! I have read the entire article, and I recommend you read it too!
The article truly is about science, not politics, and you should read it.
Here is one excerpt which is spot on: “Where it gets us into trouble, according to Sloman and Fernbach, is in the political domain. It’s one thing for me to flush a toilet without knowing how it operates, and another for me to favor (or oppose) an immigration ban without knowing what I’m talking about.
Sloman and Fernbach cite a survey conducted in 2014, not long after Russia annexed the Ukrainian territory of Crimea. Respondents were asked how they thought the U.S. should react, and also whether they could identify Ukraine on a map. The farther off base they were about the geography, the more likely they were to favor military intervention. (Respondents were so unsure of Ukraine’s location that the median guess was wrong by eighteen hundred miles, roughly the distance from Kiev to Madrid.)”
and …
Surveys on many other issues have yielded similarly dismaying results. “As a rule, strong feelings about issues do not emerge from deep understanding,” Sloman and Fernbach write. And here our dependence on other minds reinforces the problem. If your position on, say, the Affordable Care Act is baseless and I rely on it, then my opinion is also baseless. When I talk to Tom and he decides he agrees with me, his opinion is also baseless, but now that the three of us concur we feel that much more smug about our views. If we all now dismiss as unconvincing any information that contradicts our opinion, you get, well, the Trump Administration.
“This is how a community of knowledge can become dangerous,” Sloman and Fernbach observe. The two have performed their own version of the toilet experiment, substituting public policy for household gadgets. In a study conducted in 2012, they asked people for their stance on questions like: Should there be a single-payer health-care system? Or merit-based pay for teachers? Participants were asked to rate their positions depending on how strongly they agreed or disagreed with the proposals. Next, they were instructed to explain, in as much detail as they could, the impacts of implementing each one. Most people at this point ran into trouble. Asked once again to rate their views, they ratcheted down the intensity, so that they either agreed or disagreed less vehemently.
Sloman and Fernbach see in this result a little candle for a dark world. If we—or our friends or the pundits on CNN—spent less time pontificating and more trying to work through the implications of policy proposals, we’d realize how clueless we are and moderate our views. This, they write, “may be the only form of thinking that will shatter the illusion of explanatory depth and change people’s attitudes.”
Here is the Article:
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/02/27/why-facts-dont-change-our-minds?utm_social-type=owned&mbid=social_facebook&utm_brand=tny&utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&fbclid=IwAR3y3sZdXhdISWMTZAPDJ5v7ZzFeKz2DQn6p9cc6d7Cibst9c9YM7Nz-Yjk&fbclid=IwAR3ceFFN_MMj3n39IEZAUi9G3L8eRrEtd-78XMs8NaWMFD7J-0KzQUQwGK4
Formerly incarcerated people are building their own businesses and giving others second chances
This article was sent to me by great Delaware lawyer, Stephen Hampton, Esq., one of too few who will sue the prison jackasses – staff and administration – when that is necessary.
These projects should get government funding – it’s a great way to reduce crime.
According to the American Bar Association, there are over 45,000 laws on the books restricting people with criminal records, ranging from about 300 in Vermont to over 1,800 in California. These “collateral consequences” can bar people with certain convictions from public housing, from voting and from certain jobs, such as veterinarians, real estate agents or other occupations that require state licenses.
There are more than 45,000 barriers to reentry nationwide, and many are completely unneeded. They should be eliminated.
The story of Marcus Bullock shows that it takes much effort and commitment to make it.
KA Press Release and INVITATION 2 this one christmas 2016 flyer
Excerpts from the Article:
As he prepared to leave prison for the second time, David Figueroa decided he was going to walk away from the Chicago street gang he belonged to since he was a boy and build a better life for himself. “I wanted to do the right thing this time,” he says. “I wanted to get a job. I wanted to get married. I wanted to have children.” He knew finding work would be hard because of his criminal record. “It was a very scary moment,” recalls Figueroa, whose hands, fingers, arms and chest were covered with gang tattoos when he left prison in 2005 at the age of 29. He thought at the time: “Wherever I go, I will be looked at as a scary person.”
Figueroa grew up in Chicago’s Humboldt Park neighborhood, notorious for its violent street gangs in the ’80s and ’90s. He wanted out, and he hoped to work in construction. But doors began slamming as soon as he filled out job applications. “Every time I checked the box that asked whether you were a convicted felon, I never got a call back,” he says.
While looking for work, Figueroa got help from a community-based organization that offered ex-offenders classes in life skills, including anger management and financial literacy. Not long after that, a construction company hired Figueroa, and he stayed there for several years.
But then he injured his back after falling off the roof of his home and spent nine months recovering. Figueroa was able to return to his old job, but he had lost his seniority and sensed he was not wanted anymore. “I could see the writing on the wall,” he says.
Rather than face the prospect of looking for another job, he decided to create his own business. Pulling together his savings, Figueroa launched a home renovation company in 2014. He promised himself that he would employ others with criminal records, offering them opportunities he never had. “We all have done something we regret,” he says.
He decided to name his company Second Chance Renovations.
Formerly incarcerated people like Figueroa have a difficult time separating themselves from their criminal histories, which makes getting jobs a struggle. Even when they’re eligible to get their records sealed or expunged, most don’t go through the process because they are either unaware of how to do it or lack the legal help they need to get it done.
For example, a study in an upcoming Harvard Law Review found that only 6.5% of people in Michigan legally eligible for expungement obtained it within five years of eligibility. For those who don’t pursue expungement, the accessibility of their records makes it harder to find employment, even in states that have “ban the box” laws that prohibit certain businesses and government agencies from asking about convictions on job application forms. (Those employers are still free to perform criminal background checks on their own.)
According to “Expungement of Criminal Convictions: An Empirical Study” by J.J. Prescott and Sonja B. Starr, professors at the University of Michigan Law School, those who got their records expunged were more likely to stay out of trouble and get steadier and higher-paying jobs than those who didn’t.
“There can be lifelong consequences for not only a felony conviction, but also for a misdemeanor conviction,” says Lucian Dervan, chair of the ABA Criminal Justice Section and an associate professor of law and director of criminal justice studies at Belmont University College of Law.
The ABA Criminal Justice Section has for decades supported efforts to remove the many barriers that prevent people with criminal records from moving forward with their lives. This past January, the ABA House of Delegates passed Resolution 109B, which supports the expungement and sealing of records for nonviolent convictions. “Affording these individuals a way to expunge or seal their nonviolent convictions recognizes both the accomplishments of the individual in building a life free from further contact with the criminal justice system and the need to reduce the collateral consequences of a conviction,” the resolution’s report states.
Rather than face continued rejection, some formerly incarcerated men and women are taking another path. They’ve decided to create their own businesses, drawing on their intelligence and street smarts while also committing to help formerly incarcerated people get back on their feet.
David Figueroa grew up with a single father who had to raise six kids on his own and wasn’t very good at it, he says. His memories of his dad, who had a construction business, are not happy ones. He remembers him as verbally abusive and often angry. Figueroa’s oldest sister took care of him and the younger siblings. Figueroa says he was a good student but had a behavior disorder that landed him in trouble.
Figueroa doesn’t dwell on his past, nor does he hide from it. But he doesn’t ask those seeking jobs at Second Chance Renovations to explain theirs. He asks applicants about their future goals instead. “I don’t look backwards,” says Figueroa, who’s strong voice still has echoes of the streets from which he came. He is tall and fit with closely cropped brown hair and a goatee. “I don’t care what you’ve done in the past.”
New employees start at $12 an hour, even if they have no experience. If they consistently work hard and show promise, they get a raise. After they get their first paychecks, the workers are responsible for buying their own basic hand tools. Figueroa provides power tools.
Figueroa teaches his recruits skills in construction, carpentry, drywall installation, window replacement, hanging doors, painting and more. “I love to teach. If I can tell that you’re someone eager to learn, I’m patient,” he says. “I tell my guys: ‘I want you to work so hard that you go home so tired that you have no time to do nothing else but go home, eat, spend some time with your kids and go to bed so you can do it all over again tomorrow.’ ”
His goal is to help employees develop habits they may never have had. “I’m really hard on my guys for the first 30 days because a lot of them don’t have any work experience,” he says. “Sometimes it’s very hard to get these guys to commit and understand this is not a game.”
Teresa Hodge: “I kept seeing that over and over in prison: the spark in someone’s eye saying, ‘I’m gonna make it,’ and then the return of someone whose light had been dimmed by the reality.” Photo by Larry Bercow.
Hodge shared what she learned with her daughter, Laurin, and together they discussed ideas about how to help women make a successful transition home from prison. “I wanted to take the stories and the experiences that I heard, and I wanted to try to clear a pathway for people who were choosing entrepreneurship because they had no other alternative.”
Laurin, then a graduate student at Johns Hopkins University, submitted a business plan in a universitywide competition. That plan eventually led to Mission: Launch Inc., a Baltimore-based nonprofit that initially was created to teach financial literacy, technology and entrepreneurship to previously incarcerated women to help them become self-sufficient.
“We felt as a family the effects of incarceration,” Hodge says. “We felt through the power of entrepreneurship, through the power of work, that people would have an opportunity to reconnect with their communities, be productive citizens but more importantly, reestablish family connections.”
The organization, which launched in 2012, has since expanded to include both women and men and offers leadership training, technical assistance and help getting access to capital for budding entrepreneurs. “For a lot of people, they turn to entrepreneurship out of frustration. Many of the people I met in prison are extremely resilient, and entrepreneurship is about being resilient. The ability to survive and to have drive, to maintain hope and maintain courage while you are in prison is certainly a strength that can be used,” Hodge says.
One of Mission: Launch’s latest ventures takes a deeper and potentially a more fair-minded look at people with criminal records by allowing them to be evaluated by more than just their records. It’s called R3 Score, and it’s a score and a report based on an algorithm that quantifies criminal history with other factors such as education, volunteer work and other aspects of a person’s life. People are evaluated on a scale of 300 to 850, much like a credit score. An R3 Score might be used in applications for occupational licensing, bank financing, commercial contracting or other opportunities.
Hodge says it gives a more rounded picture of the people trying to rebuild their lives—so that they’re not judged solely by their criminal pasts. Paraphrasing a familiar line from public interest lawyer Bryan Stevenson, Hodge says that people are more than the worst thing they’ve ever done. “It was in prison that my humanity was brought to another level,” Hodge says. “I saw the women who I was incarcerated with as humans, as other people who were deserving of a second chance.”
Hodge created her own second chance, but she will always be reminded of her past. “The hardest thing I had to do was to forgive myself. The hardest thing I had to do was to move forward in spite of this—knowing that some people were going to judge me harshly, potentially for the rest of my life,” she says. “For the rest of my life, I may always have to get over that hurdle that is the life sentence for people with a criminal record after they serve their sentence in prison.”
Marcus Bullock has been out of prison for 15 years now, and by all accounts has been a model citizen. He’s a successful businessman. He’s been featured in the Washington Post, in Forbes and on NPR. Yet he still has trouble renting an apartment because of his criminal history. But that’s getting ahead of the story. Bullock, who grew up in Washington, D.C., was just 15 years old when he went to prison. He was convicted as an adult for carjacking, attempted robbery and gun charges. Like a lot of teens, he easily got bored. To pass the time behind bars, he studied for his high school equivalency diploma. He also took classes in business and computers.
“I knew I didn’t want to go back home and go back to the same neighborhood where all my friends were selling drugs,” he says. “I don’t want to put my mom through another prison visit ever again.”
He was released at age 22 and tried to figure out what he wanted to do. He took real estate classes and passed the licensing exam. When he took the results to get his certificate, a clerk said, “It looks like there’s a problem with your background. Are there any issues you want to tell us about?” he recalls. “My heart sinks to my toes. I said ‘Yes,’ unapologetically, “I’m a convicted felon. I made a mistake about 10 years ago. I was a kid.’ ”
“He said, ‘I’m sorry, you can’t get your real estate license,’ ” Bullock says.
It was a jarring moment that showed Bullock how collateral consequences can put a wedge between people with criminal records and their dreams.
“You talk about a high and low in the same moment,” he says. “Now I have to go home to my mom and tell her that all the classes I took, all the money we spent for school, all the books that I bought—all of that running and hustling to the train station, every single day. All in vain. Now I have to go back to square one where I had been turned down for every job I ever applied for.” All signs were pointing for him to go back to the streets and sell drugs. Instead, he went looking for jobs. Bullock recalls filling out 141 job applications. Most of them were for retail or service-related jobs.
Then, he filled out an application at a paint store. “The question on the application was ‘have you been convicted of a felony within the last seven years?’ ” he recalls. His conviction was 10 years old by then, so he answered no and got the job. But Bullock wanted more. “I want to create my own destiny instead of relying on someone else,” he says. “I’m naturally an entrepreneur, I sold candy in school.”
He started by building his own painting and remodeling company. From there, he worked to develop a business plan drawn from a phenomenon he observed while in prison. Every day he saw that mail call was the best part of the day for him and his fellow inmates. Getting something, anything, in the mail was like gold. He could see that communicating with family members helped instill hope about the possibilities of life on the outside. But not many inmates got letters. Social media had shifted how people communicate, and sending letters and photos was not as common as it used to be.
Because inmates are not allowed access to social media, Bullock saw an opportunity. He created Flikshop, an app that allows family and friends to take photos and write messages that are then printed on postcards and mailed to registered correctional facilities across the country for just 99 cents each.
Marcus Bullock: “I want to create my own destiny instead of relying on someone else.” Photo by KK Ottesen.
His company was a hit, attracting investors and grants, including $50,000 from Unlocked Futures, which is affiliated with John Legend, the Grammy-winning recording artist and criminal justice reform advocate. (Hodge’s Mission: Launch also received a $50,000 grant from Unlocked Futures.) Bullock now has seven employees—many of whom are formerly incarcerated. “In our company, it’s frowned upon if you haven’t been to prison, which is interesting,” he says with a laugh. “The people who haven’t been to prison feel isolated among the community because they don’t get the jokes, they don’t get the humor.”
He wants to help erase the stigma formerly incarcerated people feel, especially when applying for jobs. “People don’t need to feel shame coming in the door. They talk about which prison they went to, about common friends and complaints, and they can be themselves,” he says. Bullock sees his company as a springboard for employees to move on to bigger and better jobs or to pursue their own entrepreneurship. “They can leverage up and learn about business and marketing,” he says. “If we do this right, we’re changing the world, we’re changing the narrative.”
He knows there are challenges as soon as people walk out of prison, challenges that are likely to follow some for the rest of their lives. “It doesn’t matter how many companies I build, how successful we are, what tools we come up with, I still have to walk around with this stamp on my chest,” he says.
That stamp, for example, has kept Bullock from being able to rent an apartment in his own name in many places, even after going straight and succeeding as a businessman for 15 years. “It continues to follow me.”
Bullock frequently visits prisons to teach basic entrepreneurship skills to inmates. “I never tell them it’s going to be easy, but this is a first step,” he says. “Now, entrepreneurship isn’t for everyone. But for those who want it, let’s give them an opportunity to provide for their families.”
Bullock is right, it’s not easy.
“
Commentary: Is the increased equity really going to the public good? – This woman has built, and still champions, a fantastic homeless shelter! Maybe the best in America.
Another spot on analysis by my friend, Jeanine Kleimo.
This woman has built, and still champions, a fantastic homeless shelter! Maybe the best in America, by any measure.
When we help the homeless we help our communities, and we reduce crime.
READ the Article:
Commentary: Is the increased equity really going to the public good?
Study: Technology Creates and Embeds Bias in the Criminal Justice System – WATCH for Abuses! – kra
Another great article from our friends at PLN. While they cannot now point me toward a documented instance of using this technology in a malicious way, we MUST be sure that it never is used that way. It is RIPE for abuse!
Excerpts from the Article:
Automatic License Plate Readers (“ALPR”), facial recognition technology, and predictive policing are some of the new weapons in the arsenal of the police state. And minority communities are caught in the crosshairs.
The failures of facial-recognition technology are widely known. According to a study by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the three most advanced systems had error rates of 1 percent for light-skinned males, 12 percent for darker-skinned males, and a whopping 35 percent for darker-skinned females. Systems have even mistaken black members of Congress for criminal suspects.
Predictive policing uses algorithms that build on historical crime data. The programs suggest future crimes will occur in past high-crime areas. But historical data is biased because police in the past targeted low-income and minority neighborhoods. Because of the algorithms, there is increased surveillance of those communities to find the predicted crimes. This perpetuates the designation “high-crime area,” resulting in further surveillance.
And the ALPR create massive databases tracking people’s movements that are accessible by hundreds of police agencies. With almost no oversight, the potential for abuse is astounding. Members and friends of groups unpopular with law enforcement — such as Black Lives Matter — can be unknowingly tracked, false criminal evidence planted, or worse.
Technology can be useful in the criminal justice system. But there must be demanding standards of accountability. Criminal justice personnel must be made aware of its limitations, including its inherent ability to create and perpetuate racial biases.
Letter to the Editor or Op Ed Submission – The “Illegal” Immigrants – 6/19/19
UPDATE 7/16/19 – To be PUBLISHED in The Jackson Free Press. 🙂
They requested a head shot, so, once again I prepare for an onslought of calls from sexy Babes! lmao
Letter to the Editor or Op Ed Submission – The “Illegal” Immigrants – 6/19/19
There is a great deal of confusion about what is an “illegal” immigrant. The need to revamp our immigration laws and the policies on enforcing those laws is glaringly obvious. People get all excited when this administration says it is cracking down on “illegal” immigrants, thinking that dangerous criminals will be getting what they deserve. Sadly, that is far from the truth. Hard working family people are getting what they never expected and what Congress never intended: abuse by the system!
The fact is that these “crackdowns” or “sweeps” mostly are rounding up industrious individuals and families looking for a better life here in America, just as our ancestors did. Because our current laws make it “illegal” to enter surreptitiously, or without completing all the paperwork, it is easy for racist enforcement policies to take hold. And make no mistake about it, this administration is racist. Remember our president’s first words about this in 2016: They were, in effect, “Mexico is sending us killers and rapists”. That is what the man said about immigrants.
Very, very few who are rounded up and placed in squalid, awful “detention centers” are what anyone would think of as a criminal – an evil, dangerous, malevolent wrongdoer. That is an inalterable fact.
Racist or not, people should know what is really going on. The administration is using the immigration issue for political expediency, not to keep America safe! One need not be an attorney nor a Rhodes Scholar to see this, but too many Americans are buying into the political B S.
Ken Abraham, former Deputy Attorney General, founder of Citizens for Criminal JUSTICE, Dover, DE 302-423-4067
ICE Police Arresting the Statue of Liberty
Digital Jail: How Electronic Monitoring Drives Defendants Into Debt Ankle bracelets are promoted as a humane alternative to jail. But private companies charge defendants hundreds of dollars a month to wear the surveillance devices. If people can’t pay, they may end up behind bars. This is a HUGE nationwide problem – kra
Whether state operated, or implemented by the predatory private prison companies that have entered this arena, this is a huge, nationwide problem. Huge. The private prison companies are very clever at enhancing their blood-sucking revenue, and Courts – judges – have been all too willing to go along.
There are many issues involved here: racism, the problem of having judges elected, instead of appointed, in many states, “sex offender hysteria”, cash bail reform efforts – leading to more of this “virtual imprisonment”, and others.
The fact is that most, yes most, of these devises are completely unnecessary and do nothing to keep us safer!
The article is quite lengthy; anyone really interested in justice should read all of it!
Excerpts from the Article:
On Oct. 12, 2018, Daehaun White walked free, or so he thought. A guard handed him shoelaces and the $19 that had been in his pocket at the time of his booking, along with a letter from his public defender. The lanky 19-year-old had been sitting for almost a month in St. Louis’ Medium Security Institution, a city jail known as the Workhouse, after being pulled over for driving some friends around in a stolen Chevy Cavalier. When the police charged him with tampering with a motor vehicle — driving a car without its owner’s consent — and held him overnight, he assumed he would be released by morning. He told the police that he hadn’t known that the Chevy, which a friend had lent him a few hours earlier, was stolen. He had no previous convictions. But the $1,500 he needed for the bond was far beyond what he or his family could afford. It wasn’t until his public defender, Erika Wurst, persuaded the judge to lower the amount to $500 cash, and a nonprofit fund, the Bail Project, paid it for him, that he was able to leave the notoriously grim jail. “Once they said I was getting released, I was so excited I stopped listening,” he told me recently. He would no longer have to drink water blackened with mold or share a cell with rats, mice and cockroaches. He did a round of victory pushups and gave away all of the snack cakes he had been saving from the cafeteria.
When he finally read Wurst’s letter, however, he realized there was a catch. Even though Wurst had argued against it, the judge, Nicole Colbert-Botchway, had ordered him to wear an ankle monitor that would track his location at every moment using GPS. For as long as he would wear it, he would be required to pay $10 a day to a private company, Eastern Missouri Alternative Sentencing Services, or EMASS. Just to get the monitor attached, he would have to report to EMASS and pay $300 up front — enough to cover the first 25 days, plus a $50 installation fee.
White didn’t know how to find that kind of money. Before his arrest, he was earning minimum wage as a temp, wrapping up boxes of shampoo. His father was largely absent, and his mother, Lakisha Thompson, had recently lost her job as the housekeeping manager at a Holiday Inn. Raising Daehaun and his four siblings, she had struggled to keep up with the bills. The family bounced between houses and apartments in northern St. Louis County, where, as a result of Jim Crow redlining, most of the area’s black population lives. In 2014, they were living on Canfield Drive in Ferguson when Michael Brown was shot and killed there by a police officer. During the ensuing turmoil, Thompson moved the family to Green Bay, Wisconsin. White felt out of place. He was looked down on for his sagging pants, called the N-word when riding his bike. After six months, he moved back to St. Louis County on his own to live with three of his siblings and stepsiblings in a gray house with vinyl siding.
When White got home on the night of his release, he was so overwhelmed to see his family again that he forgot about the letter. He spent the next few days hanging out with his siblings, his mother, who had returned to Missouri earlier that year, and his girlfriend, Demetria, who was seven months pregnant. He didn’t report to EMASS.
What he didn’t realize was that he had failed to meet a deadline. Typically, defendants assigned to monitors must pay EMASS in person and have the device installed within 24 hours of their release from jail. Otherwise, they have to return to court to explain why they’ve violated the judge’s orders. White, however, wasn’t called back for a hearing. Instead, a week after he left the Workhouse, Colbert-Botchway issued a warrant for his arrest.
Three days later, a large group of police officers knocked on Thompson’s door, looking for information about an unrelated case, a robbery. White and his brother had been making dinner with their mother, and the officers asked them for identification. White’s name matched the warrant issued by Colbert-Botchway. “They didn’t tell me what the warrant was for,” he said. “Just that it was for a violation of my release.” He was taken downtown and held for transfer back to the Workhouse. “I kept saying to myself, ’Why am I locked up?’” he recalled.
The next morning, Thompson called the courthouse to find the answer. She learned that her son had been jailed over his failure to acquire and pay for his GPS monitor. To get him out, she needed to pay EMASS on his behalf.
This seemed absurd to her. When Daehaun was 13, she had worn an ankle monitor after violating probation for a minor theft, but the state hadn’t required her to cover the cost of her own supervision. “This is a 19-year-old coming out of the Workhouse,” she told me recently. “There’s no way he has $300 saved.” Thompson felt that the court was forcing her to choose between getting White out of jail and supporting the rest of her family.
Over the past half-century, the number of people behind bars in the United States jumped by more than 500%, to 2.2 million. This extraordinary rise, often attributed to decades of “tough on crime” policies and harsh sentencing laws, has ensured that even as crime rates have dropped since the 1990s, the number of people locked up and the average length of their stay have increased. According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, the cost of keeping people in jails and prisons soared to $87 billion in 2015 from $19 billion in 1980, in current dollars.
In recent years, politicians on both sides of the aisle have joined criminal-justice reformers in recognizing mass incarceration as both a moral outrage and a fiscal sinkhole. As ankle bracelets have become compact and cost-effective, legislators have embraced them as an enlightened alternative. More than 125,000 people in the criminal-justice system were supervised with monitors in 2015, compared with just 53,000 people in 2005, according to the Pew Charitable Trusts. Although no current national tally is available, data from several cities — Austin, Texas; Indianapolis; Chicago; and San Francisco — show that this number continues to rise. Last December, the First Step Act, which includes provisions for home detention, was signed into law by President Donald Trump with support from the private prison giants GEO Group and CoreCivic. These corporations dominate the so-called community-corrections market — services such as day-reporting and electronic monitoring — that represents one of the fastest-growing revenue sectors of their industry.
By far the most decisive factor promoting the expansion of monitors is the financial one. The United States government pays for monitors for some of those in the federal criminal-justice system and for tens of thousands of immigrants supervised by Immigration and Customs Enforcement. But states and cities, which incur around 90% of the expenditures for jails and prisons, are increasingly passing the financial burden of the devices onto those who wear them. It costs St. Louis roughly $90 a day to detain a person awaiting trial in the Workhouse, where in 2017 the average stay was 291 days. When individuals pay EMASS $10 a day for their own supervision, it costs the city nothing. A 2014 study by NPR and the Brennan Center found that, with the exception of Hawaii, every state required people to pay at least part of the costs associated with GPS monitoring. Some probation offices and sheriffs run their own monitoring programs — renting the equipment from manufacturers, hiring staff and collecting fees directly from participants. Others have outsourced the supervision of defendants, parolees and probationers to private companies.
“There are a lot of judges who reflexively put people on monitors, without making much of a pretense of seriously weighing it at all,” said Chris Albin-Lackey, a senior legal adviser with Human Rights Watch who has researched private-supervision companies. “The limiting factor is the cost it might impose on the public, but when that expense is sourced out, even that minimal brake on judicial discretion goes out the window.”
Nowhere is the pressure to adopt monitors more pronounced than in places like St. Louis: cash-strapped municipalities with large populations of people awaiting trial. Nationwide on any given day, half a million people sit in crowded and expensive jails because, like Daehaun White, they cannot purchase their freedom.
As the movement to overhaul cash bail has challenged the constitutionality of jailing these defendants, judges and sheriffs have turned to monitors as an appealing substitute. In San Francisco, the number of people released from jail onto electronic monitors tripled after a 2018 ruling forced courts to release more defendants without bail. In Marion County, Indiana, where jail overcrowding is routine, roughly 5,000 defendants were put on monitors last year. “You would be hard-pressed to find bail-reform legislation in any state that does not include the possibility of electronic monitoring,” said Robin Steinberg, the chief executive of the Bail Project.
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Yet like the system of wealth-based detention they are meant to help reform, ankle monitors often place poor people in special jeopardy. Across the country, defendants who have not been convicted of a crime are put on “offender funded” payment plans for monitors that sometimes cost more than their bail. And unlike bail, they don’t get the payment back, even if they’re found innocent. Although a federal survey shows that nearly 40% of Americans would have trouble finding $400 to cover an emergency, companies and courts routinely threaten to lock up defendants if they fall behind on payment. In Greenville, South Carolina, pretrial defendants can be sent back to jail when they fall three weeks behind on fees. (An officer for the Greenville County Detention Center defended this practice on the grounds that participants agree to the costs in advance.) In Mohave County, Arizona, pretrial defendants charged with sex offenses have faced rearrest if they fail to pay for their monitors, even if they prove that they can’t afford them. “We risk replacing an unjust cash-bail system,” Steinberg said, “with one just as unfair, inhumane and unnecessary.”
Many local judges, including in St. Louis, do not conduct hearings on a defendant’s ability to pay for private supervision before assigning them to it; those who do often overestimate poor people’s financial means. Without judicial oversight, defendants are vulnerable to private-supervision companies that set their own rates and charge interest when someone can’t pay up front. Some companies even give their employees bonuses for hitting collection targets.
It’s not only debt that can send defendants back to jail. People who may not otherwise be candidates for incarceration can be punished for breaking the lifestyle rules that come with the devices. A survey in California found that juveniles awaiting trial or on probation face especially difficult rules; in one county, juveniles on monitors were asked to follow more than 50 restrictions, including not participating “in any social activity.” For this reason, many advocates describe electronic monitoring as a “net-widener”: Far from serving as an alternative to incarceration, it ends up sweeping more people into the system.
The St. Louis area has made national headlines for its “offender funded” model of policing and punishment. Stricken by postindustrial decline and the 2008 financial crisis, its municipalities turned to their police departments and courts to make up for shortfalls in revenue. In 2015, the Ferguson Report by the United States Department of Justice put hard numbers to what black residents had long suspected: The police were targeting them with disproportionate arrests, traffic tickets and excessive fines. EMASS may have saved the city some money, but it also created an extraordinary and arbitrary-seeming new expense for poor defendants. When cities cover the cost of monitoring, they often pay private contractors $2 to $3 a day for the same equipment and services for which EMASS charges defendants $10 a day. To come up with the money, EMASS clients told me, they had to find second jobs, take their children out of day care and cut into disability checks. Others hurried to plead guilty for no better reason than that being on probation was cheaper than paying for a monitor.
The St. Louis office of EMASS, which charges defendants $300 up front to get the monitor attached. (Zora J Murff for The New York Times)
White assumed that GPS supervision would prove a minor annoyance. Instead, it was a constant burden. The box was bulky and the size of a fist, so he couldn’t hide it under his jeans. Whenever he left the house, people stared. There were snide comments (“nice bracelet”) and cutting jokes. His brothers teased him about having a babysitter. “I’m nobody to watch,” he insisted.
The biggest problem was finding work. Confident and outgoing, White had never struggled to land jobs; after dropping out of high school in his junior year, he flipped burgers at McDonald’s and Steak ’n Shake. To pay for the monitor, he applied to be a custodian at Julia Davis Library, a cashier at Home Depot, a clerk at Menards. The conversation at Home Depot had gone especially well, White thought, until the interviewer casually asked what was on his leg.
Perpetual surveillance also takes a mental toll. Nearly everyone I spoke to who wore a monitor described feeling trapped, as though they were serving a sentence before they had even gone to trial. White was never really sure about what he could or couldn’t do under supervision. In January, when his girlfriend had their daughter, Rylan, White left the hospital shortly after the birth, under the impression that he had a midnight curfew. Later that night, he let his monitor die so that he could sneak back before sunrise to see the baby again.
EMASS makes its money from defendants. But it gets its power over them from judges. It was in 2012 that the judges of the St. Louis court started to use the company’s services — which previously involved people on probation for misdemeanors — for defendants awaiting trial. Last year, the company supervised 239 defendants in the city of St. Louis on GPS monitors, according to numbers provided by EMASS to the court. The alliance with the courts gives the company not just a steady stream of business but a reliable means of recouping debts: Unlike, say, a credit-card company, which must file a civil suit to collect from overdue customers, EMASS can initiate criminal-court proceedings, threatening defendants with another stay in the Workhouse.
The contract with EMASS allows the court to assign indigent defendants to the company to oversee “at no cost.” Yet neither Burlison nor any of the other current or former judges I spoke with recalled waiving fees when ordering someone to wear an ankle monitor. When I asked Burlison why he didn’t, he said that he was concerned that if he started to make exceptions on the basis of income, the company might stop providing ankle-monitoring services in St. Louis.
Judges are anxious about what people released without posting bail might do once they get out. Several told me that monitors may ensure that the defendants return to court. Not unlike doctors who order a battery of tests for a mildly ill patient to avoid a potential malpractice suit, judges seem to view monitors as a precaution against their faces appearing on the front page of the newspaper. “Every judge’s fear is to let somebody out on recognizance and he commits murder, and then everyone asks, ’How in the hell was this person let out?’” said Robert Dierker, who served as a judge in St. Louis from 1986 to 2017 and now represents the city in the bail lawsuit. “But with GPS, you can say, ’Well, I have him on GPS, what else can I do?’”
Critics of monitors contend that their public-safety appeal is illusory: If defendants are intent on harming someone or skipping town, the bracelet, which can be easily removed with a pair of scissors, would not stop them. Studies showing that people tracked by GPS appear in court more reliably are scarce, and research about its effectiveness as a deterrent is inconclusive.
“The fundamental question is, What purpose is electronic monitoring serving?” said Blake Strode, the executive director of ArchCity Defenders, a nonprofit civil rights law firm in St. Louis that is one of several firms representing the plaintiffs in the bail lawsuit. “If the only purpose it’s serving is to make judges feel better because they don’t want to be on the hook if something goes wrong, then that’s not a sensible approach. We should not simply be monitoring for monitoring’s sake.”
Electronic monitoring was first conceived in the early 1960s by Ralph and Robert Gable, identical twins studying at Harvard under the psychologists Timothy Leary and B.F. Skinner, respectively. Influenced in part by Skinner’s theories of positive reinforcement, the Gables rigged up some surplus missile-tracking equipment to monitor teenagers on probation; those who showed up at the right places at the right times were rewarded with movie tickets, limo rides and other prizes.
The reality of electronic monitoring today is that Big Brother is watching some groups more than others. No national statistics are available on the racial breakdown of Americans wearing ankle monitors, but all indications suggest that mass supervision, like mass incarceration, disproportionately affects black people. In Cook County, Illinois, for instance, black people make up 24% of the population, and 67% of those on monitors. The sociologist Simone Browne has connected contemporary surveillance technologies like GPS monitors to America’s long history of controlling where black people live, move and work. In her 2015 book, “Dark Matters,” she traces the ways in which “surveillance is nothing new to black folks,” from the branding of enslaved people and the shackling of convict laborers to Jim Crow segregation and the home visits of welfare agencies. These historical inequities, Browne notes, influence where and on whom new tools like ankle monitors are imposed.
For some black families, including White’s, monitoring stretches across generations. Annette Taylor, the director of Ripple Effect, an advocacy group for prisoners and their families based in Champaign, Illinois, has seen her ex-husband, brother, son, nephew and sister’s husband wear ankle monitors over the years. She had to wear one herself, about a decade ago, she said, for driving with a suspended license. “You’re making people a prisoner of their home,” she told me. When her son was paroled and placed on house arrest, he couldn’t live with her, because he was forbidden to associate with people convicted of felonies, including his stepfather, who was also on house arrest.
Michelle Alexander, a legal scholar and columnist for The Times, has argued that monitoring engenders a new form of oppression under the guise of progress. In her 2010 book, “The New Jim Crow,” she wrote that the term “mass incarceration” should refer to the “system that locks people not only behind actual bars in actual prisons, but also behind virtual bars and virtual walls — walls that are invisible to the naked eye but function nearly as effectively as Jim Crow laws once did at locking people of color into a permanent second-class citizenship.”
As the cost of monitoring continues to fall, those who are required to submit to it may worry less about the expense and more about the intrusive surveillance. The devices, some of which are equipped with two-way microphones, can give corrections officials unprecedented access to the private lives not just of those monitored but also of their families and friends. GPS location data appeals to the police, who can use it to investigate crimes. Already the goal is both to track what individuals are doing and to anticipate what they might do next. BI Incorporated, an electronic-monitoring subsidiary of GEO Group, has the ability to assign risk scores to the behavioral patterns of those monitored, so that law enforcement can “address potential problems before they happen.” Judges leery of recidivism have begun to embrace risk-assessment tools. As a result, defendants who have yet to be convicted of an offense in court may be categorized by their future chances of reoffending.
The combination of GPS location data with other tracking technologies such as automatic license-plate readers represents an uncharted frontier for finer-grained surveillance. In some cities, police have concentrated these tools in neighborhoods of color. A CityLab investigation found that Baltimore police were more likely to deploy the Stingray — the controversial and secretive cellphone tracking technology — where African Americans lived. In the aftermath of Freddie Gray’s death in 2015, the police spied on Black Lives Matter protesters with face recognition technology. Given this pattern, the term “electronic monitoring” may soon refer not just to a specific piece of equipment but to an all-encompassing strategy.
If the evolution of the criminal-justice system is any guide, it is very likely that the ankle bracelet will go out of fashion. Some GPS monitoring vendors have already started to offer smartphone applications that verify someone’s location through voice and face recognition. These apps, with names like Smart-LINK and Shadowtrack, promise to be cheaper and more convenient than a boxy bracelet. They’re also less visible, mitigating the stigma and normalizing surveillance. While reducing the number of people in physical prison, these seductive applications could, paradoxically, increase its reach. For the nearly 4.5 million Americans on probation or parole, it is not difficult to imagine a virtual prison system as ubiquitous — and invasive — as Instagram or Facebook.
Buss calculated the money White owed going back to November: $755, plus 10% annual interest. Over the next nine months, EMASS expected him to make monthly payments that would add up to $850 — more than the court had required for his bond. White looked at the receipt and shook his head. “I get in trouble for living,” he said as he walked out of the office. “For being me.”
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