A friend of mine got arrested last month for drunk driving. She endangered other people, she went to jail, and her job prospects are damaged. Growing up, my parents and my friends’ parents always said “Don’t Drive Drunk Ever.” Obviously, they are right. What we don’t usually hear is the arrested person’s perspective on the whole experience. I had an opportunity to hear it.
She told me that Massachusetts law stipulates that her license is suspended for 45 to 90 days. She also pays a massive fine — the DMV website says $500 to $5,000 depending on the severity of the offense. In addition, she pays $550 for an alcohol awareness class and $780 in probation fees. She is also required to send a letter to her officer every month to verify that she is in the state. If she wants, she can apply for a “hardship license” that will allow her to drive during the suspension period — if she pays an additional $400.
You know what I found most interesting?
Just how unjust the justice system is.
Our courts are set up to take in money. First, the fines, then the fees for classes, then the probation fees. Oh, and did I mention that if you cannot afford to pay the probation fees up front, then you don’t get to simply send a letter to verify residency? Instead, you have to take several hours of public transportation to meet your probation officer during the time when you could be at work.
Every part of the punishment system is about turning the victim upside down, shaking until the coffer is full and hammering that person into the ground. It’s a nuclear method of justice. And if an individual is poor and cannot afford defense and the upfront fees, then the blast throws them into a deeper drainage ditch than their original poverty. This phenomenon is not isolated to DUIs. It occurs in drug offenses, in petty crimes, in manslaughter, in every brick of our judicial system.
Imagine you are poor. You are trying to make your way. You make one mistake — a DUI — when you are young, stupid and blind to your mortality. You are done.
You can’t find employment, because you were arrested, and employers screen for criminal history almost before they read your name. When you do find employment, there is no convenient way to get there, because you can’t drive, and the public transportation system is a joke. You also still have to pay every month to trek across the state to visit someone who is so overworked and overburdened that they treat you like a checklist. Could you hold your head up when the entire system is pushing it down? One reliable way out is through drugs. Or you could win the lottery.
Our entire system is set up to entrap these less fortunate individuals. Politicians use fear tactics and “tough on crime” rhetoric to win votes from more moderate, level-headed candidates. As a result, inmates spend 36 percent more time in jail than 20 years ago, according to crime data from 2009 in a recent Pew study. On top of that fact, there are millions and millions more people in jail than 20 years ago. The War on Drugs has put away nonviolent offenders to the point that they make up 60 percent of our prison population. Three-strike laws put people away for life for nonviolent offenses.
Because the vast majority of those incarcerated are males, these policies create broken homes without fathers, jobs or hope. Kids without a stable home are more likely to do poorly in school and commit crimes. The nuclear option of justice leaves nothing but broken souls in its wake.
Our war on crime has gone so awry, so fast, that if we wanted to return to the level of incarceration that we had in the 1970s, we would have to free four out of every five inmates. Bear in mind that the 1970s were much more violent times, due in part to the rise of gangs like the Bloods and Crips.
The answers to our incarceration epidemic are obvious. Reform the law so poor people receive equal representation and treatment. Don’t require punishments that force people into bankruptcy or make it impossible to hold a job. Don’t make our punishments so draconian and harsh that one mistake or fit of anger ruins an entire life. Mandate that employers cannot ask about nonviolent criminal history in initial job applications so good people who need jobs to stay afloat are able to find them.
Heck, maybe we should stop incarcerating nonviolent offenders. Focus on reform rather than punishment by putting them in rehab and vocational schools. It sounds expensive, but if we just shifted the $31,000 we spend federally per inmate a year toward these types of reform, we may be able to afford basic job training. New York City would be able to subsidise several hundred college scholarships for inner city kids with the $168,000 per year they spend on each of the 12,800 people who run through their jail system.
We can’t just hide our mistreated citizens in warehouses.
Nico Enriquez ’16 can be reached at nenriquez3@gmail.com.
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