Fear holds back reform of California Youth Authority

After months of hearings and testimony, the California Assembly earlier this month failed to enact any significant prison reforms. I was furious — it felt as if all the work juvenile-justice organizations were doing this past year went for naught. The members of the Assembly who didn't vote for the bills on prison reform — which addressed issues from inmate health care to the protection of prison guards — must either be ignorant, coldhearted or scared. No human being with feelings would say it's OK to treat children the way we do in this state. The reason I'm bringing up children is because that's what I'm most familiar with: I was incarcerated in the California Youth Authority from ages 15 to 21. From the suicides to the use of cages, beatings and vicious dog attacks, everybody knows of inhumane abuses, and yet nobody is doing anything about it.

Why is the notion of prison reform so hard to grasp in this state, while states such as Missouri, which has had similar problems, are now boasting about a declining recidivism rate due to reforms they've adopted? The answer: the California Correctional Peace Officers Association, the most powerful lobby in California. Essentially, the Assembly is sacrificing what's right in order to please the people who are keeping money in their pockets, which to me is no different from the guy on the corner selling drugs. In fact, the similarities are frightening. The guy on the block ignores the pain he's causing dope fiends because he needs money to survive. Assembly members ignore the pain they're causing incarcerated children because they need their jobs — which are in jeopardy if the peace officers' union doesn't get what it wants. So you can probably understand why it's so disappointing and frustrating to know that despite our efforts and how many people we organized to fight for reforms, the union got its way. Our lawmakers are the same people who say they want to rehabilitate but won't give us any resources to help us do so. We're set free with a pat on the back, $50 of our own money, a list of about 20 rules to follow, and nothing else. Some kids don't even make it that far. There were two suicides in February this year; if that weren't enough, authorities found a 24-year-old man dead in a cell at a CYA facility in Stockton over Labor Day weekend. Going in is bad enough; not coming out is unjustifiable.

Those of us who do make it out realize it's almost as hard as being incarcerated, if not harder. It's a challenge to get out to a parole system that would rather send you back to prison than help you. Plus, there aren't many community groups that cater to the needs of a struggling child fresh out of jail. I practically had no preparation when it came to getting a job. But I've accepted the challenge because I know I made a mistake and must take responsibility for it. Why can't the authorities do the same? The peace officers' union at least needs to be challenged by someone with enough power to get its officials to actually talk and not dodge questions with ease like a crooked politician. Although it's easy to explain the problem, it's more difficult to stop a union more powerful than any other in California. In the meantime, keep in mind that the same people who are teaching us to fear murderers, drug dealers and thieves are perpetuating the damage by ripping kids out of their communities, subjecting them to more violence while in detention and sending them right back out. They've got people in the Assembly scared to push for what's right because they want to continue doing what they're doing — perpetuating a system that ends up turning kids into violent adults.

But while the peace officers' union may have silenced the Assembly, it still faces committed opposition: Those of us who lived through the system will never stop fighting for a more humane way of rehabilitating juvenile offenders.

Will Roy
13 September 2004

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/chronicle/a/2004/09/13/EDGIJ7P1JA1.DTL

home / Previous viewpoint