Still in Prison, but Heading for More Trouble

Forum Discusses Unmet Needs Of Inmates From the District

The meeting at the old council chambers in One Judiciary Square had been called to discuss the needs common to many D.C. inmates while in prison and as they get out: drug treatment, jobs, a place to live and a new direction.

Mothers showed up to tell of sons whose commissary money was being stolen or who had been bleeding for months without receiving medical care. Former inmates described a lack of counseling to help prepare them for their release.

"They just told me this is the day I'm leaving, and this is the halfway house I'm going to," said Darrell T. Farley, 41, who had just returned home after 14 months at Rivers Correctional Institution in Winton, N.C., about 70 miles southwest of Virginia Beach. "They said, 'Here's your ticket, and see you back in Washington, D.C.' "

His comments came during the meeting last Thursday of the D.C. Commission on Black Men and Boys -- first convened in 2000 by Del. Eleanor Holmes Norton (D-D.C.). Its mission is to uncover the impediments to the success of black boys and men and to identify solutions.

Past discussions have focused on HIV/AIDS and education. This session highlighted the nearly 7,000 District prisoners who, as part of a deal reached with Congress a decade ago, are spread across 75 institutions and 33 states.

Some, such as Rivers Correctional Institution, are private and under contract with the federal Bureau of Prisons. These have become a particular concern for Norton, who came away distressed after a recent visit to Rivers.

Drug treatment and job training options were inadequate, she said. As a result, too many inmates return home unprepared to do anything but get sent back to prison.

"When you let a man out of prison with $40 in his pocket and a drug problem," Norton said, "what do you expect?"

How to handle felons convicted in the District has been almost entirely a federal concern since 1997, when Congress agreed to pay for the District's criminal justice system. One of the biggest changes was that city felons were sent to the federal Bureau of Prisons, and control for overseeing them before and after sentencing was also given to federal agencies.

Norton said that the break was too abrupt. "The relationship between the city and these men has been broken," said Norton, who wants to reconnect the two.

Dozens got up to tell their individual stories of heartache. Virginia Parks, 87, talked about her grandson, Edward Bright, who has been in jail since he was 18. Now 32, Bright is in a West Virginia prison and has told his grandmother in phone calls that he has been bleeding from the rectum for nearly three months and hasn't been seen by a doctor.

"I can't get through to the Bureau of Prisons," she said. "The man I called downtown said they didn't have any jurisdiction."