For years, Jacob Maclin was the bane of the Milwaukee police force. A gang member and drug dealer, Maclin had been arrested so many times that a collection of his mugshots could serve as a timeline of his troubled past. His enmity toward law enforcement was real and deep, but was particularly focused on one man, a hard-nosed, old school cop named Ray Robakowski.
It was uncanny. The prisoner standing in front of me shared my first name. Like me, he was raised on a farm in Michigan. In fact, our homes were so close together that we frequented the same ice cream parlor and hamburger joint growing up.
April 19-25 is National Crime Victims’ Rights Week (NCVRW), and Justice Fellowship, the public policy arm of Prison Fellowship, is examining the six values in its restorative justice framework that pertain to victims of crime.
Today, we highlight the restorative justice value of validation.
April 19-25 is National Crime Victims’ Rights Week (NCVRW), and Justice Fellowship, the public policy arm of Prison Fellowship, is examining the six values in its restorative justice framework that pertain to victims of crime.
Today, we highlight the restorative justice value of restitution.
April 19-25 is National Crime Victims’ Rights Week (NCVRW), and Justice Fellowship, the public policy arm of Prison Fellowship, is examining the six values in its restorative justice framework that pertain to victims of crime.
Today, we highlight the restorative justice value of information.
Jim Liske (l) with Chuck Colson
When I was still a pastor in Michigan, Prison Fellowship founder Chuck Colson came up for a visit. He attended a lunch celebrating those involved in a church-based reentry program for the formerly incarcerated. Men and women came up to thank Chuck for his work with prisoners, and as they did so, tears sprang to his eyes.
April 19-25 is National Crime Victims’ Rights Week (NCVRW), and Justice Fellowship, the public policy arm of Prison Fellowship, is examining the six values in its restorative justice framework that pertain to victims of crime.
Today, we highlight the restorative justice value of protection.
When Charles W. “Chuck” Colson entered the Maxwell Correctional Facility in July 1974, he did so as a humbled man. The former special prosecutor for President Richard Nixon had pleaded guilty to obstruction of justice during the ongoing Watergate scandal investigation, and was preparing to serve a one-to-three-year sentence in the Montgomery, Alabama, facility.
Brother Potts will never go home. Because of the crimes he has committed, he will spend the rest of his days on earth locked behind prison bars. But he is also one of the most joyful people I know. He is humble, gentle, and caring.
April 19-25 is National Crime Victims’ Rights Week (NCVRW), and Justice Fellowship, the public policy arm of Prison Fellowship, is examining the six values in its restorative justice framework that pertain to victims of crime.
Today, we highlight the restorative justice value of participation.
Every person who breaks the law is different. Every person who is convicted of a crime is different. Every crime and the situation surrounding it is different. And every person who is harmed by a criminal act is also different.
We understand that all of these variables make it impossible to accurately quantify the harm crime causes.
Last year, Bob celebrated his 90th birthday inside Minnesota's only level five maximum-security prison, Oak Park Heights. Bob has led Bible studies there since the late 1990s.
By God’s grace, I have never served a sentence, but the men and women I am blessed to encounter in prison always teach me about following Jesus.
Recently, I was privileged to spend an entire day in prison with hundreds of prisoners and their families.
Long-time visitors to this blog may remember the story of Davion Only. In 2013, the then-15-year-old Davion stepped in front of a church in Florida and asked if someone would adopt him.
Davion and Connie. (Reprinted with permission of The Tampa Bay Times.
This winter I saw a prison leader do something that almost never happens. At a Midwest prison, where men are enrolled in a Prison Fellowship seminary-level training program, the warden allowed close to 400 prisoners to gather in the gymnasium to drink coffee, have cookies, sing, hear the Gospel, and interact with 30 volunteers.