Who Pays for Prison?

The Lord has appointed me to bring good news ... to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners. —Isaiah 61:1; Luke 4:18

APRIL'S BIRACIAL DAUGHTER Erin has a drug problem. Heartbroken, “April” has watched “Erin” negotiate the prison system for the past 17 years. Now age 44, Erin has been in and out of five prisons and four jails, totaling almost eight years—all on drug-related charges.

On any given day in the United States, at least 137,000 men and women are in prisons or jails for drug use or possession, with thousands more spending extended periods on probation and parole. Why have rates of drug use (excluding opioids) not changed significantly despite more than four decades of the so-called war on drugs? Why are so many punished by incarceration for an activity that does not directly harm others?

In fall 2016, I was looking for volunteer opportunities in retirement. Having worked with a prisoner-release program in Canada, I wanted to pursue criminal justice issues again. In Harrisonburg, Va., I discovered the Valley Justice Coalition, a local group concerned about reducing incarceration and recidivism in Harrisonburg and surrounding Rockingham County.

With 2.2 million inmates, “no other country in the world imprisons its citizens like we do,” says Craig Haney, a professor of psychology at the University of California. Currently, 670 per 100,000 persons are incarcerated in the U.S., compared with 60 to 200 persons per 100,000 in other Western countries. This prison boom has led to annual spending of $72.5 billion on corrections.

But there are many additional costs: Every $1 spent on prisons results in an additional $10 in social costs—most of it borne by families, children, and local communities—according to a 2016 study from Washington University in St. Louis on “The Economic Burden of Incarceration in the U.S.”

The Valley Justice Coalition commissioned research into criminal justice issues in the area around Harrisonburg and connected me with several people in the criminal justice system whose stories illustrate the financial and human costs of incarceration.

Drug addiction and incarceration

How might the life of April’s daughter Erin have been different if she had received drug treatment instead of incarceration? If alternatives had been mandated, what costs might have been avoided?

During her eight years in prison, Erin lost potential wages of $264,000 (at average wages of $33,000 in 2014 dollars). Her lifetime earnings will also likely be affected by as much as 10 to 40 percent. Childcare costs provided by two grandmothers could have totalled $120,000 over eight years, plus costs for the children’s food, clothes, and school expenses. Without compassionate grandmothers, these children would likely have been homeless or picked up by child welfare at a cost of roughly $278,208 over 12 years.

Erin’s multiple re-entry periods were prolonged, a result of her addiction issues and the stigma of her criminal history. Thus Erin needed her mother’s assistance for extended time periods, requiring help when facing eviction and moving costs, as well as interest and fees on unpaid debts. These financial costs were primarily assumed by family members, but for many incarcerated persons, they fall on the public.

The social costs from Erin’s incarceration are less tangible but result in even more grievous long-term consequences. The Washington University study cites the following harmful effects of incarceration that carry over into families and the community:

• Recidivism. Without treatment for her addiction, Erin continued to “reoffend” by using drugs.
• Children of incarcerated persons receive less education. After being charged with gang-related activity, two of Erin’s three sons were expelled from high school.
• Children of incarcerated parents are five times more likely to go to prison. Each of Erin’s sons has served time in Department of Juvenile Justice facilities, one son’s term extending into an adult facility.
• Sixty-six percent of incarcerated persons and family members report detrimental mental health effects. Erin suffered numerous traumatic events, often resulting from harsh treatment by prison staff.

Erin has completed her most recent prison term and has been released into a re-entry drug rehab program. She is also more emotionally stable due to receiving prescription drugs for her mental health issues. So April is optimistic about Erin’s long-term stability.

But April and Erin’s story is one multiplied many times in other families, as relatives and communities pay the high costs related to the criminalization of drug use and possession in our country. In 2016, Sen. Cory Booker of New Jersey correlated the war on drugs with the 500 percent increase of incarceration rates in the past 40 years, declaring that this war is “disproportionately affecting the poor and minorities”—often with stark consequences.

Treatment of young first-time offenders

“Jim,” age 20, served a six-month sentence at the Rockingham-Harrisonburg Regional Jail, charged with grand larceny—a felony. This young adult appeared to be under the influence of drugs at the time of the offense, not fully comprehending the trouble he was causing or its consequences. Jim unfortunately fell into the vulnerable 18-to-24 age group, where youth are sentenced as adults even though often demonstrating maturity and behavior patterns more comparable to juveniles. If options other than incarceration would have been considered for Jim, the following questions might have been asked:

• What are appropriate consequences for breaking and entering a private home and stealing a TV? What damages were done to the home and to the people who lived there?
• How might Jim take responsibility for his misbehavior and best realize the effect of his actions on the victims and community?
• How might Jim best learn about the effects of his ongoing use of drugs?

Had the judicial system used the option of a drug court to teach the dangers of drug use, as well as a restorative justice process to repair the harm done, Jim’s story could have turned out differently. One also wonders what might have happened had he been a white male rather than biracial.

We can estimate the financial cost. The incarceration may have cost taxpayers close to $15,000. His family likely paid approximately $200 monthly for supplemental nutritious food and toiletries. Minimum wages lost in six months could add up to $7,800. Jim’s parents will likely shoulder the financial costs of helping Jim get re-established with a job, housing, and transportation for at least the first year, possibly longer. Should Jim take to the streets and become homeless, the costs would then fall on taxpayers (costing an average of $14,480 annually per homeless person).

And then there are the hidden social costs of Jim’s incarceration:

• the likelihood of reoffending, given that Jim’s underlying drug issues were not addressed
• the effects on Jim’s younger siblings, particularly an at-risk teenage brother
• the stigma Jim now faces in finding employment and housing, enlisting in the armed services, enrolling in university, or seeking a marriage partner

There are also criminogenic effects of incarceration. In Jim’s case, these include learned helplessness; learned violence, to defend himself against other inmates; learning (from other inmates) how to make methamphetamines; disrespect for authority and for other people; the environment of living with hardened adult offenders; and negative role modeling by jail staff.

If we multiply Jim by the estimated 250,000 youth incarcerated as adults every year across the U.S., what are the implications for our nation? If we want to curtail mass incarceration, might alternate sentencing options for first-time young adult offenders be one place to begin?

Aging in prison

Brother Fink, as he is affectionately called by Christian volunteers, has served 28 years in prison, following charges of first degree murder, involuntary manslaughter, and use of a firearm. His crime was not premeditated but arose from a situation in which he lost control of himself, resulting in two deaths. He received an 87-year sentence, a de facto life term.

At age 62, Brother Fink is in relatively good health and still able to do janitorial work. While in prison he has had back surgery and currently needs an additional small surgery. Volunteers who visit Brother Fink observe him as a model prisoner who would no longer be a threat to society. He is generally in good spirits, bringing encouragement to others. Saddened by his past crimes, he faces each day with faith and prays for the families of those he has hurt so badly.

What has it cost to incarcerate Brother Fink thus far? The Commonwealth of Virginia has paid about $756,000, given the estimated cost of $27,000 per year. The years of wages lost by Brother Fink, working as a laborer, could reach more than $600,000. Brother Fink’s weekly wages in prison total less than $13 and do not cover his monthly commissary expenses. Fortunately, Brother Fink has friends and relatives who help him, generously covering costs for visits, gifts, and taking care of his affairs.

The hidden costs of dehumanization are the most disturbing, such as the failure to meet basic human needs for belonging and safety. Extreme overcrowding, constant herding, threats of violence, and disrespect from staff and inmates are prevalent in prison environments. It is not surprising that many inmates, enduring these conditions over multiple years, exhibit symptoms of PTSD, such as extreme anxiety, night terrors, shame, and self-loathing. Some experts identify this as a “wound to the soul.”

Brother Fink received his 87-year sentence in 1990, when he was 34. The former parole system had offered incentives so that a sentence could be reduced. With cooperative behavior and attending educational programs, prisoners could earn “good time credits,” so Brother Fink diligently complied. But by the mid-1980s, many states had passed “truth-in-sentencing” laws that required prisoners to serve higher percentages (typically 85 percent) of their already long sentences, followed in the ’90s by “tough on crime” policies.

Now state prisons in the U.S. face an exploding elderly population. Between 1993 and 2013, the number of prisoners 55 years or older, serving sentences of one year or longer, increased 400 percent, to 131,500. If this trend continues, by 2030 a third of all inmates will be elderly, escalating the need for geriatric facilities and staffing, with costs twice that of younger inmates. The Osborne Association, which works with older prisoners and their families, estimates current annual spending at $16 billion for inmates aged 50 and older, warning that without decisive action the criminal justice system is at risk of collapsing under its own weight.

After serving 28 years, might Brother Fink be eligible for parole? Sadly, the Virginia parole board denies most releases, currently approving only 6 percent. Brother Fink has had 11 parole interviews, receiving three-year deferrals, including two geriatric turndowns.

As of October 2016, the backlog of prisoners eligible for parole in Virginia numbered 2,765, costing the state more than $77 million annually. Given this backlog and the seriousness of Brother Fink’s crimes, what are his chances for release at his next parole hearing? Then multiply Brother Fink by more than 100,000 elderly prisoners across the nation, who are some of the most rehabilitated and most infirm in the system, thus posing the least threat to public safety.

Given incarceration rates in the U.S., do the numbers and resulting costs for the aged, young offenders, and the drug addicted reflect how we want our prisons used and our public monies spent? Is there a common-sense solution on which both political parties can agree? Could both conservative and progressive Christians support policies that would indeed “proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners”?

A Family Affair

When a loved one goes to prison, family members—especially women—often bear the consequences. Here's how those costs add up:

 

$13,607

Average amount spent on conviction-related costs annually, which 63 percent of respondents said family members were primarily responsible for covering. 

 

34%

More than a third of families reported going into debt to pay for phone calls or visitation. Of those responsible for phone and visitation costs, 87 percent were women.

 

$947

Average annual amount an inmate spends on commissary items. Inmates earn an average of $180 to $660 per year, so many families end up paying the difference.

 

65%

Almost two-thirds of families with an incarcerated member were unable to meet their family's basic needs.

 

18%

Almost a fifth of families were evicted, denied housing, or disqualified from public housing once their formerly incarcerated family member returned.

 

50%

Half of family members experienced negative health impacts related to a loved one's incarceration.

 

Sources: "Who Pays? The True Cost of Incarceration on Families," Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, 2014; "The Company Store: A Deeper Look at Prison Commissaries," Prison Policy Initiative, 2018.