By Robert E. Pierre
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Charles Wilder spent his adult life cycling in and out of prison. He'd come home hoping to get a job, only to receive the same stale responses. Call back later. We'll call you. You're facing stiff competition. After a while, Wilder would simply return to his previous job: selling drugs.

"Once they see 'felony,' the first thing they think is security," said Wilder, 46, of prospective employers. "If they hold a felony over your head for the rest of your life, they're telling you that you don't exist. You're not part of society. You're the lowest of the low. They're telling people to go back to the streets to make ends meet."

As many as 3,000 former prisoners return to the District each year, many with a limited education, no job skills, frayed family relations and empty pockets. But what really keeps them down, many city leaders contend, is a society unwilling to give them a second chance.

At least 11 states have laws limiting what employers can ask about criminal records. And now, the D.C. Council is considering joining them, with legislation that would prohibit discrimination in employment, housing and education against ex-offenders. A similar measure, facing stiff opposition from business leaders, was vetoed by Mayor Anthony A. Williams (D) as he left office last month. They fear that the measure would lead to unwarranted lawsuits by rejected applicants.

But the revived legislation, the Human Rights for Ex-Offenders Act, has momentum again, this time with support from at least six of 11 council members and Mayor Adrian M. Fenty (D). A special election is scheduled for May to replace two council vacancies.

Council member Harry Thomas Jr. (D-Ward 5), a sponsor of the bill, said that without the legislation, "we're asking [ex-offenders] to pay a debt already collected."

The bill would ban employers from looking into an applicant's criminal background until a job offer has been made. At that point, it would allow them to check the previous 10 years of a criminal record for offenses that have a "rational relationship" to the job. For instance, a person with a record of embezzlement legally could be rejected for a job as a cashier.

The rules would not apply to positions in law enforcement or those that involve unsupervised contact with children and the elderly. The bill would also not allow employers to consider arrests that did not lead to conviction. No vote has been scheduled, and council members expect plenty of lobbying for changes from business groups.

Barbara Lang, president of the D.C. Chamber of Commerce, said the legislation is well intended but might force judges to second-guess hiring decisions. More important, she said, some businesses might decide that recruiting in the city is not worthwhile.

"Employers fearful of lawsuits may recruit employees from outside the District to avoid possible negative consequences or simply move their recruiting offices just outside of D.C.'s borders," she said. "This would mean fewer jobs for D.C. residents, especially ex-offenders."

Business leaders said city leaders should focus on better training for felons rather than trying to punish businesses. And Robert Okun of the U.S. attorney's office called the legislation flawed. At a hearing last week, he said that as the bill stands now, a day spa owner could not refuse to rent space to a person convicted of prostitution and pandering.

But council member Marion Barry (D-Ward 8), himself an ex-offender, said that assertion was false because under the rational relationship clause, the spa could be considered a prostitution front.

At one point during the contentious hearing, Barry stopped the proceedings with an announcement that "six to eight officers" had assembled in the room next door. He and council member Carol Schwartz (R-At Large), who chairs the workforce development and government operations committee, left the dais and asked the officers to leave, which they did promptly. Barry said the police were present merely because ex-offenders were at the hearing.

Council members seemed moved by the personal stories of the ex-felons who testified at the hearing.

Chantel Rollins, 28, said she was homeless and trying to care for her two children when she was convicted of felony theft in 2004. She knew that stealing was wrong, she said, but she did it to make ends meet. She spent a week in jail. Before the conviction, she said, employers would at least return her calls. Afterward, her phone didn't ring.

"I had no hope for getting a job, because I had that red flag on my record," Rollins said.

She found hope in a city program called Project Empowerment, which teaches former inmates job skills and temporarily pays them to work for the city or nonprofit groups. She is temporarily working at Goodwill and soon will work for the nonprofit Peaceoholics.

Wilder said the program helped him, too. At 46, it was the first real job he'd had. In 10 months, initially earning $7.50 an hour and rising at 5 a.m. to collect trash, he has his own apartment, has opened a checking account and has saved a little money.

"I never had a bank account or my own place with my name on the lease," he said. "You feel better about yourself. You're motivated."

But his status is tenuous. His time in the program has run out, and he's looking for a job. "It would be easy to go back to the streets," he said. "I don't want to do that."