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    ‘Slavery by any name is wrong’: the push to end unpaid labor in prisons

    ‘Slavery by any name is wrong’: the push to end unpaid labor in prisonsA nationwide movement hopes to close the ‘slavery loophole’ that enables the exploitation of 800,000 prisoners in the US When prison reformer Johnny Perez was incarcerated he made sheets, underwear and pillowcases working for Corcraft, a manufacturing division of New York State Correctional Services that uses prisoners to manufacture products for state and local agencies. His pay ranged between 17 cents and 36 cents an hour.“We have a system that forces people to work and not only forces them to work but does not give them an adequate living wage,” said Perez. “Slavery by any name is wrong. Slavery in any shape or form is wrong.”Perez is now part of a nationwide movement that hopes to reform what some have called the “slavery loophole” that allows incarcerated people to be paid tiny sums for jobs that – if they refuse to do them – can have dire consequences.The 13th amendment of the US constitution, ratified in 1865, abolished slavery and involuntary servitude. But it contained an exception for “a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted”.This exception clause has been used to exploit prisoners in the US as workers, paying them nothing to a few dollars a day to perform jobs ranging from prison services to manufacturing or working for private employers where the majority of their pay is deducted for room and board and other expenses by the jurisdictions where they are incarcerated.A report published by the American Civil Liberties Union in June 2022 found about 800,000 prisoners out of the 1.2 million in state and federal prisons are forced to work, generating a conservative estimate of $11bn annually in goods and services while average wages range from 13 cents to 52 cents per hour. Five states – Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi and Texas – force prisoners to work without pay. The report concluded that the labor conditions of US prisoners violate fundamental human rights to life and dignity.A campaign to amend the constitution at the federal level and end the exception of the 13th amendment is being promoted by the US representative Nikema Williams and the senator Jeff Merkley. The bill has 175 co-sponsors in the House, 170 Democrats and 5 Republicans, and 14 co-sponsors in the US Senate, but has yet to leave committee for a floor vote in either the House or Senate.In the meantime the #EndTheException coalition, consisting of more than 80 national organizations, including criminal justice reform, civil rights and labor groups, is leading efforts to pass the abolition amendment at the federal level and through ballot initiatives at the state level.In November voters will decide on whether to remove exception clauses from their state constitutions in Alabama, Louisiana, Oregon, Tennessee and Vermont. An abolition amendment passed in the California assembly, but failed to receive a Senate vote this year so that it could be on the ballot for voters this November.“The reality is that it is 2022 and in the United States, slavery is still legal,” said Bianca Tylek, founder and executive director of the non-profit Worth Rises. “These five states would join Colorado, Utah and Nebraska, states that have already ended the exception of their state’s constitutions. And so that would be exciting, that would bring that number to eight, with five out the eight being red states and I think that bodes well for where the campaign can go at the federal level.”It is time for change, said Johnny Perez. He emphasized that in prison, individuals aren’t provided adequate basic necessities such as food, toiletries, clothing and office supplies, and that the measly wages paid by these jobs don’t cover these extra expenses.Refusing a work assignment can also have adverse consequences, he said, ranging from being placed in solitary confinement to having any work issues placed on your record which affects parole and status within a prison that determines what privileges you receive. Workers in prison do not get any paid time off and are often forced to work even when sick unless an infirmary affirms they are not able to work.Despite having five years’ full-time experience manufacturing textiles while in prison, that experience isn’t included on Perez’s résumé; incarcerated people, rather than have educational programs available to better support them upon release, are forced to do arduous manual labor jobs and often aren’t able to find work in the same industry when they are released.“It’s still continuing to happen and it disproportionately impacts Black, brown and Indigenous people in this country,” said Perez. “So long as the exception clause exists, we will always have an underclass in this society that is going to be the dumping ground for our problems and our shortcomings.”This month the #EndTheException coalition launched the Except For Me digital campaign to raise awareness of the issues, ending with the delivery of a petition to Congress in support of the abolition amendment and an art installation in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.“This exception is about people and it’s about people for whom the 13th amendment doesn’t apply,” added Tylek. “We really want people to see those people and see the people that society has successfully otherwise hidden away.”Among those featured in the campaign is Britt White, who worked at a Burger King franchise in Alabama while in community status until 2014; about 60% of her wages were taken by the state of Alabama to cover fees, room and board or restitution.“Prison itself is expensive,” said White. “I can only speak for the state of Alabama where I was incarcerated, so providing hygiene, trying to supplement the lack of nourishment is very expensive, and my family had their own bills and financial responsibilities they had to take care of. I still had more support than most people did and it was still very difficult to survive in prison because everything has a cost associated with it.”White explained there were medical fees associated with received medical care and sometimes the food provided was not fit for human consumption.“I just can’t emphasize enough the lack of agency that you have,” added White. “If we are going to allow people who are incarcerated to work jobs, we need to pay them a livable wage and we need to center their dignity. We don’t need to place them in positions where there are hostile environments where they can be retaliated against and lose their agency.”Her experience in the Alabama department of corrections drove her to work as an organizer in criminal justice reform to address the corruption and despair she witnessed and experienced in the prison system.“We cannot condemn people, and then say that you deserve to be put away or you can’t come back to society, you’re not trustworthy enough to live in the community with other people, but you are still good enough for us to make a profit. That is unforgivable,” White said. “And that is the part that is still very reminiscent of slavery that my ancestors went through is that they were not good enough to be viewed as 100% as human beings, but they weren’t substantial enough to make a profit off of. That is the exception that has to be ended in our communities.”TopicsUS prisonsUS politicsfeaturesReuse this content More

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    Revisited: The Division: New Orleans – part four – podcast

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    The division begins to reinvestigate Kuantay Reeder’s case, discovering new evidence that could hold the key to his freedom. The Guardian’s US southern bureau chief, Oliver Laughland, interviews Harry Connick, the district attorney from 1973 to 2003, to ask how he felt about presiding over an administration accused of rights violations and disproportionately punishing the city’s poorest Black residents

    How to listen to podcasts: everything you need to know

    This week we are revisiting some of our favourite episodes from the year so far. This episode was first broadcast on 9 May. The division spends six months reinvestigating Kuantay Reeder’s case. They find new evidence, and the Guardian’s US southern bureau chief, Oliver Laughland, accompanies the team to court to see whether Reeder’s conviction will be overturned. Also present are members of Mark Broxton’s family, including his mother, Mary Green, who see Reeder face to face for the first time since 1995. Oliver also visits Harry Connick, the district attorney from 1973 to 2003. Many people argue his policies – such as routine use of the habitual offender law – were one of the main reasons New Orleans became the incarceration capital of the world. Oliver questions Connick on the use of multi-billing and the issue of Brady violations – where evidence is withheld – during his tenure. In 2011 the supreme court justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg said a lack of training on Brady was pervasive. In many ways, Connick and the new district attorney, Jason Williams, couldn’t be much further apart. A lot of what Jason Williams is doing now is a direct response to the policies and the legacy of Connick. But there are some parallels between them. Connick was in power during the biggest crime wave New Orleans had ever seen. And when Williams took office, the crime rate was soaring too. Oliver and the producer Joshua Kelly pay a visit to Williams to ask how he is responding to the pressure of the rising crime rates and his upcoming trial for alleged tax evasion. If found guilty, there are question marks over the future of the civil-rights division. Read Oliver’s reporting on his six months with the division: Inside the division: how a small team of US prosecutors fight decades of shocking injustice Life in prison for stealing $20: how the Division is taking apart brutal criminal sentences The Visiting Room is an online project documenting interviews with over 100 inmates serving life without parole sentences at Angola prison. Kuantay Reeder was filmed as part of the project while he was incarcerated: More

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    Revisited: The Division: New Orleans – part two – podcast

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    In 1995, Kuantay Reeder is sentenced to spend the rest of his life in prison for a crime he says he didn’t commit. He spends years doing hard labour in the fields of the prison, and trying to have his conviction overturned. By 2020, he has exhausted almost every legal avenue available to him. But 2020 is also the year that Jason Williams is elected to be the new district attorney of New Orleans. Will the creation of a new civil rights division in his office offer hope to Reeder?

    How to listen to podcasts: everything you need to know

    This week we are revisiting some of our favourite episodes from the year so far. This episode was first broadcast on 7 May. In 1995, Kuantay Reeder is convicted of a murder he says he did not commit. He is sent to Angola prison in Louisiana, the site of a former plantation, where he is forced to spend years working in the fields, work Kuantay calls “modern-day slavery”. Prof Andrea Armstrong has been going to Angola for years, documenting its history and talking to prisoners about their lives there. She talks about prison labour programmes and the indignities faced by inmates. After fighting for years to have his conviction overturned, Reeder’s case has little legal hope left. But in 2020 New Orleans elects a new district attorney, Jason Williams, who promises to reckon with the city’s history of unfair prosecutions. Williams talks to the Guardian’s US southern bureau chief, Oliver Laughland, about his election victory and his reform pledges. Read Oliver’s reporting on his six months with the division: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2022/may/06/life-in-prison-for-stealing-20-how-the-division-is-taking-apart-brutal-criminal-sentences More

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    Revisited: The Division: New Orleans – part one – podcast

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    The Guardian’s US southern bureau chief, Oliver Laughland, spent six months following what happened when a progressive Black district attorney was elected in Louisiana, the heart of the deep south. He had promised sweeping reforms across New Orleans, including opening up a civil rights division to look over old cases. Kuantay Reeder has been in Louisiana’s ‘Angola’ prison since 1995 for a murder he says he didn’t commit. Would the division be able to help him?

    How to listen to podcasts: everything you need to know

    This week we are revisiting some of our favourite episodes from the year so far. This episode was first broadcast on 6 May. It’s 2020. New Orleans. The most incarcerated city, in the most incarcerated US state. The city has elected a progressive Black district attorney, Jason Williams, who promises to change the system from within. One of the first things Williams does after he wins is to set up a new department in the district attorney’s office – the civil rights division – led by Emily Maw. A small team of lawyers and investigators is tasked with looking back through more than 1,000 old cases, examining whether each convicted person should still be in prison. Twenty-five years earlier, Kuantay Reeder says he was playing basketball when Mark, his childhood friend, was killed outside a food store. Kuantay was arrested and eventually found guilty of Mark’s murder, a crime Kuantay says he didn’t commit. He was prosecuted by the office of one of the city’s old DAs, Harry Connick, infamous for his hardline tactics. We hear from Prof Andrea Armstrong, a leading US expert on prison and jail conditions, and former city judge Calvin Johnson, who describes how Connick’s office was associated with frequent rights violations at the time Reeder was prosecuted. Read Oliver’s reporting on his six months with the division: Inside the division: how a small team of US prosecutors fight decades of shocking injustice Life in prison for stealing $20: how the Division is taking apart brutal criminal sentences More

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    The Guardian view on the death penalty: a long way to go | Editorial

    The Guardian view on the death penalty: a long way to goEditorialThough capital punishment is in global decline, there are horrifying exceptions to the general trend Next month, Oklahoma will embark on a grim schedule: an execution nearly every month until the end of 2024. In September, it is due to execute Richard Glossip, whom many believe to be the victim of a terrible miscarriage of justice. A five-year moratorium has come to an end with the failure of a lawsuit arguing that the use of lethal injections was unconstitutional.Oklahoma is not the only place that is enthusiastically resuming state-sanctioned killing after a pause. Myanmar’s rulers announced on Monday that they had executed four prisoners, including Phyo Zeya Thaw, a rapper and former MP, drawing international condemnation. This was the first time the death penalty had been used there for more than 30 years, said the UN. And on Tuesday it emerged that Tomohiro Kato has been executed in Japan for stabbing seven people to death in 2008.Recorded executions fell sharply in 2020 across the world due to the pandemic, but are now rebounding. Amnesty International says that it saw a 20% increase in 2021, including a sharp rise in Iran to 314 deaths. This year, Saudi Arabia executed 81 men on a single day in March, two of them for participation in violent anti-government protests. Singapore executed four people for drug offences after a two-year pause – including, despite an international outcry, Nagaenthran K Dharmalingam, a young man with an IQ of 69 who said that he was coerced into carrying a small amount of heroin. His case has helped to stir debate about capital punishment. In Myanmar, more than 100 other people have been handed death sentences since last year’s seizure of power by the army. The broad trend is towards the decline of capital punishment. Almost 160 years after Venezuela became the first country to abolish it, well over a hundred more have followed suit (including Papua New Guinea this January), and about 30 more have effectively abolished it, for example through formal moratoria. Despite the increase in 2021, the total number of deaths – 579 – was the second lowest that Amnesty International has recorded since 2010.But a huge black hole remains: the organisation believes that China executes thousands of prisoners a year, but the figure is a state secret, as in Vietnam and North Korea. And the overall fall in the documented use of the death penalty is accompanied by extreme and shocking cases in places that cling to it. The US is also a glaring example of the way that progress can be turned back: 50 years ago this summer, the supreme court struck down the death penalty. Four years later it restored it. More recently, the last administration dramatically resumed federal executions; more were carried out under Donald Trump than any other president in the past century. Though the current attorney general, Merrick Garland, imposed a moratorium, that could be undone by the next administration.There are many reasons to be disturbed by capital punishment. These include agonising deaths witnessed in the US, wrongful convictions, the blatant discrimination of criminal justice systems that results in the disproportionate killing of ethnic minority offenders, and the use of the death penalty for non-violent crimes and political offences. In Myanmar, relatives of the executed men were reportedly denied access to their bodies. But underlying all of this is the broader understanding that continues to spread through the world: that states have no right to take the lives of citizens.Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a letter of up to 300 words to be considered for publication, email it to us at guardian.letters@theguardian.comTopicsCapital punishmentOpinionLaw (US)US politicsMyanmarSouth and central AsiaSingaporeAsia PacificeditorialsReuse this content More

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    Supreme court guts lifeline for prisoners who claim wrongful convictions

    Supreme court guts lifeline for prisoners who claim wrongful convictionsDecision bars federal courts from hearing new evidence not presented in a state court as a result of ineffective legal counsel The US supreme court on Monday gutted constitutional protections that for years have provided a federal lifeline to innocent prisoners facing prolonged incarceration or even execution following wrongful convictions stemming from poor legal counsel given to them by the states.In a 6 to 3 ruling, the newly-dominant rightwing majority of the nation’s highest court barred federal courts from hearing new evidence that was not previously presented in a state court as a result of the defendant’s ineffective legal representation.The decision means that prisoners will no longer have recourse to federal judges even when they claim they were wrongfully convicted because their lawyers failed to conduct their cases properly.The decision eviscerated the supreme court’s own precedent in a move that the three liberal justices called “illogical” and “perverse”. In a dissenting opinion, Justice Sonia Sotomayor slammed the decision, warning it would leave “many people … to face incarceration or even execution without any meaningful chance to vindicate their right to counsel”.The ruling in Shinn v Ramirez was written by Clarence Thomas, the rightwing justice who has come to the fore as a result of the court’s sharp shift to the right following Donald Trump’s three appointments. He was supported by all five other conservative justices, including the chief justice, John Roberts.In his opinion, Thomas presented the case as one of states’ rights. He said that federal courts should not be allowed to override the states’ “core power to enforce criminal law”.That continues to be the case, the majority ruled, even where defendants are given bad legal advice by counsel provided for them by the very same states that are condemning them to long prison sentences or even execution.In future, they will have no recourse to a federal court to try and reverse their wrongful conviction.The case before the justices arose after state officials in Arizona petitioned the supreme court to prevent two of the state’s death row inmates – one with a strong case of proclaimed innocence, the other with a history of family abuse – from seeking relief in federal court from capital punishment.The state argued that the condemned men should not be allowed to present new evidence to a federal judge when they had failed to do so previously in state court.Lawyers for the condemned men pointed out that they had only failed to present the evidence in state court because the legal counsel they had been assigned by the state was woefully inadequate.If they were blocked from petitioning a federal court, the men would in effect be sent to the death chamber simply because incompetent lawyers had missed a filing deadline or failed to uncover a glaring truth.Monday’s majority ruling prompted an outpouring of angry and anguished criticism from innocence rights groups and death penalty experts.The Innocence Project said that overturning wrongful convictions was never easy, and that “today’s supreme court decision makes it that much harder to secure justice for wrongly-convicted people”.Thomas’s opinion also overturns previous supreme court rulings, in an abrogation of the court’s own adherence to the principle of stare decisis – that is, being faithful to precedent. In 2012 the supreme court ruled in Martinez v Ryan that prisoners could have access to federal court in cases where they had suffered from ineffective legal counsel in the state courts.“The supreme court seems hell-bent on disrespecting precedent and rolling back rights,” said Janai Nelson, president of LDF, America’s first civil and human rights law organization.In her dissenting opinion, Sotomayor decried the ruling. “This decision is perverse. It is illogical,” she wrote.Sotomayor argued that under the court’s own precedent, prisoners cannot be held accountable – and effectively punished – for “their attorneys’ failures to present claims in state court”.She concluded that as a result of the majority decision from the nine-member supreme court bench, the Sixth Amendment to the US constitution’s guarantee that criminal defendants have the right to effective legal counsel at trial “is now an empty one”.In future, she said, prisoners who have had poor legal assistance would have no relief. “The responsibility for this devastating outcome lies not with Congress, but with this court.”TopicsUS supreme courtUS prisonsLaw (US)US politicsnewsReuse this content More

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    Louisiana case will determine fate of over 1,000 convicted by split juries

    Louisiana case will determine fate of over 1,000 convicted by split juriesReginald Reddick will argue before the state supreme court he is entitled to a new trial because he was sentenced to life in prison by a non-unanimous jury, a practice banned in 2018 Reginald Reddick is serving life in prison in Louisiana for second-degree murder, even though two jurors at his 1997 trial found him not guilty. Almost anywhere else in the country, he would have been acquitted: even one juror would have been enough to change the outcome.interactiveThis week, the Louisiana supreme court will hear oral arguments in Reddick’s case, in which he argues that he is entitled to a new trial. The court’s decision could affect more than 1,000 people who, like Reddick, are serving time for crimes that some of their jurors did not believe they committed beyond a reasonable doubt.Until recently, Louisiana was one of only two states that did not require the unanimous vote of a jury, a vestige of a Jim Crow-era law designed to negate the growing power of Black jurors.In 2018, Louisiana residents voted to end the practice, and in 2020, the US supreme court found non-unanimous jury verdicts unconstitutional. But the court declined to make the ruling retroactive, leaving it up to Louisiana and Oregon (the only other state that allowed split juries) to decide whether people already serving time in such cases were entitled to new trials.One night in 1993, Reddick was drinking in the same bar as Al Moliere in a small town south of New Orleans. A witness said he saw Reddick shoot Moliere later that night in the course of a robbery, but the story he told on the stand conflicted with multiple versions he had previously told police.All the other evidence against Reddick – including a gun recovered months later with the initials “RR” carved into the handle – was circumstantial, said Jamila Johnson, one of his attorneys. In the more than 20 years he’s been in prison, he’s maintained he did not shoot Moliere.Should Reddick win a new trial, many other incarcerated people in Louisiana may also be entitled to the same opportunity. But Johnson and the New Orleans non-profit the Promise of Justice Initiative have struggled to answer the surprisingly vexing question: who, exactly, was convicted by a non-unanimous jury in Louisiana?“Our record-keeping in the south is horrible,” said Jason Williams, the district attorney in the parish that includes New Orleans. “It has been very difficult just to find all of the records and information necessary to do a complete review.”That challenge was compounded by a deadline: even if the court rules in Reddick’s favor, only those who filed applications with the state courts within one year of the US supreme court’s 2020 ruling will have a shot at new trials. Anyone who discovered later that their jury was not unanimous would need legislators to pass a new law in order to ask for relief, Johnson says.Racing the clock to find people sitting in prison due to split juries, three paralegals attended community meetings, visited prisons and sent letters trying to reach people who might have been sent to prison by a split jury. “Their job was talking to family members, walking them through documents that were in their closets. ‘You have a giant box. Let’s start in envelope one,’” said Johnson.Eventually, the team filed petitions on behalf of about 1,000 people they could prove were convicted by split juries. In these cases, each juror’s vote was recorded in court transcripts or polling slips at the defendants’ original trials years, or even decades, ago.Hundreds more had no recourse, said Sara Gozalo, a paralegal with the Promise of Justice Initiative, because the results of the polling were not recorded anywhere, or the polling never happened in the first place. “Maybe you were convicted by a 10-2,” Gozalo had to tell them. “You’ll never know.”In most cases, district attorneys have opposed attempts to challenge these convictions, arguing that the supreme court’s ruling should not apply to older cases. But in more than 50 cases, prosecutors have been willing to revisit the convictions without waiting for a ruling in the Reddick case.Williams, who was elected Orleans parish district attorney in 2020, campaigned on a promise to right many of the wrongs of his predecessors.“There are a realm of cases that are wrongful convictions because, for example, they used a law that was specifically written to exclude Black voices from the jury – whether or not they actually did it,” said Emily Maw, who heads Williams’ Civil Rights Division. For 68 people, that meant vacating their convictions and negotiating pleas that resulted in less prison time.Mark Isaac was convicted of second-degree murder in 1992 and had spent decades behind bars before a fellow prisoner at the Louisiana state penitentiary in Angola told him, “Man, check your paperwork, you might have 10-2,” Isaac recalled. He had maintained all along that he had acted in self-defense, and it wasn’t until he reached out to the Promise of Justice Initiative that he discovered two jurors may have agreed with him. His attorneys struck a deal with Williams’s office to have Isaac plead to the lesser charge of manslaughter and he was released with time served last year.When Gozalo joined the Promise of Justice Initiative, she soon discovered that each parish in Louisiana had its own system of keeping records and its own rules about how to request them. Court clerks often demanded requests be faxed. Who uses fax machines in 2020, she wondered.“I’m at an office with a fax machine, but what does an incarcerated person do?” Gozalo said. “These random rules … from one clerk to the next, seem arbitrary and almost violent to me – like little landmines that make it harder for people to fight their cases.”The non-unanimous rule has its roots in the years after Reconstruction, known as the “Jim Crow era”, when white lawmakers were looking to dilute the civic power of newly enfranchised Black citizens.In crafting the rule, “Our mission was, in the first place, to establish the supremacy of the White race in this State,” said delegates to the state’s 1898 constitutional convention. They determined how many Black people were likely to be seated on a jury, and then set the minimum number of votes so prosecutors could reliably obtain convictions over Black jurors’ objections. While the number of votes has changed over the years – first it was 9-3, then it was 10-2 – critics argue, the impact has not.An investigative series by the Louisiana newspaper the Advocate analyzed six years of trial records, finding that Black defendants were more likely to be convicted by non-unanimous juries. A subsequent analysis of the same dataset by a Harvard professor as part of a 2018 court case found that Black jurors were significantly more likely to cast votes that don’t change the outcome of the case. He argued that “the non-unanimous jury verdict system operated today just as it was intended in 1898: to silence African-Americans on juries and to render their jury service meaningless.”The state attorney general’s office and the Louisiana District Attorneys Association did not respond to requests for interviews. But in court filings, attorneys for the state argue that “the State’s interest in the finality of its non-unanimous verdicts is overwhelming and untainted by racial discrimination,” and warn that hundreds of new cases would flood the courts if the new rule were to be made retroactive.“Evidence deteriorates, memories fade and witnesses become unavailable over time. It will be difficult – if not impossible – for the State to retry these cases,” they write. “Even if the State could retry some defendants, doing so would subject the victims of their crimes to fresh pain and difficulty.”Gozalo and her colleagues say they are hopeful the state’s high court will recognize that people convicted by non-unanimous juries deserve new trials. “We’re not saying, ‘Free everyone,’” she said. “We’re saying, ‘Give everyone a fair trial.’”This article was published in partnership with The Marshall Project, a nonprofit news organization covering the U.S. criminal justice system. Sign up for The Marshall Project newsletters, and follow them on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.TopicsLouisianaUS prisonsUS politicsfeaturesReuse this content More

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    California gives people leaving prison just $200 to start over. After 50 years, that could change

    California gives people leaving prison just $200 to start over. After 50 years, that could change The ‘gate money’ the state offers is ‘insufficient to survive’, one activist says, and can contribute to recidivism A California lawmaker wants to increase the allowance that people released from prison receive to cover basic needs for the first time in nearly 50 years.Sydney Kamlager, a state senator representing Los Angeles, is introducing legislation Friday to bump up the “gate money” – funds that people released from state prisons are given – from $200 to nearly $2,600.Omicron wreaks havoc across California prison facilities as staff cases surgeRead more“This is really about making sure that when people get out, we are not perpetuating a cycle of economic violence,” said Kamlager, whose office exclusively shared with the Guardian plans to introduce the new bill. “We have got to stop legislating poverty.”This is the first major effort to increase gate money in recent memory. The roughly 600,000 people released from federal and state prisons each year are usually offered a pittance – if anything – to buy a bus ticket home, or a first meal, clothing and toiletries. California currently provides a debit card loaded with at most $200, though people serving short sentences receive even less. It already offers more than other states, an investigation by the Marshall Project found. Colorado, Texas, Florida and some other states provide $100 and Louisiana and Alabama offer just $10.California last increased the amount of gate money it offers in 1973 when $200 could cover a month’s rent. “Now that money is simply insufficient to survive,” said Samual Nathaniel Brown, the co-founder of the Anti-Violence Safety and Accountability Project.When Brown was released in December after being incarcerated for 24 years, the first thing he bought was a meal for his wife, his two daughters, his sister and his niece. It was a way to thank them for their love and support throughout his imprisonment. They got Korean barbecue, and the bill was about $140.“And there went my gate money,” he said.Brown considers himself blessed that his family picked him up from prison, and he has been able to depend on them after his release. For those without people to lean on, the $200 can be a taunt – or a sign to simply give up, he said.Re-entering society after years or decades behind bars can be rough, with scarce housing and job opportunities available for people with a criminal record. Parole requirements, obligations to family, outstanding debts and health needs stack up quickly, and can be a steep hill to climb.More and broader reforms are required, said Kamlager and the activists she is working with – including of the low wages paid for exploitative prison labor. But upping gate money is also urgently necessary, she said.People often enter prison impoverished and are being thrown into poverty upon release, Kamlager said. The system “perpetuates a fall deeper into desperation for folks who have just been released”, she added.Kamlager is proposing increasing the allowance to $2,590 after consulting with federal data on the cost of food and housing, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) Living Wage Calculator, to find the average monthly expenses for a single adult with no children in 2021. Starting in 2024, the bill specifies that the allowance should also be adjusted annually to account for inflation. Kamlager pushed to introduce the bill on Friday, which is the last day to broach new bills during this legislative cycle.It costs California more than $8,800 to keep someone incarcerated each month, the senator noted – and increasing gate money allowance would cost the state less than pushing those just released back into the prison system.Kamlager said she decided to introduce the legislation after receiving a letter from an incarcerated person, asking, “How do you expect any of us to make it if we’re getting out with just $200?”. “It struck a chord,” she said“In 2022, when the price for a gallon of gas in Los Angeles is almost $5, it is unconscionable that the state of California still gives just $200 in allowance for folks who are getting out of prison,” she added.Experts view a person’s first 72 hours after release as a vulnerable, crucial time that can determine whether or not they end up back in prison, said Amika Mota, the policy director for the Sister Warriors Freedom Coalition, a group that is working with Kamlager’s office on the bill. In a criminal justice system that purports to uphold public safety, providing a pittance to people when they are released is “counterproductive public safety”, Brown added. “Not having enough money, it makes people think ‘I need to do something fast.’ And that’s the same type of thinking that led most women and men to prison to begin with.”For mothers leaving incarceration, $2,600 could offer a chance at finding secure housing and reuniting with their children, Mota said. Amid the pandemic, when re-entry after release has been especially perilous and chaotic for many, a pilot program by the nonprofit Center for Employment Opportunities (CEO) has been distributing $2,750 in cash assistance to people leaving prisons all over the US. An early evaluation found that participants were able to use the funds to buy food, pay for transportation and contribute to caring for families. Some participants said the money helped lift them out of homelessness.Meanwhile, Rasheed Stanley-Lockheart, a reentry director for the Ahimsa Collective, a restorative justice non-profit said, “I’ve seen guys come out holding that $200 in their hand, and it’s almost like they don’t know what to do with it because they’re scared.”“We need much more than that to survive,” he said.TopicsCaliforniaUS prisonsLos AngelesUS politicsnewsReuse this content More