The following was written by an inmate in the Monroe, WA Correctional facility. This work is the property of the author[s]/creator[s]. Subject to the right of "Fair Use" as recognized by law, no person may print, reprint, publish, copy, perform, deliver, transmit or sell any work posted within the Voices from Prison. 6and44.blogspot.com assumes no responsibility for the unlawful or unauthorized use of any work posted.
My name is ;
If that person has a life sentence, you can bet that at some point he or she will become a level one health care patient because we have been given a sentence that insists we die here in prison. It only stands to reason that the 20 and 30 something's of today are going to e the 50 and 60 year olds of tomorrow with their own ballooning health care cost stuck in the system that is bogged down by the overwhelming cost of incarceration specifically related to our health care system.
The first requirement states that any medical treatment must be essential to life or preservation of a limb, or reduces what is called intractable pain, or prevents significant deterioration of activities of daily living (ADL) There are several other requirements, but for the time constraints we are bound by here today, please allow me to move forward. To be deemed a level one health care patient, one of the requirements states that the cost of any treatment determined by the health care providers and the care Review Committee must exceed $25.000.00. Let me assure you that my health care from this day forward will only increase and eventually balloon into 100's of thousands of dollars over the remaining days of my life.
There are many men and women currently incarcerated in DOC that are even worse off than me and they are housed on the fourth floor here at Monroe or other medical facilities throughout Washington. Many of these men have served a significant amount of their sentences and are in poor health leaving no questions that their life of crime and their perceived threat to the community in which they came from are virtually non-existent.
When we talk about the budget and how DOC has to find ways to make even more cuts, you would think that this is one of the areas DOC would certainly take a look at. Yet they do not, and in fact it has been made even more difficult for offenders with health care problems to ask for clemency and this is especially true with lifers who can no longer ask for medical clemency by law.
I believe it cost somewhere around $45,000.00 a year to house an offender today. If we are talking bottom line dollars here then it is way past time to look at another functional Parole system that will allow for the sick and elderly to go home. If DOC is not geared for rehabilitation, then let us remind them what compassion is as it relates to the taxpayer's pocket books.
I do not believe the law makers accounted for this when the three-strike bill was passed and as I understand it today, it is something they are not looking forward to dealing with in the future. But they must. There are many incarcerated persons with a level one health care issue that would have been let go under the old guidelines Parole Board system. If we are talking bottom line dollars here then it is way past time to look at another functional parole system that will allow the sick and elderly to go home. If DOC is not geared for rehabilitation, then let us remind them what compassion is as it relates to the taxpayers pocket book.
Showing posts with label Voices from Prison. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Voices from Prison. Show all posts
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Thoughts on the Parole Board
The following was written by an inmate in the Monroe, WA Correctional facility. This work is the property of the author[s]/creator[s]. Subject to the right of "Fair Use" as recognized by law, no person may print, reprint, publish, copy, perform, deliver, transmit or sell any work posted within the Voices from Prison. 6and44.blogspot.com assumes no responsibility for the unlawful or unauthorized use of any work posted.
My name is , and I would like to ask you now to forgive me. I have always been told that one should never curse in public or when making a presentation. Right now I need to let you know that there is no way I can make this presentation without cursing. So I will get the cursing out of the way now and then make my presentation. My cursing is "PAROLE BOARD".
Now that I have said that, I will continue. Until 1985 when a person was convicted of a crime, the judge in the case would sentence the person to the maximum amount of time the crime called for. The judge and prosecutor would send a recommendation to the Parole Board along with any mandatory that the crime carried.
At the time of sentencing, each person would receive 1/3 of his or her time off. This time belonged to the person and it was not taken away unless that person committed some offense in prison that the department felt deserved loss of good time, and even with this, the institution could only recommend that the person lose good time. That Parole Board had the last option on what to do with the recommendation.
When you saw the Parole Board, before going to your parent institution, they would set your time. which could be any amount of time they felt was correct or deserved for your crime. The time would include any mandatory time that was imposed. The time that was set at this initial meeting would/could have 1/3 removed for good behavior. An example would be if you were given 6 years on a 15-year sentence, you would be able to get 2 years off the 6 years if you kept your nose clean.
You would be asked when you wanted to see the Parole Board again. You could meet with them every year or any increment up to the year before your release. Each appearance would include an update on what you have or have not done since your last appearance. When you did appear before the Parole Board you had the option of just talking about what you had done since the last time you saw them, or you could present information stating why you felt you had earned consideration for a time cut. (The Parole Board at any time could look at your accomplishments and if they felt you had made some improvements, they could give you a time cut. A time cut could be taking the 6 years they had given you, and reduce the time to be served from 4 years to a lower number of years and a sooner release).
One of the good points about this system was the fact that the members could release a person when they felt the person had reached a point where a release would best serve the person and society. This would be opposed to keeping them locked up and have the person start to go down hill because they felt no one was looking at what they were doing and only at the crime. Often this was/could be considered placing punishment on top of punishment.
One of the negative outcomes of the change from the Parole Board to the SRA is that everyone who was under the Parole Board was given more time under the ISRB. The court ordered that old Parole Board offenders he placed under the SRA and given release dates consistent with the SRA. This is not what happened; they were given 'PAROLE ELIGIBILITY REVIEW DATES'. Since there is no such thing in the state of Washington as a parole. how can you give me a date to decide if I am eligible for it? When this all took place, I had a projected release date of April 24, 2005, after the conversion I now will be seen on November 12, 2020 to see if I qualify for a parole. Please explain that to me.
My name is , and I would like to ask you now to forgive me. I have always been told that one should never curse in public or when making a presentation. Right now I need to let you know that there is no way I can make this presentation without cursing. So I will get the cursing out of the way now and then make my presentation. My cursing is "PAROLE BOARD".
Now that I have said that, I will continue. Until 1985 when a person was convicted of a crime, the judge in the case would sentence the person to the maximum amount of time the crime called for. The judge and prosecutor would send a recommendation to the Parole Board along with any mandatory that the crime carried.
At the time of sentencing, each person would receive 1/3 of his or her time off. This time belonged to the person and it was not taken away unless that person committed some offense in prison that the department felt deserved loss of good time, and even with this, the institution could only recommend that the person lose good time. That Parole Board had the last option on what to do with the recommendation.
When you saw the Parole Board, before going to your parent institution, they would set your time. which could be any amount of time they felt was correct or deserved for your crime. The time would include any mandatory time that was imposed. The time that was set at this initial meeting would/could have 1/3 removed for good behavior. An example would be if you were given 6 years on a 15-year sentence, you would be able to get 2 years off the 6 years if you kept your nose clean.
You would be asked when you wanted to see the Parole Board again. You could meet with them every year or any increment up to the year before your release. Each appearance would include an update on what you have or have not done since your last appearance. When you did appear before the Parole Board you had the option of just talking about what you had done since the last time you saw them, or you could present information stating why you felt you had earned consideration for a time cut. (The Parole Board at any time could look at your accomplishments and if they felt you had made some improvements, they could give you a time cut. A time cut could be taking the 6 years they had given you, and reduce the time to be served from 4 years to a lower number of years and a sooner release).
One of the good points about this system was the fact that the members could release a person when they felt the person had reached a point where a release would best serve the person and society. This would be opposed to keeping them locked up and have the person start to go down hill because they felt no one was looking at what they were doing and only at the crime. Often this was/could be considered placing punishment on top of punishment.
One of the negative outcomes of the change from the Parole Board to the SRA is that everyone who was under the Parole Board was given more time under the ISRB. The court ordered that old Parole Board offenders he placed under the SRA and given release dates consistent with the SRA. This is not what happened; they were given 'PAROLE ELIGIBILITY REVIEW DATES'. Since there is no such thing in the state of Washington as a parole. how can you give me a date to decide if I am eligible for it? When this all took place, I had a projected release date of April 24, 2005, after the conversion I now will be seen on November 12, 2020 to see if I qualify for a parole. Please explain that to me.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Thoughts on Life Without Parole
The following was written by an inmate in the Monroe, WA Correctional facility. This work is the property of the author[s]/creator[s]. Subject to the right of "Fair Use" as recognized by law, no person may print, reprint, publish, copy, perform, deliver, transmit or sell any work posted within the Voices from Prison. 6and44.blogspot.com assumes no responsibility for the unlawful or unauthorized use of any work posted.
By
When I was sent to prison more than twenty-five years ago, I was sent to Walla Walla which was considered the "end of the line" prison in this state. That is how described it anyway. He was the one-eyed, hard-line lieutenant that everyone entering the prison had to go in front of. And what he meant by "end of the line" was that the only prisoners sent there in those days were ones who had worn out their welcome in other prisons, or who could not stay out after they had been released. The Walls was set up not only to manage these kinds of prisoners, but — let's be honest — it was meant to teach them a lesson as well. No one wanted to be sent there. Even though I was younger than other prisoners there and did not fit the criteria, they sent me because I had a brand new type of sentence: Life Without the Possibility of Parole.
When I arrived, the prison was filled with prisoners who were under the authority of the Indeterminate Sentence Review Board (ISRB). This supported a much different function of the prison, and overall climate among prisoners, compared to that which exists today. In fact, it seems funny now when I think of , acting like a character out of a bad prison movie, referring to "his" prison as the "end of the line" for any one who was sent there. This is because that was not really true — not in the same sense that it is for so many today.
Although life for prisoners at The Walls has never been easy, under the ISRB they did their time with the assurance that they would be judged according to the merit (or demerit) of their own individual actions. They knew that if they worked hard to reform themselves, they might at some point be able to effect their circumstance. The crime for which a prisoner was sent to prison was always the focal-point from which he was judged. But also considered were other conditions: the age of the prisoner at the time of the crime, his degree of involvement, the amount of time he had spent in prison, and what he had done since he had been there. This did not mean that everyone earned release — if the circumstance of their crime or their actions since did not merit it, they would not — but everyone was reviewed, everyone was afforded the opportunity to give an accounting of themselves.
That is the difference between how the system operated at that time versus the way it changed when I was sent to prison, the way it operates now; indeterminate sentencing versus mandatory sentences. A mandatory sentence is a set period of time handed down to a prisoner with no requirement that he change his behavior or improve himself as a human being during his sentence, and no review at any point to determine his suitability for release. Whether a prisoner with this type of sentence is suitable or not, he will be released. The function of prison in relation to a mandatory sentence is solely to punish, and that is all many prisoners serving this type of sentence are able to accomplish — they merely make it through the punishment.
With indeterminate sentences, on the other hand, although the institution still punished (and don't think for a moment that it didn't), it also facilitated reform. Prisoners were required to work to reform themselves, and they had an obvious reason to do so. Despite the punishment, they had hope — and that is a powerful motivating factor for a person to change. Believe me when I say this — because I think that it is only those of us who have experienced life without hope that are fully able to appreciate what it means.
And that is how I was different from the prisoners around me when I was sent to prison. Because Life Without Parole is a sentence by which its very definition means that you will never be looked at, or be afforded the opportunity to give an accounting of yourself. Even in front of the judge in court, your circumstances are not reviewed or considered. And never afterward either... ever. As those of us who have it know, the reality of the sentence is that you are dead — and that is how you are regarded by the state. Prison is merely the place that they have sent you in order to wait for it to happen.
I have often wished that I could take people back to when I first came to prison so they could see what the reaction was, because it was so different from what the reaction is today when someone comes in with that sentence. When other prisoners found out what my sentence was, they were shocked, disbelieving. The reaction was the same from guards and other prison staff. Many prisoners were apologetic, "Oh... man...I'm sorry." I used to hate that because I knew why they said it. They saw me the same as I saw myself-- the same as my sentence said I was — as good as dead. They were apologizing for the way I had to die: death by culmination of the greatest fear of anyone who has ever been in prison; death by prison itself.
I remember the first time I spoke to a counselor in one of the filthy, overcrowded cellhouses at The Walls. Whatever I asked, he had to call another person in the prison or at DOC headquarters in order to find out the answer. No one knew what to do, because there was no policy on Life Without prisoners yet. When we started coming in, we did not fit into the system in place at that time. Prison officials literally had to make up the policy on us as they went.
One day, probably less than a year after I arrived at The Walls, Lt. had guards escort me to his office. He outlined for me what the policy would be from that point forward. They had decided that prisoners with Life Without Parole would not be treated the same as other prisoners: we would never be allowed outside of the walls (not even to go past the work-gate to work in the license plate factory or prison laundry), we were not allowed to go to school, participate in any kind of state-sponsored self-betterment program, earn lower custody, nothing ... ever. That was it — that was the policy they came up with after we started coming in.
After that, prison staff stopped calling people to ask what to do with me — everyone knew. That is why even today, a prison counselor does not really mean anything to a prisoner with Life Without. They don't want to see or talk to us, because they can't do anything for us. Their job is simply to process the report to headquarters once a year notifying them that we have not yet completed our sentence.
Of course, the policy I described was only in the beginning. A steady line of others with the same sentence have piled in behind me. Today there are 550 prisoners in our state sentenced to Life Without Parole. We now make up a segment of the population of every medium, close, and maximum-security prison in this state. And the policy regarding us has been changed a number of times over the years. We can now earn medium custody. Young lifers (21 years old or younger) have the right to earn a GED. And we have long since been allowed to go past work-gates. In fact, it is hard to imagine how prison industries and maintenance could operate without us. But these changes have only come about because prisons are increasingly strained by our numbers (and in the case of GED's for young lifers, only because the state was sued).
These are also not the only changes that have taken place inside of prisons in our state during, this same period. There are no longer any state-initiated or supported programs prisoners can utilize to reform themselves, and this has done much to change the culture among prisoners. There is a vast difference between prisons in which the majority of the population is actively seeking to rehabilitate itself and work towards release, versus prisons in which prisoners merely bide their time and make it through the punislunent. The latter creates a harmful and dangerous environment inside prisons, and makes communities outside much less safe as well.
Yet, remarkably, the absence of any effort by the state to effect reform among its prisoners does not necessarily mean that there are not some who find ways to do it themselves. I have seen many prisoners change over the years, reform themselves into decent human beings — all of us in here have seen it. And the ability to do it is not exclusive to any one kind of prisoner, but it is most prevalent in those who were sent here when they were young. It is these prisoners who have the greatest potential and predisposition to change, to reform themselves. And even young prisoners who have been sentenced to Life are not excluded from this. In fact, it is my experience that they are the most likely to do it — because they have the greatest amount of time to work with and, frequently, the most reason to dislike who they were and what they did. Some come to realize that even if they are not able to pay anything back directly to the victim of their crime, by bettering themselves as human beings and helping others, they can honor them. Some prisoners do this even though they have no hope they can ever effect their own circumstance or earn release. And that, to me, is astonishing. Inspiring.
There is a difference between what is happening in prison today, versus what was happening when I was first sent here. When a prisoner reforms himself nowadays, it is in spite of prison and the circumstances he is faced with in here — it is despite what is clone to him, not because of it.
I am ashamed to admit it, but I have found comfort and encouragement in the fact that I now share this fate — the same sentence — with so many others. The feeling of difference I had in the beginning has abated in direct correlation with how many of us there are. But it is also this which has caused me to begin to question what has been done to us. When there were not as many of us in here, it was easier for me to believe that it was okay to do this. But so many others have come in that have made it harder for me to believe that now.
I know a prisoner who was thirteen when he was sentenced to Life Without the Possibility of Parole. I know prisoners who were fourteen when this happened to them. And fifteen. I know a prisoner who was put out onto the Yard at Walla Walla when he was fifteen years old. I was there — I saw it! Walla Walla is a treacherous place :.. for a full grown adult. It's treacherous for a hardened lifer. To put a 130 pound fifteen year old out there with a sentence of Life Without Parole, to my mind, is inexcusable. I don't care what he's done — you don't do that.
I know a prisoner who was struck out and given Life Without when he was twenty-one for a domestic violence charge against his brother. No one was even hurt. I know another who was struck out when he was twenty for stealing a leather coat. How do you sentence someone to Life Without Parole for being a career criminal before they are even twenty-one years old? How do you do that? Is that really justice? Or is it just throwing people away like they are garbage? I understand that people were mad when they sent us here — and they had every right to be — but to lock away young people and at no other point in their lives ever to review them ... that can't be right.
Do not be afraid to look at us — all of us in prison, and that includes prisoners with Life Without Parole. Please, allow us the opportunity many of us never had — the opportunity to give an accounting of ourselves and to be judged as we should ... as individuals.
By
When I was sent to prison more than twenty-five years ago, I was sent to Walla Walla which was considered the "end of the line" prison in this state. That is how described it anyway. He was the one-eyed, hard-line lieutenant that everyone entering the prison had to go in front of. And what he meant by "end of the line" was that the only prisoners sent there in those days were ones who had worn out their welcome in other prisons, or who could not stay out after they had been released. The Walls was set up not only to manage these kinds of prisoners, but — let's be honest — it was meant to teach them a lesson as well. No one wanted to be sent there. Even though I was younger than other prisoners there and did not fit the criteria, they sent me because I had a brand new type of sentence: Life Without the Possibility of Parole.
When I arrived, the prison was filled with prisoners who were under the authority of the Indeterminate Sentence Review Board (ISRB). This supported a much different function of the prison, and overall climate among prisoners, compared to that which exists today. In fact, it seems funny now when I think of , acting like a character out of a bad prison movie, referring to "his" prison as the "end of the line" for any one who was sent there. This is because that was not really true — not in the same sense that it is for so many today.
Although life for prisoners at The Walls has never been easy, under the ISRB they did their time with the assurance that they would be judged according to the merit (or demerit) of their own individual actions. They knew that if they worked hard to reform themselves, they might at some point be able to effect their circumstance. The crime for which a prisoner was sent to prison was always the focal-point from which he was judged. But also considered were other conditions: the age of the prisoner at the time of the crime, his degree of involvement, the amount of time he had spent in prison, and what he had done since he had been there. This did not mean that everyone earned release — if the circumstance of their crime or their actions since did not merit it, they would not — but everyone was reviewed, everyone was afforded the opportunity to give an accounting of themselves.
That is the difference between how the system operated at that time versus the way it changed when I was sent to prison, the way it operates now; indeterminate sentencing versus mandatory sentences. A mandatory sentence is a set period of time handed down to a prisoner with no requirement that he change his behavior or improve himself as a human being during his sentence, and no review at any point to determine his suitability for release. Whether a prisoner with this type of sentence is suitable or not, he will be released. The function of prison in relation to a mandatory sentence is solely to punish, and that is all many prisoners serving this type of sentence are able to accomplish — they merely make it through the punishment.
With indeterminate sentences, on the other hand, although the institution still punished (and don't think for a moment that it didn't), it also facilitated reform. Prisoners were required to work to reform themselves, and they had an obvious reason to do so. Despite the punishment, they had hope — and that is a powerful motivating factor for a person to change. Believe me when I say this — because I think that it is only those of us who have experienced life without hope that are fully able to appreciate what it means.
And that is how I was different from the prisoners around me when I was sent to prison. Because Life Without Parole is a sentence by which its very definition means that you will never be looked at, or be afforded the opportunity to give an accounting of yourself. Even in front of the judge in court, your circumstances are not reviewed or considered. And never afterward either... ever. As those of us who have it know, the reality of the sentence is that you are dead — and that is how you are regarded by the state. Prison is merely the place that they have sent you in order to wait for it to happen.
I have often wished that I could take people back to when I first came to prison so they could see what the reaction was, because it was so different from what the reaction is today when someone comes in with that sentence. When other prisoners found out what my sentence was, they were shocked, disbelieving. The reaction was the same from guards and other prison staff. Many prisoners were apologetic, "Oh... man...I'm sorry." I used to hate that because I knew why they said it. They saw me the same as I saw myself-- the same as my sentence said I was — as good as dead. They were apologizing for the way I had to die: death by culmination of the greatest fear of anyone who has ever been in prison; death by prison itself.
I remember the first time I spoke to a counselor in one of the filthy, overcrowded cellhouses at The Walls. Whatever I asked, he had to call another person in the prison or at DOC headquarters in order to find out the answer. No one knew what to do, because there was no policy on Life Without prisoners yet. When we started coming in, we did not fit into the system in place at that time. Prison officials literally had to make up the policy on us as they went.
One day, probably less than a year after I arrived at The Walls, Lt. had guards escort me to his office. He outlined for me what the policy would be from that point forward. They had decided that prisoners with Life Without Parole would not be treated the same as other prisoners: we would never be allowed outside of the walls (not even to go past the work-gate to work in the license plate factory or prison laundry), we were not allowed to go to school, participate in any kind of state-sponsored self-betterment program, earn lower custody, nothing ... ever. That was it — that was the policy they came up with after we started coming in.
After that, prison staff stopped calling people to ask what to do with me — everyone knew. That is why even today, a prison counselor does not really mean anything to a prisoner with Life Without. They don't want to see or talk to us, because they can't do anything for us. Their job is simply to process the report to headquarters once a year notifying them that we have not yet completed our sentence.
Of course, the policy I described was only in the beginning. A steady line of others with the same sentence have piled in behind me. Today there are 550 prisoners in our state sentenced to Life Without Parole. We now make up a segment of the population of every medium, close, and maximum-security prison in this state. And the policy regarding us has been changed a number of times over the years. We can now earn medium custody. Young lifers (21 years old or younger) have the right to earn a GED. And we have long since been allowed to go past work-gates. In fact, it is hard to imagine how prison industries and maintenance could operate without us. But these changes have only come about because prisons are increasingly strained by our numbers (and in the case of GED's for young lifers, only because the state was sued).
These are also not the only changes that have taken place inside of prisons in our state during, this same period. There are no longer any state-initiated or supported programs prisoners can utilize to reform themselves, and this has done much to change the culture among prisoners. There is a vast difference between prisons in which the majority of the population is actively seeking to rehabilitate itself and work towards release, versus prisons in which prisoners merely bide their time and make it through the punislunent. The latter creates a harmful and dangerous environment inside prisons, and makes communities outside much less safe as well.
Yet, remarkably, the absence of any effort by the state to effect reform among its prisoners does not necessarily mean that there are not some who find ways to do it themselves. I have seen many prisoners change over the years, reform themselves into decent human beings — all of us in here have seen it. And the ability to do it is not exclusive to any one kind of prisoner, but it is most prevalent in those who were sent here when they were young. It is these prisoners who have the greatest potential and predisposition to change, to reform themselves. And even young prisoners who have been sentenced to Life are not excluded from this. In fact, it is my experience that they are the most likely to do it — because they have the greatest amount of time to work with and, frequently, the most reason to dislike who they were and what they did. Some come to realize that even if they are not able to pay anything back directly to the victim of their crime, by bettering themselves as human beings and helping others, they can honor them. Some prisoners do this even though they have no hope they can ever effect their own circumstance or earn release. And that, to me, is astonishing. Inspiring.
There is a difference between what is happening in prison today, versus what was happening when I was first sent here. When a prisoner reforms himself nowadays, it is in spite of prison and the circumstances he is faced with in here — it is despite what is clone to him, not because of it.
I am ashamed to admit it, but I have found comfort and encouragement in the fact that I now share this fate — the same sentence — with so many others. The feeling of difference I had in the beginning has abated in direct correlation with how many of us there are. But it is also this which has caused me to begin to question what has been done to us. When there were not as many of us in here, it was easier for me to believe that it was okay to do this. But so many others have come in that have made it harder for me to believe that now.
I know a prisoner who was thirteen when he was sentenced to Life Without the Possibility of Parole. I know prisoners who were fourteen when this happened to them. And fifteen. I know a prisoner who was put out onto the Yard at Walla Walla when he was fifteen years old. I was there — I saw it! Walla Walla is a treacherous place :.. for a full grown adult. It's treacherous for a hardened lifer. To put a 130 pound fifteen year old out there with a sentence of Life Without Parole, to my mind, is inexcusable. I don't care what he's done — you don't do that.
I know a prisoner who was struck out and given Life Without when he was twenty-one for a domestic violence charge against his brother. No one was even hurt. I know another who was struck out when he was twenty for stealing a leather coat. How do you sentence someone to Life Without Parole for being a career criminal before they are even twenty-one years old? How do you do that? Is that really justice? Or is it just throwing people away like they are garbage? I understand that people were mad when they sent us here — and they had every right to be — but to lock away young people and at no other point in their lives ever to review them ... that can't be right.
Do not be afraid to look at us — all of us in prison, and that includes prisoners with Life Without Parole. Please, allow us the opportunity many of us never had — the opportunity to give an accounting of ourselves and to be judged as we should ... as individuals.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Thoughts on Three Strikes
The following was written by an inmate in the Monroe, WA Correctional facility. This work is the property of the author[s]/creator[s]. Subject to the right of "Fair Use" as recognized by law, no person may print, reprint, publish, copy, perform, deliver, transmit or sell any work posted within the Voices from Prison. 6and44.blogspot.com assumes no responsibility for the unlawful or unauthorized use of any work posted.
Good evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is ______ and I would like to address the following issue.
At the time of my latest conviction and sentencing, I was the youngest person in the state of Washington to have been given a harsh sentence of life without the possibility of parole, which is in reality a death sentence, at the age of 21.
My first strike was a second-degree robbery, which was snatching a purse off the ground. I was given 4 months in the King county jail. At this time, I was 18 years old.
My second strike was a second-degree robbery, which resulted from a dope deal gone bad. I was given ten months and sent to prison. I was 20 years old at the time.
My third strike was a second-degree robbery. My standard range was 63 to 84 months. However, the prosecutor did not even consider giving me the standard range, or offer me drug treatment for the drug addiction I once had. Instead, he decided to throw the book at me. I was 21 years old. How was I supposed to know at that particular time back in 1994, that I was being placed in a position to be struck out, and have my whole life taken from me? I have taken the necessary steps to work on myself and get better as a human being over the course of my incarceration.
I am a 36 years old man now and my perspective on how I need to live my life from this day forward is very different from when I was 18. I do hold myself accountable for my actions, and I am definitely not proud of what I have done.
My question is how long does a person need to be incarcerated in order to be proven that he or she is rehabilitated and fit to be back in society? 1 have changed my life and I am ready to get out and give back to any community that may have any at risk youth regardless of race. My brother _______ and I
are just two out of five family members struck out under this three-strikes law.
This three-strikes law has been very devastating on my entire family! Unfortunately, I lost my mother to cancer on October 18, 2006. She was my best friend. Every day I reflect on the foolish mistakes I made to disappoint her and let her down. However, since the passing of my mother, her wisdom and spirit lies within me. I have the ability as I always did to change for the better. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can be a good service in the community. Sixteen years ago does not define the man I am today. Being under these conditions has given me the opportunity to work on myself mentally, emotionally, spiritually. intellectually, as well as to gain some education. All I ask is to be given a chance to get out of prison, live a life on life's terms, be responsible, and be a productive member of society
In closing, these are my accomplishments;
Victims Awareness — Anger Management
Stress/Anger Management — Cultural Diversity
Narcotics Anonymous — Smart Recovery
Adult Basic Education Writing III
Partners in Parenting — Indiana Chair Frame Pre-Assembly
Job Dynamics — Interaction Transition of the United Way
Good evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is ______ and I would like to address the following issue.
At the time of my latest conviction and sentencing, I was the youngest person in the state of Washington to have been given a harsh sentence of life without the possibility of parole, which is in reality a death sentence, at the age of 21.
My first strike was a second-degree robbery, which was snatching a purse off the ground. I was given 4 months in the King county jail. At this time, I was 18 years old.
My second strike was a second-degree robbery, which resulted from a dope deal gone bad. I was given ten months and sent to prison. I was 20 years old at the time.
My third strike was a second-degree robbery. My standard range was 63 to 84 months. However, the prosecutor did not even consider giving me the standard range, or offer me drug treatment for the drug addiction I once had. Instead, he decided to throw the book at me. I was 21 years old. How was I supposed to know at that particular time back in 1994, that I was being placed in a position to be struck out, and have my whole life taken from me? I have taken the necessary steps to work on myself and get better as a human being over the course of my incarceration.
It is obvious that society and our system do not seem to care if a person turns their life around or not because their attitude and belief is that I should die in prison for the mistakes I made at the ages of 18, 20, and 21, with no chance or consideration of release.
My question is how long does a person need to be incarcerated in order to be proven that he or she is rehabilitated and fit to be back in society? 1 have changed my life and I am ready to get out and give back to any community that may have any at risk youth regardless of race. My brother _______ and I
are just two out of five family members struck out under this three-strikes law.
This three-strikes law has been very devastating on my entire family! Unfortunately, I lost my mother to cancer on October 18, 2006. She was my best friend. Every day I reflect on the foolish mistakes I made to disappoint her and let her down. However, since the passing of my mother, her wisdom and spirit lies within me. I have the ability as I always did to change for the better. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can be a good service in the community. Sixteen years ago does not define the man I am today. Being under these conditions has given me the opportunity to work on myself mentally, emotionally, spiritually. intellectually, as well as to gain some education. All I ask is to be given a chance to get out of prison, live a life on life's terms, be responsible, and be a productive member of society
Victims Awareness — Anger Management
Stress/Anger Management — Cultural Diversity
Narcotics Anonymous — Smart Recovery
Adult Basic Education Writing III
Partners in Parenting — Indiana Chair Frame Pre-Assembly
Job Dynamics — Interaction Transition of the United Way
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