Maps of Felony Disenfranchisement, 2020

October 17, 2020 by J. Nelson

“Disparities in the criminal justice system are linked to disparities in political representation.”

The cartograms and maps created by The Sentencing Project’s incredible researchers say a lot about who we are –and how far we have to go– as a country. Even a cursory glance at “Locked Out 2020” should have you questioning how so many Americans have come to think the way they do about fairness and opportunity.

Hopefully, it will also spur some thinking on what we can do about it.

Please vote accordingly.

For more, visit sentencingproject.org

On Bonus Justice

October 13, 2020 by J. Nelson

The national dialog on prison reform exists on a steep, 30° hill. Engaging a public taught by film and television to recognize life behind bars only as rape, riots and rotten food makes it a difficult climb.

Once started, the conversation is always in danger of sliding downward into, “Well, they should have thought of that before they went to prison.” And this, in itself, is a trained reaction. It’s an octopus arm of what I’ve long defined as “bonus justice.”

Some maintain that prisoners, while serving their time, shouldn’t be allowed to vote. I disagree, but regardless of where one sides in that debate, the continued denial of voting rights for parolees and ex-felons –– in some cases for life –– is inarguably bonus justice.

A prison guard inventing infractions to punish an unwelcome or shunned inmate is another good example. So, too, are the actions of jailers who believe they’ve been called upon to represent the public interest through the spirit of vengeance.

“Justice is for the courtroom,” inmates often remind their keepers, and they’re right. Still, show me a corrections professional and I’ll show you someone forced to navigate the ideations of state-sponsored payback on an inhuman level.

It’s one thing to lean on the mantra, “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.” But frontline custody personnel who take bribes or embolden gang values while making statements like, “He should’a thought of that before he got sent to my Yard” –– ?

Yep, bonus justice.

But maybe that’s too cliché. Fine. Say your boozy cousin gets 18 months for his fifth DUI and winds up in a minimum security facility, the one with the cow fence around it. Score, right? No gang warfare in his future. He might even earn himself a welder’s certification. But he’s incarcerated during one of California prisons’ recurring outbreaks of Valley Fever. On laundry day, he’s handed an infected pillow case. With the state’s (very) long history of failing to provide even minimal constitutional levels of healthcare in its prisons, his illness can be viewed as bonus justice.

Or how about an assigned caseworker administratively burdening an offender whose crime is personally disagreeable? What about a Watch Commander who protects, rather than questions, facility practices that steer certain ethnicities toward or away from favored work assignments? Bonus justice is right there for all to see, but it’s often obscured by conditioning, casual neglect, and indifference.

Interested in seeing if you yourself are as un-progressive as all that?

Read Los Angeles Times investigative reporter Kiera Feldman’s harrowing front page account of what the March-to-May pandemic period was like for female inmates forced to make 3,500 masks per week, many of whom were prohibited from wearing one themselves.

And as you’re reading, if at any point did you decide, “They should have thought of that before…,” take note of it.

Because despite my own former incarceration, this learned, punitive, and bitter convention flashed itself at me as well. And while it may be an uphill climb, we can ––in fact we must–– be better than bonus justice.

Now That He Has “Shut up…”

October 2, 2020 by J. Nelson

Be careful what you wish for can be interpreted in many ways.

I’m inclined to resist “I hope he dies!” and “It’s about time!”

But my not seeking solace in vindictiveness and Schadenfreude has nothing to do with being a good example. That’s Michelle Obama’s “When they go low, we go high,” thing.

I’m thinking more like, “be careful what you wish for.” And not just because Vice President Handmaid’s Tale could take Trump’s place.

No, the facepalm I’m afraid of is right outta the 2020 Twilight Zone: What if we get a POTUS turnaround “like the world has never seen”?

What if the guy comes back from a nutty near-death experience and suddenly stops being a walking obstruction of justice? What if the oaf wakes up and fires Bill Barr, pays his back taxes, resolves Trump family business conflicts, and outlaws private prisons? What if – POOF! he renews the Spanish translation option at WhiteHouse.gov, starts singing Hallelujah while abolishing ICE, counts America’s immigrants among its most valuable assets, drops Amy Coney Barrett for her non-disclosure issues, and has the Proud Boys slapped with the RICO Act? What if he renames the Green New Deal “TRUMP’S Green New Deal,” then Executive Orders it right into existence? After America picks itself up off the floor, will it let the name change pass? I would.

The thought of what would be required of us if Trump somehow got a clue is the scary part. Are we too self-admiring? Would we come together and pull it off?

I know…this is silly fantasy, and “crazier things have happened” doesn’t apply because nothing crazier ever could or has.

But this guy catching COVID indeed makes him eligible for hitting a bottom, and that’s a far more imaginable and down to earth way to phrase it.

Trump has, as Biden now famously asked, “…just shut up, man.”

Be careful what you wish for are powerful words…

10/8/2020 Follow up:

The Little Boomerang That Could

September 22, 2020 by J. Nelson

People take misinformation seriously.

A friend’s intellectually disabled son was recently caught gargling with liquid dish soap as mouthwash. “I’m trying to fight the Coronavirus,” the young man told his supervisor.

She reached for the bathroom door frame when she heard his answer.

Going without a mask for portions of the day had been approved, since he interacts only with her. Apparently he was trying to “make up” for the security that covering his face had provided.

Coworkers ran through her mind. Had any of them made jokes that might have been overheard? Would any be so monstrous as to tell the young man to do this? Those answers would have to wait.

Informing his father would be a grueling experience.

“Riley,” diagnosed with cerebral palsy as a child, is affected by accompanying health issues which, unlike CP itself, are progressive. His dad is a single father who manages care and medical treatment for both his son and his elderly mother. Despite these and other challenges, my friend’s dedication and focus are almost insect-like. He exists for his family, for the next day, the next bill, the next appointment.

Fortunately, by all accounts, Riley is an easygoing employee. He may not be a workplace dynamo, but cheerfully doing what he can with what he’s been given is definitely his thing. Riley’s most unfavorable report involved his devouring a coworker’s tortellini from the lunchroom fridge. I enjoy imagining he did that as payback for being called “slow.”

Because Riley can be defiant, sure. Who isn’t? And despite supervision being a mainstay of his life, he isn’t without sense. His father’s surprise is warranted. His confusion, disappointment, and fear are immediate and tangible, whereas his anger and what to do with it will either have to wait or simply be let go.

I would find that difficult to do, myself. And this is as close as I’ve come to witnessing the boomeranging consequences of the laughable, dangerous, proposals being floated as solutions to the pandemic. I’m unsure of what to do with this other than scream it from the rooftops.

The good news is that Riley is okay. He has been gently counseled. He goes a little less solo these days, but Riley is no different than the rest of us facing the domineering sway of misinformation and the vulnerabilities it exploits.

Being thankful that Riley only used dish soap creates a lot of what ifs.

The Soft Spot of Exemption

September 7, 2020 by J. Nelson

A pathological adherence to: “It’s okay if I do it because I’m a good person” is America’s worst curse.

It’s hard to fathom the conscious human brain hemorrhaging the idiocy required to esentially set off fireworks on a 118° day in one of the few California forests not already engulfed in a sea of flame, but here we are.

And I say “we,” of course, because the assumption that we’re not, at times, idiots, criminals, or racists applies to everyone. It’s a delusion arising from the same soft spot in our psyches that produces the two things we deny the most: stubbornness and cowardice.

A “gender reveal” smoke bomb ignited the 8700+ acre El Dorado fire because some asshole simply assumed safety would accompany their self-congratulatory antics. The fire rages because a “good person” believed this “goodness” was the totality of their identity.

It’s a line of thinking reminiscent of:
Well, I’ve have NEVER been mean to a person of color, so…
Or
…but it’s a pipe bomb in honor of MY baby!
And now, of course,
Bikes are freedom! Nobody’s telling me to wear a mask at SturgiCon!

If you’ll pardon a little excuse theory, what’s hiding behind an excuse is often the most interesting part, because it says something about all of us. We spend our lives buying and selling justifications, training ourselves to accept various levels of self deception, leaning on more shades of gray than there are rain clouds. We cite mitigating circumstances before we can damn near walk. In every conceivable aspect of our behavior we allow ourselves to escape consequences whenever we can. When we take things too far and wind up pulling something illegal or stupid, we even feel betrayed by these pillars of rationalization, because somehow they don’t save us.

And to think, gender reveal parties were lame as hell before this.

Whatever amount of restitution this family is expected to pay, they’ll never escape the fact that their monsterous entitlement resulted in the death of a career-skilled firefighter, the destruction of 20 homes, and 22,600+ burned acres of forest.

That’s a lot to own for such a frivolous gratification.

In Support of AB-2147

September 1, 2020 by J. Nelson

UPDATE: AB-2147 is now law. Each year, more than 2,000 inmate firefighters battle California wildfires for less than what we civilians pay for a cup of coffee. These current and formerly incarcerated offenders will remember 2020 as the year their hard work was finally recognized and their professional skills ratified.

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If Governor Gavin Newsom signs California AB-2147, former inmates who have successfully participated in the state’s Conservation Camp program may soon see employment barriers related to their past criminal records lifted.

These ex-inmates would be able to request accelerated expungements and apply for a number of state emergency technician licenses, all of which would put to use the training, experience, bravery, and heroic skills they honed during incarceration, but which have so far been deemed valueless outside the perimeter walls.

AB-2147 would acknowledge the contributions Conservation Camp inmates make each season in assisting professional firefighters, including the danger they put themselves in to defend the life and property of Californians like you and me. That includes finger pointers who’d prefer to keep them locked up forever as well as people who say things to “relate” to ex-felons, such as, “Heh-heh. The only difference between me and you is I never got caught.” And finally, it would mean de facto recognition for the three inmates who have died containing our state’s wildfires.

But maybe you’re not quite ready to call these guys “heroes.” Fine then. Call ’em “survivors,” as in, California wildfire containment survivors. If even that makes you grit your teeth, I’d like to see you stand up to a wall of flame for between $2.90 and $5.12 per day. Assemblywoman Eloise Gomez Reyes, one of the key sponsors of AB-2147, put it clearly: “I would hope that most of us would agree that an individual willing to face down a fire and smoke is much more than the sum of their previous mistakes.”

I last addressed the misadventures of inmate firefighters as they were being bureaucratically bounced between the California Correctional Peace Officers Association (the crafty union representing prison guards) and the professional firefighters relied upon by California’s prison system to select and train volunteer inmate-applicants. The passage of this new bill would send a needed and powerful signal about the sorts of sacrifices we truly value.

For a fresh take on AB-2147’s promise for both Camp program graduates and California taxpayers, check out Los Angeles Times columnist, Erika D. Smith’s relevant reckoning.

There’s a reason why some call Conservation Camp participants the “special forces” of California inmates. Here are some of the questions and qualifications offender-applicants are expected to meet.

And of course, here’s AB-2147 for your perusal.

“My Fellow Convict Americans”

August 26, 2020 by J. Nelson

Hi, I’m a convicted American.

As a convicted American, I know what it’s like to be formally and publicly disqualified from society –– to accept the consequesnces and their impact.

I know what it’s like to slam a book shut with the realization of what it means to lose the right to vote.

Human dignity isn’t something a sentencing judge extracts from a defendant in the courtroom, and its surrender isn’t part of any plea bargain. The loss of dignity occurs informally, away from the public, in places where cruelty, rage, and fear are picked from one’s eye like dust.

As a convicted American, I know what it is to witness a man’s dignity being taken from him. In describing one of the pillars of prison life, I often say it’s not so much the savagery you witness as the savagery you’re forced to silently bury.

I’ll never be free of those memories: they will always return to haunt me — and also to recharge my values.

I know the feeling of begging a Corrections Officer (or worse, a prison guard) for toilet paper and soap. No lubricating eye-contact, my lips squished into a gap between steel and concrete. I remember smiling a survivor’s smile, too, at the freedom from having to swallow my pride, the first punch line of prison life.

And I remember official documentation. For every little thing, one needs papers, signature proof, double verification, a case file, a blue copy, a white copy, a canary yellow copy, and so on. Life behind bars is like living inside a Department of Motor Vehicles office located in a parking structure.

But here’s what else I know:

As a convicted American, I know the life-affirming relief of chatting about fighter jets or lighting or even God with the man locking you in for the night.

And I know what it feels like to have my voting rights restored.

“I’ve paid my debt to society” sounds like a cliché from the movies until you’re the one saying it. And when you’re no longer nibbling at meals through an annual split lip, goddamn it feels good to say.

Last night, I watched Trump pardon Jon Ponder. Ponder stood in humility as the entirety of the government’s power was summoned to declare him re-fit for anything American, even elected office or a shotgun collection.
Staged as the ceremony may have been, I wondered if Ponder was thinking, “Just keep being nice to the man. It’s just like back on the row. You know this drill. You want your issue, right? Keep it cool. Get that paper. Play along. Hi, nice lady.”

I certainly would have been, ’cause as a convicted American, I know a lot about dangled carrots, false hopes, and the journey of becoming my own man with my own principles based on hard won lessons. I know what it feels like to slam a book shut with the realization that dignity and self direction have gradually been inching back.

This morning, there are probably equal numbers of Trump campaign strategists patting themselves on the back for proposing the Ponder presidential pardon as there are critics questioning its timing, politics, the RNC, or that Ponder pled guilty and has no right to a pardon.

None of that matters when you’re holding the bearer bond, and Jon Ponder just walked away with one.

And as a convicted American, he knows the value of official documentation.

Good for you Jon, my friend in restored dignity.

Take a minute to check out Jon Ponder’s Hope for Prisoners –– building and strengthening skills “necessary for employment readiness, leadership development and success throughout the reintegration process.”

Giannulli and Loughlin Sentenced to “Life in Privilege”

August 23, 2020 by J. Nelson

Welcome to Notes From a Non-parent #12

Hey, it’s not like celebrity-felon parents Mossimo Giannulli and Lori Loughlin’s choices were about their daughters’ academic goals, let alone the ascension of their character through a journey in studies. Greedy schmucks got their daughters kicked out of school.

According to U.S. District Court Judge Nathaniel Gorton, Giannulli’s and Loughlin’s part in the so-called college admissions scandal was all about an “inexplicable desire to grasp even more.”

Sounds right. As for the five- and two-month (respective) staycations in federal custody? Works for me. After all, the minimal confinement isn’t the zinger.

After recounting the celebrity-felon parents’ “fairy tale life,” Judge Gorton handed down their real punishment: “Get Character or Become One.” In other words, they’re gonna have to work pretty hard to reverse their now intimate association with the worst element in American society.

Oh, I don’t mean the drug dealers, gun runners, and violent criminals who routinely stand before the same judge. I mean the vulgar cheaters of 2020: the scum of high office; the chips off the old systemic block of wealth; the suited, self-centered, swampy wall-building con-artists who bilked their own base.

For Giannulli and Loughlin, the real penalty is being seen as parents who used their own daughters to further their status, prestige, and entitlement. Their prison number is the side-eye they can expect both in person and on social media.

Gorton insisted the crimes here were made even less excusable by how unnecessary they were. “You’re not stealing bread to feed your family,” he said to Gianulli. “You certainly did know better.”

Ouch. As someone who also had to stand before a sentencing judge to truly “know better,” I’d say those words are likely to last a lot longer than 5 months.

Could Accountability on Social Media Begin with Fart Humor?

September 7, 2019 by J. Nelson

“Each of us is becoming more confident about our own world
just as it drifts farther from the worlds of others.”
The Technology of Kindness, by Jamil Zaki

If we don’t have shared truths we can’t co-exist, we can’t protect ourselves, and we can’t set healthy examples for – anyone. That’s my take-away from a truly empowering article for Scientific American by Jamil Zaki, author of The War for Kindness.

The Stanford professor of psychology observes that merely leaving a phone turned off between two people will result in their trusting each other less. Sounds right to me, given how many times I’ve wondered if the conversation I’m having with someone is worth maintaining, since they’ve apparently abandoned our exchange for the “tiny, addictive affirmations” of a text/Twitter/Facebook alert. And I can’t begin to count how many times I’ve resented a passenger in my car for burying their face in their phone rather than joining me in making fun of other drivers. P.S. it’s not attention I crave, but the value of someone’s presence. Communal silence or even lazy, mutual daydreaming is just as much of a life-affirming treasure as mockery.

And while we’re on the subject, here’s another such “treasure”: farts. Now before you judge, stay with me a minute.

Shared truth. Common ground.
(Do NOT You Tube “Fart Humor” )

I’ve found that one of the easiest strategies for overcoming how separate we are from each other these days is to quickly find even a sliver of common ground. I contend that fart humor fits that bill. I mean, come on! If ever there was a platform we could agree on across every ethnicity, nation-state, class, and rank, it’s that farts are funny.

My work here is done (you’re welcome), but I do encourage you to read Zaki’s full article for yourself. It’s a terrific piece, and not nearly as disruptive as ripping one in the car.

Hold the Sheriff Accountable Event – 8/24

August 22, 2019 by J. Nelson

If you’re like me and you suffer from severe voter’s remorse for having chosen Alex Villanueva to replace Los Angeles County Sheriff Jim McDonnell – or if you’d like to learn why so many Angelenos do – join us on Saturday, August 24, from 1–3:30 pm, at the Immanuel Presbyterian Church.

ACLU SoCal, Black Lives Matter Los Angeles, Community Coalition, LA Voice, Youth Justice Coalition, and others, are hosting a community discussion on the 33rd Sheriff of LA County. It will be an informative, thought-provoking forum on Villanueva, the country’s largest sheriff’s department and its attendant controversies.

And that sure is putting it mildly for a department referred to as the largest mafia in the U.S.