Charles Manson's Parole Hearing This Wednesday

Charles Manson, 2012.
Image courtesy L.A. Times, released at CNN request.

Notorious murderer Charles Manson comes up for parole this Wednesday. The L.A. Times reports:

Manson refused to participate in his last parole hearing, in 2007, describing himself as a "prisoner of the political system." He also declined to participate in any psychological evaluations that were part of that process.


He and other members of his so-called family were convicted of killing actress Sharon Tate and six other people during a bloody rampage in the Los Angeles area during two August nights in 1969. He is housed in a special unit for inmates felt to be endangered by other inmates separated from the general prison population.


Twice in the last few years, guards at Corcoran State Prison said they found phones in the notorious killer's possession. Manson called people in California, New Jersey and Florida with an LG flip phone found under his prison bunk in March 2009, The Times reported in 2011. A second cellphone was found a year later. Thirty days were added to his sentence for the first offense, officials said.


Earlier, a homemade weapon was found in his possession.
Despite the prospect that Manson will be absent, the Los Angeles County District Attorney's office said it would vigorously oppose Manson's release. "We consistently [opposed parole] and will continue to do so," spokeswoman Sandi Gibbons said.

The female members of Manson's "family" have also been consistently denied parole, despite not presenting danger to the community even in the parole board's view. We previously reported on the parole denial of Patricia Krenwinkel, who was repentant and is regarded a model prisoner, and of Susan Atkins, who died in prison following a long period of illness. There seems to be little doubt that Manson's parole will also be denied.

De-Felonizing Drugs

Image courtesy ACLU of Northern CA.

SB 1506, a new bill introduced by Senator Mark Leno, aims at changing drug possession offense classification from felonies to misdemeanors.

Currently, the distinction between different types of drugs also yields a distinction between felonies and misdemeanors. Possession of cocaine, heroin, and Schedule III, IV and V narcotic drugs is a felony; possession of cannabis and Schedule III, IV and V nonnarcotic drugs, is a misdemeanor.

Should SB 1506 pass, possession offenses will become misdemeanors regardless of the type of drug, and moreover, they will not require registering with the police station for folks with convictions.

The ACLU of Northern California, as well as California Attorneys for Criminal Justice, Drug Policy Alliance, Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, the California NAACP, and William C. Velásquez Institute, support the bill, arguing that it will enable a considerable shortening of prison sentences for simple possession while focusing resources on policing and drug treatment.

What do our readers think? Is there a good reason to distinguish between simple possession of different types of drugs for sentencing purposes?

Recount and Felon Disenfranchisement

Movie poster courtesy Tampa Bay Times

Last night I finally saw the 2008 HBO movie Recount. It is a docudrama about the aftermath of the 2000 Bush/Gore election, from the first reports of the results up to the Supreme Court decision in Bush v. Gore.

I arrived in the United States in July 2001, to a shell-shocked Berkeley, where the wall-to-wall consensus was that the election was stolen by Bush supporters and that Al Gore was the President-in-exile. The confusion and rage intensified shortly after my arrival by the 9/11 terrorist attacks. I was a newcomer, and for the life of me, could not figure out who had voted for Bush; I was yet to realize how deep the rift was and how partisanship wrecked and hollowed American politics. So, it was a fascinating experience to see a retelling of the story of that election, with the last twelve years in mind; much of what we experience politically today can date back to that fateful election.

What stuck out for me, though, was not so much the righteousness of one side or other; I entirely believed Ted Olson's integrity when he said, with a straight face, to a room full of Bush supporters, that Bush had won each and every one of the recounts. Instead, what filled me with rage was the cynical use the Florida state apparatus made of felon disenfranchisement laws.

In the film, a Democratic party volunteer knocks on a door. A guarded, sad man opens the door. The volunteer asks for his name. "Yeah?" says the man. "You were turned away at the ballots this election, right?" The man replies in the affirmative, his face ashen and disaffected. "I'm Jeremy Bash from the Democratic party. Can we talk?" Says the volunteer, and the man lets him in.

It turns out that, in Florida's enthusiasm to deny the vote to its formerly incarcerated citizens, the list makers included many non-felons in the list. The outrage among the ranks is palpable.

But the strongest scene, for me, is the ending scene of the movie. Bush's acceptance speech is shown on TV, and as he addresses the people who did not vote for him, he promises to be their president, too, and to earn their respect. The camera moves around the room, showing the man turned away at the ballots on wrong information of his being a felon. His face is hard to read, but it seems to betray a web of complex emotions: Rage? Disbelief? The first seeds of disaffection, disengagement, dissent? The deep realization that he was locked out of his country's political process, robbed of the choice to vote for either of the candidates?

This scene speaks volumes for me as we're getting ready for a hearing before the California Court of Appeals with regard to the right to vote for post-realignment inmates in California jails, and for folks on community post-release supervision. And it is gaining importance as we begin to experience the 2012 presidential campaign. We think that the California bureaucratic apparatus has wrongly interpreted the California constitution to deny felons, whether they are in prison or in jail, the right to vote. Not only does this interpretation fly in the face of the intent behind realignment--a new world of community corrections--but by denying civic integration, it is a barrier to re-entry and a successful welcoming back to society.

Inmates have an important voice of their own and important insights into the criminal process and public expenditure. Some of you may recall a series of posts, like this one and this one, that appeared on the SF Bay Guardian by Just A Guy, an inmate with a keen eye for big-picture politics and economics. This is an important voice that needs to be heard. And, as Jeff Manza and Christopher Uggen have repeatedly proven, this voice can make or break an election (and would, indeed, have reversed the 2000 election, as well as another Presidential election and eight Congressional elections.) Thinking about yesterday's film reinforced my conviction that I would fight for enfranchisement no matter what direction the projected vote would go; it's no coincidence, however, that inmates and parolees, disproportionately poor and of color, would vote against the regime that subjected them to lengthy, punitive, dehumanizing and unnecessary prison sentences under abysmal conditions.

Florida no longer uses the flawed list that played such an important part in 2000, and that had such disturbing racial implications.

The movie, regardless of your political stance and sentiments about the 2000 elections, is terrific and highly recommended.

Sending the Incarceration Bill to Inmates

Image courtesy http://inmade.deviantart.com. 

The most marked feature of the fiscal crisis on the correctional landscape has been a decline in the overall punitive discourse, policies, and technologies. States are giving up the death penalty; California is realigning justice with a focus on the community; and issues that were not considered viable, such as drug legalization, are now on the public agenda.


But the fiscal crisis didn't only bring punitivism reversals and silver linings. With the good, we got some bad and ugly. And the ugly is the topic of tonight's post.


Three recent bills on the Assembly and Senate Public Safety Committee agendas are all about rolling the costs of incarceration on... you guessed it... the inmates themselves. Here are some of the particulars.

SB 1124 (Canella) Cost of Incarceration

Remember the little theatre of the absurd from Riverside County, expecting inmates to pay $140 per night for their incarceration? Well, this beauty is in the same vein. Penal Code section 1203.1m currently authorizes the court to order reimbursement for the cost of incarceration if it finds the defendant has the ability to pay. This new bill would require the court hold a hearing for each and every defendant sentenced to state prison to determine his or her ability to pay all or some of the costs of incarceration.

Keep in mind that defendants make very little money, if any, during incarceration, have very little by way of financial support from friends and family members, and most if not all lose their jobs as a consequence of incarceration. It is exceedingly difficult for a formerly incarcerated person to find a job after release. It's therefore likely that many of these hearings would result in the unsurprising determination that a defendant would not be able to pay for his or her incarceration. This process then would result in an unnecessary expenditure of funds.

AB 2261 (Valadao) Cost of Medical Visits

Remember Brown v. Plata? Why didn't all these wise judges think of the simple solution for the medical crisis in California prisons--charging the inmates themselves for their care? This bill removes the cap of the $3 fee a sheriff is allowed to charge for an inmate-initiated medical visit and would authorize a sheriff to establish an unlimited standardized fee. As opposed to the other travesties, this bill would require the defendants to pay while they're in prison, where they make the princely sum of between 8 cents and 95 cents an hour. It's rather likely, therefore, that this bill would discourage inmates from reporting illness, which has a number of costly and dangerous ramifications.
First, this bill is likely to provoke a lawsuit, and I'll be first in line to volunteer my help. Readers from Prison Law Office or from Rosen, Bien and Galvan: If this becomes reality I'm happy to put together an amicus brief. This, of course, means that additional resources will be spent on a costly, lengthy lawsuit, which will undoubtedly end in a federal court finding this travesty unconstitutional. Why not save us all the cost and hassle?

Second, this bill poses an immediate public health danger to inmates, correctional staff, and the communities that will receive formerly incarcerated people upon their release. There is currently an epidemic (WC) of AIDS and Hepatitis C infections in state prisons and in poor communities to which formerly incarcerated people often return. California prisons have a Hepatitis C Virus infection rate of 40%.

Third, this bill may disproportionally impact people with chronic health conditions or mentally challenged inmates.


incidentally, if you're wondering why you have to pay for health care and have your health care questioned by the Supreme Court while inmates enjoy free health services, you might want to read this. 

AB 2357 (Galgiani) Cost of Assisting Law Enforcement Investigation

Finally, this bill would authorize CDCR to require an inmate be temporarily removed from a facility to assist with the gathering of evidence and impose a fee for the removal. Current law allows for inmates to be temporarily removed from their cells to attend college classes, but this bill would replace that opportunity for mandatory assistance with an investigation.

The scenario in which an inmate may be assisting law enforcement with the unveiling of potential suspects could put an inmate at risk of retaliation. This is a significant burden to place on inmates, who will likely not be willing to participate, let alone contribute their own meager funds to the investigation.

Incidentally, the CCPOA is all over this already. 

These are all exceedingly disturbing scenarios. There can be a debate about which aspects of incarceration constitute cruel and unusual punishment, but asking you to pay for punishment, even if it's kind and usual, is absurd.

Gruel and Unusual Punishment

Photo courtesy Andy Duback for the Associated Press

The curious item in the picture to the left is Nutraloaf, a meal served in prisons and jails around the nation. Time Ideas has a piece today about a recent 7th Circuit case, in which Judge Posner thought that a Milwaukee inmate might have an 8th Amendment claim based on this meal.

A culinary review in Chicago Magazine reads as follows:

The mushy, disturbingly uniform innards recalled the thick, pulpy aftermath of something you dissected in biology class: so intrinsically disagreeable that my throat nearly closed up reflexively. But the funny thing about Nutraloaf is the taste. It’s not awful, nor is it especially good. I kept trying to detect any individual element—carrot? egg?—and failing. Nutraloaf tastes blank, as though someone physically removed all hints of flavor. “That’s the goal,” says Mike Anderson, Aramark’s district manager. “Not to make it taste bad but to make it taste neutral.” By those standards, Nutraloaf is a culinary triumph; any recipe that renders all 13 of its ingredients completely mute is some kind of miracle.


I ate two-thirds and gave up, longing for any hint of flavor, even a bad one. That night, my stomach’s rebellion against the loaf was anything but neutral. I felt so full and lethargic that I skipped dinner and the following breakfast. And let’s just say I finally had a lot of time alone to catch up on my New Yorker reading.

In the fall, we hosted a day about food deserts, and our panel included a CDCR nutritionist. The meals we were shown on the slide show looked a lot better than Nutraloaf, albeit our guest admitted they might not be representative meals. We also had a chance to talk about the importance of food for pleasure and comfort, not just a requisite for health. Have incarcerated Californians experienced Nutraloaf or anything like it? Tell us.

Reversing the Punitive Pendulum?

A while ago we discussed the question whether Californians were punitive, and offered a slew of sources that suggested that, when people are aware of the costs involved in the correctional monster, their level of punitivism decreases considerably.

Pew Center on the States' new report offers encouraging news to anyone who, like me, believes that the financial crisis has changed the landscape of American corrections in fundamental ways.

Some key findings:

1. American voters believe too many people are in prison and the nation spends too much on imprisonment.
2. Voters overwhelmingly support a variety of policy changes that shift non-violent offenders from prison to more effective, less expensive alternatives.
3. Support for sentencing and corrections reforms (including reduced prison terms) is strong across political parties, regions, age, gender, and racial/ethnic groups. 

These is no coincidence. I maintain that the financial crisis, and the growing public attention to fiscal prudence, is impacting public opinion like never before. Brown v. Plata and an increased media focus on prison expenditures increased the visibility of prisons, who had been invisible to the public eye prior to the crisis. The discourse is changing; policies are changing; and now, public opinion is changing, too.

Arrested? Your Naked Glory is Fair Game

Comic courtesy http://www.nwclu.org. 

Today's Supreme Court decision in Florence v. Board of Chosen Freeholders of County of Burlington authorizes correctional personnel to strip-search each and every detainee, regardless of any actual suspicion that he or she might have contraband on his or her person. It was, unsurprisingly, a 5-4 decision, with Justice Kennedy as the author of the Opinion of the Court and Justices Breyer, Ginsburg, Kagan and Sotomayor in the dissent. Classifying such searches as "special needs" searches, Justice Kennedy relies on prior decisions that allow constitutional violations of inmates when these are "reasonably related to legitimate penological reasons." The risks for safety, staff, and inmates who might need medical treatment, requires allowing such strip searches; also, at the booking stage it might be difficult to tell what the inmate had been arrested for.

This decision comes as no dramatic surprise to anyone who's read Samson v. California (2006), which allows suspicionless searches of parolees. In keeping with the general crime control rationales, to treat the presumably guilty harshly and set innocent people free, people who are already in the claws of the correctional apparatus may be searched and seized with no suspicion.

As an aside, the facts in the cases are a great example of judicial storytelling. To justify the penological interests behind such searches, Justice Kennedy paints a picture of jail as a dangerous, gang-infested place, where according inmates their privacy is a luxury we can scarcely afford. Justice Breyer, in his turn, paints an invasive and unpleasant picture of the strip search. You can easily predict which way an opinion is going to go by carefully reading the words Justices use to frame the facts.