FreeJonny1
For
Justice
To deny people their human rights is to challenge
their very humanity. Nelson Mandela
their very humanity. Nelson Mandela
As a man with a numerical death sentence, I have found it nearly impossible to further my education. No that is wrong, I have found it impossible to find instruction and guidance in furthering my education. I have been able, through self discipline and the library, to educate myself. I know that I have touched on this subject briefly before. Now I wish to expand on it as I truly feel knowledge and education are the only viable tools to fight America's crime and prison problems. I feel that the current prison system is a complete failure as a means to not only rehabilitate its wards but as a deterrent. It seems there is no deterrent out there that has ever worked in any society, to successfully eliminate crime. Even in the face of torture on the rack or hanging in the town square, crime has always been a plague upon society. If it stems from genetics, economics or family upbringing...that is beyond my scope. What I do know is our current form of incarceration, in the name of rehabilitation, is incredibly out of balance. Our focus has moved from creating men to re-enter society to purely incarceration (warehousing). Our sentences have grown longer and while our sentences have grown longer, our rehabilitative programs have shrunk. I believe serious consideration needs to be given to what works and how long it takes to successfully rehabilitate the average offender for each crime. Then you can design the sentences around that time line and create a program with incentives to comply. Let us take, as an example, "Joe Smith" who committed a burglary and was found guilty. Now the judge can look at his history which, for arguments sake, states that "Joe" has no prior criminal history, is a high school graduate but has a drug addiction. The judge sentences him to 4 years (from a choice of 2-6), the middle ground. This sentence of 4 years should be a worst case scenario for "Joe". He should only do the four years if he fails to complete his programs. Some of what was just described is already in place but not always executed. Where my idea strays from the current system is in what comes next in "Joe's"life. He arrives at the diagnostic center (Department of Corrections Diagnostic), where he is evaluated again and given his list of programs that he is required to complete in order to earn time off of his sentence. These programs should include victim impact, drug rehabilitation and other programs related to his crime. In addition to this "Joe " has to choose one of the trade (vocational) programs offered, which has its own training program and time credits for each completed step in his training. "Joe" has a choice, he can do nothing, learn nothing and do all four years OR "Joe" can enter into his classes and trade, fill his day with activity and cut his time down with each completed program. The key to this is the time cuts must be EARNED while teaching him to deal with his addiction. "Joe" would also get a valuable tool (the trade he learned) which would help him start a successful career upon his release. This is a very basic model but it is an outline for what I see would be easiest to attain under our modern justice system. We use prison only as a means of punishment. That is only half of its function. The other half is rehabilitation. Which brings me to my final point. In any crowd utter the words "death penalty" and you will hear the majority of people say it is only suitable in extreme cases. But make a small play on words and call it "life" and all of a sudden state sanctioned death is all right. While a man may not be bad enough to warrant society putting a needle in his arm, he is not given the chance to redeem himself. Instead he shall suffer decades caged and eventually loose his life to the state in the states care. Is that justice? Do we have the right to a man's life? Jonny
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Jonny and I have collaborated on this topic. We both believe and have seen evidence that education and rehabilitation works. We, in this country have allowed prisons to become warehouses for human lives. They are called the Department of Corrections. We should hold them to that statement. If we invested a portion of our prison budgets to rehabilitation programs education and re-entry programs we could change the life of an individual, a family and the impact that person will have in our communities. It would also stop the revolving door and help to break the cycle, in families, of incarceration. My question has always been, why do we send these young people to prison without a plan for their return to our communities? Why is it that we expect them to be a changed person upon leaving prison when we have done nothing to encourage or influence that change during their incarceration? Why do we continue to operate our prison and corrections facilities the same way, year after year, with the same inadequate results? In our state (Colorado), you are required, upon entering the department of corrections, to complete the GED program. The original intake process also evaluates the other types of programs that would be useful for the offender to take. For my son, one of the programs was Anger Management. Quite honestly, every offender entering the system should be required to take this program. You are pretty angry after being sentenced to prison. Of course it would do no good to require it for all offenders because at the facilities where my son has been housed, the program is not offered! Out of 3 facilities, which all house offenders with long prison terms, not one facility offered the anger management course. To expect education and rehabilitation, when the most basic of treatment is not available, is an impossibility. But is it true that education and rehabilitation work? Read on..... From Jonny: Our system is irrational. The early 90's and late 80's crime wave and gang uprising made a sensational story and many monsters (and much fear) was created out of it. So the guy (DA) who could put a monster down for life was a hero, and everyone wants to be a hero, so that became the new agenda. The problem is that they strayed from the path of what prison was created for, reformation for those who can be changed and death for those who can't. Now it's frowned upon to actually use the words "death penalty" (except in extreme cases) but life without parole (long and tortured death) is accepted as humane. That is because society doesn't actually put a needle in our arm but either way ......it's death. We need to get back to using death sentences (life without parole or LWOP) in only extreme cases and allow for rehabilitation for the rest. DA's act on public opinion. If society cried out "No! This is wrong!" they would stop but society is not face to face with the issues. They are spoon fed fear. Look at the news, it is designed to instill fear and bring about panic. A panicked person rarely makes a rational decision, so society as a whole doesn't cry out that this is wrong. There is a reason justice is represented by a scale, it has to be balanced and right now it is out of balance....bad. A wrong must be punished but the punishment must be just. our system needs to be redesigned to rehabilitate and it actually needs to perform the function! There needs to be an extensive standard and program to go through in order to be officially rehabilitated. There needs to be classes and goals placed in front of the offender. While a numerical number must be placed (in terms of sentence) it must coincide with the maximum projected time it would take to rehabilitate the average offender who committs that act. Education is the greatest tool against crime, in my opinion. It helps in so many ways. The sentence should be a worst case scenario for instance if you get a 4 year sentence, you will do the entire 4 years only if you do not complete any of the programs. Each program must carry a certain amount of time reduced from your sentence as a guarantee. The schedule and amount of classes must be enough to teach the offender new skills and keep him locked up long enough to deter returning. Everything must balance. While this may seem entirely optimistic to us, let me assure you that this model of rehabilitation and education are used with great success in other countries. in Germany, for instance, their entire prison system is based on education and reform. They do not hold people in prison for long periods of time and while they are in prison they are required to engage in programs to change their destructive and dysfunctional behavior. Here in this country we have an interesting test program, if you will. San Quentin Prison University Program. This program is taught by 3000 volunteers, professors and educators from local universities. The inmates are able to receive an Associate of Arts degree. It is changing the prison climate and the future of many men. Isn't education and a productive person a better option that throwing away people in human warehouses? Jonny and Bonnie I pace like an anxious animal waiting for the zookeepers to transfer me to the 30 foot by 7 foot cage with a pull up bar. The lone piece of equipment, like a dead tree standing in a desolate concrete field. Cuff up!! Back out of the cell slowly! These are the orders I must follow as the two officers transfer me from one habitat to another. Maximum Security, the bold black letters stamped across my security designation; the two words that justify my isolation from the rest of the prison population. Administrative Segregation (Ad Seg), the two words that are my isolation, 23 hour lock-down, only moving between cages in restraints, always by 2 correctional officers (CO's). I got officially ad seged the day after Christmas (Merry Christmas) 2007 for allegedly participating in a riot. Even though all the inmates in the gym were strip searched for signs of fighting and arrested if they had any signs that very night. I wasn't arrested until 12 days later on the word of one man, the Gang Coordinator. A man who's word was so golden to the 2 staff members presiding over my fate that even after the loss of the list identifying who was in the gym and the presentation of incident reports from 10 responding eye witness staff members (all saying they observed black and Hispanic inmates fighting with no mention of whites); I was still deemed a danger and threat to the safety and security of the prison. The only evidence relied upon was the report issued by the gang coordinator which had no mention of his sources or how he came to the conclusion of my involvement. Of course there was no mention that I had no history of violent behavior in the 4 years spend in the Colorado Department of Corrections for violence. Or that I had no disciplinary infractions in over a year. No, one mans word was more powerful than all of that. I think Ad Seg, as a whole, should be looked at and tested to see if isolation is a reasonable means of achieving prisons entire goal of rehabilitating an offender to become a productive, functioning, law abiding citizen. Ad seg, a place where human contact is forbidden, human interaction is frowned upon. Men yell out steel doors at each other or talk through air vents for companionship discussing a variety of topics from loose women, drugs, life in the fast lane, to politics, philosophy and the latest current events. Desperate attempts at maintaining some form of social skills, some connection with humanity. Ad seg, the Department of Corrections favorite tool. Originally designed to house the worst of the worst, the incorrigible men who refuse to conform or were just to dangerous to be housed in general population. Ad-seg is now used for the violent and non-violent alike. The alcoholic who was brewing wine, now suffers the same fate as the man who continues to kill in prison. A tool overused to reap more money from a state's overstretched budget. Ad-seg is abused like every other instrument of our modern justice system. A quick fix for a growing problem, but does isolation truly work? The true mind game of Colorado's ad-seg program is there is no time line for release back to general population. You never know when or if you are getting out. Is this a tool that should be so easily employed? Jonny Looking up through the steel grating as the grey sky releases its contents, drenching me while nourishing the earth; water the nectar of life. Natures Wine. How often I took moments like this for granted. Growing up, it never crossed my mind there would come a time when I wouldn't be able to enjoy nature in its extremes, beauty or glory. The woods were my playground growing up, a boundless supply of bad guys, forts and adventures for a young child. My only limit was what my imagination could create. The lake across the street was my summer retreat. Hours spent in the serious work of discovery and play. How many poor gardener snakes, crawdads or salamanders were whisked out of their environment, my temporary captives, until my mean ol' parents made me return them to their homes. The five gallon bucket, that was my observation tank, rarely remained empty as I learned and became familiar with my world. The days of my youth were spent alone, for the most part, for the majority of my peers lived a good distance away. Yet I can't recall one moment of feeling lonely. I was content sharing my company with the squawking crows and chattering squirrels who thrived and enjoyed the woods with me.
There seems to always be one moment growing up that impacts who and what you are to become, for me that was moving from my childhood home of Pagosa Springs to the small city of Colorado Springs. Never before had I lived in a place where I was not allowed to go wherever I wanted because there were "creeps" and "bad guys". I had to learn that strangers were not to be trusted, a culture shock for the rural raised kid. School was a whole other story. I was now the outsider, the country boy lost in the city, but luckily I was gifted in the art of school yard brawls and wrestling matches. Not afraid to use the cowardly, but effective, sucker punch or go for the soft spots. The solar plexus or whatever extreme was necessary to get it over with. I established myself as a tough kid. My grades plummented as I became lost in a far advanced school curriculum. Slowly I drifted farther away from caring about school, concerning myself with skateboarding, music and friends. I was a naive, foolish young man upon entering high school. I turned away from education as useless. The divorce of my parents impacted me in a huge way. It came at the age when I was ready to explore the world, ready for adventure and without the presence of a parent to oversee me, I roamed. The emotionally unstable, confused young man left to his own devises, will reach to find an outlet or help for his pain. Why is it the evils of this world (drugs, gangs, crime) are made far more readily available than the healthy, productive and above all legal? Parents you must find an interest for and of your child's, expand upon it, create a challenge, allow success or failure, give the kid aspirations and a sense of worth. Our schools teach us to create so much "affordable housing technology" and affordable luxuries like television and radio but why is it we are not creating greater individuals? Our society has no virtues or morals, nothing is sacred. People thrill us on TV by exposing how they have cheated and ruined other peoples lives. We are captivated to watch people worse off than us, telling ourselves "Well I'm not that bad, shallow or hollow." But giving a voice to such disparity, help it become normal, isn't that "bad, shallow and hollow" in itself? Jonny Going to prison is like dying, when you first get arrested it is a tragedy with all your loved ones grieving for you and your plight. Then you sit in the morgue going through the court process. You get visits, letters and reassurance that you will never be forgotten, never be alone. Burial time, the whole family gathers at your sentencing, a large public show of support. As the gavel falls, cries of grief and outrage echo throughout the court room, 66 years! As the casket lowers into its place, people watch, weep and maybe silently rejoice as they see the dark depths you are plunged into. The prison bus delivers you into the gates, buried alive, in a mausoleum with only small windows to watch the world pass by in wonder. Only those who truly care return to trim the weeds that grow around you and plant flowers to cheer your ever restless spirit....keep you sane. Mail, the water that quenches my daily thirst for contact and communication, has slowed from a steady flow to an almost non-existent trickle. I was sentenced 12-1-2003 and to this date, only my mother and sister have visited on a regular basis. Eventually all forms of communication with the outside world fall away like dead leaves from the tree of life. It forces you to immerse yourself into this lifestyle, with its anti-social stigmas and customs. How is society fooled into believing this works? We are not rehabilitated. We are warehoused, fed, processed and shuffled around like cattle in the name of justice. Prison creates bank robbers out of petty thieves, murderers out of drug addicts. With nobody rehabilitated, we are merely re-educated, forced to adapt to the dog eat dog world of prison. When your life is turned upside down and your experience the pain, violence and hatred that is prison, how can you be expected to ever function for a society that has wronged you so? I made up my mind when I was 18 I would never let my mind go to waste, knowing nobody was going to do it for me, I have tried my best with limited resources to rise above the rest in these dark depths. You may cage my body but my mind will always soar free, untethered, allowed to go along with the greatest adventurers like Marco Polo. Share a seat in the audience of great men like Nietzsche, Lao Tzu and Thoreau, but a book is a sad substitute for life! What of men who are not determined to improve or not capable of doing it unaided? Does society not owe it to itself to help these wayward men and women better themselves for no other reason than it is to society these lost souls shall return? When you take a man with nothing, no skills, no education, no virtue, how do you expect him to change and become productive? The current philosophy is lock them up, build more prisons... but eventually the pressure will build enough behind the dam, it will burst! Can society afford that? Jonny Why does it seem that nobody truly searches for the truth until an injustice has already been committed? Wouldn't it be wiser and more cost effective to search out the truth prior to condemning innocent men? Our media feeds us the harrowing tales of the monsters that are all around us lurking in the house next door or in the dark alleys just waiting to prey upon our innocent society. How can we do anything but give more money and power to our saviors, the government? The politicians needed to pass the laws, the police forces to enforce these laws, catch the monsters and, lest we forget, the district attorney's to use manipulate and abuse these laws so these wretches can be caged forever! The district attorney's weave a tangled web, building the story they desire to sell the public, built on some fact and a lot of imagination. Their tale floats into our homes on waves carried through time and space, plastered on our television screens by our media who's very existence thrives on these tales. Captured in the web with the spider, whispering what it wants you to hear, all the while injecting us with their poison of exaggerated charges, twisted facts and even outright lies. Using the fear generated by the media to enrage society and trap their prey. That might just be the problem with this great nation. We get so caught up in the "story", we forget that these "monsters" are actually people. Yep! Flesh and blood and breathing humans like yourself. This is how our media has betrayed us and itself, by blindly accepting the story (the poison) then using it to prey upon our natural fear of what we don't understand, to condemn and cage our fellow man. Don't get me wrong, there are disgusting animals who commit such atrocious acts, they can't be called human. These are rare cases. More often than not the person behind the picture on the news is a normal person caught up in something either brought about by poor choices, bad luck or their own unfortunate circumstances. The tragedy of it all is the system itself. While the media plays the story of the prosecution, the defense is usually muzzled. Defendants are advised against any statements being made in their defense lest their words be twisted and misconstrued in court. This is something I struggled with throughout my trial period, not able to dispute the claims made against me. I was tortured watching my family suffer and unable to speak out against the allegations. When that monster turns out to be someone we know, maybe even love, we are forced to take stock of what we believe. Who's telling the truth? Our beloved judicial system who upholds the law and justice in our society or the persecuted loved one who tells a different tale? Things that can tear families apart, never even considered by the media or the system that feeds fuel into the media's fire. Wouldn't it be beautiful if, in the name of justice, the D.A. could be held accountable on the same plane as the defendant? Anything they say can, and will, be held against them in a court of law?!?! Jonny No physical evidence, an alibi, a lead detective doubting the tales told by a young man who has remained in a mental institution since his arrival in the Colorado Department of Corrections, civil rights and judicial procedures trampled upon throughout my entire case, yet here I sit. These are the haunting thoughts that cross my mind daily. Perhaps the most disturbing thing for me was the destruction of the only evidence that could exonerate me. Two of the victims in this triple homicide were elderly and were on a regular medication regiment. If these medications were found in their stomachs, it would show they were killed 5 hours earlier than my "friend" Issac claimed, when I was hours away in the company of my family. But fate would not be so kind. For six months the stomach fluids were "lost" and when they were found in another counties morgue, the specimens were in such a deteriorated state they could not be tested. How convenient. My faith in the integrity of the justice system was waining but this incident would be nothing like October 16, 2002. When a nervous 19 year old kid would confront the court and learn the lawyer he trusted had betrayed him in the worst way. The District Attorney has 180 days, after a plea is entered in a case, to bring a case to trial. It's called the defendants Right To a Speedy Trial. A law which cannot be broken without a verbal (court recorded) or written waiver from the accused. On Oct. 16 they were over a month past their deadline, my hopes were soaring. Freedom was finally at hand. I could taste the sweet nectar and its intoxicating effects. Restless nights, hours of study, all the bases were covered. I had their %$#* finally! As I made my case, butterflies taking flight in my stomach, I noticed the smirks on the D.A.'s faces, the feigned interest of the judge, as if they anticipated my move and were privy to a hidden trump card. As I completed my statement, the judge asked if that was all? "Yes", I replied. He denied my motion on the grounds that my spineless lawyer waived my right to speedy trial months before, against my will and behind my back in a private hearing, over the phone with the judge, DA and himself. Panic struck me. My heart raced as my mind tried to wrap itself around what I had just heard. Next week was my trial date. Would I be forced to represent myself? I can't do it! I try to scramble, find something! Confused, fear grips my heart. I must postpone! I must have a lawyer! Thankfully the judge rescued me from my despair and scheduled a hearing the next day, where lawyers from the Public Defenders Office could hear my complaints, help me fight! If only that were the case! These underpaid, overworked, civil servants would grill me and tell me I had no hope. Even though their office represented two men who were witnesses against me. Another kick to an already injured soul, my will to fight diminishes. Jonny We all believe that we have laws and a system in place that will protect our rights and our children. I found out, that day, that those things do not really exist. I found out (later) that my son had been interviewed the first time at his high school, without the presence of another adult, parent or attorney. They picked my son up from his place of work, they asked him to ride with the investigator while another officer drove his car to the police station. It was at that point that my son was in custody. They came to my place of business and asked me to come to the police station as they were holding my son. They would not tell me why. When I arrived, we went through several security doors. When I was taken to the room where my son was being held, they shut the door behind us. I was told that we were free to leave at any time. They never read him MARANDA rights and they never indicated, in any way, that he was a suspect in any crime. If these things had been done, I would have been able to make better decisions for my son. If the laws that protected juveniles had been in place, my sons rights, his name and the family would have been protected. None of this happened. And at the end of the day, they took my son. His last words to me, as he cried, were "Don't worry mom, the truth always comes out." They never searched my home or my sons room. No search warrant was ever issued. They did not know who he was, where he came from or who his family was. They knew nothing except what one scared 15 year old kid said.........
Four steps turn, four steps turn...four steps turn. Again and Again I pace my cell thinking. Going on the roller-coaster ride that is my mind. Sometimes my thoughts are so bright and clear, I can see into the vast expanse of the world, similar to when the car stops at the top of the roller-coaster. You can see everything for miles and miles. With one unsettling push I'm thrown back into my seat, the air rushes past my face as I spiral into unknown depths, the twists and turns of my mind, confronting past, present and future demons, my thoughts, my companions. I have been in Administrative Segregation (ad-seg) since November 28, 2007. My first time officially ad-seged but not the first time the powers that be, who now own and control my life, have deemed it necessary to segregate me from the rest of population. Rewind to March 8, 2001. A 40 something mother pleads with the District Attorney's "investigator" for her son, who was assured when they agreed to the interview, she would be allowed to leave with her son. Only an over zealous jackass, convinced that the harrowing tale he heard hours earlier from my 15 year old friend, was true. If only he knew how mentally unstable Issac was and how many times his tale would change. I can only wonder if he would have still arrested me? A hearing is held the next day to transfer me from juvenile custody to the Park County Jail, an adult facility with no experience or accommodations for juveniles, but I am their trophy, their prize, to exhibit to all the world. Dressed up at every court hearing in bullet proof vests and chains, as one smart &*%* pig put it "We'll make you look like Hannibal Lector without the mask. I'll see if I can find you that mask." As he laughs, I only wish this nightmare would end and they would all be gone when I woke up, if only I knew it was just beginning. Park County, in its infinite wisdom, decides that rather than asking to hold me in a juvenile facility, they would keep their trophy in their segregation. One of two cells facing each other, with a shower between them, located in the back of the jail by receiving. Alone, I spent the next four months in a cell with a camera watching my every move, at first the light stayed on 24 hours a day, helping me become more disoriented, losing track of any sense of time. I am treated like a rabid animal, my food shoved through a tray slot in the door. My shower time, I am buzzed out of my cell but only after the guard places my towel and the Bob Barker soap on the floor, then retreats behind a second door. This is the first time I have ever experienced people fearing me and hating me, something I would soon grow accustomed to, but at the time I wanted to scream, "Don't be scared, I am just a kid!" Why won't anyone talk to me? What's going on? Eventually I receive visits from my family who can leave a few books to read and money, so I can buy stuff from Park County's inflated commissary, where it costs $1.20 for a hotel sized bar of Dial soap. Thus my first four months in jail were spent in fear and confusion but never again would solitude be a tool successfully employed to "control" me. I have learned to thrive, love and become immune to solitude. With that I will leave you with a quote from Schopenhauer "A man can be himself only so long as he is alone and if he does not love solitude he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free." Jonny Today March 8, 2016 marks the 15th year since my son was swallowed by the justice system. Fifteen years of fighting, lobbying, arguing, appealing and he is not home. He was not afforded the opportunity of a judicial hearing before transfer. No one took the time to investigate who this kid was, should he be held, should he be charged as an adult. No one took the time and there were no protections. So we wait and we pace and we fight and we pray that soon the tide will change. Soon he will be home. Here is the glimpse into the life Jonny was forced to live. I wake with alarms going off in my mind, something is not right! As the adrenaline brings me out of my slumber, I realize its too quiet...the constant humming of air being pumped into my 12 foot by 7 foot cage has stopped. I can relax, amazed at how in tune with my environment I have become, those four walls and the thoughts created within them are my constant companions. I can recall a time merely 7 years ago when I lived on a fairly busy street in Colorado Springs and not even the backfiring of a car could disturb my sleep. A time when my only concerns were what to wear to school and how soon summer would arrive. How much innocence has been lost and the reality of life thrust upon me. Not even 18, I was forced to face a judicial system that swallows up most adults, let alone a 17 year old kid. Forced to fight for my life against a beast I was not familiar with and could hardly understand. The biblical story of David and Goliath comes to mind but this tale was more Greek tragedy than a biblical story of the weak defeating overwhelming odds; I swing my sling only for the rock to miss and the giant foot of "Goliath" to smash down upon my body. Not killed, only caged for almost 4 times as long as I have already lived free (66 years) and all the pleas for help and proclamations of innocence ignored. The character 'Henry Rearden' in Ayn Rands "Atlas Shrugged" may explain my frustrations best. "Life" he thought, "had been defined as motion, mans life was purposeful motion. What was the state of a being to whom purpose and motion were denied, a being held in chains but left to breath and to see all the magnificence of the possibilities he could have reached, left to scream WHY and to be shown the muzzle of a gun as sole explanation?" A man without a purpose has no reason to exist but I have found my purpose, to share this life society forces me to live, with all who are interested and care. So return to share my story and struggles. Jonny
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