CA Bar Hangs Red Scarlet Letters on Its Members

I just saw this absolutely horrible story on the Mercury news. It’s ridiculously headlined, “Is Your Lawyer a Crook?” And goes on to tell us:

What do you call up to 10 percent of lawyers in California? 

Convicted criminals. 

And that’s no rotten-lawyer joke. 

That’s the eye-popping new estimate by the agency that licenses them.
Of California’s 190,000 active attorneys, as many as 19,000 may have unreported criminal activity, from DUIs to more serious offenses, according to the State Bar of California. 

For the first time in California, all active lawyers will have to submit to having their fingerprints live-scanned or taken the old-fashioned way rby April 30 of next year under the plan the state Supreme Court is expected to approve in the coming weeks. The prints will be fed into the state Department of Justice’s database, and previous convictions will be reported to the Bar — as well as all future arrests. 

“If you have an attorney convicted, let’s say of fraud, you would want to know it,” said Leah T. Wilson, the Bar’s executive director, adding that the proposal evolved as Bar starts to “pay more attention to our public protection mission.”

Gosh, it’s almost as if Leah T. Wilson doesn’t really believe that the California criminal justice system is tasked with… what’s the word? Rehabilitation.

I speak from experience. As a law professor in California I teach hundreds of people every year. Given the high percentage of Californians that we incarcerate, inevitably some of my students have criminal records and have spent some time behind bar. As a consequence, they face an uphill battle with their moral character application, a component of their application to the bar. The application requires complete honesty, about expunged records as well as live ones, and undergoes an extreme degree of scrutiny, which people sometimes have to explain in letters and in hearings at the bar court. I’ve now testified in two bar trials and written four letters of recommendations on behalf of people with criminal records who want to be admitted or readmitted to the bar.

The bias, stigma, and ignorance–not just of the public, but of the bar itself–is breathtaking. At the bar trials in which I testified, I experienced what could only be described as a mediocre community theatre production of a morality tale. Grown people, who have matured and learned from their mistakes, have to recite their contrition. Parole and gubernatorial decisions to release people after decades of introspection and remorse are doubted and ridiculed. Skeletons are dragged out of closets to haunt people for mistakes they did as juveniles.

Honestly, after undergoing the tribulations of punishment in California, sometimes the wringer of repeated parole hearings (and gubernatorial reversals,) and on top of that, the moral character ordeal at the bar, anyone left standing is bound to be so much more thoughtful, reflective, and humble, than various so-called “moral characters” without a criminal record. Anyone with a substance abuse problem would have had time to sort it out and would be so much more mature about it than some so-called “moral character” who is still drinking or snorting, but whose record is squeaky clean. I would so much prefer to have someone from the former category as my lawyer than someone from the latter. But the general public, who is woefully misinformed by articles such as this one about who is a “crook” and who isn’t, would not necessarily make that choice, and that is a horrible injury to do to someone, not to mention a horrible privacy violation.

This also raises the issue of the elitism of the profession. We disproportionately incarcerate folks of fewer means and darker skins. As a consequence, our population of lawyers with criminal records is likely to include a disproportionate percentage of people who came to the profession from humble backgrounds. If we also put additional barriers on their gainful employment in the way of revealing their personal and private histories to potential clients, we are just deepening that elitism.

The problem, of course, is not only with this atrocious decision of the CA bar to injure its own members; it is with the kind of journalistic reporting that makes this into salacious gossip material. Who the hell uses the word “crook” as a euphemism for a criminal record, like something out of a Damon Runyon short story? And who the hell uses lawyer jokes to talk about people who have gone through so much to redeem themselves and find a professional future?

Does rehabilitation actually mean anything to the bar, when it decides to admit folks back to its ranks and then backstabs them by reducing their employment prospects? This is not a move that “protects the public.” This is elitism, bigotry, and ignorance.

Parkland Shooting: A Month’s Retrospective

It’s been a month since the horrific shooting at Parkland, and today students nationwide are walking out in memory of the victims and in protest of state and federal inaction on gun control. In preparation for a special report on KTVU this afternoon, I’m reviewing what we know about the efficacy of various methods to prevent school shootings, followed by a critical assessment of the Florida, federal, and (for good measure) California gun legislation.

As of 2014, roughly 371 million firearms were owned by U.S. civilians and domestic law enforcement. Estimates on household guns are that 36%-49% of American households have guns, or 23%-36% of adults. Sixty percent of gun owners are motivated by the need to protect themselves and their households against crime.

Roughly 16,459 murders were committed in the United States during 2016. Of these, about 11,961 or 73% were committed with firearms. According to President Obama’s commissioned report on research into gun violence causes:

“Defensive use of guns by crime victims is a common occurrence, although the exact number remains disputed….”
“Almost all national survey estimates indicate that defensive gun uses by victims are at least as common as offensive uses by criminals, with estimates of annual uses ranging from about 500,000 to more than 3 million….”
“[S]ome scholars point to a radically lower estimate of only 108,000 annual defensive uses based on the National Crime Victimization Survey,” but this “estimate of 108,000 is difficult to interpret because respondents were not asked specifically about defensive gun use.”

“Studies that directly assessed the effect of actual defensive uses of guns (i.e., incidents in which a gun was ‘used’ by the crime victim in the sense of attacking or threatening an offender) have found consistently lower injury rates among gun-using crime victims compared with victims who used other self-protective strategies….” (source)

There is a sort-of-controversy among gun scholars about the effectiveness of gun ownership on crime control. By sort-of, I mean that John Lott (author of the classic More Guns, Less Crime) claims that gun ownership has a deterrent effect. Pretty much everyone else disputes these claims and finds Lott’s methodology problematic. Specifically, a recent study by Stanford’s John Donohue III found the exact opposite. You’ll find the full paper here, and here’s the abstract:

The 2005 report of the National Research Council (NRC) on Firearms and Violence recognized that violent crime was higher in the post-passage period (relative to national crime patterns) for states adopting right-to-carry (RTC) concealed handgun laws, but because of model dependence the panel was unable to identify the true causal effect of these laws from the then-existing panel data evidence. This study uses 14 additional years of state panel data (through 2014) capturing an additional eleven RTC adoptions and new statistical techniques to see if more convincing and robust conclusions can emerge. 

Our preferred panel data regression specification (the “DAWmodel”) and the Brennan Center (BC) model, as well as other statistical models by Lott and Mustard (LM) and Moody and Marvell (MM) that had previously been offered as evidence of crime-reducing RTC laws, now only generate statistically significant estimates showing RTC laws increase overall violent crime and/or murder when run on the most complete data. A LASSO analysis finds that RTC laws are always associated with increased violent crime. To the extent the large increases in gun thefts induced by RTC laws generate crime increases in non-RTC states, the panel data estimates of the increase in violent crime will be understated. 

We then use the synthetic control approach of Alberto Abadie and Javier Gardeazabal (2003) to generate state-specific estimates of the impact of RTC laws on crime. Our major finding is that under all four specifications (DAW, BC, LM, and MM), RTC laws are associated with higher aggregate violent crime rates, and the size of the deleterious effects that are associated with the passage of RTC laws climbs over time. Ten years after the adoption of RTC laws, violent crime is estimated to be 13-15 percent higher than it would have been without the RTC law. Unlike the panel data setting, these results are not sensitive to the covariates included as predictors. The magnitude of the estimated increase in violent crime from RTC laws is substantial in that, using a consensus estimate for the elasticity of crime with respect to incarceration of .15, the average RTC state would have to double its prison population to counteract the RTC-induced increase in violent crime.

In other words: more right-to-carry is correlated with more violent crime. Now, keep in mind that correlation does not equal causation, and there are cultural differences between states that can’t be captured even by the most careful model, but this team has also found longitudinal correlations, which bolsters the causal claim. This study is currently being presented as evidence in a lawsuit brought by the NRA against the state of California, which bans assault rifles. The lawsuit, which was filed at the Superior Court in Fresno, claims that the burdens on the path to purchasing an assault rifle infringe upon people’s privacy and Second Amendment rights. California requires background checks for all firearms transactions, including those conducted between private individuals; these transactions do not require background checks according to federal legislation.

California is at the more controlling end of the gun legislation spectrum. In general, states fall into one of two categories: “shall-issue” states, where concealed carry permits are issued to all qualified applicants, and “may-issue” states, where applicants must often present a reason for carrying a firearm to an issuing authority, who then decides based on his or her discretion whether the applicant will receive a permit. The latter category is quite diverse, and includes states, such as Connecticut, which effectively act as shall-issue states, and states such as New Jersey, which effectively act as no-issue states.

As of July 2016, 42 states had “shall issue” laws, including Florida. Eight states had “may issue” regimes: California, Connecticut, Delaware, Hawaii, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York.

Florida became a shall-issue state on October 1, 1987. To carry a gun in Florida, one needs to be 21 years of age or older, have clean criminal/mental health records, and complete a firearms safety/training course. As of June 30, 2016, Florida had issued 3,173,630 permits and had 1,598,213 active licensees, constituting roughly 11% of the state’s population 21 years of age or older. The revocation rate is minuscule: From the outset of the Florida right-to-carry law through June 30, 2016, Florida has revoked 10,909 or 0.3% of all issued permits. The vast majority of revocations were for crimes committed after licensure.

Following the Parkland massacre, the Florida legislature adopted a new gun statute, titled the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School Public Safety Act. The new law authorizes the awarding of grants through the Crime Stoppers Trust Fund for student crime watch programs; establishes the Office of Safe Schools within the Department of Education; provides that each sheriff may establish a Coach Aaron Feis Guardian Program and appoint certain volunteer school employees as school guardians (who can carry firearms); prohibits people who have been adjudicated mentally defective or been committed to a mental institution from owning or possessing a firearm until certain relief is obtained (there is no correlation between mental illness and school shootings😉 prohibits a person younger than a certain age from purchasing a firearm; prohibit specified acts relating to the sale and possession of bump-fire stocks; and creates the  Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School Public Safety Commission within the Department of Law Enforcement. These funds and grants are to be funded to the tune of $400 million in appropriations. 

Essentially, what this boils down to is some restrictions on gun licensure based on mental health and age, and permission for some school employees to carry guns in schools. The latter aspect of the law is the most controversial, as several recent anecdotes show considerable potential for accidents and problems. If anything, *less* guns in school, rather than *more*, would be a better idea. The genesis of this “school guardian” idea lies in the notion that guns in the hands of good guys can protect against bad guys. But this premise is rather questionable, and might apply differently to different victims and different situations. A meta-research conducted in 2004 shows that the availability of guns increases, rather than decreases, the risk of homicide, and this was confirmed in a RAND study from 2018.

On the federal level, no big surprises: after some talk about increasing background checks and raising the age for gun licensure, Trump seems to have caved to the NRA and abandoned gun control initiatives.

I would be remiss in ending this review without inviting you to watch KTVU today at 4pm for the conversation about this, and also expressing my admiration of the Parkland high school students who are actively pursuing change. My heart breaks at the fact that we are failing our children, and at the fact that they are battling a particularly obtuse federal and state governmental cadre with particularly obtuse and uninformed views about gun control.

From “Nothing Works” to “Something Works”

This morning, the Guardian is covering a great vocational program in Southern California called Manifest Works, “an immersive workforce development and job placement organization; we turn real-world experience into learning opportunities for those impacted by foster care, homelessness, and incarceration.” From the Guardian story:

One of the most common entry points into the entertainment industry is as a production assistant, or PA. The PA might get coffee, run electrical cords, or break down the set; the job’s chameleonic nature makes it a behind-the-scenes linchpin. Manifest Works, a not-for-profit based in Los Angeles, ties the hustle of a PA job to its training program for people affected by incarceration, homelessness and foster care. Some participants had been out of prison as little as three months.

Williams spoke softly and deliberately, rocking back and forth in his crisp white sneakers. He applied to the program after an alum recommended him. He was doing security before that. “Not what I wanted to do with my life,” he said. “This is giving me an opportunity to pursue something closer to what I wanted for myself.”

He still wasn’t sure what on-set role he’d like most. “Everybody wants to be the director,” he said, knowingly.

California, as the country’s most populous state, has one of its highest prison populations, and the highest population of people on probation or parole. It is also home to the multibillion-dollar entertainment industry.

A 2017 study in the Economic Journal evaluated the career trajectories of 1.7 million people released from California prisons between 1993 and 2008, and concluded that, while employment curbs recidivism among the released, the quality of opportunities may be more important than the quantity available.

Sixty-three people have completed the Manifest Works program since it began in fall 2014. Many have established steady freelance careers doing production work. No alum has gone back to prison.

What do they mean by “quality of opportunities?” The study referred to in the Guardian story is by Kevin Schnepel, an economist from the University of Sydney and you can find it here. The abstract reads:

I estimate the impact of employment opportunities on recidivism among 1.7 million offenders released from a California prison between 1993 and 2008. The institutional structure of the California criminal justice system as well as location, skill, and industry-specific job accession data provide a unique framework for identifying a causal effect of job availability on criminal behaviour. I find that increases in construction and manufacturing opportunities at the time of release are associated with significant reductions in recidivism. Other types of opportunities, including those characterised by lower wages that are typically accessible to individuals with criminal records, do not influence recidivism.

This kind of careful study is exactly what we need to counter the despair of the “nothing works” legacy. Because of the dramatic cuts to rehabilitation and vocational programs, which I discuss in Cheap on Crime, opportunities in California prisons really vary. San Quentin benefits from its proximity to the Bay Area, which guarantees an influx of volunteers–but are they programs they offer really effective? More importantly, why are opportunities in construction and manufacturing more important in curbing recidivism than opportunities in other fields, such as service?

A few things come to mind: construction and manufacturing are opportunities that structure one’s day in addition to providing an income. It’s easier to stay the course when you have to be somewhere and perform a job that shows tangible improvement (i.e., putting together a kitchen or producing X gadgets.) They are also jobs that, in the right setting, can provide camaraderie, and have fairly strong unions. But who knows if this is true? To understand why some job opportunities are more effective, we’d need to interview formerly incarcerated folks who are employed in these jobs and ask them about their day and their thoughts about this.

In any case, it’s important for prisons to follow up on studies such as Schnepel’s and on the success of programs such as Manifest Works. Resources are limited, and they need to be invested where they’d yield real results.

Ending Lifetime Registration of Sex Offenders–A Courageous and Sensible Idea

Yesterday’s L.A. Times reports:

“SB 384 proposes thoughtful and balanced reforms that allow prosecutors and law enforcement to focus their resources on tracking sex offenders who pose a real risk to public safety, rather than burying officers in paperwork that has little public benefit,” said Ali Bay, a spokeswoman for the governor.

Los Angeles County Dist. Atty. Jackie Lacey sought the change because the current registry has grown to a difficult-to-manage 105,000 people, which reduces its value to law enforcement trying to solve sex crimes by checking those on the list.

Because the registry is public, it also punishes people who have not committed new crimes for decades, including some who engaged in consensual sex, bill supporters argued.

This is an excellent idea. Before you get all riled up, read the actual text:

This bill would, commencing January 1, 2021, instead establish 3 tiers of registration based on specified criteria, for periods of at least 10 years, at least 20 years, and life, respectively, for a conviction of specified sex offenses, and 5 years and 10 years for tiers one and two, respectively, for an adjudication as a ward of the juvenile court for specified sex offenses, as specified. The bill would allow the Department of Justice to place a person in a tier-to-be-determined category for a maximum period of 24 months if his or her appropriate tier designation cannot be immediately ascertained. The bill would, commencing July 1, 2021, establish procedures for termination from the sex offender registry for a registered sex offender who is a tier one or tier two offender and who completes his or her mandated minimum registration period under specified conditions. The bill would require the offender to file a petition at the expiration of his or her minimum registration period and would authorize the district attorney to request a hearing on the petition if the petitioner has not fulfilled the requirement of successful tier completion, as specified. The bill would establish procedures for a person required to register as a tier three offender based solely on his or her risk level to petition the court for termination from the registry after 20 years from release of custody, if certain criteria are met. The bill would also, commencing January 1, 2022, revise the criteria for exclusion from the Internet Web site.

In her book Sex Fiends, Perverts, and Pedophiles, Chrysanthi Leon of the University of Delaware discusses the changes in our approach toward sex offenders. As she lucidly explains, we used to be able to differentiate between different types of sex offenders and find compassion and pragmatism in our approach toward their punishment and rehabilitation. But with the sex panics of the 1980s, we started blurring lines and seeing all sex offenders as just one category, identifying all of them with the perpetrators of the most heinous crimes. This was a big mistake. Sex offenders, as Tamara Lave reminds us, have a remarkably low rate of recidivism, and the effort to warn the public from them would be better spent on narrow categories of sex criminals that actually recidivate. This bill is a step forward toward more careful classification.

But there’s something else here that is important.

The impetus for the new bill is that the sex offender list has grown so long that it has become difficult to manage. Local authorities spend a lot of time processing paperwork, and time means money. Again, as I discuss in Cheap on Crime, the practicalities of punishment become so cumbersome that we’re taking a step in the right direction. Indeed, any deterrent effect the list has becomes diluted once everyone is on the list for everything, as J.J. Prescott and Jonah Rockoff remind us here.

In sight of the federal disaster that is the Trump/Sessions gratuitous, senseless cruelty enforcement mechanism, it’s nice to see California once again making a reasonable decision.

CJCJ Study: Drug Arrests Plummet, Racial Disparities Persist

drug arrests stats chart

I got a lot of commentary, in person and on Facebook, after my post about Ban the Box backfiring. Folks were expressing serious frustration with how an idea that seemed so good–pushing people away from racial discrimination by proxy–turns out to do something spectacularly bad in the world–pushing people toward direct racial discrimination. Today’s post is along the same vein, but somewhat less depressing.

A new CJCJ study by Mike Males and William Armaline finds a spectacular decline in arrest rates for drug offenses in San Francisco. But when they broke the arrests down by race, this is the pattern that emerged:

Now, several things are notable. First, the decline is significant – even for African Americans. Which is arguably a very good thing for everyone. Second, while the racial disparity is still enormous–felony drug arrests for African Americans were ten times higher than those of people of other races–it is a significant decline from previous levels of disparity (the peak year for discrimination was 2008, when African Americans were 19.2 times more likely to be arrested for a felony drug offense than people of other races.) Finally, disparities typically shrink, rather than disappear overnight, so this could be a move in the right direction.

But this raises the question of how we measure progress. Are things better when there are overall arrests, even when large disparities (which are uncorrelated with other measures of involvement in these offenses) persist? What is the goal of relaxing drug policies?

Recently, the standard war-on-drugs-responsible-for-mass-incarceration story has been criticized, and it does seem to be a bad explanation for the overall picture. But the basic argument that drug arrests tend to target the African American population is not new. Amanda Geller and Jeffery Fagan have an excellent paper about marijuana arrests in NYC that tells a similar story. We really have to do better.

Reform and Unintended Consequences: The Case of Ban the Box

In early February, Malcolm Feeley won the President’s Award from Western Society of Criminology. It was a real treat to be able to recognize and reward, if only modestly, all he has been and done for me over the years with a mentorship award, and even more of a treat to hear him give a breakfast keynote titled The Failures of the Adversarial Process. In his talk, Malcolm revisited some of his arguments from Court Reform on Trial, and made the sobering observation that, where criminal justice reform is concerned, failure is the norm; it is the occasional success that should surprise us. Malcolm ascribes this to the structural/organizational context in which the reforms happen, and to the underpinnings of racism and hypercapitalism; according to him, the criminal process is in a constant state of market failure, and it’s only outside innovators that have to bail us out once in a while (seems like this is what this new PAC is trying to do.)

I was thinking about Malcolm’s wise words today, when I was invited to an event to support Ban the Box. As my regular readers probably recall, I’d been fighting for Ban the Box for a long time, until finding out in 2015, to my dismay, that it has had disastrous unintended consequences.

I was speaking at a conference in Sacramento when I ran into the good folks from the Urban Institute, whom no one would suspect of being cryptofascist double agents, and talked to them about this. When they mentioned the findings of this study I was beside myself with disillusionment and shock. Essentially, what they found is that, when criminal record information is unavailable to progressive employers, they tend to discriminate against young men of color–possibly because they see race as a proxy for criminal history (which, in itself, is sometimes used as a proxy for race. Sick, sad world.) In their words:

Research on ban the box has shown that it increases callback rates for people with criminal records (Agan and Starr 2016). Agan and Starr (2016) find that ban-the-box policies “effectively eliminate” the effect of having a criminal record on receiving a callback. Case studies from specific cities support these results, showing that hiring rates for people with criminal records increased after ban the box was implemented (Atkinson and Lockwood 2014; Berracasa et al. 2016). Additionally, ban the box as a social movement has drawn attention to the plight of people with criminal records and has increased awareness of the challenges they face beyond employment.

But recent research has concluded that ban the box also reduces the likelihood that employers call back or hire young black and Latino men (Agan and Starr 2016; Doleac and Hansen 2016). These findings suggest that when information about a person’s criminal history is not present, employers may make hiring decisions based on their perception of the likelihood that the applicant has a criminal history. Racism, harmful stereotypes, and disparities in contact with the justice system may heavily skew perceptions against young men of color.

Several other studies have found similar outcomes. So, I’m no longer on the Ban the Box bandwagon. But what should we do instead? The Urban Institute team runs us through some options and their pros and cons:

My grim conclusion, inspired by Malcolm’s talk, is that as long as we have the nexus race-crime so embedded in the conversation (read Khalil Gibran Muhammad’s book to figure out where this came from) nothing we try to devise to avoid discrimination will get rid of it entirely.

The Courage to Reach Out: Why Addressing Violent Criminals Is Better for All of Us

The classic approach toward violent crime that scares us has been to ratchet up sentencing. But draconian sentences do not function well as deterrents of crime. General deterrence is a function of three factors: the severity of the sentence, the certainty of getting caught, and the speed at which justice is administered. The Achilles’ heel of this trifecta is the certainty factor. It is often very difficult to get witnesses to come forward and testify against perpetrators of violent crime, and this is partly why a third of U.S. homicides remain unsolved. Often, the police and prosecution has some notion of the perpetrator’s identity, but not enough evidence to bring charges against him or her. Even the most aggressive prosecution or the most severe sentences won’t result in getting the person off the street, and certainly not of making us safer (though they will, and do, result in clogging our prisons.) And of course, the goal is not (or should not be) putting people behind bars for incarceration’s sake. We all benefit so much more if we prevent homicides from happening in the first place.

Which is why the City of Sacramento is ready to try something new. Following the example of the City of Richmond, Sacramento is investing in a new initiative, known as Advance Peace.

Advance Peace focuses specifically on gun violence, and on the evidence-backed premise that, typically, a small number of perpetrators are responsible for a considerable percentage of the gun violence in a city. This is true for both Richmond and Sacramento: in the latter, the police estimate that there are fifty easily identified people who commit most gun crimes in the city–even though there isn’t necessarily evidence against them that would stick in court. The program consists of personalized, early intervention with these particular individuals, providing them with mentoring and opportunity, and diverting them away from gun violence. In the program’s words:

Advance Peace interrupts gun violence in American urban neighborhoods by providing transformational opportunities to young men involved in lethal firearm offenses and placing them in a high-touch, personalized fellowship.

By working with and supporting a targeted group of individuals at the core of gun hostilities, Advance Peace bridges the gap between anti-violence programming and a hard-to-reach population at the center of violence in urban areas, thus breaking the cycle of gun hostilities and altering the trajectory of these men’s lives.

Advance Peace works with both public and community-based stakeholders to establish responsive community-driven strategies that achieve high-impact outcomes for those caught in the cycle of urban gun violence.

The Richmond program, which has been in place since 2010, has been a success. Between 2010 and 2016, homicides in Richmond fell 60% (77% according to NPR, but there’s been a little uptick in 2017). This is more than twice–and almost thrice–the decline that other cities have seen. In addition, out of the 84 fellows who started the program in 2010, 94% are alive, 83% have had no gun injuries or hospitalization, and 77% have not been suspected of any gun activity. This is remarkable given the program’s focus specifically on people who were active participants in the gun violence scene in the city.

Sacramento is hoping to see the same benefits, but the program is not without its detractors. As usual, the objection is not scientific but moral/political: the program involves stipends to the perpetrators, and “rewarding bad boys” is a controversial move when the money could be used to reward “good boys.”

Municipalities always operate in an environment of limited resources. Giving money to suspected gun criminals takes it away from education, infrastructure, and health care, which feels understandably unfair. But when allocating money, “what’s fair” should not be the only, or perhaps even the dominant consideration. Where would the money spent on this program make us safer?

To answer this, we need to widen our perspective to understand a debate raging in the last few years about the causes of incarceration. The story we have told ourselves for decades–I’m guilty of this as well–places the blame for mass incarceration on the racialized war on drugs. According to this story, popularized by Michelle Alexander to the point that it’s difficult to argue with laypeople about it, Nixon and Reagan targeted people of color, incarcerating them for nonviolent offenses for unconscionably long periods of time, leading to the explosion of prison population and especially to its racial distribution.

But recently, John Pfaff has drawn our attention to the fact that the bulk of incarcerated people in America are doing time for violent crime. Adam Gopnik summarizes Pfaff’s argument as follows:

During the great wave of incarceration—generally thought to have begun around 1980, and cresting about three decades later—state prisons added something like a million inmates, with about “half that growth coming from locking up more people convicted of violence,” Pfaff calculates. Nonviolent drug offenses accounted for only around a fifth of the new incarcerations.

What’s more, many of the drug convictions were meant to be what Pfaff calls “pretextual attacks on violence.” Violent crimes that are associated with drug dealing are more difficult to prosecute than drug offenses themselves, which usually involve hard evidence rather than the testimony of witnesses. This argument sets off some suspicious-skeptical alarms, since it seems cousin to the idea that we might as well lock ’em up for drugs as for anything else, since, if we didn’t, “they” would be committing violent offenses anyway. “It is, of course, completely fair to debate the morality . . . of using drug charges to tackle underlying violence,” Pfaff observes, to his credit. He accepts that “blacks are systematically denied access to the more successful paths to economic stability,” and therefore “face systematically greater pressure to turn to other alternatives.” But he also makes a more complicated argument, following recent sociological research: it’s not that the prohibition of drugs attracts crime, which then produces violence; it’s that violence thrives among young men deprived of a faith in their own upward mobility, making drug dealing an attractive business. In plain English, young men without a way out of poverty turn to gangs, and gangs always turn to violence. Since efficient drug dealing is, by its illicit nature, likely to involve violence, those accustomed to violence are drawn to drug dealing. One sees the logic: Lucky Luciano and Al Capone weren’t ambitious street kids who chose bootlegging as a business, and were then compelled to become gangsters to pursue it, as in “Boardwalk Empire.” They were already cadet gangsters, who saw that their acquired skills lined up neatly with those demanded by bootlegging.

Pfaff’s conclusion from the data is that the responsibility for mass incarceration lies primarily with county prosecutors. The answer should, according to him, be a more parsimonious prosecutorial policy, avoiding overcharging even in violent offenses, which are, after all, not made of the same cloth. But what if instead of modifying prosecutorial policies after bad things happen we were to try and remedy the problem of lack of alternatives before the violence occurs?

This is exactly the rationale of programs like Advance Peace. By providing people who are at the very heart of violent behavior an opportunity to exit the violent world, we could provide more safety to more people, and at the same time target incarceration where it really matters.

To go down this path, we have to be courageous enough to understand that, ultimately, the city of Sacramento stands to benefit so much more from a reduction of violence–both in terms of preventing the violent incidents in the first place and in terms of reducing the costs of clogging the system with efforts to prosecute the targeted folks–than it would from the business-as-usual lock-’em-up policy. People who commit violent offenses are often caught for low-level drug offenses, and they will eventually leave prison more violent and less conducive to interventions than when they came in, and even if they are caught for homicide and placed in prison, we will all have to keep up the tab. If people do not commit crime to begin with, we all win. This may not be “fair”–to the extent that offering people opportunities that they’ve been deprived of their whole lives, pushing them to violence, is “unfair”–but it turns out to work better than the alternative.

I’m excited and happy to partner with the City of Sacramento to offer an expanded, data-rich version of this argument as a keynote speaker in their upcoming violence reduction summit. I hope to see many of you there.

“I Am Speaking to You Through the Record”: Charles Manson’s Last Parole Hearings

To whet your appetite, this is an excerpt from my book in progress, Yesterday’s Monsters, under contract with the University of California Press.

On November 19, 2017, Charles Manson died in prison. His death sparked renewed interest in the killings, as well as in the peculiar legal circumstances that led to the commutation of his sentence, from the death penalty to life with parole. Little attention, however, was paid to the implication of his commuted sentence: since 1978, Manson attended 11 parole hearings, and was denied parole in each and every one of them.
My book in progress, Yesterday’s Monsters (under contract with UC Press) analyzes close to 50 years’ worth of parole hearing transcripts for Manson and his disciples. To-date, only one of them, Steve Grogan, was released. The remaining members of the Manson “family” have been repeatedly denied parole. Most remarkably, Susan Atkins, who was already seriously and terminally ill at her last hearing to the point of being nonresponsive, was not released on account of posting a risk to the community.
Yesterday’s Monsters analyzes the parole hearing and shows it to be an intricately choreographed spectacle, with a given structure, specific terms and buzzwords, and expectations as to the inmate’s performance. Time after time, most defendants in the case show up for the hearings and are denied parole. The one exception was Manson himself, who to his death played his own game with the parole board, speaking off the record, providing strange statements, and refusing to go along with the plan.
It would be easy to dismiss Manson’s behavior as a symptom of mental illness. While possible, this is only one facet of his behavior. It is especially revealing to see how the parole board attempted to deal with his last three parole hearings, to which Manson did not show up, and in which he did not cooperate with his representing attorneys.

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1997 was the last year in which Manson attended his parole hearings. His 2002 hearing was held in the presence of his state-appointed attorney, Patrick Sparks. The Commissioner addressed Sparks as follows:
Mr. Patrick Sparks has been appointed by the State to represent Mr. Manson. Mr. Manson refused to meet with Mr. Sparks. Therefore, Mr. Sparks is at a substantial disadvantage and has indicated that he would like to be removed or dismissed from this case. Mr. Sparks, would you like to?
ATTORNEY SPARKS: That’s an accurate statement, and I’ll confirm that. That, in fact, Mr. Manson did not interview and I don’t believe that my participation at this hearing would facilitate his parole at this time.[1]
As a consequence, the Board officially removed Mr. Sparks from the case and declared a recess,[2]after which the Commissioner made a statement about the way in which the committee would have respected Manson’s rights—had he been present:
Were Mr. Manson to appear today, he would not have been required to discuss the commitment offense with the Panel. He would not have been required to speak to the Panel. Nor would he be required to actually discuss any aspects at all with the Panel. Again, he has chosen not to appear at all. And had he — Because he’s refused to attend, and had he decided not to speak to us, we would not and will not hold that against him.[3]
The panel then proceeded to read the verbatim description of Manson’s crime, as they had done at the hearings at which he was prensent. They then quoted Manson as refusing to express remorse at his 1997 appearance, which was in 1997—in contrast to his verbatim statement, in which he actually challenged the court’s findings by claiming he had not given an order to kill the victims.[4]
The board tried to make sense of Manson’s file in his absence, without much success:
In a previous report, Mr. Manson stated that in terms of parole plans, he had none. He’s had a variety of responses to that question or that issue. At one point in 1992, he stated he wasn’t interested in paroling. He would be lost in our society, and his main concern was to be released to a general population setting in order to program. There are a number of letters in the file. There are a total of 80 signatures on a petition. The signatures all appear to come from people in England. There are 15 different form letters or individual letters in the file, all of these supporting release for Mr. Manson. And the letters are signed by people who seem to be scattered all over the United States, the 15 letters.[5]
By counterbalance, the police department had provided a letter as well, which cited the original crime and the “risk to the community” posed by Manson, but did not elucidate whether said risk was current, or stemmed from anything beyond the crimes themselves:
[The Commander Officer of the Robbery/Homicide division] writes that Mr. Manson was an active participant in the mutilation and murders of several persons in the Los Angeles area. Crimes committed by Mr. Manson were of such brutality and complete lack of humanity that it is clear Mr. Manson has no concern for human life. It is the opinion of the Los Angeles Police Department that the release of Mr. Manson will create considerable risk to the community and that his release is unequivocally contrary to the interests of society.
Commissioner Mackenberg recited Manson’s unhappy and unproductive prison experience and his disciplinary violations, concluding that—
[B]y and large he has not had a very happy time of it in the last five years. If it sounds like a woeful tale, it’s not because I’m trying to simply disrespect Mr. Manson, it appears that he has serious mental health issues. That they’re causing him some very real problems.[6]
Mackenberg’s summary is as much a failure of the California prison system as it is Manson’s:
The long and short of it is, is that it’s difficult to say a whole lot about the last five years other than that he seems to go back and forth between the Protective Housing Unit, Administrative Segregation, Security Housing, back to Protective Housing Unit. So that’s kind of like a sad circle of rounds in this institution. He doesn’t seem to benefit a whole lot from treatment inasmuch as he resists it so that he often refuses apparently to see the psychologist and doesn’t want to see psychiatrists and that it’s difficult to get him to do the things that they think he should do in order to forward his programs to be able to come to the Board at some point and say really, I ought to be able to go home.
Kay, the original prosecutor, again discusses Manson’s manipulations. He also provides, again, an inaccurate characterization of Manson’s legal position:
He has never understood why he was convicted for these murders because he always thought that if he got other people to commit the murders, then they could be convicted of the murders. But if he didn’t physically do it, then he couldn’t be convicted.[7]
As mentioned before, Manson claim was not that he could not be convicted without physical participation in the crime. His factual contention was that he had not ordered the others to kill the victims. But Kay hits the nail on the head with the following observation:
He knows that he’s never going to get paroled, and he’s just not going to go along with the program.[8]
Last to speak before Manson’s expected denial of parole was Debra Tate, who evinced enough familiarity with the parole board to say:
I’m a little disappointed that Mr. Manson chose not to show up today. However, in order not to waste any time, I also believe that Mr. Manson, for obvious reasons, should be denied parole for five years. I implore you to please give him the five years so that I don’t have to come and see you folks again so soon, although I love you dearly. He is totally unsuitable for release into society in my opinion, and I implore you to please keep him in so that society can have peace for at least five more 13 years.[9]
At his subsequent parole hearing in 2007, not only did Manson not show up, but he was unrepresented before the committee, and the Comissioner stated to the record the board’s intention to “do everything we can to ensure that his rights have not been violated.” She then stated Manson’s rights for the record, but this time, she did it more theatrically, as if narrating a hypothetical play in which Manson had showed up for his hearing, which makes his absence even more glaring:
[A]t this point I would have asked him did he review his Central File, did he get a timely notice of the hearing. It appeared that he did. He declined and refused to sign whether or not he was going to review his C-File, and that was done on January the 23rd 15 , 2007. And also there were no relevant documents that he had to produce. We would always ask that at this time as well. I would also ask him if he had – let him know that he had an additional right to be heard by an impartial Panel, and again, since he’s not here, I would assume he does not object to the Panel. I would also — the nextitem that I would ask him is — and let him know that he would not be required to either discuss his offense if he desires not to do so and we cannot hold that against him, but however, we do accept the finding of the court to be true.[10]
The absurdity of this play in absentia—not only of Manson, but of a representing attorney as well—is an illustration of Kay’s insight from the 2002 hearing: The board had come prepared to play under certain rules and Manson, by virtue of his absence, forced them into a role they did not intend. To compound matters, his lack of willingness to cooperate with his psychiatrist led to a diagnosis based on partial information—antisocial personality disorder and psychopathy.[11]
The panel then mentioned a support letter:
                       
We do have a support letter and it’s dated – it was received in the institution on January 24th 26 , 2007, but it’s undated and it’s from a Carol Gallego. . .  She indicated she was only 13 years old when the inmate came to prison and she’s never met the man, but all she’s ever heard about and learned from is by books and news media, and then she wrote some things that she said that bothers her about the – his incarceration, and she indicated that she thinks it’s time to set this innocent man free. “Please consider initiating a further investigation” and I won’t go into all of the details of what was said about and the five items that she brought up in this support letter for the inmate.[12]
The prosecutor, Sequeira, provided a standard narrative closely following the demonic Bugliosi story, very similarly to Kay before him. Notably, and by contrast to the police and the prosecution. Debra Tate actually provided an argument for current risk posed by the inmate:
I would like it to go on the record that I disagree with some of the things read in the Central File. I believe that Mr. Manson has one very prolific talent and that talent is to pick sociopaths. That is the same reason in which he should never be granted any kind of a release. There are still people that are influenced by him. They grow in numbers every day via the Internet, and in regards to that, anyone of these people being released poses a great public safety issue.[13]
The board’s frustration with having had to play Manson’s game was evident in their decision as well:
We’d like to also go on record to state that we feel that Mr. Manson should be attending these hearings, these suitability hearings, in order for the Panel to be able to discuss and clarify any discrepancies that may be in his record, that he constantly said that this or that is not here, and we could also question him on some of the various conflicting versions that he’s given as relationship to the crimes.[14]
Manson’s last parole hearing, which he also did not attend, was held in 2012. However, this time Manson was represented by a new attorney, Dejon Lewis, who by contrast to Sparks tried to provide representation for the client who did not cooperate with him[15], by making both legal and factual points. Notably, Commissioner Peck, perhaps frustrated with Manson’s absence, chose to address him in the second person throughout the hearing, as if to force engagement on him:
And Mr. Manson, I’m speaking to you through the record now. We have reviewed your Central File. We’ve reviewed your prior transcripts, and nothing that happens here today is going to change the court findings. We’re not here to retry your case. We’re going to accept as true the findings of the court. We’re here for the sole purpose of determining your suitability for parole.[16]
As the hearing began, Lewis presented a legal objection to the timing of the parole hearings. As mentioned above, Marsy’s Law, an ostensibly pro-victim legislative initiative, increased the time between parole hearings to an initial 15 years, and it was applied to cases of people serving current prison terms, even if they had originally been incarcerated long before its enactment. Lewis made the argument that the law should not apply retroactively, and Peck summarily dismissed his argument.[17]
Peck proceeded to quote Manson’s interview with the prison psychiatrist:
“I am special. I am not like the average inmate. I have put five people in the grave. I have been in prison most of my life. I am a very dangerous man.” Further in the psychological assessment, he stated, “I don’t care about the Board’s opinion. I don’t care about your opinion.”[18]
As Peck reviewed the psyhicatrist’s diagnosis, he read this observation:
Clinically, while limited, this indicates some degree of improved insight into his violent and anti-social behavior considering his previous pattern of denial of wrongdoing.[19]
Once more, a solitary support letter was presented on Manson’s behalf, which Peck leaned toward dismissing as vague:
There is a letter by an individual named John E. Ashcraft that says he’s Mr. Manson’s best friend and there’s — I really don’t know if this is even a legitimate letter or not a legitimate letter. But it basically says that he says that Mr. Manson told him that he, that once he did not want to get out on parole, but now he wants to. And if he can, then he wants to live — then Mr. Ashcraft is offering residence in Fullerton. But so that, frankly, is the only support letter that I have, unless you have, do you have any other support letters?[20]
But Lewis refused to go along with this dismissal and actually argued to the point:
I will say, though, Mr. Manson is 77 years old. He doesn’t need to have a job at this time. He can draw Social Security at this point if he was to get a parole date, and him living with Mr. Ashcraft would cover those parole plans, I think. I’m not going to say they’re viable, because we haven’t or the Board hasn’t backed that letter up by, you know, investigating Mr. Ashcraft and what not, but it seems to me if he is genuine in offering him a place to live that that would be an adequate parole plan for a gentleman who is 77 years old.[21]
As in previous hearings, the police department sent a letter opposing the release, and the prosecutor, Sequeira, expressed similar sentiments, echoing, as before, Bugliosi’s demonic narrative. Quoting Manson’s words to his psychiatrist, Sequeira essentially asked the board to give Manson what he asked for:
In his own words, Manson is telling this Board and essentially the public as well, that he is dangerous and he is completely  unsuitable for parole.[22]
It is here that Lewis embarks on the thankless job of doing the most with what he has, which was nearly nothing. He recounted Manson’s absolute lack of collaboration with prison authorities and failure to achieve any educational or vocational milestones.
My client has not accomplished any of these milestones. Why is the question? Why? Yesterday, while watching CNN, I listened to Mark Geragos, Henry Byers and Alan Dershowitz just destroy the two former attorneys for George Zimmerman in the Trayvon Martin case for commenting on Mr. Zimmerman’s mental state. They were of the opinion that this was unprofessional behavior for attorneys to do so. Well, my client has been tried and convicted and has served over 30 years in prison, and I think that’s the difference between the two cases from what I’m about to say. Mr. Manson has not even remotely accomplished any minimal milestones that the Board would like to see an inmate who they are considering parole to do. I cannot purport to you that Mr. Manson has a mental disorder causing his utter failure in the rehabilitation process. I’m not a mental health professional, and I have never met him, and several psychologists say that he has no Axis I severe mental disorder. But one thing is clear to me is that corrections or rehabilitation has not taken place here for Mr. Manson. It is my belief that Mr. Manson could benefit from hospitalization, given his age and his need for more geriatric care as he increases in age. He would also receive excellent psycho-social support in that type of environment. Mr. Manson needs hospitalization, not further incarceration in a state prison of this type.[23]
This was a remarkably generous and therapeutic observation on Lewis’ part, but it received little attention or sympathy from the board.  Peck read the decision to deny parole, again by addressing Manson in the second person through the record. He mentioned that “you chose not to be with us today”, and continued:
We have not yet, in any of our documents, seen any indication of remorse. We have no indication that you have any kind of insight into the causative factors of the life crime. You have absolutely no parole plans. You had a significant drug problem while you were in society, and this drug problem is still unresolved. You’ve been involved in absolutely no rehabilitative programs or self-help to address your substance abuse history. I think the statement that you made to the psychologist or the psychiatrist in the Comprehensive Risk Assessment told us a lot of what we needed to know, and I want to make sure I get this right so I’m just going to read what it, what you told Dr. Reed, and you said, “I am special. I am not like the average inmate. I have put five people in the grave. I’ve been in prison most of my life. I am a very dangerous man.” And this Panel agrees with that statement.[24]
What can we learn from these last three hearings? They reveal some of the embarrassment and absurdity of an institutional engagement with someone who flat-out rejects the rules of engagement. We see different approaches: a withdrawal of one of the attorneys versus a noble effort on the part of another attorney to make legal and factual arguments on behalf of his noncooperative client. We see pro-forma, shortened discussions, versus theatrical efforts to involve, as it were, the absent inmate in his own parole proceeding. For the most part, these hearings stand in stark contrast to the vast majority of inmates—not only the remaining inmates in this case—who make a valiant effort to play the game. It would be easy (and perhaps correct) to conclude that the board made the right call, that Manson was unsuitable for parole, and that the system “won.” But in denying him parole, the board merely came to the predetermined conclusion that Manson set up for it—remaining in control of others till the end of his life.



[1] Manson 2002, 1.
[2] Manson 2002, 2.
[3] Manson 2002, 7.
[4] Manson 2002, 14-15.
[5] Manson 2002, 19.
[6] Manson 2002, 20.
[7] Manson 2002, 30.
[8] Manson 2002, 30.
[9] Manson 2002, 36.
[10] Manson 2007, 6.
[11] Manson 2007, 17-18.
[12] Manson 2007, 20-21.
[13] Manson 2007, 29.
[14] Manson 2007, 34-35.
[15] Lewis explains that Manson had refused to come out of the cell and discuss the case with him at his visit, 30 days prior to the hearing. Manson 2012, 8-9.
[16] Manson 2012, 7.
[17] Manson 2012, 11.
[18] Manson 2012, 17.
[19] Manson 2012, 18,
[20] Manson 2012, 21.
[21] Manson 2012, 21-22.
[22] Manson 2012, 34.
[23] Manson 2012, 35-36.
[24] Manson 2012, 42.

Are CA Prisons Really Less Crowded?

Hello, Dear Readers,

It’s been a while since I updated this blog, and it’s time for an update as well as a substantive post. I am hard at work trying to finish the manuscript of Yesterday’s Monsters, my new book, which examines the parole hearings of the Manson Family–and am doing so as the new mom of a (delightful) infant, so my days are packed! In addition, I became interested in a variety of topics beyond California corrections, as this administration provides us daily reminders of how bad things can be if we don’t actively stand guard on our civil rights. Local readers probably know I’ve been appearing on TV and on the radio several times a week discussing immigration reform, the Mueller investigation, various excesses and civil rights abuses, and the possibilities and implications of an impeachment campaign. I also find that my opinions on various issues, ranging from the #metoo cultural moment to state support for parenting, exceed the boundaries of our topic, and am therefore hesitant to share them here. Would love to hear thoughts in the comments.

In the meantime, I received a fascinating email from our reader Nick Jones, who has taken an interest in population counts in CA prisons. As our readers recall, under the Plata decision, CDCR was under obligation to reduce the population in CA prisons to 137.5% capacity, and complied with the order. But things are, apparently, not what they seem.

CDCR publishes its monthly population report here, but the format they use does not allow for any sort of manipulation or statistical testing. Nick very graciously, out of his curiosity and the goodness of his heart, created an online tool to parse out the data, and we now have a .csv file containing the population since 1996, broken down by prison. Nick is offering the file freely to me and you under a digital commons license and you can find it here. Thank you, Nick!

Analyzing the data brought Nick to a disturbing conclusion. Yes, technically the system as a whole is not overcrowded beyond the Plata requirement. But the general number in all prisons combined hardly matters when the very reason for the Plata decision was that it is impossible to provide minimal medical treatment when there’s overcrowding at the individual prison level. And indeed, no less than 15 of California’s 33 correctional institutions are beyond the Plata crowding mandate:

It is interesting to note that among the least crowded prisons (hovering around 100% capacity) are both Pelican Bay and Corcoran, which might be attributed to the Ashker settlement. But does that mean that people who were previously held in the SHU are now held in general population in other institutions? Yes, holding people in solitary is inhumane, but how is holding them in overcrowded facilities a solution?

Alternatively, it might be the case that the 15 overcrowded institutions feature new entries. In which case, why are we so bad at judging where to send people based on capacity? Is there anything distinctive about the geography of the overcrowded prisons? Their security classification? I think this calls for deeper thinking, and will continue to work with the data and reflect on what this means.

If any prisoner rights litigators are reading this post, it seems to me that this result is NOT what the Supreme Court intended when it set the 137.5% upper limit in Plata. If anyone wants to talk about more research on this, and possibly legal recourse on behalf of the folks who are doing time in the top 15, please reach out to me via email.

Heat Wave in Corcoran: Holding Hostages, Talking Consumers

A couple of weeks ago, a friend sent me an email about a serious heat wave in Corcoran prison. According to inmates’ family members, the temperatures in the cells were unbearable, and many people needed urgent medical attention. Some of us participated in a “phone zap” to the warden’s office, and the mother of one of the inmates received a communication from her son, saying, “I don’t know what you did, but they finally came to check the temperature in my cell.”

This incident is a grim reminder of the unfortunate location of prisons in California in the central valley, which makes them vulnerable to ecological calamity. In the last few years, California towns have been ravaged by fires and floods, and we all rushed to help. But ordinary people, even when threatened by environmental disasters, have a choice: they can pick up a few personal belongings and leave. They can call and demand help. They can sometimes stay with friends. People who are locked up and at the mercy of the state cannot: they are at the mercy of the state. Moreover, inmates and their families are in a bind, as this thread on PrisonTalk shows. People are concerned to speak up, even when their loved ones drip sweat on the letters they send out and can’t concentrate and get hospitalized, because they fear retaliation.

In Cheap on Crime I talk about the shift from perceiving inmates as wards of the state to regarding them as economic burdens or consumers of services. The problem with the “consumer” language is that consumption is normally assumed to be voluntary. When someone pays for a room at a hotel, they do so by choice. When we demand that people pay for sleeping in a jail cell, a choice they did not make, they are not consumers. They are economic hostages.

The state has essentially put its inmates in an impossible situation: On one hand, nothing about their conditions of life is voluntary. On the other hand, all this talk of paying for “services rendered” creates a false equation between their situation and that of and people on the outside. Which means that, when something like the heat wave in Corcoran happens, the quintessential consumer weapon–boycott and complaint–doesn’t work nearly as well as it works on the outside. Put fans in the room, or else? or else, what? The families have no negotiation leverage. We made the phone calls because the situation was untenable, and we knew we were running a risk.

This is why inmate families cannot, and should not, carry all the burden in these situations: people from the outside who have clout and influence must get involved. This is hard, because despite everything that has happened in the last few years, prisons are still like the “other city” in China Mieville’s The City and the City: it’s all around us, and yet we don’t know it’s there. The only coverage I found of the horrible heat wave and its implications was on prison family chatrooms–no one in the mainstream media picked it up. I’ve been working on prison issues in California for more than ten years, and even I would not have known about it had a friend not forwarded me the email from the families. What is it going to take for us to say–as a united front, and regardless of political opinion or criminal justice worldview–that, no matter what bad thing someone might have done twenty-five years ago, we cannot keep a human being in a cage in a 114-degree-heat without providing some form of air conditioning or ventilation? What on earth would be “soft on crime” about saying that?

Getting the prison to care about the heat wave was an important first step. But we absolutely must do better.