Ethel Bradford teaches classes at a medium-security prison in Utah and was shocked when one of her students made the following statement: “If they ever put me out of here, within a week I’ll commit a crime that will force them to take me back.”
Huh?
Bradford explains in a recent op-ed in The Salt Lake Tribune:
Prison becomes their home, and for most, the only home they’ve ever had. Yes, there are some who had comfortable beginnings, but I heard one such man say that, after decades of incarceration, the family he left had changed out of recognition, and so had he. His words, too, were met with agreeing nods.
I slowly learned that the large majority of them, for the first time in their lives, had three meals a day, showers, clean clothes, a bed, books, movies, classes if they want to study, winter/summer sports equipment and, for most, the first time to ever receive any kind of medical care, including both dentistry and optometry.
Bradford goes on to explain that many of these long-timers expect to receive medical and palliative care in old age: “As we make our retirement plans, so do they. Well laid plans, too.”
She said that many of the men that she’s spoken with know exactly what crime they would need to commit to send them back to prison for enough time to live out the rest of their lives behind bars.
While we must admit that it’s a good thing that our prison system treats prisoners with relative humanity, the attitudes of the men in this article illustrate the tragic byproducts of institutionalization. The purpose of prison (with a very few exceptions) is to rehabilitate men and women and send them back into society, not create “retirement villages” for those who want to escape society forever.
The sad truth, however, is that society really isn’t very welcoming to those who have screwed up and payed the price. In fact, there are more than 44,000 collateral consequences for American citizens who have a criminal record. It’s both tragic for them and dangerous to society that these men would rather commit a new crime than try to reintegrate into their communities.
As those committed to the personal healing and restoration of men and women behind bars and the overall restoration of communities, we need to work hard to create the kinds of environments that are welcoming and hopeful to those coming out of prison.
There are several things we can do:
We can become and train mentors who will walk alongside these men and women.
Can you imagine getting out of prison and not having anyone to meet you? No one to provide emotional and practical support and advice to help you locate a church community, find housing, or get a job? This article explains in greater detail why mentors are so crucial and how you can become one.
We also need to be committed to the reconciliation of families torn apart by crime and incarceration.
Like the gentleman mentioned in the op-ed, his family barely knew him when he returned home. It’s true that many who commit crimes have estranged themselves from their loved ones, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. Programs like Angel Tree and events like One Day with God are built upon the belief that families can be reunited and brought back together despite the pain, distance, and miscommunication that often accompanies a prison sentence.
Lastly, we can work together to eliminate the barriers to employment and full reintegration into society that our current legal system puts in the way of those with a criminal record.
Learn more at secondprison.org.