Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, September 11, 1994 TAG: 9410220073
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-5 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: TONY WHARTON THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT FOR THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
They think the criminal justice system needs fixing. But they know that the questions of prevention, punishment and responsibility are much broader than depicted by politicians and that they can't be addressed in one special legislative session.
The answers may not lie solely with government, they say, but rather in a complex mix of personal responsibility, educational reform, practical alternatives to prison, unflinching punishment when necessary, and family and community involvement.
Above all, they think far more attention must be paid to the next generation.
For this project, the participating news organizations conducted eight community conversations around the state involving more than 90 people.
It was a chance for Virginians to do more than respond to reporters' and politicians' questions; it was an opportunity for people to grapple with the problem among themselves and come up with their own answers.
As Virginians and Americans, people are dealing with questions that cut to the core of what defines our society, how its citizens treat each other, and how we make decisions.
Whom do you punish and whom do you help?
How do we prevent crime in the first place?
Where does the government's responsibility end and the community's begin?
In short, ``How do you convince people to buy into American citizenship?'' Franklin physician Alvin Harris asked. ``How do you try to convince people that we are a society of laws and that we are going to abide by those laws?''
Whom do you punish?
Whom do you help?
Russell L. Powell is 62, a dental lab operator in Franklin. He remembers that his school principal had a paddle in a time when corporal punishment wasn't much of an issue. The principal didn't often use the paddle - but he would use it, and all the kids knew it.
That, Powell said, is how punishment in Virginia should work: swift and sure, with the ``paddle'' visible so others will think twice about committing a crime.
``It was effective,'' he said. ``It started off young, and back then if you committed a crime you were sentenced and you were punished right away.''
Bill Keck, a 34-year-old Roanoke nursing home administrator, drew from a different experience. He and his wife, Kristina, who works in marketing, saw first-hand the Filipino system of punishment when they lived there. Sentences were tough for fairly minor offenses and got tougher for more severe crimes. Criminals had few rights.
That, the couple said, is how punishment in Virginia should work: ``Throw these people in jail and take the TVs away, take the recreation equipment away,'' Bill Keck said. ``That place should be a living hell, someplace they don't want to go back to. ... I think they give up every single constitutional right they have when they commit a violent crime.''
Seventy percent of the Virginia voters surveyed by Media General said they strongly support swift convictions and longer prison terms to control crime.
In fact, it was not unusual for Virginians to endorse punishments never used in the United States. Some suggested caning, the punishment Ohio teen-ager Michael Fay received in Singapore for vandalism. Others mentioned the eye-for-an-eye punishment they've heard that some Arabic nations use.
They believe the criminal justice system has lost the power to teach right from wrong. The system is too slow; criminals regard it as a game, they said.
But those who had seen prisons, as visitors or counselors, said they're pretty unpleasant places already.
Even Powell, the Franklin dental lab operator who wanted tougher sentences, said: ``I'll tell you this, it's not a picnic over there. Anybody that thinks they go over there because they want to be there, it is not true. Young men who have been raped are scared to death to go back in to their bunk. They don't know what's going to happen to them.''
As the discussion progressed, most quickly acknowledged that perhaps some criminals could be salvaged. They drew distinctions between violent and nonviolent offenders, between adult and juvenile criminals. And they thought there should be some allowance for mitigating circumstances, such as when years of abuse drives a woman to kill her husband.
Violent and nonviolent offenders should be separated, they said.
After all, said Beth Gibson, a 29-year-old nurse from Richmond, ``They say that the best way to become a better criminal is to go to prison.''
Gibson and others raised the question of what criminals should do in prison. Many viewed ``rehabilitation'' as a failed, discredited idea.
But citizens in the conversations volunteered that prisoners who are illiterate or truly want to go straight should get that chance through education and training.
Barry Bowser, a public health doctor in Richmond, said he often sees former prisoners who learned nothing to help them lead a straight life.
``What does the prison system offer them in terms of real learning processes, real rehabilitation?'' he said. ``Teach them how to sand furniture. They teach them how to work in the laundry. What else? Can they get a high school GED? Can they get a correspondence course degree program for a junior college or college? Do they get any learning skills or any skills that they can adapt outside?''
Across Virginia, respondents to the Media General poll said the No. 1 purpose of prisons should be simply to keep criminals off the street. Second, they said, prisons should try to set first-time offenders back on the right track.
Although most people agreed the state should help certain criminals become productive members of society, there was little agreement on the effect prison sentences have on potential criminals. Some, like Powell, used the ``paddle'' argument, saying tougher sentences will send a strong message.
But others said criminals don't see the choices. They don't understand their future that way.
As Roanoke writer Roland Lazenby said, ``There is no deterrent when you can't see tomorrow.''
Preventing crime in the first place
Prevention is where the participants in the conversations believe the most promise lies. They also know it is far more difficult than making punishment swift and sure. The key to prevention, they think, is education.
Dr. Guy Levy, 32, is a fifth-generation native of Newport News who practices dentistry there. He's seen crime on a small scale, and helped to set up a neighborhood watch after a rash of vandalism in his neighborhood. He also saw violent criminals when he worked as a dental resident in a Washington, D.C., jail, which he says is ``the worst environment I'd ever want to be in.''
For Levy, the best way to break the cycle of crime is to do a better job of educating children. Perhaps some of the billions of dollars being spent housing prisoners could be better used, he said.
``If we can invest some of that into making sure kids are educated, it would be worth it,'' Levy said.
Education, it seems, is a more complex word for many people than it is for politicians. It can represent the traditional grade schools, and Virginians certainly believe more time and money should be spent on those. It also starts in the home, with parents teaching their children responsibility, and in the neighborhood, where all adults should be responsible for teaching the children.
Many Virginians think education is meant not only to teach basic skills, but to teach right and wrong and to show young people they have a constructive place in society.
People are concerned that their values - what they regard as basic, common values not necessarily tied to religion - are not being passed on to the next generation. This is a core issue for many.
Statewide, 77 percent of those surveyed said they strongly support allowing schools to teach right from wrong. Moreover, 85 percent said they would rather see their tax money spent on new schools instead of new prisons.
When they took religion out of the schools, said Bob Lamons, 38, a teacher in Arlington County, they took something important with it: values.
``You round them all up, take them out - no religion, no morals, we don't like those in schools,'' he said. ``Well, I don't care what religion you are. You could be a Buddhist monk, or born again. If you go outside and hold somebody up, not a single religion anywhere in the world allows that.
``We've got kids coming in from Iraq now in our school, they have the same values as everyone else does, the same values as everyone else I grew up with. You respect your elders, you work for your money, you do what you're told.''
Most participants believed that the schools can't do the job alone. Somewhere, they said, neighborhoods and cities lost the feeling that everyone is responsible for his or her own children.
``I think our community looks like the biggest shopping center and bedrooms in the world, and I feel alienated,'' said Kim Cook, 52, a psychotherapist in Northern Virginia. ``Every one of us owns that big house in the suburbs. ... You're transients, you move all the time, you don't really care for the house, you just want to sell it in a few years for something better.''
Many, especially in smaller towns, remembered childhoods when people felt more connected to each other and were more willing to take responsibility. Every parent should be willing and able to supervise every child he or she sees, they said.
Doug Hayes, a photographer from Richmond, grew up in a Virginia town of about 7,000 people. Three school teachers and a minister lived on his street. His maternal grandparents lived in his house.
``You couldn't get away with much because everybody knew everybody, which is not the case now,'' he said. ``If I did something and one of my neighbors saw it, my parents knew about it by the time I got home and I was in big trouble. That's not the case now.''
What should
government do?
State and local governments run the courts, the prisons, the schools. As a result, they bear a large part of the load in teaching children, protecting citizens and putting away those doing harm.
But if there's a problem, participants repeatedly said, it's a problem for society - not just for elected officials.
Falls Church resident Craig Day, 35, a geographer, said, ``In regard to responsibility, I have to think about how I expect to translate any of my demands and wishes to my politicians as a package. You have to get involved early on and offer your thoughts, as opposed to sitting back and waiting for them to pass something.''
But Norwood Keel, 33, an engineer sitting next to Day, said, ``I think one thing that we're implying is that government is responsible for fixing our problems. I don't think the government is responsible for fixing crime. I don't think we should levy that on them, and I don't think they're capable. That's something they've forfeited. It's time to get back to grass roots.''
In one Richmond conversation, the exchange went something like this:
Asked what job the government does, suburban Richmond manager Brendan McCormack, 46, said, ``They don't, they have no business in it whatsoever for values. When I was raised, I went to a parochial school for the first six years and I was taught those things that [fellow participant Charles W. Howell Jr.] was talking about. ... I belonged to the Boy Scouts, I belonged to other social organizations where you learned to get along with people, you learned to be part of a team. None of this was government.''
``Right. If we want it straightened out, we're going to have to do it,'' retiree Hugh Woodle said.
``Government picks up where society fails,'' McCormack said.
At least, participants said, they would like to hear politicians talking about the issue in broader, less partisan language. A leader willing to look at all these questions and tackle them would get their attention.
They said that if Gov. George Allen were to get everything he wanted on parole reform, and then left it at that, dropping the issue, they would be disappointed. They want to see leaders from both parties work on short-term and long-term solutions and listen to what citizens really want, not just what the polls say.
In Richmond, homemaker Ann Tobias, 37, said, ``I want the governor to tell us what he plans to do other than `three strikes-you're-out' and truth in sentencing. I want him to spell out other programs, be they private or government programs, that will fit into this whole compact, if you want to call it that. There are no easy answers. I don't know if `three-strikes-you're-out' is going to work, but I guess I do not want those political Band-Aid words to be out there so prevalent.''
Some Virginians found their thinking changing as they chewed over these issues with other people. They acknowledged it isn't as simple a question as it might seem when listening to the evening news or arguing with the neighbor over the hedge.
Near the end of a two-hour discussion in Roanoke, after the group had thoroughly debated what prisons are for and what education can do, Bill Keck, the nursing home administrator, jumped in and said, ``If we as a group had to decide where to put our money tonight, right now, in the next five minutes - either in the prison systems, to make the sentences as the deterrence - would we put the money there or would we put it in the possibility that education would work? I thought I had the answer, but now I'm not sure, either.''
They wanted to know what they could do to help. They feel left out of the government's deliberations, and they seemed to enjoy the opportunity to consider these questions themselves. They sought ways to continue talking and perhaps to convert that into action.
Charles W. Howell Jr., 67, is the administrator of Manchester Medical Center in Richmond. He sat around the table at the Smoketree Recreation Center in suburban Richmond with a homemaker, a research scientist, a nurse and others. There was a 25-year-old development writer for Virginia Commonwealth University, a 60-year-old retired teacher, and others of varying ages and occupations. They came from a wide swath of the Richmond area. Most had not met before.
Still, as the meeting closed, Howell asked, ``Will we find ways of translating what we've said to make ... to have an effect on metropolitan cooperation and that means including crime? Or are we still going to be strangers as we were when we met?''
Joan H. Jones, a retired teacher, answered, ``We need to know that efforts in groups like this will provide some continuity past the political terms, and that's the only thing that is going to work here in this state or any state.''
by CNB