11 April 2010

Treating the wounds of crime

Prosecutor Henry Shea brings mercy to criminal justice

 

 

Working within the current U.S. criminal justice system, it is no simple task to heal the wounds of crime. While victims may serve as witnesses, the procedures and trial do not generally address the injury to relationships. For those who have been convicted, a system focused on punishment often neglects the delicate task of creating ways to help them express remorse and to reintegrate into the larger community.
At a certain point in his 20-year career as a federal prosecutor, Henry (Hank) Shea, shifted gears. He took time out from his current work at the Holloran Center for Ethical Leadership at the University of St. Thomas Law School in Minneapolis, Minnesota to speak with Living City about this change.

Read more...

21 January 2010

Nancy O'Donnell from Living City February 2010

Is love strong enough to bring about true justice?

A civil rights activist finds answers and direction for her life

As a child I was a passionate champion for the oppressed. When I was six, some kids from a neighboring block came over and made fun of my girlfriend’s brother, who was deaf and could not speak. I was so incensed that when they came back I got my stick. It was lightweight but gave quite a sting to the legs of those boys. They went running and never came back.

I realize now that both my faith and my sense of justice were fostered in me through the example and belief of my parents. We lived in a small town, but there was nothing “small town” about their mentality. We sometimes disagreed, but thinking critically about the world around me was always encouraged by both of them.

The civil rights movement of the 1960s provided me with the right arena for my campaign for justice. In my freshman year, a group of students were traveling down to Birmingham, Alabama for a protest march following a particularly brutal police attack in which a minister had been killed. Sister De Lellis, dean of students, traveled with me and another student from our college.

Normal 0 14 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

The long bus trip was followed by a day of attempted organization with hundreds of young people. There was much confusion over who was in charge or what kind of permit we had. On the day of the march, we were told to stay tightly bound in our group, should the police attack. The rally began, and after a while everything stopped moving. The singing also stopped.

I was toward the back of the march, and at a certain point I turned around and saw a line of police on horseback blocking the road behind us. I began to hear screams coming from the front of the crowd.

The horsemen charged from behind. It happened so fast that I found myself separated from the marchers, with a policeman on horseback right behind me swinging his billy club. Running, I turned to look at him. His face was distorted with anger and hatred. He swung, aiming at my head. I ducked, feeling the club almost part my hair. As he prepared to swing again, someone grabbed me and pulled me back into the crowd, which had begun marching back toward headquarters. He followed alongside for several blocks. It seemed to me that I could feel the horse breathing down my neck, but he did not attempt to strike me again.

As we regrouped, police on motorcycles blocked off the street to keep us from leaving. Sister wanted to go to a nearby convent to receive Communion, and I offered to go with her. It was strange to feel less safe in the white neighborhood than I had in the black one, but entering the little chapel of the convent brought me a moment of peace in the midst of that turmoil.

Later that evening, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. arrived. As his car drove through the crowd, Sister and I got close to the front. Dr. King took my hand and thanked me for coming. I was speechless. The contrast between the love I saw in his eyes and the hatred I had seen earlier that day left an indelible mark on my soul.

It also brought on a crisis within. Was love strong enough to bring about the true justice
I sought?

God’s response came some months later during a retreat at my college, when a Focolare group came to campus in the fall of 1966. I was fascinated by these women and men and especially intrigued when they spoke of Chiara Lubich. A few things remained very clear: we have to love everyone (even that policeman); suffering has value; we need to act, not talk; and we do not need to be many to have Jesus in our midst.

I put into practice what I understood. One day my roommate looked at me and said, “I have a feeling this isn’t going to be just one of your causes.”

I had many plans for my life. After hearing that the greatest need for nurses was in the field of psychiatry, I decided to specialize in this area, and eventually in psychology. I had a boyfriend and hopes of getting married. Where did God fit in? I had basically been saying to God: “If you want to come along while I pursue my goals, fine. Otherwise I’ll just have to leave you behind.” I tried hard to forget the Focolare, and was polite but evasive when they called.

After graduation, I moved to New York City for graduate school. The Focolare community was now close by, and they called almost immediately, inviting me for dinner. I stayed very late, and they offered to drive me home. As we arrived, my roommate was just coming in, drunk. As I looked at her — it could have been me — I felt the painful contrast between my lifestyle and the experience I had had that evening. That night I couldn’t sleep.

I plunged into my studies, my work with a student organization at the U.N. — my causes. Yet I accepted the Focolare’s invitations. I agreed to go to a 5-day summer Mariapolis to help with the children’s program. There, something was stirring inside, and it was getting harder to ignore it.

One day I stayed a little longer in the chapel. I felt as if my soul was being pulled in two opposing directions. In reality, it was my will fighting God’s. On one side there were all my goals in life. On the other, I felt a calling. This time I said “yes” to God. I found myself telling a focolarina that maybe I wanted to be one. She responded by embracing me.

I’ll never forget the joy I experienced at that moment. Everything seemed clear and bright. I knew exactly what to do and where God wanted me. I knew his love could conquer any form of hatred and was the source of true justice.

 

 

 

Read more...

20 October 2009

Elizabeth Schiltz is a law professor and mother of four.
While pregnant with her third child, she learned
he had Down syndrome.

From Living City October 2009

What was it like to receive the news that your child had Down syndrome?
My husband and I are Catholic and have always been pro-life. Having counseled pregnant women in crisis through the Birthright program, there was no question in my mind that we would welcome any child we had.
My brother is mentally retarded, so the general idea of having a child with a disability did not frighten me. But when we got the diagnosis, it was earth shattering. For weeks I did not want to touch my belly, because the baby inside me had become a stranger to me. The day we got the final test results I left work in tears, went into a bookstore and bought every book I could find on Down syndrome.
I was really glad I was able to go through that trauma before Peter arrived, because when he was born he was less of a stranger to me. He was still a mystery, but we were all set up with doctors and therapists and had been able to arrange a more manageable work schedule.
It was not easy, but it was not as traumatic as it might have been.

How has Peter’s presence had an impact on the other siblings in your family?
There is no question that Peter has had a positive influence. The two older children are aware of how much they receive from Peter. They are more intellectual, and it has been healthy for them to have someone in their lives they love passionately and who is not performing in the same way that they are. I think that gives them a broader sense of what people are about.
My youngest daughter gets frustrated by the attention he gets and by his limitations. But she adores him and often talks about how lucky our family is to have someone so special in our lives.
Also, because I just need more help with him, they are used to pitching in, and this has given them a marvelous sense of confidence.

How has it made a difference in their interactions with other people?
At times we have felt that it is us against the world, at least in how we see Peter. For us he is a sweet loving person, but then you take him to the mall, and you see people looking and you know they are not seeing the same reality. This has drawn us closer as a family, and has given the children a tendency to fight for the underdog.
When my older son was in elementary school, he was bullied, and his response was to try to make the school a better place with a project he called “Dollars for Down’s.” He raised $300 and gave it to the school’s special-education teacher. Reacting to playground fights, he once told me, “I go with whoever needs me most.” Having this somewhat odd person in our family, someone who reacts differently, has helped the children see that they do not necessarily need to go with the flow.

How has your life with Peter informed your work as a scholar and a teacher?
One of my areas of specialization is banking law and banking regulations. I have always been curious about the connections between disability laws and the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, which forbids discrimination on the basis of race, gender, class and so on, but not disability.
Following the civil rights model, the disability rights community has made important strides against the infantilization of people with disabilities. But most of this work is done by people who are not disabled themselves or by people who are physically disabled but mentally very sharp. It tends to emphasize the importance of autonomy and letting people speak for and advocate for themselves. This has led us to see disability as essentially a social construct, in which the suffering comes from how society treats a person with a disability, not from the disability itself.
My son benefits tremendously from these changes in the laws and social attitudes. But I think it is time to recognize that it is not the whole picture.

What do you see in the rest of the picture?
My son has Down syndrome and autism; he is not really verbal, and he is not going to be able to function in the world beyond the level of a six or seven year old. He is an example of the fact that there are painful physically and mentally disabling conditions that preclude people from exercising their autonomy in a meaningful way.
It is not just a question of how society is reacting. I would never allow a six or seven year old to make all of the decisions that adults are called upon to make.
So what does Peter’s dignity demand of us when he is always going to be dependent? On a deeper level, this dramatic example of my son has brought me to reflect on the ways in which we all are always ultimately dependent on each other.
This raises a lot of questions about a legal system that gives so much emphasis to the idea of individual autonomy. My scholarship is a place where I try to work out some of those questions.

What would be your hope for helping others discover what you see in people like Peter?
I think what would make a difference would be for all to recognize that what we see in a dramatic way on Peter’s face is something that we all carry, to some degree, within ourselves. We all carry imperfections and deficiencies, so we need not be afraid of the strangeness.
Our country continues to show how we are open to different races and colors as more beautiful manifestations of what it means to be human beings. My hope is that we might internalize the fact that disabilities are manifested in the same way, and so move toward honestly feeling comfortable enough to welcome people with disabilities into our hearts and into our lives.                    

 

Read more...

30 April 2007

di C. G. B.

Experience of Alternative Justice

For the past three years, I have headed the Center for Analysis and Resolution of Conflicts at the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru (PUCP). I am responsible for mediating conflicts between mining companies and farming communities.
The law must provide society with solutions to conflicts between its members. Civil jurisdiction usually belongs to the State. But today the Peruvian government fails to ensure that civil jurisdiction administers justice in a timely manner and at an affordable price. We frequently see that justice delayed is justice denied.
This has led many to see the need for a system of justice which goes beyond individual entitlement in order to appreciate interlocking needs and interests. Thus, an alternative system has been created which has enabled us to resolve conflicts quickly with positive results for everyone.
In Peru, mining is a main source of income. However, conflicts frequently arise when mining companies try to exploit lands where farmers have lived and worked for centuries. For the past three years, I have been working to resolve these types of conflicts.
At first, it was difficult to find solutions to these tensions. The farmers constantly threatened to block the streets or to occupy the mining lands. The mining companies did not take seriously the needs of the people. This led to violent reactions on both sides.
The main dilemma our Center faced was how to resolve these conflicts, and to find the best solution to the underlying problems. My task was to identify opportunities for mediation.

Read more...

30 April 2007

di B. N.

A Lawer

In November 2004, I received a request from a colleague to come to the aid of a French citizen living in Cameroon who was being prosecuted by the Police Commissioner of the DGRE, the Cameroon Bureau of Investigation.
I agreed to help and we met with him. He explained to us that he had recently ended a relationship with a woman who, in retaliation, had contacted all of the police departments in Douala as well as the DGRE. The DGRE Commissioner had then called the man and asked him to appear at the police station with two million Francs (approximately $4,000).
My colleague and I agreed to accompany him to the police station.  We could not represent him because our rules of criminal procedure do not allow a lawyer to assist someone under direct investigation. But we were at his side to ensure that the DGRE office was actually located at the indicated police station; and that it was actually the Police Commissioner who had called him.
Once at the station, we introduced ourselves and explained why we were there. The Commissioner responded by shouting that we had no right to be there and that, in his capacity as police chief, he had “the right to kill” those present in his office.
The Commissioner ordered his officers to throw us out. We soon found ourselves in the courtyard of a public school, near the police station. I tried to contact the office of the President of the Bar in Douala to inform him of this incident, but the Commissioner ripped my cell phone from my hand, punched me in the face, pushed me into a bush and then left the premises. 
Shocked, my colleague called another associate to help us. He arrived thirty minutes later accompanied by other lawyers, who filled the lobby of the DGRE office—the protest had begun. Two hours later, the Attorney General, representing the Bar, arrived to meet with the protesters.  He not only approved of the Commissioner’s behavior, but also indicated that he would prevent the protesters’ access to the courtroom where they had gathered to coordinate the protest.

Read more...

30 April 2007

di D. B. A.

Georgia Justice Project

The Georgia Justice Project (GJP) is a legal nonprofit organization in Atlanta.

As our website describes us, we are “an unlikely mix of lawyers, social workers and a landscaping company. GJP defends people accused of crimes and, win or lose we stand with our clients while they rebuild their lives. We believe this is the only way to break the cycle of crime and poverty.”
The work we do is not easy. In fact, many lawyers who serve those accused of crimes have become disillusioned, disheartened and disconnected from their clients. But what I have come to realize is that our approach of practicing law is a salvation. We aren’t just saving our clients—we are saving a small part of our profession from a pernicious condition of the heart. We are saving ourselves from the effects of isolation, alienation, cynicism and hopelessness.
Our approach to criminal defense and rehabilitation is based on a relationship- and community-oriented ethic. A client is usually referred to the Georgia Justice Project because they have a criminal case pending and cannot afford to hire a lawyer. We accept only clients who are willing to make a serious commitment to changing their lives to ensure that they move beyond the social, emotional and personal challenges that may have contributed to their legal problems.
The legal intake assessment is only the beginning of the process. It is followed by an assessment in which social services staff meets with the client, and evaluates the client’s strengths, needs and goals in light of their current legal situation. If there is a good match between client needs and our resources, the client is accepted as a probationary client for a period of four weeks, during which time he or she meets with the social service team to develop and implement an individualized treatment program. The agreements are contractual, and staff will terminate the contracts if clients are not willing to work towards improving their life and complying with their service contract.
    In the United States, many criminal defense attorneys never ask their clients for the truth. In contrast, at GJP, we directly ask our clients whether they have committed the crime of which they are accused. If they tell us that they are guilty, we begin the process of helping them begin to accept responsibility for their actions and examine how they can rectify the harm that they caused to the individual and the community. If they say they are innocent, we believe our clients and advocate for their rights based on that premise.   
One of the novelties of our approach is that lawyers work closely with professionals in other disciplines, which is unusual in the United States. Studies have shown that the underlying problems that brought the offender into the system—addiction, domestic unrest, mental illness, impulse control—are most successfully addressed by tapping the expertise of social workers, mental health experts, or other non-lawyer professionals. We believe that providing this “wraparound”, comprehensive set of social services is one of the most effective ways to prevent future crime.
If our clients are convicted and sent to prison, we maintain our relationship: we visit, we write, we accept collect calls, we provide emotional support for their family.  
Often an initial set of legal problems has a “snowball effect” and creates a multitude of new problems for many of our clients. For this reason, once released from prison or jail, we offer a variety of social services to our clients, including individual and group counseling, high school degree and literacy classes, monthly support dinners and employment with our landscaping company. It is not unusual for our staff members to spend time every week with clients whose legal cases have been resolved for years.  
Our office is located just a few steps away from the tomb of Martin Luther King, Jr. His dream of the Beloved Community encouraged us to see our futures intertwined with those of our neighbors, and helped us move from a selfish and self-centered approach to life towards a community and relationship-oriented one. At the Georgia Justice Project, this is what we strive for in our everyday efforts, struggles and triumphs.

Read more...