JUST SAYIN’-There are so many prisons and so many programs within each one that I cannot possibly tackle in a single column all the issues that each one presents. However, if you have been following some of my articles on juvenile justice, ban-the-box, “justice—not jails,” and so forth, you know where my heart is.
Recently, Californians passed the somewhat controversial Proposition 47 about which I wrote very recently. Many in the field of policing opposed its passage for fear of unintended consequences. But I believe our voters saw the wisdom in giving thousands of inmates a chance at a fruitful life after prison by reclassifying many “minor,” but felonious crimes to misdemeanors (along with making certain other adjustments).
Building on that, today’s column is addressing one of the outstanding programs that our penal system offers. This one, the Juvenile Diversion Program (JDP), is located at the Mule Creek State Prison (MCSP) in Ione, California, and is run by truly dedicated, compassionate, sincere, and highly-qualified leaders.
Each prison institution offers a version of this program but I am particularly impressed with the one at MCSP. Under the umbrella organization is a variety of smaller programs that are geared to meet the diverse needs of the incarcerated. These groups include Alcoholics Anonymous; Narcotics Anonymous; Anger Management, and others that address the causes of the mistaken and misguided behaviors that put these inmates in prison in the first place. They also receive instruction which teaches them how to take responsibility, to reflect on the concomitant ramifications of their actions, to learn how to choose better relationships, and so forth.
JDP representatives often go into schools, or community or church clubs to meet with those who can gain the most from participation in the program (frequently school or other counsellors refer young men whom they recognize would greatly benefit from the one-on-one “face time” they would receive). The two organizations with which MCSP works the most are the Stockton Peacekeepers and Lodi GRIP (Gang Reduction Intervention Program). Participants learn about choices, decisions, and consequences and build on that knowledge.
The following is a quote from a passage that accompanies a 5-minute video that briefly explains the program. You can catch it on-line (Google MCSP Juvenile Diversion Program), from which you will get a feel for the program from the words of youthful visitors, their in-prison mentors, and staff:
“A group of 13-17 year old boys from Lodi took the first step to change their lives. They spent the day at Mule Creek State Prison as part of the Juvenile Diversion Program or JDP. All of these young men have ties to gangs, and like the mentors who are trying to steer them in the right direction, it's important that they know what that [risk-filled] life can lead to, and what the consequences are.”
I recently spoke with Eddie Escobar, Community Resources Manager, and Karen Heil, Lead JDP Sponsor. They were both so helpful in taking me through the program and in helping me to understand its various facets. I was especially excited when Karen told me that she knows and admires the young man there with whom I have been corresponding and working on his behalf. I am urging him now to write an article for this site, sharing his own experiences. He is essentially self-taught and demonstrates a brilliance and articulation that I have rarely seen even among my own students.
The JDP classes take place on Saturdays for eight hours and offer a number of workshops. Six to twelve young men are brought to the prison at any one time and receive orientation upon arriving. This program, by the way, must not be confused with Scared Straight (from what I have been told, it really does not work that well in the long run because the teens involved have been scared almost since birth and have become inured to the yelling, cursing, threats, dysfunctional family issues, and minimal living conditions about which these often-hardened criminals share).
The Diversion Program matches up volunteer mentor inmates (who have met certain criteria) with at-risk youth (in this case, from Stockton and Lodi—high-crime areas). The latter are taught skills about the importance of staying in school, being a productive part of the community, and learning how to respect themselves and others (such as parents and teachers and those in a leadership capacity). I was moved when I heard some of these young men state, when asked to share something important that they had learned from the outreach program, “I want to make my parents proud of me!”—so few youngsters seem to feel that way these days.
Mentors have been taught how to role play effectively, putting themselves in the shoes of those whom they have volunteered to help. These inmates are well-trained and disciplined. They frequently find themselves working with young people (often like themselves) who are suffering from a form of post-traumatic stress syndrome—very similar, but in some cases worse, than what many returning fighting soldiers have experienced.
So many of these youngsters are damaged already (nearly irreversibly). At their young ages they have often heard and seen (and, sometimes, experienced) it all: murder, robbery, rape, beatings, foul language, threats, constant fear, abandonment. Thus, the goal of these programs is an attempt to turn these young people around--before it is too late!
One to two mentor inmates are assigned to each visitor at which time they learn a little bit about each other (earlier, the inmates have received a biography of their mentee and have prepared, through team meetings, how best to connect with the young person and his needs).
The visitors are taken to A Ward (which contains Level 4 and Level 3 inmates—those who are serving time for some of the worst crimes, including murder). After that, they visit the housing units and share lunch together in the assigned mess hall. They also have the opportunity to walk the A yard. They talk together and really “hear” each other.
All-in-all, the visitors get a clearer understanding of what jail life is really like—dispelling the “glamorous” images they have gotten from movies and songs. They have interacted with murderers, lifers for various crimes, and gang members (past and present)—never sex offenders—and, believe it or not, have frequently become changed from that brief interlude in their lives.
Many graduates of this program have already seen great improvements in their lives—choosing to jump out of gangs (about 80% of prisoners in California are gang members), making new friends whose goals reflect their own, concentrating on school performance and matriculation (some participants have already graduated from college). Because they recognize just how beneficial and influential the program had been for them, they frequently choose to go back on Saturdays to share their successes with others and demonstrate how anyone who genuinely wants a different pathway for their lives can “come out on the other side” (as John Steinbeck has so poignantly stated).
It is heartbreaking that some are not so lucky. One young man named Julio, a 14-year old (whom I mourn though I never knew him), was on the right track and was anticipating a Saturday visit when he was ruthlessly shot dead while trying to hide in the bushes (to stay out of trouble) during a wild gunfire rampage. When he thought it was over and stuck his head out, he was shot in the back of the head. We must cry for him and all the others that were never able to take advantage of this program long enough to see its positive results.
You may remember a relatively recent movie, based on Antwone Fisher’s life. When I heard of Julio’s story, I was reminded of this touching piece of literature that Fisher wrote.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Lost and all alone. . . .
Who will cry for the little boy?
The boy inside the man. . . .
Who will cry for the little boy?
He died again and again.
Who will cry for the little boy?
A good boy he tried to be.
Who will cry for the little boy
Who cries inside of me?
Many of our young men, in particular, can no longer picture themselves living beyond 20 (if they are lucky enough to live that long). Many on the outside are seen wearing in memoriam shirts of loved ones they have lost—with birth and death dates on them. Yet some of these young people often wear shirts depicting themselves with their own birth and death dates (their next birthday). One young man wears a shirt that reads “In Memory of Me”; another says “RIP.” How heart-wrenching is that?!
When there is a feeling of hopelessness, futility, and despair among these inmates, they are taught to cherish and celebrate their successes in prison because there is so much they can do to help themselves and their fellow inmates to choose a different and better path, let alone to help the young people who visit there, though temporarily, to find the support and succor they so desperately need. Such instruction has been and continues to be profoundly palliative.
Escobar shared that some highlights of the program include keeping at-risk young people out of the prison system altogether, and, very importantly, offering the opportunity for both mentors and mentees to give back. One prisoner with whom I correspond and has been in prison for decades (but has learned much and has become a changed person) says he does not want to die in prison because he wants the time to make his mark in a positive way on society.
Keep in mind, on the other hand, that all is not lost for many lower-level inmates. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Many can take courses through approved partnerships, such as Folsom Lake College, to earn AA degrees and/or certification in certain careers, such as drug counselling. The downside of obtaining that educational advancement, however, is the cost to the inmate—not all can afford it! If he has no one to offer financial assistance, then obtaining his educational goals may be beyond his reach (with the exception of the possibility of earning one of the very limited scholarship opportunities).
Between these programs and changing laws, there is promise for those who feel unrelenting hopelessness. We as a society are certainly much better off when such programs succeed in rehabilitating inmates to become productive in their outside lives (or when the incarcerated can help others to achieve--even when there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel for them). We need to support the maintenance and expansion of such programs and challenge the current institutionalized and systemic shortcomings that must be ameliorated within the penal system.
Just sayin’.
(Rosemary Jenkins is a Democratic activist and chair of the Northeast Valley Green Alliance. Jenkins has written A Quick-and=Easy Reference to Correct Grammar and Composition, Leticia in Her Wedding Dress and Other Poems, and Vignettes for Understanding Literary and Related Concepts. She also writes for CityWatch.)
-cw
CityWatch
Vol 12 Issue 95
Pub: Nov 25, 2014