Call of Duty

Call of Duty

Call of Duty

Last fall, Rick Raemisch took
charge of the Colorado Department of Corrections in the wake of his
predecessor’s murder. Now it’s his job to reform our state’s beleaguered
prison system.

With a budget of more than $751 million,
the Colorado Department of Corrections is responsible for transporting,
housing, feeding, educating, medicating, supervising, protecting, and
rehabilitating the individuals who have violated our laws. Some 20,400
offenders populate its 20 state-run correctional facilities. There are
more than 6,000 DOC employees, including corrections officers, wardens,
and associate wardens; the victims services unit; medical staff; mental
health care providers; educators; and the parole division, which is
responsible for around 700 new parolees every month. There’s the
fugitive apprehension unit, charged with tracking down and arresting
those who escape or abscond from parole. There are community corrections
programs that include halfway houses and treatment programs. The
executive team, of which Rick Raemisch is now the head, determines and
manages departmental policy and best practices. 

The
sheer heft of the corrections system means there can be reams of red
tape and plenty of cracks through which offenders can fall. This is
complicated by the fact that most people follow one of two divergent
corrections philosophies: the belief in rehabilitation, and the belief
that punishment is all offenders will ever deserve.

What
many people cling to, especially victims and their families, is the
conviction that some criminals are beyond salvation, divine or
otherwise. Rick Raemisch says he believes the exact opposite: that most
people, no matter their histories, can and do change. He has to believe
this because he knows about 97 percent of those who enter prison will
one day return to our communities and become our neighbors and
acquaintances. Raemisch has to believe in the possibility of their
reclamation because it’s his job to fix them before they’re out.

We Are All Criminals - Newsroom

We Are All Criminals - Newsroom

One in four Minnesotans has a criminal record. It’s a record
that employers, landlords, legislators and licensing boards use to shape
policy and determine the character of an individual. It’s an indelible
mark that disproportionately impacts poor and nonwhite Minnesotans. But
how useful is it?

A little over a year ago, I started collecting
stories from what I call the other 75 percent: people who have criminal
histories but no record. That is, people who have gotten away with
crimes. Some participants were gleeful, some embarrassed and some deeply
haunted by guilt over what they had done. But all (200 and counting)
share one thing in common: none was caught.

The stories are part
of a project called We Are All Criminals, and can be found on a website
and as part of a traveling exhibit. We Are All Criminals seeks to remind
viewers that while we have all transgressed, we are also all human and
may be in need of compassion, forgiveness and a second chance.

The stories are humorous, humiliating and humbling, in turn.

Take
the woman who, at age 16, took a summer chemistry experiment too far,
destroying a state park toilet with a homemade explosive; she’s now a
pediatrician, a profession from which she would have been barred had she
been caught.

Or the man who used his federal aid to finance collegiate drug runs; he’s now an attorney, building a nonprofit.

Or
the teacher who would drink to oblivion and somehow drive the long
route home, the social worker who assaulted a classmate out of spite, or
the retiree who greased up St. Paul’s trolley tracks with stolen lard
just to vex the operator.

Each life course would have
been altered significantly had the participants been defined by their
worst act. If each job, housing, college and loan application required
disclosure of the offense and each background check relayed the record
as a marker of the applicant’s true character. Instead, the participants
were defined by their accomplishments rather than their crimes.

In
Minnesota, we’ve created a state of perpetual penalty, where the
punishment begins when the sentence ends: Legislative sessions see calls
for more broad and stringent collateral sanctions to records, employers
adopt blanket bans on hiring former offenders, and our judiciary has
found that what remedies to the problem exist are illusory in practice.

Too
many people currently are prohibited from reaching their full
potential. We must create a road to redemption for our neighbors,
friends, colleagues and strangers. The first step in doing so is
recognizing that we’re not all that different.

We can
take Pope Francis’ lead: There were reports that upon visiting the
Regina Coeli prison in Rome, the pope confided in the inmates that he
had stolen an apple from the neighbor’s orchard as a child. He wept,
stating that he too was a criminal.

Read more stories at: www.weareallcriminals.com.

Colorado corrections chief: I will reduce solitary confinement

The Denver Post

WASHINGTON — Colorado's state corrections chief took his call for reforming solitary confinement to a Senate panel Tuesday, saying he wants to lower the number of people serving in those conditions in Colorado down to fewer than 3 percent of the state's prison population by next summer. "We are failing in this particular area of our mission," Rick Raemisch, executive director of the Colorado Department of Corrections said. "Our mission isn't really about running more efficient institutions. ... Our duty and primary mission is to make a safer community ... and the way we make a safer community is by having no new victims." Raemisch has drawn national attention in recent months to his work on reforming solitary — including his most recent high-profile try at living it himself for 20 hours. He documented his experience in a New York Times op-ed last week. Raemisch said Colorado's numbers have already improved. In 2012, 140 prisoners were released directly from administrative segregation; this year, that number is two. Last spring, 50 severely mentally ill prisoners were serving in solitary; now that number is four, he said. Raemisch acknowledged to the panel that some prisoners are so sick — or have made implicit threats — they can't be removed from administrative segregation. "There are some diseases for which there is no cure," he said. "I get that, but I also understand in all other areas there is so much room for improvement." He also said that 23 hours a day of isolation is subjective and should also be explored. "Why is 23 the magic number? How about 20; how about 18; how about 15; how about we start at 23 and they behave for a couple days then it's 22?" he said. "There is all kinds of incentives we can use to change someone's behavior." Joining Raemisch on the panel Tuesday was Piper Kerman, the author of "Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison," as well as Damon Thibodeaux, a Louisiana death row inmate who was released in September 2012 after being exonerated. Both panelists urged the politicians to explore reforming how administrative segregation is defined and prison conditions. Roughly 596 prisoners — or 3.6 percent — in Colorado are serving in so-called administrative segregation, usually defined as prisoner isolation for 23 hours a day. Raemisch was working on the same issue in Wisconsin before being plucked to fill the job of Colorado's former corrections director Tom Clements, who was slain a year ago on his doorstep by a former prisoner who served in solitary before being released. Telling the story to a Senate Judiciary Committee panel Tuesday, Raemisch called that "ironic." "In a sense I don't think I'm replacing Clements," he told the senators. "I feel like I'm growing his vision." Gov. John Hickenlooper gave Raemisch a few goals when he started the job: Lower the number in administrative segregation overall; reduce the number of prisoners who are released directly to the free world from solitary; and eliminate or dramatically reduce major mentally ill people from serving in solitary. Raemisch said Colorado wasn't alone in examining administrative segregation policies. "This isn't a way to treat an American," he said. "This is not a way the nation should be treating someone. This is receiving the right amount of attention right now." Allison Sherry: 202-662-8907, asherry@denverpost.com or twitter.com/allisonsherry

My Night In Solitary

The new Executive Director of the Colorado Department of Corrections decided to stay the night....
The New York TImes

COLORADO SPRINGS — AT 6:45 p.m. on Jan. 23, I was delivered to a Colorado state penitentiary, where I was issued an inmate uniform and a mesh bag with my toiletries and bedding. My arms were handcuffed behind my back, my legs were shackled and I was deposited in Administrative Segregation — solitary confinement.

I hadn’t committed a crime. Instead, as the new head of the state’s corrections department, I wanted to learn more about what we call Ad Seg.

Most states now agree that solitary confinement is overused, and many — like New York, which just agreed to a powerful set of reforms this week — are beginning to act. When I was appointed, Gov. John Hickenlooper charged me with three goals: limiting or eliminating the use of solitary confinement for mentally ill inmates; addressing the needs of those who have been in solitary for long periods; and reducing the number of offenders released directly from solitary back into their communities. If I was going to accomplish these, I needed a better sense of what solitary confinement was like, and what it did to the prisoners who were housed there, sometimes for years.

My cell, No. 22, was on the second floor, at the end of what seemed like a very long walk. At the cell, the officers removed my shackles. The door closed and the feed tray door opened. I was told to put my hands through it so the cuffs could be removed. And then I was alone — classified as an R.F.P., or “Removed From Population.”

In regular Ad Seg, inmates can have books or TVs. But in R.F.P. Ad Seg, no personal property is allowed. The room is about 7 by 13 feet. What little there is inside — bed, toilet, sink — is steel and screwed to the floor.

First thing you notice is that it’s anything but quiet. You’re immersed in a drone of garbled noise — other inmates’ blaring TVs, distant conversations, shouted arguments. I couldn’t make sense of any of it, and was left feeling twitchy and paranoid. I kept waiting for the lights to turn off, to signal the end of the day. But the lights did not shut off. I began to count the small holes carved in the walls. Tiny grooves made by inmates who’d chipped away at the cell as the cell chipped away at them.

For a sound mind, those are daunting circumstances. But every prison in America has become a dumping ground for the mentally ill, and often the “worst of the worst” — some of society’s most unsound minds — are dumped in Ad Seg.

If an inmate acts up, we slam a steel door on him. Ad Seg allows a prison to run more efficiently for a period of time, but by placing a difficult offender in isolation you have not solved the problem — only delayed or more likely exacerbated it, not only for the prison, but ultimately for the public. Our job in corrections is to protect the community, not to release people who are worse than they were when they came in.

Terry Kupers, a psychiatrist and expert on confinement, described in a paper published last year the many psychological effects of solitary. Inmates reported nightmares, heart palpitations and “fear of impending nervous breakdowns.” He pointed to research from the 1980s that found that a third of those studied had experienced “paranoia, aggressive fantasies, and impulse control problems ... In almost all instances the prisoners had not previously experienced any of these psychiatric reactions.”

Too often, these prisoners are “maxed out,” meaning they are released from solitary directly into society. In Colorado, in 2012, 140 people were released into the public from Ad Seg; last year, 70; so far in 2014, two.

The main light in my cellblock eventually turned off, and I fell into a fitful sleep, awakening every time a toilet flushed or an officer yanked on the doors to determine they were secure. Then there were the counts. According to the Ad Seg rules, within every 24-hour period there are five scheduled counts and at least two random ones. They are announced over the intercom and prisoners must stand with their feet visible to the officer as he looks through the door’s small window. As executive director, I praise the dedication, but as someone trying to sleep and rest my mind — forget it. I learned later that a number of inmates make earplugs out of toilet paper.

When 6:15 a.m. and breakfast finally came, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, did two sets of push-ups, and made my bed. I looked out my small window, saw that it was still dark outside, and thought, now what?

I would spend a total of 20 hours in that cell. Which, compared with the typical stay, is practically a blink. On average, inmates who are sent to solitary in Colorado spend an average of 23 months there. Some spend 20 years.

Eventually, I broke a promise to myself and asked an officer what time it was. 11:10 a.m. I felt as if I’d been there for days. I sat with my mind. How long would it take before Ad Seg chipped that away? I don’t know, but I’m confident that it would be a battle I would lose.

Inmates in Ad Seg have, of course, committed serious crimes. But I don’t believe that justifies the use of solitary confinement. My predecessor, Tom Clements, who was as courageous a reformer as they come, felt the same way. Mr. Clements had already gone a long way to reining in the overuse of solitary confinement in Colorado. In little more than two years, he and his staff cut it by more than half: from 1,505 inmates (among the highest rates in the country) to 726. As of January, the number was down to 593. (We have also gotten the number of severely mentally ill inmates in Ad Seg down to the single digits.)

But Mr. Clements had barely begun his work when he was assassinated last March. In a tragic irony, he was murdered in his home by a gang member who had been recently released directly from Ad Seg. This former inmate murdered a pizza delivery person, allegedly for the purpose of wearing his uniform to lure Mr. Clements to open his front door. A few days later, the man was killed in a shootout with the Texas police after he had shot an officer during a traffic stop. Whatever solitary confinement did to that former inmate and murderer, it was not for the better.

When I finally left my cell at 3 p.m., I felt even more urgency for reform. If we can’t eliminate solitary confinement, at least we can strive to greatly reduce its use. Knowing that 97 percent of inmates are ultimately returned to their communities, doing anything less would be both counterproductive and inhumane.

Upcoming Events for February

We wanted to let you know that there will be several events coming up in the next few weeks that you may find very interesting.                                                                                                                                                                                                       First, there will be a film showing of "Slavery by Another Name" followed by a discussion with CCJRC Board member and Executive Director of Second Chance Center, Hassan A Latif CAC. Saturday, Februrary 22, 2:00 p.m. Ford Warren Branch Library  2825 High St. Denver, CO 80205 Slavery By Another Name chronicles the dark history and rise of the use of inmate labor, chain gangs, and the genesis of the for-profit prison industry after the Civil War to undermine the goals of Reconstruction and racial equality.  For more information about the event contact the library at 720-865-0920. Slavery by Another Name challenges one of our country’s most cherished assumptions: the belief that slavery ended with Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation of 1863. The documentary recounts how in the years following the Civil War, insidious new forms of forced labor emerged in the American South, keeping hundreds of thousands of African Americans in bondage, trapping them in a brutal system that would persist until the onset of World War II. - See more at: http://www.slaverybyanothername.com/pbs-film/#sthash.MjMCKdlK.dpuf.  The next event is a panel discussion on the death penalty sponsored by the Colorado Independent.  This is a free event that is open to the public. Thursday, Februrary 27th, 6:30 p.m. First Unitarian Society of Denver 1400 Lafayette St. Denver, CO.  80218 Last march, after a bill to abolish the death penalty in Colorado died in a House Committee, Governor John Hickenlooper called for a statewide conversation on the issue.  The Colorado Independent has decided to help start that conversation.  The debate will include several sides of the debate from both policy and personal perspectives.  Panelists include: Bob Autobee, father of slain corrections officer Eric Autobee, who has pleaded with prosecutors not to seek death for the man currently on trial for his son's killing. Rhonda Fields, whose son's killer was sentenced to death, who has said that voters should decide whether to keep capital punishment in Colorado. Dave Young, the newly elected distirct attorney in Adams and Broomfield Counties.  He has prosecuted high-profile capital murder cases and has prosecuted many other homicide cases. Derek Samuelson, a criminal defense lawyer in Fort Collins who has defended clients against the death penalty. The discussion will be moderated by Colorado Independent editor Susan Greene, who will open the conversation to questions from the audience.  For more information on the event contact the Unitarian Society at (303) 831-7113. Lastly, the Colorado Juvenile Defender Coalition and the Colorado Juvenile Justice Delinquency Prevention Council held a pre-screening of the film KIDS FOR CASH.  NOW IT IS COMING TO A THEATER FOR PUBLIC RELEASE THIS FEBRUARY      Free advance screening of Kids for Cash SIE Film Center, 2520 E. Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80205        7:30 pm on Thursday, February 20th!  Reserve your seat online at http://conta.c/1dJLXSt. The film tells the story of children shackled and incarcerated for minor crimes in Luzerne County, Pennsylvania--a judicial scandal that ultimately landed two judges in federal prison. Join CJDC for Why Don't Kids Have Lawyers Citizen Lobby Day on Monday, February 24th at 10:00 am in the Capitol basement for training and legislative visits; 12:00 pm in Room 107 for CJDC video and panel discussion.  Free t-shirt and lunch if you RSVP: http://conta.cc/1hlKbPv For more information on either event contact CJDC at (303) 825-0194

7NEWS - Department of Corrections asks lawmakers for more than $500k for 24-hour protection for prison chief - Local Story

7NEWS - Department of Corrections asks lawmakers for more than $500k for 24-hour protection for prison chief - Local Story

DENVER - The Department of Corrections is seeking more than $500,000
for two dedicated security officers for the prison chief and his wife.

Ever
since the March 2013 murder of then-prison chief Tom Clements at his
home, the executive director of the Department of Corrections has been
provided around the clock security.

In a request to the Joint
Budget Committee, the Department of Corrections asked for an additional
$107,206 to provide security for director Rick Raemisch through June,
and then $421,675 to provide security from July 2014 through June 2015.

The committee approved $78,775 for the next four months, but has not yet discussed what it will approve for '14-'15.

"I
think we have to understand that if there is a credible threat to the
executive director, then we need to respond with the right resources,"
said Joint Budget Committee member State Sen. Kent Lambert, R-Colorado
Springs.

Security for Raemisch and his wife has been provided by
specially trained correctional officers. Those officers are members of
SORT, the Special Operations Response Team. SORT officers are trained to
respond to emergencies in state or private prisons and provide help to
other law enforcement agencies. According to the funding request, when
SORT officers are assigned to the executive director security detail, it
creates a gap in staffing at state prisons.

"Continued use of
this existing staff will potentially cause staffing shortages in
critical specialty roles within the correctional facilities," the
funding request said.

7NEWS contacted the Department of Corrections to ask about the need for security and the cost of the request.

In
an email reply, the Department of Corrections spokesman wrote, "The
Colorado Department of Corrections will not discuss any specific
security information that might jeopardize the safety of our facilities
or staff."

The funding request provided some more detail.

"The
investigation of the homicide is ongoing; there is no known estimate of
when it may conclude. As a result, the Department is seeking funding to
continue to provide critical security detail to the Executive
Director," said the funding request.

"I don't think we need every
detail to understand that there is a threat to the executive director or
at least a potential threat," said Lambert.

"It's inconvenient,
to say the least, to have security in your home and around your children
and we only use security when we believe there are active threats or a
risk of active threats," said Roxane White, the Chief of Staff for
Governor John Hickenlooper. "Across the country, we've seen Department
of Corrections' executive directors and family require 24-hour security
and safety."

According to the funding request, the costs include
about $53,000 for cell phones, vehicle mileage reimbursement and travel
expenses for traveling with the executive director.

"They're requesting $420,000 for two 12-hour security guards, is that excessive?" asked 7NEWS reporter Marshall Zelinger.

"I
don't think so, yet. There is a lot of flexibility in that. They don't
need to spend that entire amount," said Lambert. "Extra funding for
security for the executive director is a very, very small fraction of
the Department of Corrections budget, but we go line-item by line-item."

The Joint Budget Committee will consider the $421,675 request before May.

Family of slain Colorado prison guard fights to testify

Family of slain Colorado prison guard fights to testify

CASTLE
ROCK — Relatives of a prison guard killed by an inmate over a decade
ago are fighting for the chance to testify about their opposition to the
death penalty.

Lawyers for Eric Autobee's family are scheduled to make their case to
a judge in Castle Rock Thursday. District Attorney George Brauchler
plans to seek the death penalty for Edward Montour if he's convicted.


Autobee's family argues they have a right to testify during the
penalty phase about how executing Montour would affect them. Brauchler
says the law bars victims from testifying about their opinion on the
death penalty because it would interfere with the jury's job.


Autobee's father has protested against the death penalty outside the
courthouse during jury selection. He says he forgives his son's killer.

Read more at http://gazette.com/family-of-slain-colorado-prison-guard-fights-to-testify/article/1514567#YZTikOJ89bpCobpo.99

 

 Relatives of a prison guard killed by an inmate over a decade ago are fighting for the chance to testify in opposition to the death penalty.

CASTLE
ROCK — Relatives of a prison guard killed by an inmate over a decade
ago are fighting for the chance to testify about their opposition to the
death penalty.

Lawyers for Eric Autobee's family are scheduled to make their case to
a judge in Castle Rock Thursday. District Attorney George Brauchler
plans to seek the death penalty for Edward Montour if he's convicted.


Autobee's family argues they have a right to testify during the
penalty phase about how executing Montour would affect them. Brauchler
says the law bars victims from testifying about their opinion on the
death penalty because it would interfere with the jury's job.


Autobee's father has protested against the death penalty outside the
courthouse during jury selection. He says he forgives his son's killer.

Read more at http://gazette.com/family-of-slain-colorado-prison-guard-fights-to-testify/article/1514567#YZTikOJ89bpCobpo.99

Lawyers
for Eric Autobee's family are scheduled to make their case to a judge
in Castle Rock Thursday. District Attorney George Brauchler plans to
seek the death penalty for Edward Montour if he's convicted.
Read more at http://gazette.com/family-of-slain-colorado-prison-guard-fights-to-testify/article/1514567#YZTikOJ89bpCobpo.99

Lawyers
for Eric Autobee's family are scheduled to make their case to a judge
in Castle Rock Thursday. District Attorney George Brauchler plans to
seek the death penalty for Edward Montour if he's convicted.
Read more at http://gazette.com/family-of-slain-colorado-prison-guard-fights-to-testify/article/1514567#YZTikOJ89bpCobpo.99

CASTLE
ROCK — Relatives of a prison guard killed by an inmate over a decade
ago are fighting for the chance to testify about their opposition to the
death penalty.

Lawyers for Eric Autobee's family are scheduled to make their case to
a judge in Castle Rock Thursday. District Attorney George Brauchler
plans to seek the death penalty for Edward Montour if he's convicted.


Autobee's family argues they have a right to testify during the
penalty phase about how executing Montour would affect them. Brauchler
says the law bars victims from testifying about their opinion on the
death penalty because it would interfere with the jury's job.


Autobee's father has protested against the death penalty outside the
courthouse during jury selection. He says he forgives his son's killer.

Read more at http://gazette.com/family-of-slain-colorado-prison-guard-fights-to-testify/article/1514567#YZTikOJ89bpCobpo.99

Gov. Cuomo's Bold Step on Prison Reform

This is really a giant step towards addressing a real problem...
NEW YORK TIMES

One of the biggest obstacles to reducing America’s enormous prison population is the stubbornly high rates of recidivism. Nationwide, as many as half of those released end up back in prison within three years.

There are many reasons for this, and not many simple answers, but one solution has long proved to be both reliable and cost-effective: education behind bars.

People who go to prison are already among the least educated members of society. While about 20 percent of the general public doesn’t have a high school diploma, that number rises to nearly 40 percent among prisoners.

Yet the same political and social forces that have driven the country’s prison boom over four decades have also worked to eliminate most government support for inmate education, including Congress’s irrational and counterproductive decision in 1994 to deny federal Pell grants to people in prison. In the aftermath, the number of college degree programs for prisoners around the country dropped from 350 to about a dozen.

On Sunday, Gov. Andrew Cuomo of New York took a bold step to restore some common sense to this contorted debate, announcing new financing for college classes in 10 state prisons. The initiative will offer inmates the opportunity to earn either an associate’s or a bachelor’s degree over the course of two to three years.

Mr. Cuomo was quick to point out that the cost — $5,000 per inmate per year — is a fraction of the $60,000 New York spends annually to house a prisoner. But even more compelling is the weight of decades of data: According to a RAND study released last summer reviewing 30 years of research, inmates who participated in educational programs had a substantially reduced risk of reoffending within three years than those who did not.

That’s partly because of higher rates of post-release employment for those who got an education while in prison. A job means more stability and more money — which translates into less crime, fewer inmates, and more savings for taxpayers. Every dollar spent on inmate education, the study calculated, meant $4 to $5 not spent on reincarceration down the road.

For the past two decades, prisoner education money has been scrounged up by private groups working to fill in the gaps left by the government. The Vera Institute of Justice recently received financing for a five-year project to educate prisoners in Michigan, New Jersey and North Carolina. And, in New York, the Bard Prison Initiative, directed by Bard College, has enrolled more than 500 students since 2001 and handed out more than 250 college degrees. While the state struggles with an overall recidivism rate of 40 percent, only 4 percent of prisoners enrolled in the Bard program and 2.5 percent of those who completed a degree returned to prison.

Results like these would seem hard to dispute, but several Republican legislators are opposing Mr. Cuomo’s plan, calling it a “slap in the face” to law-abiding New Yorkers.

This argument makes no more sense than it did in 1994, when less than 1 percent of all Pell grants went to prisoners. In both cases, education isn’t an either-or proposition. More than 700,000 inmates walk out of state and federal prisons across the country every year, and it is in everyone’s interest to make sure they stay out.