10 April 2017


SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page



Anyone who has ever shopped for children’s clothing knows that there are different sizing schemes. “T” denotes a toddler size.  “6X,” a size unheard of in adult clothing, is slightly bigger for the child growing out of size 6 and “juniors” departments offer sizes for adolescents. Without an exact fit, parents try to find the best fit for the meantime until their children outgrow their clothes and need new ones.

We respond more to children’s fitting rooms than their needs in courtrooms. We drape adult laws over juvenile offenders, always expecting a perfect fit that will last a lifetime. Now scientists and policymakers agree that juvenile sentences are like children’s clothes: one size doesn’t fit all.


The “Second Look” legislation that just came out of the [Connecticut General Assembly’s] Judiciary Committee would change the sentence modification laws for juvenile offenders,  allowing them the opportunity to have their sentences reviewed without the approval of a prosecutor after they’ve served a certain amount of time. many times children as young as 14 receive sentences of fifty years or more. Second Look legislation provides the opportunity for tailoring our punishments once we realize that juvenile offenders’ sentences either never fit or don’t fit any more.

The way they treat juvenile and youthful offenders in here shows they’re different. The C/O’s escort girls under 18 years old wherever they go: school (mandated for young inmates), meals (they eat alone in the large dining hall and return to their unit before adult inmates are released for chow). Little girls aren’t treated like adults in the big house, but they are in the place that gets them here: the courthouse.

"Voices from Juvenile Detention: Kids in Prison" It sounds harmless: Òpre-trial detention.Ó But the reality is far different. In a squat block building in Laredo, TexasÑand in similar places around the nationÑchildren await trial or placement in concrete cells while the underlying issues that led to their behavior fester. Some are addicts who need treatment; others are kids battling mental illnesses. Many are angry and have been virtually abandoned by absentee or irresponsible parents. Some spend a few days, others months, but despite the efforts of a small corps of dedicated professionals, few actually receive treatment for the issues that brought them to Juvenile. /// The Youngest 10-year-old Alejandro is shown to a holding cell where he'll await booking at Webb County Juvenile Detention following his arrest for marijuanna posession. Every day the inmates get smaller, and more confused about what brought them here. Psychiatrists say children do not react to punishment in the same way as adults. They learn more about becoming criminals than they do about becoming citizens. And one night of loneliness can be enough to prove their suspicion that nobody cares.

But the Second Look legislation is cut too small; it helps only those offenders who were under the age of 18 at the time of their offense. The age limitation flies in the face of the most recent neuroscience on the subject, specifically the fact that the part of the brain that governs judgment and impulse does not fully mature until someone reaches the age of 25. In their arrest warrants, police investigating crimes committed by women under  25 – particularly serious and violent crimes by those women – usually tell the stories against backdrops of adolescently dysfunctional behavior:  a co-defendant loser boyfriend who seduced them and induced them into criminal behavior, a complete and total devotion to him during the prosecution of the case, even though her “Co-D” is foisting his responsibility on her.

Even though most of the frontal lobe research embraced by the American Psychological Association indicates that every offender under 25 merits the same consideration in sentencing because their brains are still not completely developed, all offenders between 18 and 25 are left out of it. The law ignores the totality of the science it depends on. Despite this data, using an arbitrary cut-off, a numeric construct, namely the age of 18, perpetuates the practice of fashioning one punishment for a population based only on their ages and not what’s appropriate for the individual offender.

"Voices from Juvenile Detention: Kids in Prison" It sounds harmless: “pre-trial detention.” But the reality is far different. In a squat block building in Laredo, Texas—and in similar places around the nation—children await trial or placement in concrete cells while the underlying issues that led to their behavior fester. Some are addicts who need treatment; others are kids battling mental illnesses. Many are angry and have been virtually abandoned by absentee or irresponsible parents. Some spend a few days, others months, but despite the efforts of a small corps of dedicated professionals, few actually receive treatment for the issues that brought them to Juvenile. /// The Youngest 10-year-old Alejandro has his mug shot taken at Webb County Juvenile Detention following his arrest for marijuanna posession. Every day the inmates get smaller, and more confused about what brought them here. Psychiatrists say children do not react to punishment in the same way as adults. They learn more about becoming criminals than they do about becoming citizens. And one night of loneliness can be enough to prove their suspicion that nobody cares.

Connecticut isn’t alone in being kind of wrong in doing the right thing for juvies. This new law would follow the Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States who, in their 2010 opinion in Graham v. Florida, declared the death penalty unconstitutional for 15 and 16 year-olds because their adolescent brain development lessened their culpability. But for 17-25 year-olds, execution is fine, even though the research findings say it isn’t.


Juvenile justice considerations are usually pretty theoretical to me because I came to the can an old biddy. Neither I nor anyone I associated with was in trouble when I was a teenager. No boyfriend of mine brought me to criminal behavior on a date. However, I ran with a different crowd than these women. My friends, the boys I met, were all from the upper-middle class and were fixated on their futures, even the iconoclast on a opposing debate team who called in a bomb threat to a local school; he’s supposedly a lawyer now. Redistricting ambition into the less affluent neighborhoods, the subsidized housing and the elusive culture that the inmates call “the streets” rarely happens. If I sprang from those circumstances, boys could have easily led me into bad business. Everyone credits her judgment for her clean history but, most of the time, it’s just luck and economics.

"Voices from Juvenile Detention: Kids Behind Bars" It sounds harmless: “pre-trial detention.” But the reality is far different. In a squat block building in Laredo, Texas—and in similar places around the nation—children await trial or placement in concrete cells while the underlying issues that led to their behavior fester. Some are addicts who need treatment; others are kids battling mental illnesses. Many are angry and have been virtually abandoned by absentee or irresponsible parents. Some spend a few days, others months, but despite the efforts of a small corps of dedicated professionals, few actually receive treatment for the issues that brought them to Juvenile. /// Inmates, ages 10-16, wait in line to march back to their cells in the exercise yard at the Webb County Juvenile Detention facility. This is the world of young felons, of kids gone astray, of children who cry for their mothers from behind bars. Some have skipped class too much, some have murdered in cold blood. At least half of the kids have been incarcerated before. And, if society's attempts at rehabilitation ultimately fail--or if the parent can't or simply won't do anything to turn around years of neglect and abuse--just a few more visits to juvenile detention will harden some of these kids into full-fledged adult criminals.

Adolescent stupidity plays out differently in different dioramas – one with government cheese instead of Chili’s quesadillas, one with a fire hydrant instead of a swimming pool, one with parents who wait in line for housing vouchers rather than stand on sidelines of field hockey fields – and will wreak different results. But even someone from the wealthiest, most stable family can make a sufficiently long list of stupid mistakes they made before age 25; an eighteenth birthday doesn’t cut the list off.

In fact, I did most of my dumbest, most barely legal shit in college  – when I was 18 through 21 – the exact ages that this law wouldn’t cover. Even if I had been arrested for any of my alcohol-fueled dalliances with the thought that I was edgy and cool for pulling reckless capers, my family would have reeled me out of this pit in the same way that legislators are trying to help the girls who are here now.

If I had suffered consequences for my stupidity and my family hadn’t had the resources to help me, I’d have been as fucked as the young women in this place are. The kids are goofy but these young ladies are extremely focused on appearance: making uniform jeans tighter, wearing elaborate cat-eye black on their lids, erecting mazes of hair on top of their heads with curls, yet they’re a little dour because, I think, they know that no one’s coming for them. At 19, they’re already too old to attract the right kind of attention.

Update: Photos here depict real juvenile offenders, the last four are pictures of 10 year-old boy who was arrested in Texas for marijuana possession, caught while copping for his mother who has a substance abuse problem and couldn’t post his bail. AN ACT CONCERNING LENGTHY SENTENCES FOR CRIMES COMMITTED BY A CHILD OR YOUTH AND THE SENTENCING OF A CHILD OR YOUTH CONVICTED OF CERTAIN FELONY OFFENSES was passed into law in Connecticut after I left prison, in 2015. It still left out offenders aged 18 to 25.



It was another numbers game last week, with some shockers.

The Washington Post reported that ninety percent of criminal charges brought by the IRS were false, based on an overbroad definition of “structuring” – the practice of splitting deposits, supposedly in order to dodge reporting requirements. Many of the deposits were made for legitimate business purposes. Makes you wonder if Jersey Shore reality star Mike “The Situation” Sorrentino who was hit with more tax fraud charges this week, including splitting deposits, is one of those victims of the IRS.

Twenty-nine cops killed themselves during the first quarter of 2017. Over 100 took their own lives in 2016. If suicides are just the tip of the mental illness iceberg, then how many more are psychotically depressed, chronically depressed, anxious to the point of jumpiness or traumatized to the point that they’re dangerous to the rest of us, discharging their weapons when shooting isn’t justified? It might explain why they want only cops to serve on juries in trials of cops accusing of assaulting or killing people by shooting them.

One of the 8 men scheduled to be executed in an 11-day death penalty bonanza in Arkansas has been spared. One of the remaining seven wrote for Vice News and the Marshall Project what it’s like to wait for your execution date. Here’s a hint: your death row neighbors call dibs on your belongings and prison staff actually cares that the clothes you wear to get killed fit your properly. I think it’s a disgusting end to any life, even if it did end another’s, if you ask me.




What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (1)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
11 April 2016

You Are What You Own

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page


It must be easy for women who end up in prison to forget their pasts. So many of them come here after an unexpected arrest and all of their family photos, important documents, letters from parents before they passed – all of their momentos – get chucked along with their cookware, clothing and furniture.

When they leave the facility and track back to the angry landlord who evicted them they find out that all the pieces of their lives have fallen victim to a court order and incineration. Lady Justice just vacuumed up the only trail left of their lives.

This, of course, applies to the women who owned these items in the first place. Many don’t. The only evidence of their existences is rap sheets, bad debt and victims, not christening gowns and photo Christmas cards.

The extent of prison property.

Prison’s like a dry run of You-Can’t-Take-It-With-You lesson because you can’t have anything from home. I’m reasonably attached to my possessions, as well as keeping track of them ever since my father threw out a twice-worn pair of Joan and David loafers when I was in high school. The reason? They were on the stairs and I wasn’t wearing them. He wasn’t punishing me for abandoning them on the passage between the floors of the house. He saw them and noticed that I wasn’t wearing them – two very good reasons to discard any useable article of clothing – so he tossed them. Unlike his eldest daughter, he is thoroughly unsentimental – as well as disorganized – and will bulldoze any living quarters to the local dump without hesitation, like landlords do to the other inmates.

Going to seg is a dry run of the dry run because other inmates pick at your things, taking what they like before anything reaches a property officer’s hands.  Then she culls out everything you’re not allowed to have, all your contraband. It’s like having someone pack up everything in your home while you’re away and, when you return, everything that remains fits in a shopping cart. Even when inmates leave the facility, departure distills years, even decades, into baggies. Sometimes all you own after eighteen years can fit into a purse, like a small Prada mock-croc that had better be in my closet when I get home.

Because I can’t see my life in possessions from here, I spot check over the phone.image

“Where are my yearbooks?”

“Is all of my field hockey stuff still there?”

“Did you take all the papers out of my car when you picked it up [from the parking lot behind the courthouse when I was sentenced surprise party-style]? DON’T FORGET THAT’S EVIDENCE!”

My parents always promise yes, but the proof of the pudding is in the actual inventorying. Which I won’t get to do for years.

Having all of one’s possessions swooshed away is standard for natural disaster victims, but for woman-made disasters, the guilt and the trauma that flow from telling your children that you have none of their school pictures – and all because your boyfriend was selling heroin out of your living room to an undercover cop – must be overwhelming and indelible.

No one saves mementos of dark times. The baby clothes, the wedding albums, the Christmas ornaments corroborate our memories, our knowledge that our lives were good once. And might even be good again one day.

“Where’d she go?” “Dunno. I think she got arrested.”

That’s why sentimentally-valued stuff probably means more to a prisoner than to others. We’ve grown accustomed to evidence against us. But those mementos are evidence for us, in our favor, proof of why we should start liking ourselves again. When someone tampers with that tangible witness of our worth, we can’t even make a case for ourselves to ourselves. Even less can we do it to others.

For me, it’s one of the worst scenarios to witness when an inmate comes in. The hiccuping sobs and wailing about all the tender belongings that can’t be saved. With some confidence I can assure a crying inmate, tears falling on denim pants so news they’re still waterproof, that her lawyer will call, that she has a chance at trial, that her kids will come to visit, that she’ll be home one day.

Welcome home.

But the holdings that make a home will be gone, I know. She knows, too. It’s futile to attempt to convince her that her landlord will save her property. He’ll sell what has real value and chuck whatever has emotional value. The support for the idea that a third party values your life enough to save your property is flimsy, especially here, in a place that, by its very purpose, devalues your life.

All I can do for these women is pat their backs and serve a generic “It will be alright.” An acid-like burn spreads in my chest when I have to say that because I know that I wouldn’t be able to handle the knowledge of that kind of loss. I also hate having to admit that I am lucky that my parents hold my stuff and allow me to call and ask questions like:

“All of my awards and my Princeton sweatshirts are still there, right?”

And they answer:

“Yes, Chandra. Where would they have gone?”




I don’t know how you would characterize the gang leaders who got 13-year-old kids hopped up on crack and sent them out on the street to murder other African-American children…You are defending the people who kill the people whose lives you say matter. Tell the truth!” is what former President Bill Clinton yelled at Black Lives Matter protesters on Thursday in Philadelphia where he was campaigning for his wife. He #sorrynotsorry-ed the next day. I disagree with this whole Blame-the-Clintons attitude when it comes to the country’s incarceration problems. The former president’s 1994 crime bill could not have predicted trends in the black market of illegal drugs and how privatization would impact them. Sometimes even well-intended policies go wrong. The challenge is to correct those policies when the evidence of their impact appears.

President Obama has deported more illegal immigrants than any other president, usually because they have been convicted of aggravated felonies. But the deportation always comes after we spend thousands to incarcerate these people. Why don’t we deport them before we spend all of this money on housing and feeding them? This never made sense to me.

Does it make sense to raise the “felony theft threshold” – the amount that needs to be stolen for the crime to be considered felonious? As someone who bunked with several serial “boosters” (shoplifters) I don’t think the threshold matters. Unless rehabilitated properly (which no one, including me, knows how to do) they will continue to steal small items and get their sentences enhanced under persistent offender statutes. It won’t make difference if you ask someone who’s been inside.





What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (2)
  • Interesting (3)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
4 January 2016

Lest Ye Be

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page



“Jesus. How long does she have?” I asked my cellmate as I nodded toward a woman with one arm at her side, lifeless, as if every nerve had been cut. She didn’t have a cast or a bandage. Whatever happened to her arm was permanent. She seemed like the hanging appendage wasn’t there  and walked like nothing was wrong.

“I dunno, six months?” TL guessed.

“So whatever she did wasn’t that serious,” I concluded out loud.

“Guess not. Why’s it matter?”

“The judge just absolutely had to send her to prison? A six-month sentence is like, for what, drugs, minor stealing? Someone could have sentenced her to probation so she didn’t have to come in here and be subjected to possible assaults, never mind how people taunt her for her disability. That’s all I’m saying.”

“She’ll be fine,”  TL assured me.

Fisticuffs over one of these.

And she was fine. For the next few hours. Until her cellmate beat her up over a Goody hair elastic, ones that sell for 99¢ for 20 of them off the commissary.

“Jesus, is she okay?” I asked when TL informed me.

“Well, she’s in seg.”

“Why?” I was pissed.

“Well, she, ya know, fought back. You know them deadarms don’t feel no pain. She probably got a few good shots off,” TL explained.

“What have we become that one of us is beating the shit out of a handicapped girl for a hair tie?!” shouted LD as she overheard us. She used to be a correction officer before a drug addiction derailed her life.

“What have we become that we think ‘them deadarms’ are an advantage, a weapon?! Jesus.” It was all I could say.

When I see inmates walk around the compound with canes and severe limps, women who are missing eyes and legally blind, ladies with dwarfism or in wheelchairs, I think to myself: Wow, Lady Justice really doesn’t see any difference in defendants. What a cold-hearted bitch.

imageCrime really is equal opportunity so individuals with disabilities are allowed to break the law, too. Fairness dictates that people should be punished uniformly. But when I see an inmate, a Little Person, get cut down even further by guards who make fun of her size like she’s an exhibit, or a woman who’s paralyzed on one side because she was shot in the face and unable to carry her tray and no one helps her, I don’t think this is fair at all.

The only living person who can put someone in a correctional facility, at least in Connecticut, is a judge; police and prosecutors can’t do it alone. Accused persons can be held in police stations before arraignment but that’s considered “lock-up,” not prison. To get to a prison, a defendant must be officially remanded which means that a judge orders her into custody.

imageYou can argue that it’s someone’s behavior that sends her into correctional control. Even those completely bent on self-destruction cannot get here without a final push from someone in a black robe.

To me, judges are like mothers who drop their kids at a day-care center. They have the power to determine where another human being lives, even if it’s just for a number of hours. If a mother left her child at a day-care where that double-edged razor blades came with the juice boxes and the place was staffed with convicted sex-offenders, we would call her a bad mother, possibly kick her into prison for endangering her child. The mother’s not knowing what happens in the day-care doesn’t lessen her culpability; it was her decision and discretion that sent the child there. The kid has no choice and is powerless to collect all the blades safely and fend off dangerous adults.

Disabled inmates are a bit like those day-care kiddies. Harsh words and taunts from C/O’s slice up their self-esteem and they are, very often, unable to fight off violence from sociopathic prisoners.

The judges who place them in these positions should be ashamed of themselves, especially since sentencing alternatives and diversionary programs exist that can prevent exposing vulnerable people to peril.

imageSometimes the environment is so hostile that the danger it poses reaches constitutional violation levels. A judge in Nebraska caught flak when she thought that the defendant, convicted of sex offenses, was too short  and his obvious size disadvantage subjected him to potentially cruel and unusual punishment in the Dog-Beat-Dog culture of a men’s maximum-security prison. Apparently, critics of the judge thought that defendant Pip Squeak should suffer the death penalty at the hands of other violent offenders. That was a punishment they considered fair.

If judges really want to dispense justice tempered with mercy, they would familiarize themselves not only with prison conditions but prison culture. At the very least, the emotional and mental torment that a different-looking or different-walking inmate experiences in prison should factor into sentencing decisions. The physical risk put to many disabled inmates is, quite frankly, enough to justify putting them on house arrest and letting them stay home.

But judges will never comprehend prison safety problems because they never experience them first-hand. “That’s DOC. That’s not my territory,” is a common judicial punt whenever prison perils appear in the arguments before them.

imageBut it is the judges’ territory which is why every new jurist should have to spend one week in prison as an average inmate. The judges’ one-week stopover will be most defendants’ stays, so even one week won’t constitute a full meal of correction, only a mouthful.

But then judges will be able to put their money where their mouthfuls are if they willingly subject themselves to the confinement conditions they inflict on defendants who quake before their benches, terrified about what might happen to them when prison walls envelop them.

Only when a real Do-Unto-Others ethic appears in the decisions judges make will we have true fairness in our courtrooms and the only way to impart that context to judges is to send them to the slammer, only for a little while. I think we’d see that they’d call Lady Justice a bitch when she deadarms them. She, too, is in here now, sent by a judge for a misdemeanor even though she’s blind.



Hacktivist group Anonymous claims to have evidence that clears Steven Avery, the prisoner who is the subject of the hit Netflix documentary series “Making a Murderer.”  Okay…we’re waiting…and a man you say is innocent is languishing in prison. A little less conversation and a little more hacktion, please.

The State of Washington’s Department of Correction’s computer glitch has been releasing people early in error. Now two people released early have been charged with homicides. These people probably would have re-offended anyway when they were released properly because rehabilitation is clearly not taking hold in Washington prisons.

Buzzfeed reports that Cleveland Judge Calls Prosecutor’s Approach in Tamir Rice Case “Unorthodox” after the prosecutor instructs a grand jury not to indict two policemen in the shooting death of a 12 year-old boy. Is what Judge Ronald B. Adine calls “unorthodox” really just standard operating procedure?

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (2)
  • Interesting (1)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
19 October 2015


SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page


Written October 23, 2011

No one in Washington fears throwing the first stone, especially Senators. They accuse each other of crimes and cover-ups – usually requesting prosecution by the Justice Department – regardless of the Senate Ethics Committee’s investigative results.

imageWith the Senate chamber hanging off a rockledge of criminality, it’s most puzzling why the entire Senate didn’t back Senator James Webb’s (D-VA) National Criminal Justice Commission Act. After all, if each of the stones stuck, many senators would land in the criminal justice system themselves.

Ironically, the senators who stonewalled the bill the most are the ones most likely to end up in the slammer: Tom Coburn (R-OK) for violations of lobbying laws, John Ensign, (R-NV) for crimes committed in pursuing the wife of a staffer, one involved in Colburn’s woes, and Larry Craig (R-WY), who pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor for his toe-tapping toilet routine in a Minneapolis airport, are among the people who are against reform.

imageSenators have stalled Webb’s legislation for his entire term and without good reason. Comparatively speaking, the cost of the commission to be established by the law – $14 million – broke no beltway banks, so money was an unlikely barrier to support. The law’s goal – establishing a blue-ribbon panel of experts to conduct a complete, top-down scrutiny of the nation’s criminal justice system – shouldn’t have been too politically polarizing.

imageBy itself, the National Criminal Justice Commission Act did nothing to the prosecution of criminal defendants except seek to understand the present system since the last nationwide analysis occurred more than 45 years ago. The Commission Webb wanted to establish would have been a stepping-stone to reform, not the change itself. All that Webb’s law wanted to do was to know what to do. It wasn’t much more than a study bill.

Statistics on crime and punishment are just like those newsy health bulletins that confuse everyone. Caffeine good for you. Caffeine bad. Premedicate with antibiotics before dental visit. Or don’t. Up to you. Alcohol is bad but wine, which contains alcohol, is good for you. But only one glass. Maybe two. But a Big Gulp in Manhattan will kill you. That’s why we hear things like: Crime’s up. No, it’s down but prison populations are up, because they’re potheads. I mean, dope fiends.image

Public health researchers reconcile these competing claims with studies call meta-analyses; a meta-analysis is a study that studies other studies and attempts to synthesize conclusions into one universal truth. Or maybe a couple.

The National Criminal Justice Commission Act was poised to be the meta-analysis of the criminal world, synthesizing sentence durations, corrections data, foster care trends (for children of inmates), substance abuse research and re-entry strategies into one answer for reform. All we have now is a trend herd, out of which emerges a promising number here, a sluggish rate change there. We have no idea what to do.

imageWebb’s legislation rolled away from the Senate without gathering any moss, not because we couldn’t find answers, but because, once answers reveal themselves, the answers must lead us. No one knows what a criminal justice meta-analysis will unearth. Maybe longer sentences for certain crimes. Sentence reform advocates wouldn’t like that. What if the “treatment” everyone wants instead of jail works only on the fourth or fifth try, like so much research suggests? Do we make three or four futile attempts at taxpayer expense? What happens if it looks like the draconian Rockefeller drug laws might reduce crime and prison populations if we gave them a few more years to work? Every mass incarceration protester would have to drop his sign.

Revealed by meta-analysis, certain answers will devalue someone’s entire life’s work. Certain answers we just don’t want because theyimage end questions, stone-cold. If questions remain, so does uncertainty and uncertainty is the perfect way to justify doing nothing.

The reason why Webb’s bill failed is the same reason why our prison’s are filled: once you know the right thing to do, you’re obligated to do it. To avoid obligation, you simply ignore what you’re expected to do which is easier now that the Senate has erected a gravestone on Jim Webb’s legislation. R.I.P. – Reform Isn’t Probable.





From the New York Times: Jim Webb Blames His Debate Demeanor on Being Ignored

Of all three losers of Tuesday's Democratic Presidential Debate on CNN, who won?

View Results

Loading ... Loading ...


What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (1)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (1)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
10 August 2015

Probable Pause

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page



The “probable cause” standard for arresting someone dips lower and lower each year.  The legal standard used to be that it was as likely that a suspect committed a crime as it was that she was innocent, a 50-50 split on the cops chances of catching the right woman.  Now what you have on – or have on you – can collar you for prostitution without money or sex in the offing.

imageIn five-plus years of incarceration, I have encountered hundreds of women accused or convicted of prostitution.  Even though they all wear the same outfit as I do when I interact with them – “uniform of the day” of baggy blue jeans and a burgundy T-shirt – I always envision them wearing the same thing when they work:  a sequined miniskirt, thigh-high stiletto boots and a cropped jacket made of faux fur.  I have succumbed to the celluloid stereotype of the streetwalker myself, as broadminded as I pretend to be about depictions of prostitutes painted with a broad brush.

Ginia Bellafante’s April 7, 2013 “Big City” column in The New York Times reminded me just how much we rely on clichés to make decisions.  Bellafante reported the story of Yhatzine Lafontain, a man falsely arrested in Queens, New York for prostitution simply for wearing “a jacket, a short dress and heels,” attributing Lafontain’s false arrest to the stop-and-frisk vortex circling New York’s five boroughs.  It’s no slippery informant tipping off NYPD to make these prostitution arrests, but people’s clothing ensembles.

imageEveryone is guilty of depending on stereotypes whether we cop to it or not.  We expect terrorists to be swarthy, turban-wearing Middle Easterners.  We assume dorky-looking Asians to be brilliant.  Every spurned woman is a stalker and any poor soul afflicted with mental illness and messy hair is planning a rampage killing.  Anyone walking a New York City street in the middle of the night with heels, a mini and a furry windbreaker?  That’s a hooker in our minds.

The truth eventually wanders into our minds and aborts our pre-conceived notions, isolated examples like Mr. Lafontain that remind us that not only are these exceptions not the rule but sometimes the rule is not the rule either.  The thoughtful among us retain this information and prevent our stereotypes from taking action but police, those people discouraged from thinking and pushed toward profiling, march lockstep with careless classification when they make arrests for prostitution like Mr. Lafontain’s.

POL-ProbCause-2That 50/50 split that is probable cause is so easily influenced by our preconceptions and prejudices. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if an arrest wasn’t the kick-off it is to a years-long ordeal that includes arraignment, definitely pre-trial, possibly trial, probably conviction and unfortunately incarceration. Our country’s crisis of mass incarceration has been set off by our misperceptions. Millions of people lose their freedom and billions of dollars are spent because of mistakes.

The question of whether or not to arrest someone for prostitution based on what s/he wears does not blend well with debates about profiling for terror or rampage killings because, regardless of profiling’s efficacy, the events that police seek to prevent by profiling are deadly.  Collaring someone for prostitution doesn’t save lives like that; at best, it’s cock-blocking.  At worst, it is the most insidious mode of judgment, bumping the contents for the cover and it corrupts every constitutional protection belonging to a dude in heels.

Transsexuals in Brazil by Pep Bonet / NOORSome might say that preventing consummation of the deal between a prostitute and her customer can save lives because it prevents transmission of deadly sexually transmitted diseases like HIV and Hepatitis C, but people in the sex trade don’t tote condoms like they used to, ever since police in large cities across the country used the number of rubbers someone carried with her as probable cause for a prostitution arrest.  Up to three prophylactics in your pocket when you’re trying to cross the street?  You’re just a slut.  Four or more?  You’re a paid whore.  It’s this ugly math that causes prostitutes – and everyone else – to leave the Trojans at home so they don’t end up in cuffs.  So no, prejudice and profiling in prostitution save no lives; they just imperils them, even if several large cities’ police forces have entered moratoriums on condom-counting as probable cause.

imageBesides, the streetwalker went inside years ago.  Prostitution transactions occur on the internet and then are consummated at truck stops, casinos or motels.  Or they happen in day spas that are really brothels with a steam room and a few manicurists.  See?  Stereotypes again.

Fifty years ago this year, two treatises on prejudice and stereotypes emerged as alarms about how we view gender and race:  Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique and Martin Luther King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.”  One essential message contained in both was that reality – and justice and fairness – was beneath the surface.  Confining people – in jails or in society’s imposed roles –based on appearances makes a mess and a mockery of every good thing we do.

These wake-up calls have sounded in our ears for half a century and, if Yhatzine Lafontain’s arrest for his clothing choice serves as any indication, we still slap the snooze button to silence these alarms every time we charge someone with prostitution for what they wear.



From feministing.com: Stay in Your Lane: We Don’t Need Rich White Actresses’ Comments on Sex Work

Advocates for LGBTQI sex workers basically told wealthier white women to shove it when they registered their opinion on Amnesty International’s recommendation that sex work should be completely decriminalized. The reasoning? Rich white women can’t really know the risks and realities of having to sell sex.

Do you agree that privileged people have no say in debates over social problems they have never experienced?

View Results

Loading ... Loading ...


What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (1)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
3 August 2015

Get Your Learn On

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page

san quentin class of 99

If my alma mater admitted some of these women, I would blow.

Women here at York spent this weekend writing two page essays as part of their applications to Wesleyan University’s prison education program whereby the elite school offers liberal arts courses to prisoners that, over time, may allow them to earn a bachelor’s degree from Wesleyan.

Wesleyan to offer Wesleyan courses and credits to 19 prisoners
Click here for more information on Wesleyan University’s Center for Prison Education

Few people understand what a revolution this is and how every citizen in Connecticut stands to benefit from Wesleyan’s bravery.  Studies have revealed repeatedly that inmates who take college classes are four times less likely to re-offend than those who do not; when offered to prisoners, college courses, not the Department of Correction’s hokey, unfocused Offender Accountability Plan programs, provide the best defense against recidivism.  Despite education’s promise in rehabilitating inmates, Connecticut prisons don’t universally offer higher education and in the past they made it almost impossible for local colleges and universities to send in professors to teach these classes behind bars.

But Wesleyan busted past this bullshit and is accepting a freshman class of seasoned female cons.

At the first level of admissions testing, a timed essay that evaluated reading comprehension and written expression, Wesleyan directed the wheat to line up in one place and the chaff to assemble in another.  Or so I thought; I didn’t take the exam but I read a copy of it in its aftermath as chaff blew everywhere like dandelion spores.

wesylan cardina;Two inmates cheated on the entrance exam, each partially writing the other’s answer.  Their constant chatter disturbed other aspiring Wesleyan Cardinals.  I witnessed none of this but I did overhear one of the disruptive duo ask someone if she thought that Wesleyan’s exam readers would mind that both her and her girlfriend’s essay were each written in “two different handwritings.” Both of the talking, cheating inmates passed to the second level of admissions testing; Wesleyan told almost forty other candidates that their essays left them at the front door, no further.  They will not get a chance to take classes.

The more-than-forty second-round candidates received instructions to write a two to three page take-home essay this weekend on one of three questions:  1) describe a time at which something unexpected happened; 2) describe a time when you used or rejected silence as communication and 3) describe an event, object, place or person that looks much different in close focus than it does from a distance.  Unfortunately, I viewed this second round of writing up close.

Inmates scribbled out first drafts and then strategized.  One woman – whom I know to be a very competent writer – farmed her essay out to another woman whom she will pay with oral sex and Coffee-Mate non-dairy creamer.

motherlode-essays-blog480Others solicited opinions, corrections, suggestions from anyone who would read their essays.  A Jewish inmate read a woman’s strident essay about the Jehovah Witnesses’ ethic of avoiding silence and speaking to elders in Kingdom Hall to quiet temptations to sin.  Her critique of the piece was: “Jehovah’s Witnesses are pushy doorbell ringers.  You will offend the admissions people sounding like a religious nut.”

And the fight was on.

Essays were passed around by applicants who feared their essays might be off-putting. Critiques fell on deaf ears and overly-sensitive nerves.  Women argued constantly, fearful they might be left out of this chance to live, if only for 90-minute intervals, like successful individuals.

“You’re saying I’m dumb because I don’t know the word you used!” exclaimed one woman, tearing up and locking herself in her cell.

“How would you like it if I told Wesleyan how much Winky [that’s me – long story] helped you? Maybe Winky even wrote your essay, huh?” taunted another inmate as I sat next to third, checking her spelling and grammar.

sing sing pennant“Didn’t write it, just checking it like I checked yours,” I said without looking up. The third inmate chose the silence question for her essay. It was what happened when the prosecutor in her murder trial asked her: “Well, if you didn’t do it, who did?” She didn’t have an answer. Now she’s here.

“This will definitely be a first for the Wesleyan admissions committee,” I conceded and wondered if there are panicked parents out there, so nervous that their child’s essay to elite schools doesn’t have a story like hers, an extreme and nutty hardship like doing a life sentence for murder, a perfect-for soul-searching-in 500-words topic that no other applicant would have.

One woman actually tried to set up a physical altercation between two of her competitors; she anticipated that the goon squad would drag them to seg and keep them from attending their admission interviews.

You know, it was all your typical freshman week activities.

Princeton actually does this. Click here to learn more about the Prison Teaching Initiative at Princeton University.

As a graduate of Princeton, I would be proud to know that my alma mater put its endowment where its mouth is and started an in-prison degree program.  Like most alums of Ivy League schools, Princeton and its values are inlaid in my daily life. Literally translated, “alma mater” means ‘soul mother’ in Latin which we have changed into “nurturing mother.”  Princeton birthed the way I think and the way I write and is responsible for any assistance I can provide to other inmates.  I wouldn’t be who I am today without Princeton which probably isn’t a good advertisement for the place given the fact that I write this from prison.  But, contrary to American literary legend – and a Princeton alum himself – F. Scott Fitzgerald’s prediction that there are no second acts, I have a significant second act on layaway, one with more plot twists than the Tigers can handle.

But any pride in my alma mater’s potential sponsorship of a prison education program derives from my view of it long distance, like so many Wesleyan alums view this new program at York.  If I saw the York women’s antics up close and my school admitted them to a degree program, I would pitch such a bitch that I would probably catch another criminal charge and keep myself among the women I see as unfit for my alma mater’s consumption.  I think Wesleyan alums would do the same if they witnessed this bullshit up close.  No graduate of an elite school would allow these drips to water down their souls.  I am sure others see this as such but I don’t think its elitist to feel this way. I am allowed to value and protect what I have.

Many inmates have primed themselves to be worthy of a Wesleyan education.  Others will corrupt it.  Classes start in January.  I hope these inmates don’t blow it.

princeton tiger



alcatraz pennant

From newsweek.com: Obama Restores Some Prisoners’ Pell Grant Eligibility

Do you agree that prisoners should be eligible for Pell grants for college courses?

View Results

Loading ... Loading ...

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (1)
  • Interesting (1)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
8 June 2015

You Bet Your Ass I’m Tapped

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page


“That’s like buying half of a pair of shoes. You need both to get anywhere,” I told Jim Ruane, the lawyer I had forced upon me for my habeas corpus petition, after he subpoenaed only my outgoing calls and none of my incoming, like a telephone line was a street with only one-way foot traffic.

Tyranny for you is freedom for me.

Telephone records figure prominently in all of my cases. I need my home telephone records to prove two separate claims. First, that I was not the party who called and ordered $40,000,000 diamond necklaces, and second, that I was on the phone with someone else when jurors received calls designed to disrupt my trial on the diamond necklace charge. Phone records can clear me on so many accusations flung at me that I might never have been here – or accused of being crazy – if I had the evidence. Every lawyer before Ruane – and also the police – told me that the records had split, that they expire and disappear one year after the call was made. “Too bad no one caught ‘em in time,” one small town cop guffawed after he supposedly served a warrant on the local telephone company. I know he knew those records would absolve me.

Despite these admonitions that telephone records slip from evidence to inference after one year, Ruane did try to get the phone records I needed to exculpate me. I explained that, on the night of October 4, 2007, I exchanged a volley of calls with the caretaker of a man I represented in front of Social Security at the time. But Ruane subpoenaed only half of my absolution – outgoing- and left my other half – incoming – to the court’s imagination and it pissed me off.image

“Maybe disabled people buy only one shoe?” he offered, an answer to my argumentative analogy.

“Actually, I think they buy both, but use only one. Besides, that’s my point – I’m incapacitated with only one side. I need both to get anywhere with this case,” I said with my lips clenched in frustration and was about to bang the table but I knew a guard might hear me and think I was starting a situation. So I just pumped both fists in the air. Evidence of crazy.

“What can I tell you?” he asked. “I don’t have them.”

Yeah, I know. The warden already told me.

But someone else does. Most people don’t understand how much Edward Snowden revealed when he let loose the fact that the federal government has been collecting data on our phone calls, monitoring us like a pesky little sister, denying that they act like Big Brother.

Snowden’s big reveal is that the government, in leapfrogging the Fourth Amendment’s prohibition against unlawful searches to gather intelligence to prevent crime, collected a tidy, little cache of data that can exculpate defendants accused of crimes involving phone-related evidence. Like mine. I know mine are in there somewhere. And I want them.

Any many other people’s as well; these days, almost every criminal case involves telephone record evidence. Because of this, Snowden is no whistleblower; he’s a tipster. He’s pointing out evidence with the potential to solve crimes, just not in the way that government wants – in favor of a defendant or even a convicted felon like me.

The government violates citizens’ constitutional rights every day. Police search houses, cars, purses and our bodies without suspicion. They seek approval for wiretaps based on perjured affidavits. We can’t call constitutional violations instances anymore; they are patterns. Outrage erupts when someone someone like Snowden points out the hidden motif in the obvious picture. The uproar over NSA surveillance just encapsulates the American attitude towards any activity related to police investigations and criminal justice: It’s OK until it happens to me.

…especially if what you were about to say exculpates someone.

The real problem with NSA’s phone surveillance is not how and why they get their data but what they do or don’t do with it. Much like the national registry CODIS (Combined DNA Index System), exculpatory evidence has settled in the bogs of some federal database and no one knew to look for it before Edward Snowden. Even after Snowden, they don’t ask for it if my cases are any indication.

Releasing some of the phone record data held by the NSA would not make their practices any less invasive but it might make their surveillance worth it and truly to the public’s benefit if it clears someone’s name in a criminal case. But the feds don’t want to do that. They would rather watch their citizens hobble around, clueless and shoeless, much like all of my defense attorneys. But we have Snowden-shoes now. If only someone who represents me would pull a pair on.

The phone data the NSA collected could clear someone’s name in a criminal case or even a mere investigation. One of the last women killed by the Long Island serial killer of prostitutes called 911 from a cell phone before she disappeared and died. Tracing outward from her cell phone records would create a web of communication data so wide and so warrantless it would have to produce some leads. But everyone wants the government to avoid violating people’s privacy so they will never use the evidence they have already collected to solve a murder. It doesn’t make sense.

I still don’t have the other half of my needed telephone records but my government does. Until citizens end up in a position like mine, they are loathe to concede any constitutional rights. But I, the one who needs constitutional protection more than others, have actually decided that there are rights I can live without, especially if my life remains as see-through as it is. What does it say about me now that I think that violation isn’t all bad?

(Entry written August 2013)



From the New York Times: The World Says No to Surveillance, an oped by Edward Snowden

Edward Snowden says that, because the public is now informed and demanded protection of their constitutional rights, the NSA surveillance program established by the Patriot Act has been scrapped.

Do you believe that surveillance started under the Patriot Act has completely ceased?

View Results

Loading ... Loading ...

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (1)
  • Interesting (1)
  • Useful (1)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
11 May 2015

Catch Me if You Care

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page


“Chandra, can I ask you something?” she asked me.

I had just completed 16 of the 18 hours that constitute a trip to court from prison. I was exhausted, filthy, baffled at how she knew my name and how to pronounce it. I wanted to say: “Not now” but it came out as “OK.”

I had seen this woman leaving the prison the day before on “T.S.”- transitional supervision, a type of short-term parole. As soon as she arrived home, an argument with her girlfriend erupted over a hair-dye kit and summoned the neighbors’ attention. The neighbors called the police who took the fresh freebird back into custody, dark roots and all.

“Does your family send you money?”

Not this shit again, I thought. She’s going to ask me to buy her something off the commissary because she gave away all of her property yesterday when she left…

“Someone told me they did,” she continued without letting me answer.

“OK, so…” Why did you ask? I thought but my mental question was broken off by her continuing script.

Someone else’s kids.

“Do they know anyone who wants to buy pictures of kids?” she asked.

Why would my parents or anyone they know want to buy pictures of someone else’s kids? Images from Anne Geddes’ line of greeting cards popped into mind, the kind where she dresses up an overly-rouged but perfectly adorable infant like a head of cabbage or a rosebud. Then heat rose into my face and adrenaline started thumping in my ears as I realized: Holy Shit. She’s talking about kiddie porn.

I was thoroughly disgusted but somehow atingle, and not at the thought of the pics. I can take this bitch down! I assured myself silently and quickly scanned my mind for a response that wouldn’t scare her away from divulging more. The theme from Mission: Impossible played the entire time in my head.

“I can check into it. What kind of delivery time are we talking about?” I asked like I knew how to negotiate a kiddie porn sale.

“Remember Dippy? She worked in the property? She can get them – digital or prints – in like a week.”

I did remember Dippy; she was already on the streets, released months before.

“Ok, I’ll try,” I promised her.

“Thank you so much. This isn’t an easy hustle.”

I should hope not.

Ineffectual. No wonder so many children are missing.

Even though I was totally sleep-deprived, I stayed up that night writing letters and Inmate Request Forms.  I wrote to the Inmate Legal Assistance to request the addresses of America’s Most Wanted (the show’s founder, John Walsh, hates sex offender creeps), The National Center for Missing Exploited Children in Alexandria, Virginia, the FBI, Connecticut State Police. I wrote to the administrative captain to report the incident. When I marshaled together all the addresses I needed, I sent each agency a letter requesting that the appropriate person contact me to commence an investigation. At 4AM one day, as I headed to my prison job, I dropped the stack of envelopes into the mailbox and expected – at least within the month- to hear “Bozelko, professional visit” from one of the guards, signaling that an attorney or detective came to the prison to see me.

Dude, you never wrote me back.

No one ever came.

So I wrote a second round of letters. This cycle included the United States attorney for the District of Connecticut but brought the same number of inquiries, a nice round number called zero. The bus proposition happened in January 2010 and, to date, [June 2012] no one has formally documented it.

I hardly expected that law enforcement would arrest this woman on my word, especially now that I was overloaded with felony convictions. But I did expect someone to take a report, assign a case number and forge a paper trail. None of that ever happened. Having the report might make the difference between a no-knock warrant and a regular warrant that will let them slip away.

When people say that a picture is worth a thousand words, they must mean the thousands of words that prosecutors, police, politicians and private perverts spew about being anti-crime, about keeping the streets safe, about protecting our children, about sending a message, about zero tolerance for sexually-based offenses. One snapshot of a child in a sexual pose or being raped is worth all of those words but didn’t warrant the one thing that overspeaks those hollow phrases: action.

Apparently, he doesn’t take reports from inmates.

But we’re not really talking about pictures when the subject of child pornography rises into conversation like sewer gas. We’re talking about people. And if victim’s advocates around the country truly care about preventing victimization and punishing it when prevention fails, they should push for a law that requires that an official report be taken whenever someone communicates an encounter with this system of sleaze. Investigation of every possible chance that someone is peddling this smut.

Now it’s more important than ever to prevent pornographic pictures of children from being taken then surfacing. Courtesy of the internet, everything vile now goes viral and the pictures get duplicated digitally thousands of times. You never hear of someone getting caught with six pieces of child pornography. Instead it’s always 1500, 5,000 pics; perverts aren’t half-steppers. Children who suffer a rape on film have legions of fans who call them porn stars. The National Center on Missing and Exploited Children, the same agency I wrote to request assistance, has a database of over 5000 child pornography victims. I wonder if any of those 5000 ever met the woman on the bus or whether children who do meet her will end up in the computer database, too.

I did something; I have tried for years to stir up some action on this woman and what she does to children. I will cringe if I ever find out about her continuing criminal enterprise but my conscience will be clear, clear in a system that doesn’t really care who’s doing children dirty.

P.S. If you’re wondering why this woman’s inquiry centered on me and my family like I did, please know that she didn’t focus on me alone. She asked every inmate who she thought had a cash flow – donations from family and friends deposited into an Inmate Trust Account – and might know other people who had positive cash flows. Apparently, a lot of perverts are rich. And a lot of inmates didn’t report her.




All right, lock up already.


From pennlive.com: Guards Carried Out ‘Fight Club’-Styled Abuses at York County Prison, Lawsuit Alleges

This is a switch; the York prison getting heat is not the one where I lived for six years. As many as 22 guards are alleged to have set up and bet on inmate fights, forcing inmates to eat ‘soups’ of spoiled food and cleaning chemicals or snort spices in a Pennsylvania prison. This allegedly happened for approximately five years. Three of the guards have already been charged with official oppression, a crime in Pennsylvania.

What is an appropriate sentence for the guards in Pennslyvania criminally charged with 'official oppression'?

  • Less than a year in prison, followed by 10,000 hours of community service with victims of violent crimes and developmentally challenged individuals. (50%, 1 Votes)
  • Ten years each. No parole. They were paid well and trusted to take care of a vulnerable population. How does it feel? (50%, 1 Votes)
  • Diversionary program. It's probably the first offense for each of them. Working as a prison guard is emotionally exhausting and they probably just 'lost it' temporarily. (0%, 0 Votes)

Total Voters: 2

Loading ... Loading ...

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (2)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
13 April 2015

Likewise, I’m Sure

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page

hello im inmate

imageMy roommate and I felt sorry for Reba when we met her. A CPA/soccer mom in her 50’s, Reba landed in the assessments unit on the inside of the prison right as her son graduated from high school on the outside. Crying, she would flip photos of her children, freckly permutations of Reba. She posted on her cell wall shots of her daughter playing lacrosse like I did, wearing age-appropriate tank tops that were so different from the metallic miniskirts other inmates’ daughters wear in their photos, bent over, exposing the backs of thighs that should never see sunlight because of their youth and their dimpling. Pictures of Reba’s son were similarly dissimilar to the other inmates’ sons’ pics; Reba’s son wore UnderArmor shorts while others’ boys donned teal tuxedos beneath patchy facial hair, aside “pimp sticks” they carried to school dances. Unlike so many others at York, Reba had a decent, upper-middle class life with a husband and healthy, successful kids.

Until police arrested her for sexual assault on a minor for having sex with a 14 year-old boy.

imageReba swore to me and Sally that she didn’t do it, that the boy had assaulted her. From personal experience I know that police are seldom right. When others tell me that all in their arrest warrants is not as it appears, I give them the benefit of the doubt. I felt terrible, though, about the impact of her case on her children regardless of its truth. And I worried about what York would do to Reba. Being upper-middle class and white in a state prison paints a perfect bullseye on an inmate’s back. Mine has almost worn off because each hit flakes a piece away. But Reba’s was wide, pristine and vibrant practically to the point of fluorescence. Sally – a nurse raised in Farmington, a wealthy enclave outside of Hartford – and I both tried to prep Reba as much as we could while she lived in our unit. Eventually she moved on.????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

“Reba, is everything OK? You’re all right?” I would ask her when I saw her and she would smile and say:

“Yeah, I’m OK. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m worried about her, ” I told Sally when I got back to our cell.

“We’ll just time our lunches with her unit and we’ll keep eyes on her,” Sally said, somewhat resigned.  She knew that our line of vision into Reba’s unit wasn’t that clear.

But then gossip bulletins started running themselves in to us. Reba had her first kiss with a girl.

“No. A fifty year-old mother of three is not going to start kissing women in jail. Wait… Did someone force herself on her?”hello im lying

“No. She kissed her roommate, Dullman.” Dullman is HIV+, here for murder and uses both of those facts to manipulate people: “I’m on my last T-cell. Wanna be on yours?”

“No. Come on. That is not true,” I chided the gossip reporter whose only retort was:

“I’m just sayin.’”

The reporter was, in fact, sayin’ the real dirt on Dullman’s easy seduction of Reba. As Sally and I kept eyes on her, Reba had flings with other inmates and eventually landed herself a steady, Sienna. Sienna, too, has been convicted of sexually inappropriate behavior with a four-year-old. I assume that it had to be that commonality that drew Reba and Sienna together because Sienna looks nothing like the 14 year-old boy who is Reba’s victim.  Sienna looks like an 11 year-old boy. At 24, she has zero breasts, no hips. If you saw her you’d expect that she’s foreign to bikini waxes because she never sprouted public hair. She looks that young.amoral predator

Involvement with Sienna is legal because she’s in her twenties but involvement with Sienna undercuts any of Reba’s claims that she did not intentionally fuck that little boy. If Reba were innocent, she wouldn’t be fucking around like that in here. She makes the case against her after she’s been convicted and sentenced.

Everyone thinks that because you’re forgotten when you’re in prison that you’re not also in the spotlight. Prison isn’t a grave; it’s a stage. And the action goes on after the characters are introduced. The disbarred lawyer who denies that she manipulated her boyfriend to kill her brother-in-law? She claims she’s innocent yet one thousand women and hundreds of C/O’s watch her manipulate other inmates every day. The only method of interaction she understands is manipulation. Whatever faults there are in her case – maybe there are many – shrink next to the guilt of her behavior in here. When  you meet her, she presents a different story, a different person entirely, like her introduction is her identity. I’ve learned that guilt doesn’t come out during a trial; it comes out during the punishment.

Sex offenders are penal piñatas; everyone loves to get a whack at them and see what comes out. I suspect that they suffer more in a men’s prison than they do here. Women and C/O’s, even the allegedly even-tempered counselor, toss scorn at them rather than throwing punches.hello im dangerous

I can’t blame them. Some of the female sex offenders’ stories are severely twisted. One put her younger brother out to stud to try to impregnate her girlfriend. Another older woman performed oral sex on her five year-old grandson.

But other stories are less perverted than they are perversions of justice. These cases show up the hypocrisy of the criminal courts that leverage the strict liability of statutory rape laws. One sex offender here had intercourse with a fifteen-year old boy (age of consent in Connecticut is 16) who worked with her. A strapping young lad, he drove himself to work – alone – in his family’s car and lied about his age, so she reasonably understood him to be 18.

hello i am a predator

But after their liason, he left his cell in the car he drove illegally and his nosy mother read the sexts he exchanged with his perp. The mother then reported the tete-a-tete texts to the police claiming that her son had been “deflowered” when only females get plucked when they get first fucked. His mother also predicted to the court that he would never be able to handle a relationship with a woman. She left out of her report the fact that her lamb had been out, at age 15, drinking and tooling around in her Prius without as much as a learner’s permit, lying about his age. The future of his relationships wasn’t so hot before he met his plucker but now she’s a sex offender inviting ridicule and contempt wherever she goes, even though all signs about him pointed north of the age of 18. This situation does not seem fair to me.

But Reba’s does. No one’s background excuses her from responsibility for her actions nor does anyone’s pedigree incapacitate her from making bad choices. Even though she’s had dalliances with other women, Reba’s been with Sienna for years now, exerting a repugnant maternal-sexual control. Reba’s family has money and sends her some of it while she’s down and takes care of Sienna, fostering a dependence that allows her to pucker up with other inmates without infidelity’s usual fallout. Even with no pimp sticks in her kids’ pics, Reba keeps her pimp hand strong.


And it will grow stronger once she leaves because Reba learned how to manipulate entire systems in here, rather than just individuals. She usually does it to reverse the separations that squeeze between her and Sienna. Either Sienna will act up and go seg, landing herself in a different housing unit or a guard, realizing exactly what he is witnessing in the Reba-Sienna entanglement, moves Sienna out of Reba’s building. Like a homing pigeon, Sienna always flies back to the nest Reba created by having sex with a child. Her flight path is usually drawn by a unit manager who has been nagged to the point of his own sexual confusion. No rehabilitation takes place for either woman.

It’s not entirely the inmates’ fault. Sex offenders require specific treatment that targets distorted thoughts about sex, anger and a lack of empathy, the triune behavioral curse that is aid to make pedophiles. But, to my knowledge, this treatment is unavailable here. In fact, a counselor once told a cellmate of mine that the “Sex Offender Class” that constituted her Offender Accountability Plan was offered on the outside, not in the prison because “there just [weren’t] enough,” sex offenders to justify running the course. I know of five here right now and I took a seminar in college that contained three students. There’s enough enrollment here to run the class already but they don’t do it, almost like their disgust for female sex offenders makes them leave them in their sickness, like their crimes are also their punishment. Maybe this is why sex offenders’ recidivism rates are so high.image

Besides most sex crimes are not borne of the offenders’ wonky brain chemistry but really just disregard for other’s rights and a focus on one’s own immediate desires. The way that this prison handles Reba and Sienna – allowing them to live together in the same unit, permitting a consequence-free environment to cushion each of their transgressions – only hurts them and their victims, past and future.

Today when I saw Reba with Sienna I realized that I never met her at all.   I have lived in cells with almost one hundred different women and I walk a tiny patch of land with another thousand women every day. I probably haven’t met one of them.



FROM ABC NEWS: Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau twenty years after their illegal affair, married with two teenaged daughters

Is Mary Kay LeTourneau a pedophile?

  • Of course she is. She had sexual intercourse with a minor child. (71%, 12 Votes)
  • Well...her behavior doesn't really match the pattern of a pedophile but she did get pregnant with a teenager's child. (18%, 3 Votes)
  • Not really. Sometimes love doesn't fit society's definitions. They are happy and their family is intact. We can't choose the people we love. (12%, 2 Votes)

Total Voters: 17

Loading ... Loading ...

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (5)
  • Interesting (2)
  • Useful (1)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page
16 February 2015

On Peckers and Prosecutors

SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page


“I massage a pecker and they call police,” I massah a peckah n day caw poe-lisse Ming reported to all the lazy Food Prep workers who sat at the break table for the third time in two hours. Ming is a hard worker, assigned to the pot sink because her English isn’t great and dirty dishes are in everyone’s dialect.


They were needling Ming about her charges. She is a good-looking Chinese girl, about 21, with innocent skin and an uninformed, pretty smile. She had no idea that they were ridiculing her. They harass anyone fresh-faced, debilitated or speaking a language other than English, so Ming had two strikes against her. They did it to me pretty fiercely when I got here and I had only one strike. I don’t know which one.

Usually I see this and walk over to the group to issue my usual: “Hey guys? NOT COOL,” pronouncement to get them to stop. But Ming came out with that answer and before I could intervene, laughter had me bent over.

They very often are, at least in Connecticut.

Outside of Hawaii, very few Asian women do time. As much as black and Latina women overrrepresent their ethnic groups in prison, Asian women are statistically underrepresented, much to their credit. Asian women in the United States break the law far less frequently than the natives. In fact, so few Asian women enter the penal system that any research into how many crimes are committed by women of Asian descent usually dredges up numbers on rates of their victimization.

In the time I have spent in this prison, one that houses both pretrial and sentenced inmates, I have learned little about this racial disparity but what I know is reliable. When Asian women do break the law, they arrive here facing prostitution charges. In exchange for passage to and housing in the United States, women from China, Vietnam, Korea and other countries agree to work in “massage parlors” or “spas.”

image Essentially, it’s trafficking. But because these women cross U.S. borders in planes not the backs of un-airconditioned trucks like the one Ludacris opens in the movie Crash, we don’t see it that way. The massage man picks them up at baggage claim and drives them into a life where they service as many as forty men each day, a rate that Geneva Convention standards call torture. Women endure torture to experience the elevated American quality of life. They become slaves to find opportunity. We see immigrants pursuing the American Dream.

I am sure more were coming out behind her.

Every time I see a Asian inmate, she is usually in a group of other Asian women. Police prostitution stings cast their nets wide and they bring in a bunch of women who worked at the bust site. Then, in a few days, the women depart en masse, just like they arrived, when someone cobbles enough cash together to post their bonds. In almost five years, I have never seen one return to serve a sentence.

I always hoped that the reason they never returned was that a judge dropped probation on all of them or made them pay fines and enroll in one of the state’s “Prostitution Classes,” courses that define abuse, instruct women on their legal rights, disseminate safe-sex strategies and drown them in pamphlets announcing various resources: hotlines, shelters, walk-in clinics. Many times, even if you walk the stroll you get chance to walk a line again quickly.

But I think that the reason they never return is that they never answer the charges; their traffic gets re-routed to another small city.

imageBecause they are in and out so quickly, their names are not in the system long enough to light up ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the new INS] computer screens to invite deportation. Besides, we don’t deport for mere misdemeanors.

And that was why Ming was unusual. Ming had already spent several months in custody, and in the high bond building no less. She, too, fled a foreign country to work in a massage parlor in a medium-sized Connecticut city and got ‘stung’ selling a hand job to an undercover cop.

ICE preserves women in jail and takes them home.

“Why haven’t they come to get her?” I wondered aloud, the ‘they’ being the massage parlor owners. I didn’t understand how she wasn’t on the usual Asian pattern of bonding out after a few days, doing a “skid bid” – detention where prisoner leaves skid marks because she comes in and leaves so quickly. Ming has skidded past a skid bid months ago.

“Immigration hold,” another worker, Shawna, whispered.

“ICE is wasting it’s time putting a hold on this little girl for a misdemeanor hooker charge?” I challenged her.

Shawna shook her head.

“Not prostitution, conspiracy to commit prostitution,” Shawna said, subtly yet explicitly explaining why Ming’s case was different than the charges filed against other Asian women who had been at York for massaging peckers.

Connecticut is one of several states that thinks that two heads are not better than one when committing a crime with a pecker. We have a conspiracy statute that elevates any misdemeanor to a felony when it is allegedly committed in concert with another person.  The co-conspirator need not be charged at all for a conspiracy collar to stick.

imageProsecutors chose to charge Ming with conspiracy to commit prostitution because she negotiated the price for (and probably performed) a sex act in a building where other women were doing the same thing instead of becoming a sole proprietorship on a street corner. Now the Federal government can chuck her back whence she came because of the felony status of the charge if and when she is convicted. Prosecutors think they are disrupting the flow of human traffic by deporting Ming and doing nothing to her trafficker but they are just putting more vehicles on the road.

This picture is not a joke. It is how this woman is sold.

Because she faced a conspiracy charge which meant someone else was at least involved with her crime, I approached the pot sink and asked her:

“Ming, where’s your boss, the person who runs the place where you worked?”

“He in Waterbury.” Watta-bay. There’s no correctional facility in Waterbury.

“What, he bonded out?” I asked. Ming didn’t understand.

“Did he get in trouble with police, too?” I broke it down for her. Then she was the one laughing.

“No. No. He a man. He not work with me,” she sniggered because she thinks only direct-sale sex workers broke the law and no one ever hired a male prostitute.  A man in trouble for anything related to prostitution, even if it is the international trade of human flesh?  That’s a joke to Ming.

imageShe wasn’t totally wrong. This is how we do it in the United States where the debate about what to do with illegal immigrants prolongs itself. Where we bust the janes and not the johns. Where prosecutors go after someone with less power much harder for no other reason than they have the ability to do so and can fool themselves that they are not caving to crime.

Meanwhile Ming walks a maze of detention warehouses until we return her like defective merchandise. The man who trafficked in Ming and enabled the crime that will toss her home will stay out of prison and stay here. If he doesn’t have it already, he may even pursue citizenship and become one of us.


From CBS.com:  Philadelphia cops use stings to bust prostitution customers and it seems to work; when johns get busted, they rarely re-offend. This is expected to curb prostitution in the City of Brotherly Love.

Is setting up stings and arresting only the johns the way to eliminate prostitution?

  • No. Prostitution should be legal and no one should be arrested. What's 'wrong' might be 'right' if we just leave it alone. (67%, 4 Votes)
  • Yes. We have arrested only the prostitutes for so long and their recidivism rates are usually high. Creating only one 'wrong' can make it right. (17%, 1 Votes)
  • No. We should still arrest both the prostitute and the patron when both commit the crime of selling/buying a sex act. What's wrong is wrong for everyone. (17%, 1 Votes)

Total Voters: 6

Loading ... Loading ...


SharelinesI massage a pecker and they call police. Click To Tweet

Connecticut is one of several states that thinks that two heads are not better than one when… Click To Tweet Prostitutes service as many as forty men each day, a rate that Geneva Convention standards call… Click To Tweet Prosecutors think they are disrupting the flow of human traffic by deporting ...but they are just… Click To Tweet


What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (1)
  • Interesting (1)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
SHARING IS CARINGShare on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInEmail this to someonePin on PinterestShare on TumblrPrint this page