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A “Bite” Out of Crime: Junk Science

We’ve all seen the reports of innocent men and women who’ve been released from prison—exonerated—due to faulty evidence, cleared by DNA evidence, etc. But what was it about the evidence that robbed people of years of their lives by forcing them sit in a prison cell while completely innocent of the crimes they were accused of committing?

Let’s take a quick peek at the human hair. For many years, law enforcement collected hairs found at crime scenes and then delivered those hairs to their laboratories for examination and comparison (does the hair found match that of a suspect?).

If the examiner took a look under a microscope and then decided the hairs were indeed a solid match then his/her word was good enough for the courts. The suspect must be guilty because the scientist said that positively and without a single doubt the hair placed the defendant at the scene of the crime. Therefore, a jury or judge had all they needed to convict and send a bewildered person to prison.

Well, in 2015 the Justice Department revealed that FBI agents weren’t so sure that hair analysis was the most exact science in the world. In fact, they basically admitted that hair analysis, at best, is inconclusive. They no longer use it as a sole means to build a case against someone.

Santae Tribble was convicted of murder based on the analysis of a hair found at the crime scene. He spent more than 27 years in prison before DNA analysis of the hair proved his innocence. He was awarded  $13.2 million in his wrongful conviction lawsuit. A little something for his “minor” inconvenience.

Next comes bite-mark evidence. Not so long ago, within the past couple of years, the Presidents  Council of Advisors on Science and Technology (PCAST) announced that forensic bite-mark evidence is not scientifically valid, nor is it likely to ever be validated. In other words, more junk science (skin may move after death during decomposition, skin and flesh are not stable material—may not hold a precise pattern, etc.).

Then there are tool marks, tire impressions, footwear impressions, and fingerprints. Yes, there are flaws within the testing of those items as well. Even the golden goose of all evidence—DNA—is not a perfect science.

According to the National Registry of Exonerations, 2155 people have been exonerated of crimes they didn’t commit. To put that in perspective … innocent people spent 18,750 years in prison due to someone’s error—flawed evidence examination, prosecutor or law enforcement mistake, evidence contamination, flawed procedures, flaws in the law, etc. 18,750 years, gone. Lives wasted.

A great example of how a flawed bite-mark examination sent an innocent man to death row is the story of our friend Ray Krone. Ray was … well, I think I’ll sit back and post Ray’s tale as he told it to me a while back.

Ray Krone Spent 10 Years on Death Row for a Crime He Didn’t Commit

A few weeks ago, my girlfriend Cheryl read a novel by Polly Iyer about a man who had been wrongfully convicted of murder, released, and then framed for a series of murders. As with all good fiction, there were elements of fact in this story. Polly’s description of the impact of wrongful convictions struck a chord with Cheryl, and she sent Polly an email saying so. That email started an exchange that led to me posting on this blog today.

My story isn’t much of a mystery, but it has twists and turns that wouldn’t make it past a fiction editor’s red pencil. Lee thought that it might be of interest to you, so here goes. I’m not a professional writer but I hope that I’ll be able to provide some useful insights into the ripples that result from sloppy police work, ineffective defense counsel, and overzealous prosecutors.

I won’t go into details about my life prior to my arrest and wrongful conviction. It was unremarkable as most lives are, except to the people who live them. I sang in the church choir, was a Boy Scout, and played team sports throughout my school years. I was never in any trouble, never even had detention in school. I grew up in a small town, joined the Air Force, and following my Honorable Discharge remained in Phoenix, AZ, my last duty station. I got a job with the United States Postal Service as a letter carrier.

Ray before his arrest for a crime he didn’t commit

At 35, I was single and living the good life. My salary allowed me to buy my own home and have lots of big boy toys—sand rail, Corvette, swimming pool. I had a loving family back in PA, and loyal friends all over the country. Little did I know that I was about to find out just how important those people were.

I’d always enjoyed team sports, and still do. A bar in my neighborhood sponsored volleyball and dart teams, and I played on both. On December 29, 1991, the owner found his night manager, Kim Ancona, on the men’s room floor. She’d been sexually assaulted and stabbed to death. A co-worker told police detectives Kim had said someone named Ray was going to help her close up that night. I had a casual acquaintance with this woman, and knew her only as a bartender and occasional dart player. She was living with a man and as far as I was concerned, that was as good as married and made her off-limits.

Detectives found my name and phone number in her address book and came to see me. It’s important to note at this point that my name and phone number were not in my handwriting or in Kim’s. How they got there remains a mystery to this day. I was questioned by the Phoenix Police, and cooperated—until I realized they were trying to pin this murder on me.  The legal wrangling is public record—you can Google my name and read countless stories about my case.

Being the one hundredth person to be wrongfully convicted and sentenced to die, only to be found factually innocent after spending years on Death Row and in prison, put me on the radar of a society that was beginning to question the value of capital punishment. My conviction was based solely on bite mark evidence. Because I refused to show remorse for a crime I didn’t commit, I was sentenced to death. After almost three years on Death Row, I was granted a new trial. I was again convicted, and sentenced to 23 years for the kidnapping, and 25 years to life for the murder. Only a random series of events would free me.  Court-ordered DNA would finally free me and identify the real killer. I spent a total of ten years, three months and eight days in prison for something I didn’t do. I was 35 when arrested and 45 when I was exonerated.

Ray as an inmate at Arizona State Prison in Yuma

The life events that other people take for granted were stolen from me, and no amount of money, sympathy or accolades will ever give me a chance to experience them. They are gone forever. Am I bitter? I try not to be—the family and friends who stood by me have helped me adjust and appreciate what I do have. I try not to focus on what I’ve been denied in this life, but what I’ve been given. I’ve learned the hardest way possible the true meaning of “you find out who your friends are.” Despite the love and support of friends and family, I still have moments when I feel rage at what happened to me, even after more than ten years of freedom.

Billboard on I-83 in Harrisburg, Pa.

There have been millions of words written and hundreds of television shows about the impact on men and women who were sentenced to die for a crime they didn’t commit. There are well-documented studies about innocent men and women who were executed in the name of justice. There are other victims of a legal system that penalizes the poor and rewards prosecutors for conviction rates without examining the accuracy of those convictions.  Not just the families of the wrongfully convicted, who often lose what little they have in the defense of their loved ones, but the families of the original victim, the new victims created by the guilty party who remains free, their families, the jurors who are denied access to all of the evidence in a case. The list goes on and on—I misspoke when I called it a ripple—it’s a tsunami, wreaking havoc and destruction, and in many cases, is preventable.

I’m part of a nationally-known group called Witness to Innocence. We have only one membership requirement, but it’s a tough one. You must have been wrongfully convicted and sentenced to die for a crime which you did not commit. Although many of us are unable to speak publicly about what happened to us, many others find it therapeutic to do so. We have spoken in front of groups ranging from high school students to Congress to the United Nations. We share our experiences at law schools, forensics conventions and gatherings of legal professionals—anywhere that telling our stories will help provide insight, and hopefully inspiration.

The Witness to Innocence photo above is of only some of the members. Left to right: Ray Krone, Albert Burrell, Kirk Bloodsworth, Gary Drinkard, Randy Steidl, Ron Keine, Delbert Tibbs and Derek Jamison. Each of these men (and our one female member, Sabrina Porter) have stories that defy belief, as do all of the members.

I’m honored to have been invited to address the readers of this blog. For more information about Witness to Innocence, stories of exoneration or speaker’s schedules, please visit www.witnesstoinnocence.org

According to the Innocence Project, since 1989, 353 people have been exonerated of their crimes based on DNA. Twenty of those people served time on death row.

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So-Called Experts Meet to Solve Problem of Recidivism

Recently, a group of governors, faith-based leaders, and other experts were assembled to find ways of helping the nation’s inmate population turn their lives around, get a second chance, and successfully re-enter society. The idea behind the move is to make our communities safer and to provide opportunities for those men and women as they return to life outside of prison walls.

Since approximately two-thirds of the more than 650,000 ex-offenders released from prison every year are rearrested within three years after their release, the committee’s task will not be easy.

It’s often been said that the jails and prisons in the U.S. operate on a revolving door system, with many of the same prisoners returning to incarceration time after time after time. Sadly, that’s a mostly true statement.

With nearly 2.5 million people crammed into U.S. prison and jail facilities, or on probation or parole—3,789,800 on probation and 870,500 on parole (2015 stats), well, that equals to approximately 1 out of every 37 people in the U.S. is currently under some sort of supervised correctional status.

Yes, America can proudly boast (note the sarcasm) that we hold 25% of the world’s prison population. That’s a pretty staggering number considering the U.S. accounts for only 5% of the world’s population. Those numbers don’t mean much, you say? Well, let’s approach from another angle … our wallets. Each year the U.S. spends between 74 and 80 billion dollars on incarceration. That’s BILLION dollars.

Sure, most citizens don’t want to be bothered with felons and other law-breakers. You know, out of sight/out of mind. But it’s not quite that simple. You see, Isaac Newton had the right idea when he mused, “What goes up must come down,” because the same applies to prisons, jails, and inmates—what goes in must come out. That’s right, most people sentenced to jail or prison must be released at some point, and those former prisoners are generally released back into their former communities.

What happens to former prisoners when they do finally make it back to their old neighborhoods? That’s a question most people don’t consider because the ex-con’s troubles don’t pertain to “most people.” Unfortunately, though, an inmate’s troubles affects everyone. Remember the 80 billion dollars it costs to incarcerate and supervise those millions of prisoners? Well, U.S. taxpayers are responsible for paying that whopping bill.

Doesn’t it make sense that we should try to address the problem instead of throwing good money on top of bad? Obviously, incarceration isn’t always the correct answer to every case, because many offenders just keep coming back after they’ve “paid” their debt to society.

Let’s address recidivism and why I think it occurs so often. First, I have many years of experience working in both corrections and in law enforcement, which means I’ve seen the system in action, from all sides. I’ve also owned a business where I employed a few former inmates, men who’d received prison sentences resulting from my investigations. Ironic, huh? Yes, I honestly believe in second chances.

What do former prisoners face upon their release? (these may vary depending on location)

  1. 1. They must, on a regular basis, check in with a probation or parole officer.
  2. 2. They must have an established residence.
  3. 3. Drug and sex offenders must register with the local police, advising officials where they’ll be residing and working.
  4. 4. They must maintain employment (in some areas this is a discretionary requirement imposed by the court).
  5. They’re required to complete a monthly report detailing their earnings, address changes, if any, employers name (probation officer will visit the job site and home), drug offenders must submit to urine testing, all must submit vehicle information, record of purchases (many probationers may not possess credit or debit cards), and they’re encouraged to further their education.

The above sounds reasonable until you consider the vast majority of employers absolutely will not hire felons, and, in most instances, drug offenders are not eligible for student loans or other such perks we all enjoy. In fact, many felons are legally banned from working in certain professions, such as:

  • airport security screener
  • armored car crew member
  • bank teller
  • child care provider
  • delivery driver
  • health care positions with direct patient contact
  • public safety officer
  • residential installers
  • apartment or condo maintenance
  • jobs that require handling money
  • barber
  • Realtor
  • First responder
  • Teacher
  • Psychologist
  • Attorney
  • Some felons are not eligible to obtain business licenses
  • liquor store clerks
  • restaurants that serve alcohol
  • health care – nurses, dental assistants, etc.
  • nursing homes

*Keep in mind that rules and laws may vary from one area to another.

Even when a felon finds a job he is subject to a list of restrictions, including (this is only a partial list, and it may vary from area to area):

  • Agents /officers must be allowed to visit worksite and/or speak with a supervisor to discuss client’s performance, progress, and accountability
  • Cannot work in a position that serves alcohol
  • Cannot work with minors
  • Cannot work with vulnerable adults
  • Employment must be within or close to a supervision district so that agents may visit the worksite
  • Not allowed to use or have contact with devices that host a computer modem (i.e. any device that can access the Internet)
  • Cannot travel outside area or state (affects delivery drivers)

A few professions do hire convicted felons, but the list is short. And, this is still entirely up to the company. Some do not employ those who’ve been convicted of crimes.

Professions often available to convicted felons:

  • Warehouse work
  • Maintenance and janitorial positions
  • Food service (no alcohol)
  • Production and manufacturing
  • Assembly
  • Construction
  • Landscaping

In addition, many convicted felons are banned from living in publicly assisted housing (section 8).

So, you see, without a job, or with the limited occupations to choose from, and without housing and educational opportunities, it’s darn tough for a former prisoner to make it on the outside.

To top it all off, the convicted felons never actually “pay their debts to society.” The stigma of being a “convicted felon” hangs over their heads for life. This is especially true for those who were convicted of federal offenses. Some states allow convicted felons to vote in elections (others do not). Still, felons, even one-time first offenders convicted of minor, non-violent felonies lose their right to own firearms and other weapons, their right to vote, student loans, housing, etc. And these restrictions are for life.

Wouldn’t it make sense to give the non-violent offenders a second chance, by removing the “convicted felon” status after, say, 10 years of living a productive, crime-free life. At least then they’d could return to school, live in better neighborhoods (away from criminal activity), find a decent job that would help support their families and take better care of their children, who, by the way, also suffer by being forced to live in poor conditions.

Having a second chance and goals to work toward could be part of the solution to the “prison problem” in this country. Now, I’m not talking about hardcore career criminals and repeat offenders. Nor am I including violent offenders. Most of those thugs need to remain behind bars for as long as we can keep them there. And I certainly don’t believe that every inmate would take advantage of the opportunity if presented to them. But there would be many who would work hard to achieve the goal and finally be able to put the mistake behind them for good.

If this helped keep just a small portion of the recidivists out of prison, the results could be huge. Families could remain together, children would grow up with two parents in the home, employers might find top-notch employees, the former inmates could become better educated and productive members of society, and taxpayers would save approximately $30,000 per year per inmate. Not to mention that instead of costing taxpayers, the non-recidivist would become a taxPAYER.

Anyway, that’s my two cents on the matter. What do you think? A second chance for some, or lock ’em up and forget about them? Remember, though, most of those who go in must come out at some point.

Of course, there is the issue of private prisons that maintain contracts with the government … contracts that promise a minimum number of inmates will be sent their way. We must also remember that the private prisons are a big, money-making industry with stockholders.

And then there’s the food industry that makes a bundle off the prisons. And the construction companies, the jobs for officers, stock brokers medical staff, administration, the vehicle contracts, the weapons contracts, dog food (canines), condiment sales

(I once sat next to a woman on a plane who was on her way to a huge nationwide prison food convention. She oversaw condiment sales to prisons and jails—packets of mustard, ketchup, and mayonnaise, along with napkins, and sporks—a multi-million-dollar industry).

Let’s not forget the prison phone systems, where a collect call can go for fees as high as nearly $300 for just one hour of conversation. Think about it for a second. A call for a kid’s birthday, a mother is sick, etc. $300 for an hour of family time is a tough expense for most families.

A portion of that whopping phone bill goes back to the prison in exchange for a contract with the provider. Again, it is the family who shoulders this burden since inmates don’t earn anywhere near enough money to cover the expense, yet, officials encourage strong and regular family contact.

Anyway, you get the idea.

By the way, Corrections Corporations of America stock was, at the time of this post, at $22.74 per share, down from $34.70 back in April 2017. Still, the “people business” is certainly booming.

It is my wish/hope that the newly formed committee would put their heads together and realize that second chances could indeed have worthwhile effects. It’s worth a try to offer an opportunity at once again becoming a productive citizen instead of someone who has little or no likelihood of making it. No job, no housing, no attainable goals, and no self-worth do not offer the needed building blocks of a solid future outside of prison.

 

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The Death Penalty: Do We Kill Innocent People?

The death penalty has long been a subject of controversy. Some of those against it argue that it’s not our place to take the life of another human, no matter how heinous the crime. Others say the process amounts to cruelty akin to torture. And, there’s the claim that innocent men and women could be executed, especially when taking into account the number of people released from death row—160—after evidence proved their innocence.

Not long ago, condemned inmate Clayton Lockett was strapped to a gurney and subsequently administered the drugs that were supposed to kill him, in a humane manner—the first drug should sort of put the inmate to sleep while the others that follow end his/her life. Well, what followed the introduction of medications was evidence of all that could go wrong during an execution. Lockett gasped, wheezed, writhed, breathed heavily, and lifted his head. Remember, the process is supposed to be humane, right?

In 1994, I witnessed the execution of Timothy W. Spencer, the serial killer nicknamed The Southside Strangler. Spencer was put to death via the electric chair. I was told ahead of time by prison officials that the process was a totally nonviolent and extremely humane way “to go.” Well, it wasn’t. Not even close.

After Spencer was strapped to the chair by the “death squad,” who also attached the electrical leads, one to his head and the other to a leg, he was hit by two jolts of electricity. The first caused Spencer’s body to swell and lurch forward against the restraints. Had he not been tightly fastened to the oak chair, I’m almost certain the strong electrical shock would have propelled his body forward and then down to the concrete floor where he’d have flopped about like a fish out of water.

The second surge of electrical current was the one that left an impression in my mind, even after all these years. In fact, it left a permanent etch in my senses—taste, smell, sight, and sound. Again, his body swelled, but this time smoke began to rise from Spencer’s head and leg. A sound similar to bacon frying could be heard over the hum of the electricity. Fluids rushed from behind the leather mask covering his face. The unmistakable pungent odor of burning flesh filled the room.

After a wait of five minutes, the prison doctor placed his stethoscope against Spencer’s chest, and then said, “Warden, this man has expired.” By the way, the wait time was to allow the body time to cool off enough so the doctor wouldn’t burn himself.

Maybe it’s just me, but that process—death by electric chair—was far more troubling than to see someone moan, writhe, and breathe heavy. Still, suffering is suffering, no matter the form.

The Death Penalty: Do We Kill Innocent People?

Going back to the number of people released from death row after their innocence had been proven … is it possible that prison officials have killed innocent people? Sure it is, and the post conviction proceedings to prove one’s innocence is a massive uphill battle. But Ray Krone and his attorneys did just that … after Ray served 10 years on death row for a crime he didn’t commit.

Actually, according to Witness To Innocence, the average amount of time an exonerated death row survivor spends behind bars is approximately 10 years. What about the prisoners who were executed during those 10 years? How many of them were killed while the real killers live among us?

Okay, I strayed a bit, but I can’t help but think about Ray and his story each time an inmate is executed.

The so-called botched execution of Clayton Lockett brought the death penalty back into the spotlight. President Obama asked his attorney general to look into the matter of Lockett’s execution, and others. He called Lockett’s execution “troubling,” and he expressed concern that death penalty sentences may be racially biased and that those sentences may be unevenly applied. Let’s have a look at the stats.

 

According to the Death Penalty Information Center:

Since 1976, 1463 death row prisoners have been executed.

– 55.8% of prisoners executed were white

– 34.4% African American

– 8.2% Hispanic

– 1.6% other

 

Race of Victims in Death Penalty Cases

– 76% were White

– 15% African American

– 7% Hispanic

– 2% other

 

Currently, there are 2843 inmates on death row.

 

Death row inmates by race:

White – 42%

Black – 42%

Hispanic – 13%

Other – 3%

Total number of death row prisoners exonerated = 160

So why does the U.S. execute murderers? Does the threat of execution prevent people from committing murder? Does it stop serial killers from doing what they do? Or, do we execute merely as a form of Lex Talionis, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Well, according to a survey of Midwest presidents of the country’s top academic criminological societies, 88% of the experts polled rejected the idea that the death penalty acts as a deterrent to murder. (Radelet & Lacock, 2009)

You tell me, is it time to stop executing killers? Or, are we not killing them fast enough?

Do you care that a certain amount of suffering sometimes takes place during lethal injections and electrocutions? Is it worth the risk of killing an innocent person, like Ray Krone, to give the population some sort of satisfaction and/or closure?

Could you “pull the switch”, knowing there’s a possibility that the person in “the chair” is innocent?

Jerry Givens, a former executioner for the Commonwealth of Virginia—the man who executed the death row inmate I saw put to death—best put this subject into perspective when he said, “If I execute an innocent person, I’m no better than the people on death row.”

Givens, after executing 62 people, now strongly opposes the death penalty.

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The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far: Kids Whose Parents are Behind Bars

It’s no secret that many children of incarcerated parents are practically pre-destined to follow those same paths to a life of crime, followed by time spent in prisons and jails.

If memory serves, these kids are five or six times more likely to commit crimes than other kids their own age.

What’s it like to live as a member of one of those families? Well, let’s take a peek into the life of the Atwood family—Vernon and Vernon, Jr. Carly Atwater, Vernon’s wife and mother of Vernon, Jr., left many years ago. Couldn’t take the drinking and abuse.

So …

It had been nearly three years since Vernon Atwater had last seen his oldest son, Vernon, Jr.

December 14th, a day he would never forget, started when the judge, the Honorable James T. Williams, found Junior guilty of murder and sentenced him to twenty-five years in the penitentiary. Sheriffs’ deputies immediately handcuffed the newly convicted man and led him from the courtroom through a set of heavy wooden doors at the rear of the room.

Two hours later, Vernon stood outside on the sidewalk, pulling a few drags on a Lucky Strike, watching as two burly deputies helped his boy into an unmarked car to take him to the state prison in Rocky Creek.

Vernon spent the rest of the day in his grassless backyard, sitting in an old rickety kitchen chair drinking cheap beer and wondering what he’d done that caused Junior to do the things he did.

Vernon felt guilty for not driving to “The Creek” to see Junior, but something had always come up—overtime at the mill, the truck needed new brakes, the roof needed replacing. Those things took time and before he knew it weeks had turned into months and months into years.

Needless to say, Vernon was more than a little nervous about seeing Junior. Three years was a long time. His heart pounded and thumped against the inside of his chest as the car turned from the main highway onto the narrow blacktop leading to the penitentiary.

The sight of the gleaming razor wire atop the double fences caused his throat to tighten. He hoped his boy was all right. He’d heard every horrible prison story there was to tell. But Junior was tough. He’d never allow anyone to do him harm. Of that he was firmly convinced. Still …

Hundreds of men behind the fences were engaged in all sorts of activities. They paused from their weight-lifting, jogging, handball, bocce ball, and basketball, trying to get a glimpse inside the passing vehicle.

He wondered how his son was going to react to seeing him today. He wondered if anyone had even told him he was coming.

At least this visit would be a long one.

Two six packs of beer. An argument over a stupid football game. One thing led to another and out came the hunting knife. A few months later Vernon found himself standing in the same upstairs courtroom, in the very spot where Vernon, Jr. once stood, facing Judge James. T. Williams.

Judge Williams, by the way, remembered Vernon, Jr’s case and made a point to mention it during the tongue-lashing he delivered to the elder Vernon during a lengthly and fiery pre-sentencing statement.

Vernon tried to be strong but his knees nearly buckled when he heard the judge hand down his sentence—twenty-five years to life.

It’s really true, Vernon thought as the unmarked sheriff’s car pulled into the prison sally port, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The apple doesn’t fall far

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Arkansas Executions: Gruesome?

Red Folders - Arkansas Executions

When someone commits a crime and is subsequently arrested for the offense, they instantly become a part of the “system.” They’re reduced to a case number and a few papers inside a file folder, like those seen above and below.

Red Folders - Arkansas ExecutionsEach of the red folders contains the file of a criminal case. They’re brief excerpts of a person’s life. A point in time when they decided to break the law. Sometimes, the things these people did are the same as things everyday people have done but were not caught (possession of small amounts of marijuana, for example).

Many of these “red folder people” are currently sitting in jail waiting for their day in court. Perhaps they’re locked inside a cell because they couldn’t raise the cash needed to meet bond requirements. Or, perhaps a judge felt they were a flight risk so she ordered them held under no bond status until trial.

Others, though, are out and about, working, playing, and tending to everyday wants and needs while the wheels of justice churn slowly toward their trial dates. Soon they’ll know their fates. Some will receive probation. Some will have charges dropped in exchange for performing community serve, and some will be sentenced to serve time in prison or a county jail. Others will simply go free with either time served or by having been found innocent of all charges.

One thing will remain a constant during the process, and beyond, and that’s the case number assigned to the red folder. It will remain attached to the offender’s case from day one until the record ceases to exist, if that point in time ever arrives.

Inside the vault in a courthouse complex.

Inside the vault in a courthouse complex.

Meanwhile, there’s this …

A short walk down red-folder-row in this particular courthouse records complex took me to a large walk-in safe/vault, much like what you’d expect to see inside a bank. This vault, however, contained something quite different than bundles of currency and sacks of gold coins.

Instead of mounds of cash, this steel- and concrete-clad room held a meager collection of office supplies and five neatly stacked columns of bankers boxes.

What, you might ask, is so important about twenty-eight bankers boxes that they’re all lined up like a row of soldiers standing at attention inside a locked bank-type vault? Well …

Arkansas Executions

Those twenty-boxes contain the files of active death penalty or potential death penalty cases.

Yes, those cardboard boxes you see pictured are all that’s standing between life and death for several men and women. They contain the details of each case—the words and evidence that could convict, or on appeal, change the outcome from death to life in prison.

Some whose case notes are stored inside the boxes would go on to accept plea deals to spare them from an appointment with “the needle.” Others are no longer in the system. Their day has come and gone.  A few still await “the end.”

I can’t begin to describe the feeling I experienced the moment I crossed the threshold of the vault. Eerie to say the least, and I suppose it was so because I’d personally witnessed the execution of a prisoner back in the 1980s.

Executions are Gruesome

To this day, I still picture images of serial killer Timothy Spencer sitting in the electric chair at Greenville Correctional Center, the facility that houses Virginia’s execution chamber.

That night, mere moments after Spencer’s gaze met mine, executioner Jerry Givens flipped the switch and the odor of burning hair and flesh filled the execution chamber. Spencer’s body surged and swelled and pushed against the restraints that bound him tightly to “Old Sparky.” Fluids spewed from behind the leather mask covering his face. His joints were frozen in place by the intense heat and burning. Sandbags were used to help straighten those joints once the body was cool enough to touch.

The prison doctor had to wait several minutes to allow Spencer’s body to cool enough to allow the use of a stethoscope to check for signs of life. That’s right. Too hot to touch without burning the doctor’s hands.

Me? I didn’t need a medical device to tell me the man was dead. What I’d seen, heard, and smelled was all the proof I needed. It was indeed a gruesome way to die. Gruesome. Gruesome. Gruesome.

Last week, Arkansas executed four prisoners. Witnesses said about three minutes into the process the condemned man jerked and coughed for about twenty seconds. Some described the execution as gruesome and called for an investigation.

Spencer, like the men executed in Arkansas, is dead. His demise was what I, someone who’s seen more than his fair share of death, would describe as gruesome. I said it above and again here. Gruesome. Can’t stress the point enough.

Twenty seconds of movement and moaning … well, I suppose it’s all relative.

So choose your own synonym. They all describe what I saw—grim, ghastly, frightful, horrid, horrifying, grisly, dire, awful, shocking, appalling, repulsive, repugnant, revolting, and/or sickening. Your pick. They all fit.

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The following is list of the inmates currently on death row in Arkansas.

Gruesome awaits.

May God have mercy on their souls.

No.       Name                                Date of Birth    Race/Sex   Date of Sentence      County

SK911  Coulter, Roger                   12/01/1959      W/M         10/27/1989               Ashley

SK915  Ward, Bruce Earl               12/24/1956      W/M         10/18/1990               Pulaski

SK920  Davis, Don W.                    11/23/1962      W/M         03/06/1992               Benton

SK922  Greene,Jack G                   03/13/1955      W/M         10/15/1992               Johnson

SK925  Dansby, Ray                       03/03/1960      B/M           06/11/1993               Union

SK926  Nooner, Terrick T.             03/17/1971      B/M           09/28/1993               Pulaski

SK927  Reams, Kenneth                12/21/1974      B/M           12/16/1993               Jefferson

SK929  Sasser, Andrew                 10/21/1964      B/M           03/03/1994               Miller

SK933  Johnson, Stacey E.             11/26/1969      B/M           09/23/1994               Sevier

SK934  Kemp, Timothy W.            08/04/1960      W/M         12/02/1994               Pulaski

SK939  Rankin, Roderick L.            11/18/1975      B/M           02/13/1996               Jefferson

SK941  Jackson, Alvin                    06/30/1970      B/M           06/20/1996               Jefferson

SK946  McGehee, Jason F.            07/04/1976      W/M         01/08/1998               Boone

SK956  Roberts, Karl D.                 03/06/1968      W/M         05/24/2000               Polk

SK960  Isom, Kenneth                   06/03/1967      B/M           03/28/2001               Drew

SK961  Anderson, Justin                03/21/1981      B/M           01/31/2002               Lafayette

SK964  Thessing, Billy                   09/11/1968      W/M         09/10/2004               Pulaski

SK965  Thomas, Mickey D.            09/25/1974      B/M           09/28/2005               Pike

SK966  Springs, Thomas               06/25/1962      B/M           11/24/2005               Sebastian

SK968  Sales, Derek                      01/08/1961      B/M           05/17/2007               Ashley

SK971  Decay, Gregory                  07/11/1985      B/M           04/24/2008               Washington

SK972  Marcyniuk, Zachariah        05/21/1979      W/M         12/12/2008               Washington

SK973  Lacy, Brandon E.                01/01/1979      W/M         05/13/2009               Benton

SK976  Lard, Jerry D.                     03/13/1974      W/M         07/28/2012               Greene

SK977  Holland, Robert                 11/28/1968      W/M         10/04/1991               Union

SK979  Johnson, Latavious            10/31/1981      B/M           11/04/2014               Lee

SK980  Gay, Randy W.                  09/01/1958      W/M         03/19/2015               Garland

SK981  Holly, Zachary D.               10/08/1984      W/M         05/27/2015               Benton

SK982  Torres, Mauricio A.           12/24/1969      H/M           11/15/2016               Benton

14 White Males
14 Black Males
  1 Hispanic Male
29 Total

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Mr. X: Federal Prison – The Ins And Outs Of It

Mr. X: Federal Prison - The Ins And Outs Of It

Mr. X is a former business professional who committed a crime that landed him in federal prison. He’s out now and has agreed to share his story with the readers of The Graveyard Shift.

Part One

GYS: Thanks for taking the time to share what must have been a difficult time for you and your family. I’ll dive right in. What were the circumstances that ultimately led to your arrest?

X: It’s embarrassing to have to tell it. I’ll start by saying I was ill at the time. I had a mental problem, I guess you’d call it. My doctor gave me all sorts of drugs that were supposed to help me, but didn’t. They just screwed up my wiring—my thought processes. Anyway, to this day I still say I would have never done anything wrong had it not been for the assortment of antidepressants and pain pills. Still, I did what I did and I accept the responsibility for it. I wish I could change it, but I can’t.

GYS: And what was your crime?

X: I bought some cocaine to sell. I needed money. You see, I couldn’t hold down a job and my wife was struggling to make ends meet. The medicine and depression wouldn’t let me think properly. Either I’d get fired, or I’d quit for some crazy, unjustified reason. All I had on my mind was the feeling those little pills offered. At the time, I think I’d have married a bottle of Hydrocodone. I loved the stuff that much.

GYS: How long did your life of crime last?

X: I didn’t make a very good criminal. My entire crime spree lasted about a week. I bought the cocaine to sell, but chickened out. I couldn’t sell it. But someone who was involved in the transaction was already in trouble with the police and told them about me to help themselves out of their own jam.

GYS: Tell us about the arrest.

X: As it turns out, the person who told on me was an informant for a federal task force, so, needless to say, I was surprised when my house was raided by a team of FBI agents along with state and local police. There must have been fifteen or twenty officers involved in the raid of my home. All for a little less than $100 worth of cocaine.

GYS: Seriously, that’s all you had?

X: Yes, sir. $100 worth.

GYS: What were your charges?

X: Possession of a controlled substance (cocaine) with the intent to distribute, and obstruction of justice. The obstruction charge was later dropped. I think the feds automatically add that one to make you confess.

GYS: Why do you say that about the obstruction charge?

X: Well, they threatened to arrest everyone in my family—my wife, kids, and mother—if I didn’t confess. And if I didn’t admit to the crime then they’d let the obstruction charge stand, and that’s a minimum of a ten-year sentence. I had no choice at the time. Plus, they applied this pressure prior to my talking to an attorney, which I understand is perfectly legal. But let me again stress that I was indeed guilty.

GYS: So what happened next?

X: Gosh, it’s all a blur. Let’s see. I was handcuffed, placed in the back of a police car, driven to a remote jail about two hours away, fingerprinted, strip searched, de-loused, and placed in a jail cell. It was a real shock to me. I’d never even had a traffic ticket.

Oh, my family had no idea where I was, or what had happened. They were away when the raid took place—at work and in school.

This was also the time when I learned that I was a drug addict. Withdrawal symptoms set in while I was in the jail cell. The next couple of days were pure hell, for many reasons.

My only contact with humans was through a small slot in the middle of a steel door. I begged for help, but that door wasn’t opened again for three days. I did see a couple of hands twice a day when they shoved a food tray through the slot. But the person wasn’t allowed to talk to me.

Someone, a federal agent, finally came to get me on the third day. He took me to a federal courthouse for a bond hearing. My family was there, but I wasn’t allowed to speak to them. I don’t know how they knew to be there. I was denied bond. Why, I don’t know—this was a first offense, and a $100 dollar offense on top of that. So I was hauled back to the jail cell.

On the ride back, shackled like Charles Manson—handcuffs, waist and leg chains—I realized just how lovely trees, flowers, and the sky really are, even though I was seeing them through a steel screen. I also realized how important my family was. I’d taken a lot of things for granted in my life.

I wound up back at the jail, which I learned also doubled as a holding facility for federal prisoners. I was there for two more weeks until my wife scraped together enough money—$25,000—to retain an attorney to represent me. She had to borrow against the equity in our home. Federal court is really expensive. The attorney managed to get another bond hearing and I was released on my own PR, but I wasn’t allowed to go home with my family. I had to stay with a relative in another city because the prosecutor said I was a threat to my community. For $100 worth of drugs that I never took or sold!

Anyway, I remained there until I went to court.

~

Part Two

Jail Cell

 

Mr. X received a sentence of 37 months, to be served in federal prison, followed by a transition period in a federal halfway house, and 3 years supervised probation.

GYS: You mentioned a couple trips you took while incarcerated. I think the readers would be quite interested in those details. Tell us about the first one, please.

Mr. X: I’m sure you’re referring to my transfer from one prison to another, right?

GYS: Yes. I know you went on other excursions during your time in, but this is one that’s the most interesting, and it’s one our readers probably won’t expect.

Mr. X: Well, the first trip occurred after I’d been in about a year. My counselor called me to his office and said they’d figured my custody status wrong. Originally, they’d housed me in a minimum security prison—one with double fences, guard towers, armed perimeter patrols, and razor wire—but I was actually eligible to serve my time in a camp. He then asked if I’d like to transfer. My response was an immediate yes, if he could find one near my family. Who wouldn’t want to go to a camp? I mean, to go from hell on earth to a place with no fences, no razor wire, better food, better jobs, less guards, and better visiting opportunities. That was an easy decision. A no-brainer.

The arrangements were made in a matter of days. I was going to a camp near my home that’s run by a private security company. At the time, I was in a prison nowhere near my wife because she’d been transferred for work since I was first incarcerated.

I was, however, concerned and apprehensive about the transfer. Those trips can be awful. They chain you up and place you in the back of a hot van, or bus, and haul you to a jet that’s parked in some hidden spot. Then you fly to Oklahoma where you may sit for months before you finally take off for the new place. You may also get shuttled around from county jail to county jail. During that time, you don’t get visits, commissary, work, mail, etc., because no one knows where you are from one day to the next, for months at a time.

Well, that’s what I was expecting, but one of the guys I hung around with a bit—he fancied himself as sort of a jailhouse lawyer—said he’d read that you could apply for a furlough transfer. He went on to explain that it was possible, with the warden’s permission, to actually walk out the gate, hop on public transportation, and make the trip, unescorted.

I figured I had nothing to lose so the next night I approached the warden outside the dining hall and asked him about it. Well, without blinking an eye he said, “Fill out the application and get your plane ticket.”

I was stunned, but that’s what I did (my family made the arrangements). The day of my trip arrived and I still couldn’t believe they were going to let me walk out the gate. At 9 a.m. sharp, though, I was summoned to the main office. It was like a dream. I walked from the office to the front entrance where a guard asked me a few questions and then opened the gates. I walked outside to hugs from family members. They drove me to the airport where I enjoyed a nice meal and a flight across country. The couple seated beside me were pleasant, and I enjoyed a nice conversation with them—about nothing really, but it was wonderful to talk about things other than appeals and how to smuggle an extra dessert from the dining hall. I often wonder how they’d have reacted if they’d known I was a federal prisoner.

We landed at a large airport where I was met by my wife—she was my ride to the camp. We planned the trip so that we’d have a little time together. So we stopped by the house for some much needed “quality” time before making the three-hour trip to the prison camp. I’ll skip those details.

Later, I arrived at the camp with my bags in hand, kissed my wife goodbye, and went inside the office building (no fences, no guards outside, and no gates). A guard at the desk checked me in like I was at a motel. She then told me which building I’d be assigned to and pointed in that direction. I went through the rear door and made my way across a well-manicured lawn and stepped into a nicely air-conditioned building. No yelling, no loud TV’s, and absolutely no guards. Not one. It was like I’d been re-born. I was a new man with a glimmer of hope for my future.

GYS: Your next trip was a bit different, yes?

Mr. X: It sure was. After I’d been in a while I heard about inmates being granted furloughs—weekend trips to their homes to spend time with their family. The purpose of the furlough is supposed to help prisoners gradually become accustomed to outside life with their families. Well, I applied for one and it was approved. I went home for three days during the Christmas holidays, and it was wonderful.

My wife picked me up in the prison parking lot and we spent three glorious days together, at home, before I had to return to the camp. I was walking on air when I got back.

I’d also gone on short day trips, like to trim roses in the town parks, or to the warden’s Ruritan Club to spruce up the grounds. They were nice outings to break up your time and to see some real people, but they were nothing like my time with my family, at home. Still, seeing people and cars and trees and flowers and freedom … well, any time outside the camp grounds was like a dream.

*This article is a repeat post.

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Old Sparky Has Left the Building…sort of

 

It was over two decades ago, in this very month, April, when I stood beside my unmarked Crown Vic in the parking lot of the state police area headquarters, waiting for a ride to a state prison. The evening was warm. The sky clear. And the surrounding trees were filled with new spring leaves. Crickets chirped and mosquitos zeroed in on my face and arms.

Knowing rules prevented me from wearing my pistol inside the correctional institution, I’d placed it inside the small lockbox mounted in the trunk and double-checked to be sure the steel container was secure before closing the lid. I had a bit of time to spare so I walked behind the small red brick building to have a look at an armored vehicle parked there out of sight of the public. I’d seen the truck a zillion times before, but it was something I could use to slow the million thoughts zipping about inside my mind.

I’d have gone inside the office to shoot the breeze, but it was after hours and the administrative staff had gone home for the day, and the troopers working the roads were doing just that…patrolling the highways. It was just me and my imagination, hanging out together, waiting to watch a man die.

After a few laps around the headquarters, an unmarked white van arrived to deliver me to the prison. The driver, a corrections lieutenant, told me to hop in and off we went. I’d return a changed man just a few hours later.

Timothy Wilson Spencer began his deadly crime spree in 1984, when he raped and killed a woman named Carol Hamm in Arlington, Virginia. Spencer also killed Dr. Susan Hellams, Debby Davis, and Diane Cho, all of Richmond, Virginia. A month later, Spencer returned to Arlington to rape and murder Susan Tucker.

spencer.jpg

Spencer walked into the death chamber on his own that night, unassisted by prison staff. He was shorter and a bit more wiry than most people picture when thinking of a brutal serial killer. His head was shaved and one pant leg of his prison blues was cut short for easy access for attaching one of the connections (the negative post, I surmised). His skin was smooth and was the color of milk chocolate. Dots of perspiration peppered his forehead and bare scalp.

After glancing around the brightly lit surroundings, Spencer took a seat in the oak chair nicknamed “Old Sparky,” as are a few of those instruments of justifiable homicide, and calmly allowed the death squad to carry out their business of fastening straps, belts, and electrodes. His arms and legs were securely fixed to the chair. He looked on, seemingly uninterested in what they were doing, as if he’d just settled in to watch TV, or a movie.

I sat directly in front of the cold-blooded killer, mere feet away, separated only by a partial wall of glass. His gaze met mine and that’s where his focus remained for the next minute or so. His face was expressionless. No sign of sadness, regret, or fear.

I wanted to ask him if he was sorry for what he’d done. I wanted to know why he’d killed those women. What drove him to take human lives so callously?

When asked if he had any final words to say, Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t. Whatever that thought had been, well, he took it with him to his grave. Officers then placed a leather mask over Spencer’s face.

The squad’s final task was to place a metal, colander-like hat on Spencer’s head. The cap was lined with a brine-soaked sponge that serves as an excellent conductor of electricity.

Seconds later, the lethal dose of electricity was introduced, causing the murderer’s body to swell and lurch forward against the restraints that held him tightly to the chair.

Suddenly, his body slumped into the chair. The burst of electricity was over. However, after a brief pause, a second burst of electricity was delivered to the killer’s body. Again, his body swelled, but this time smoke began to rise from Spencer’s head and leg. A sound similar to bacon frying could be heard over the hum of the electricity. Fluids rushed from behind the leather mask. The unmistakable pungent odor of burning flesh filled the room.

The electricity was again switched off and Spencer’s body relaxed.

He was dead and it was one of the most brutal ways to die one could ever imagine, and believe me I’ve witnessed far more than my than my fair share of death.

Fast forward to April 11, 2016, a date just shy of the twenty-second anniversary of Spencer’s execution. On Monday, Virginia Governor, Terry McAuliffe rejected a bill that would have mandated using the electric chair as the default method of execution in the absence of drugs used for lethal injections.

This is big news since more and more drug companies are refusing to supply states with drugs if their purpose for obtaining them is to kill people.

The Va. governor is Catholic and says he’s against the death penalty, but as governor it’s his duty to set aside personal beliefs and follow the law. So, he has now proposed a bill that would allow drug companies to remain anonymous if they supply the state/Commonwealth with the necessary drugs to carry out state executions. The information would be exempt from the Freedom of Information Act and from discovery in civil proceedings, without a high threshold of just cause.

I once sat in Old Sparky and the feeling was surreal, having the same view of the surroundings as did some of the most evil people who ever walked this planet. It was a bizarre experience to say the least. Some things you never, ever forget. Entering the execution chamber to sit in “the chair” was one of those things.

Here’s a brief video that was filmed in the execution chamber in Virginia. This, my friends, is the stuff that could cause Stephen King to wake up screaming. Remember, the video is real, shot in a real place, where real people have been executed. I’ve stood in the same spots as the officers in the film, and I’ve sat in that very chair. But the lights were burning brightly in the chamber and the “juice” was most definitely not connected to the chair when I sat. LIGHTS ON, CHAIR OFF. I made certain that officials understood those two very important details before I took a seat.

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Howdy Neighbor: When a High-Risk Violent Sexual Predator Moves Next Door

Howdy neighbor: sexual predator

 

Fraisure Earl Smith was released from custody this week after serving time for assault with intent to commit rape. Smith, now 51, committed five sexual assaults over a span of 15 years.

In 2007, Smith was convicted for sexually assaulting a 17-year-old girl (Smith claims he’s not a pedophile, but I’m betting he’d have a hard time convincing the mother of the 17-year-old girl that his claim is just). This, the latest case, was the one that finally landed him in a California state prison. And, as a 1996 law provided, Smith was eventually transferred to Coalinga State Hospital for followup care and treatment prior to his release back into society.

Smith’s timetable of repeat offenses—a violent sexual assault every five years during a period of fifteen years, and these are the one’s known to law enforcement—is a strong indicator of serial behavior. In other words, reoffending is definitely an option on his table, and violence and sexual assault are both in his arsenal. Needless to say, this man is dangerous. Although, Smith says he’s not. “I am not presently aroused by deviant sexual fantasies or urges….” Smith wrote in a recent declaration.

As Smith’s release date drew near (he’s now been legally deemed safe for release), officials from Liberty Healthcare, a company hired by the state to handle sex predator releases, agreed to find suitable housing for him. After an exhaustive search for housing in cities in four counties, courts and other officials were unable to secure a permanent residence for Smith. Locations were limited since sexual offenders are not permitted to live near schools, day care facilities, or other places where children may frequent. In all, 4,108 placement possibilities were looked at, but for one reason or another, none were approved.

The latest single family home that was approved but later rejected due to the outrage of nearby residents, was a house with a pool in a well-to-do neighborhood. By the way, since Smith is still under supervision of county and state authorities, his housing costs are covered by taxpayers. The monthly rent on the above-mentioned home was $3,000 per month. But, citizens banded together and forced the courts to reconsider. Now, however, without a home for Smith to, well, call home, he has been released from the mental health facility as a transient and will reside in a local Motel 6, still at taxpayer expense. Rules/law requires that he move every 5 days.

Smith is currently living in a motel where guests and their children stay when passing through the area. And those children, wives, and mothers will walk the hallways and parking lot, and they’ll wear their bathing suits while enjoying the hotel pool. All this while Fraisure Smith, a violent sexual predator, possibly watches and waits to be aroused by, in his own words, “deviant sexual fantasies or urges.”

I know, Smith and other violent sexual predators have to live somewhere when they’re released, but my past experiences with these guys tells me to keep a watchful eye on them. Sorry if this offends anyone, but that’s the way it is. Believe me, I’ve seen what can happen and it’s horrible.

Things you should know about sexual predators.

1. Grooming – Predators often “groom” children and other potential victims in order to gain their trust, hoping for access to alone time with them.

2. Predators also groom others, not just their intended victims. The purpose of this type of grooming is to “prove” they are not a risk. For example, see Smith’s quote above about no longer having urges or fantasies. This is a classic sign of grooming.

3. Signs of grooming

a) the adult shows an exaggerated interest in a child.

b) an adult buys gifts for a child.

c) the adult finds ways to be alone with a child.

d) an adult displays a fixation on a particular child.

e) the adult “accidentally” walks in a child when they’re bathing, using the restroom, or changing.

f) tickling

g) wrestling with children

h) playing “doctor”

i) taking photos of children, especially when they’re in various stages of undress or wearing swim suits, dance costumes, etc.

j) lots of hugging, kissing, and touching.

 

What to do when a sexual offender moves into your neighborhood?

Here’s a handy Tip Sheet from Stop It Now!

 

What are the warnings signs of possible sexual abuse in children?

Again we turn to Stop It Now! for a Tip Sheet.

 

Warning Signs That Might Suggest Someone Is Sexually Abusing a Child

To see the list of warning signs, please click here.

So, for now Fraisure Smith is a guest of a California Motel 6 hotel. Next week, well who knows. Maybe he or another just like him will be your new neighbor. Please be mindful of the activities and whereabouts of your children. You never know…

 UPDATE!

Ironically, this announcement came a few hours after I published this article. What a coincidence…or was it?

From KRON news in San Francisco.

“After obtaining further details from Motel 6, it appears that Motel 6 did not know that they had rented a room to Mr. Smith, the recently released sexually violent predator. Once they confirmed that he was staying there, they acted immediately to evict him,” Vallejo City Manager Daniel E. Keen said.

“Details provided by Motel 6 confirm that Liberty Healthcare Corporation, the contractor hired by the State to provide services to Smith, concealed Mr. Smith’s identity in order to obtain two rooms at the motel,” Vallejo police Cpt. John Whitney said in a press release.

Two Liberty employees gave their names and did not disclose the identity of Smith, police said.

Smith has been placed on the no-rent list.

/by

Total Chaos: 6,000 Drug Offenders Released at Once

Total Chaos: 6000 drug offenders

 

Chaos because 6,000 non-violent drug offenders were released at once from federal prisons? Well, that’s probably a bit extreme considering over 10,000 inmates are already being released back into society each month. That’s over 650,000 former offenders each year who return to walk and talk and work and mingle among us. The horror of it all, right?

Some of that horror is totally justified, and how so you ask? For starters, nearly two-thirds of of those 650,000 former prisoners are rearrested within three years of their release. I know, chances of finding jobs, housing, and education for those folks are slim or none. Still, according to Justice Department stats, 4,000 of the 6,000 newly released federal inmates will most likely wind up back in prison. By the way, this 6,000 is in addition to the 69 men and women granted clemency by the president.

But, 6,000 is not the final total. The Sentencing Commission estimates a second round of releases to take place in the fall of 2016 will set free nearly 9,000 additional federal prisoners.

Police officials are extremely concerned, and most likely at least some of their fears are justified. There are no real programs in place to handle the sudden release of so many prisoners. There’s a significant lack of housing opportunities, job training, and a near absence of medical treatment, including mental health care and access to needed medications. Basically, there is no real safety net in place to catch these people when they fall, and the odds are so heavily stacked against convicted felons that a tumble for most is practically inevitible.

The additional number of inmates is expected to further burden strained probation departments. Officers who supervise the inmates on probation can barely handle the caseloads that are already dumped in their laps by the handfuls (prisoners are typically released under the supervision of a probation officer unless a court order states otherwise). Likewise, police officers will bear the brunt of dealing with those who choose to return to a criminal lifestyle. Add these new crimes and criminals to those already on the streets and, well, there’s just not enough officers to go around. And that’s the concern of many chiefs and sheriffs.

Let’s revisit the opening line of this article. Will this mass release of prisoners cause chaos in our streets? It’s doubtful that the average citizen will notice the effects. Well, unless they happen to be on the receiving end of the B&E’s, robberies, car thefts, etc. committed by the newly-released as they embark on their journeys back through the current catch and release system.

But chaos? Honestly, I can’t imagine things will be any different than what we’re already seeing on the evening news and across various social media sources. If that’s chaos, then it is what it is and will be what it will be. Besides, the situation—prison overcrowding, mass releases, mandatory minimums, etc.—should certainly be of more concern to citizens than, well, #It’sJustACup. But that’s just my opinion, something I rarely offer on this site.

 

Investigator G. Nome decides that current clues are not related to the true meaning of Christmas, so he moves on.

 

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Bob Barker: Reducing Recidivism One Mustard Packet At a Time

 

Prisons and jails in this country are a big business. A huge business, actually. In fact, well over 2 million people are currently incarcerated in the 5,000 prisons and jails across the U.S.. Obviously, 2 million people is a huge number of folks who must eat, wear clothing of some type, use hygiene products, etc., and those same 2 million people are unable to run out to the nearest mall or restaurant when a need arises. Besides, it’s the government’s responsibility to see to it that an inmate’s basic needs are met. Therefore, a plethora of businesses cater specifically to the prison industry.

For example, there are numerous companies specializing in inmate telephone equipment, ID cards and wristbands, commissary items, food service, condiments (mustard, ketchup, etc.), clothing, bedding, vehicles, security equipment, ATM kiosks (for visitors who wish to deposit funds to an inmate’s account), laundry equipment and supplies, and much, much more. Soooo much more.

The Bob Barker Company is a large well-known company that manufactures and/or sells products to the corrections industry. Items carried and sold include, for example, bedding, clothing, personal hygiene supplies, furniture, electronics (see-through TV’s, radios, watches, etc.), janitorial supplies, shoes, and suicide prevention items—protective helmets, jumpsuits and smocks, and more. They also sell board games, e-cigarettes, and electronic readers preloaded with approved books. Their list of goods and items is extremely long.

Bob Barker Company is a huge, extremely successful business that depends solely upon incarcerated men and women for its income. However, there’s a unique twist to this particular company’s business plan. They run a nonprofit, the BBC Foundation, that’s in place solely to help reduce recidivism. Yes, they actually try their best to prevent prisoners, the very people whom they depend upon to generate income, from returning to a life of incarceration.

Each year, the Bob Barker Company sets aside 10% of their profits to help support two commitments—local nonprofits and church ministries in their communities, and the BBC Foundation. They’ve set aside a $5 million endowment to help reach their support goals. In addition, BBC has awarded over $1 million to community-based projects.

Recidivism

Over 9.25 million people are incarcerated throughout the world, a number that’s approximately equal to the population of the state of North Carolina. The U.S. has nearly 25% of the world’s prison population despite having only 5% of the world’s population. In other words, prison is a big business in the U.S.

In 1970, the entire U.S. prison population was 338,000. It is currently over 2.3 million.

The likelihood of Americans landing in prison?

Men – 1 in 9

Women – 1 in 56

The United States currently has over 7 million people under some form of correctional supervision. Of the 7 million…

21% are in prison

10% are in jail

12% on parole

56% on probation

 

In 2011, one in every 107 U.S. adult citizens was incarcerated in prison or jail. A staggering 1 in every 34 adults were on probation or parole or other form of correctional supervision.

50% of those people housed in jails have not yet been convicted of a crime.

The U.S. spends approximately $48.5 billion per year on corrections. That figure equals to somewhere around $5.5 million per hour or, $92,000 per minute.

60% of all released inmates return within 3 years. Why? Well, I think we should look at some of the factors that may play a role in their lives of crime. First…

1. 56% of all inmates grew up in a single parent home (or guardian).

2. 1 in 9 of all inmates has lived in a foster home.

3. As children, many were physically or sexually abused.

4. Approximately 20% are illiterate. 40% are functionally illiterate.

5. 40% do not have a high school diploma or GED. 17% have an 8th grade education or less. Actually, the average inmate has a 10th grade education, yet only 3% of the prison population is offered an opportunity to  attend educational classes.

6. A whopping 60% of all inmates report they were using drugs at the time of their arrest. 36% say the same about alcohol use at the time of their arrest. 74% say they were using either or both at the time of their arrest.

*Those of you who have a copy of my book on police procedure may recall the title of chapter 11, Drugs, Not Money, Are the Root of All Evil.

 

7. 16% of all prisoners have a significant mental illness. 40% have mental problems.

8. Over 50% were on probation or parole at the time of arrest.

9. 44% have served time in the past.

10. 55% of incarcerated males have minor children at home. 65% of incarcerated women have minor children at home.

11. Children with incarcerated parents are 5 times more likely to be arrested/incarcerated.

12. 96% of all prisoners will someday be released back into society.

The Bob Barker Foundation’s mission (per the company website) is to develop and support programs that help incarcerated individuals successfully reenter society and stay out for life.

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It’s extremely difficult for former prisoners to become productive members of society. They’re branded for life with a record that follows them forever, and a criminal record will absolutely prevent most of them from securing decent employment. Sure, some will never change no matter how many programs are in place to help them. But, there are others who simply made a mistake, for whatever reason, and would never, ever do anything that would land them back in prison. However, their choices are slim. There are no second chances. Their “debt to society” is never repaid.

In some areas, convicted felons may NOT, work as movers or barbers, or hold public office. Felons may not hold certain licenses, such as a license to work as an electrician. Public housing is not available to them, nor are education grants/loans available for those convicted of most drug crimes.

So, yeah, avoiding a return trip to prison is a tough hurdle to overcome. Perhaps, having a goal to work toward, such as erasing the record of one-time offenders (for non-violent offenses) after ten years of squeaky clean behavior and contributing to the community, would go a long way toward reducing recidivism.

After all, many people are in jail or have criminal records because they were caught and arrested for doing the exact same things our current president admitted to doing (drug use) but was never caught by authorities. His message… I’m the president of the U.S. and I’ve broken the law several times, but didn’t get caught so I’m good to go. You, though, were nabbed doing the same thing so you now can never hold public office or work as a barber (even though the felon trained and worked as a barber while serving time in prison). And, to continue to punish you for the rest of your life (for something he, too, did and openly discusses), we’re not going to allow you to get an education or to have a place to live.

#everybodydeservesasecondchance

*Resources – Bob Barker Company and Bureau of Justice Statistics.

*This post is not an endorsement for Bob Barker Company or its affiliates. 

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