Highlights of This Issue:

Prisoner Peace Corps Proposed; Hospice Staffed by Inmates; Law Allows Inmates To Take Licensing Exam; Program Coming to Improve Prison Mental Health; Legislators Aim to Pay Exonerated Inmate; Sentences Too Long, Says Top TV Program; Prisoners Paid to Record Books; Increased Media Access to Prisons Sought; Inmates Sell Their Crafts in Prison Store; Former Prisoner Publishes Last Meal Cookbook; Money Earmarked for Prisons Alternatives; Prison System Sued for Censorship; Our Latest Reps.

Published bimonthly by Prisons Foundation, 1718 M Street NW, #151, Washington, DC 20036. Website: PrisonsFoundation.org; Helen Thorne, Publisher; Dennis Sobin, Editor (Dennis@PrisonsFoundation.org); J.B. Pruitt, Researcher and Webmaster (Jim@PrisonsFoundation.org);James P. Gormley, Esq., Legal Editor; Board of Advisors: Bill Frohlich, Editor-in-Chief of Northeastern University Press; Howard Zinn, Author of A People's History of the United States; Robert D. Kephart, International Entrepreneur and Supporter of Restorative Justice; Ashanti Witherspoon, Radio and TV Talk Show Host; Walter F. Sullivan, Bishop of the Archdiocese of Richmond; Kathleen O"Shea, Author of Women on the Row; Paul Krassner, Publisher of The Realist; Tom Lagana, Editor of Chicken Soup for the Prisoner's Soul; Michael Newton, author of Over 150 Books; Philip Berrigan, in Memoriam, Board Member from 1999 to 2002.

Here is a story from United Press International about a public official in Illinois who granted blanket sentence commutations. After his right to do that was challenged, the state's high court ruled that he acted properly:

The Illinois Supreme Court has ruled that former Gov. George Ryan had the power to commute the sentences of everyone on the state's death row before he left office. The justices found that a governor's pardon power is essentially unreviewable.

The Republican governor commuted the sentences of 167 inmates and pardoned four others three years after he had halted all state executions over concerns of unjust convictions. The state attorney general challenged Ryan's constitutional authority in 32 of the cases, arguing some inmates hadn't sought clemency as required by state law and others didn't have death sentences at the time because their cases were being appealed.

The high court disagreed. "We believe that the grant of authority given the governor . . . is sufficiently broad to allow former Gov. Ryan to do what he did," Justice Bob Thomas wrote for the majority. No dissents were filed, though the justices said they felt pardons and commutations should be handled individually, rather than in the mass fashion Ryan used when he cleared death row.

"I think it gives us an opportunity to move on," Ryan said. He added that he reviewed each case and had no regrets about the blanket clemency. Ryan placed a moratorium on executions after it was discovered that 13 Illinois death row inmates had been wrongly convicted. State lawmakers approved a package of bills last spring designed to reform the death penalty system, including giving the Supreme Court greater power to toss out unjust verdicts, giving defendants more access to evidence and barring the death penalty in cases that depend on a single witness.

There's a sheriff in Massachusetts who prides himself on innovative ideas for operating his jails. The following report from The Herald News tells of two of his proposals:

Bristol County Sheriff Thomas M. Hodgson's announced plans for the installation of a closed-circuit television system in one of the county's jails as well as the creation of an Inmate Peace Corps.

Hodgson publicized the initiatives while addressing the county's deputy sheriffs, who were being sworn in at the Benjamin A. Friedman Middle School at the Oakland Education and Community Complex.

The closed-circuit television system "will allow us to use the technology of this popular medium to expand our inmate programs and provide a smorgasbord of educational opportunities never before available in our jails or any jails in the commonwealth," he said.

The system which is set up at the Bristol County House of Correction in Dartmouth costs $200,000 and, if successful, could be expanded to the county's other jails, Hodgson said.

"I am excited about installing a system that will allow us to bring religious, educational and vocational programming to every inmate and will open up new vistas in corrections and reintegration that we could only wish for and dream about in the past," Hodgson said.

According to the sheriff, the system, expected to become operational in the next few weeks, will be cost-effective. A speech can be broadcast to all inmates at once instead of having a speaker come to the prison and give the same talk multiple times.

While the closed-circuit television system project is basically complete, the Inmate Peace Corps initiative is more of a work in progress. "The details are far from settled but the general idea I had was to offer inmates a chance to volunteer to go to a country like Afghanistan to help work on rebuilding what wars have destroyed," Hodgson said.

Hodgson said while the inmates would be helping others they would simultaneously be helping themselves. "There's nothing better than helping those in need which ultimately will nurture (the inmates') need for self-confidence."

Hodgson said he has been speaking with some contacts in the Pentagon about his idea and has received positive feedback. "I think it's a very worthy idea," he said. "It falls in line with (President) Bush's State of the Union Address where he talked about reintegrating prisoners into society."

The sheriff emphasized that only select prisoners would be eligible for such a program.

"There would be a strict criteria as to who could go much like we have in Bristol County," he said. "We don't let every prisoner go into the community to do work."

However, in order for an Inmate Peace Corps to become more than a dream, Hodgson said he would need approval from Washington and the courts. "If they can do it for civilian Peace Corps ... it should be relatively easy to duplicate" for prisoners, he said.

The following is a first-hand account of recent efforts by CURE (Citizens United for Rehabilitation of Errants), a national prison reform organization based in Washington, DC. to enable eligible prisoners to vote. The author is CURE's Executive Director Charlie Sullivan:

Almost 50,000 votes were cast in Washington, DC, in January in the nation's earliest Presidential Primary Election. 122 of these votes came from the DC Jail.

I would like to share how this came about because it was a "long and winding road." In the last few years, I have testified before the DC Board of Elections and Ethics that eligible voters were being neglected in the DC Jail. I pointed out that pre-trial detainees and those serving misdemeanors were able to register, and then cast their vote with an absentee ballot. But without assistance from the Board, these two steps were not happening.

This was especially true in regard to the second step of voting. Even if the eligible inmates could register, the process of requesting a ballot, filling it out and mailing it back to the Board meant, for all practical purposes, that no one would vote.

I had worked on voting drives not only in the DC Jail, but also in the Baltimore jail. Of the 75 or so inmates that were registered on each drive, I believe very few, if any, actually voted.

But in my latest effort the DC Election Board became supportive and suggested that this time we try "in person absentee voting" after the registration drive. The Election Board offered to write the Director of the Department of Corrections and explain the two-step process and seek his support.

After the request went out, the Election Board received a letter of support from the Director, and we were able to register 350 eligible inmates. This was out of the 2,300 incarcerated there. This registration drive took three hours with ten volunteers. Some of these dedicated people were recruited by CURE. The others came from the jail chaplain's staff. Making sure that there was always an "inside" volunteer already known by cellblock staff accompanying a volunteer like me from the outside "smoothed the way" for this successful drive.

Also, we had developed a simple fact sheet that explained to inmates that (1) only those presently serving a sentence for a felony cannot vote (2) you have to be 18 years old by the date of the election (3) you can vote only if you have not been adjudged mentally incompetent by a court and (4) you can vote if you have maintained your residence in Washington thirty days before the election. The jail counted as a residence if you had no other.

We called this fact sheet "The FAIR Way to Vote in Jail" and used the acronym "FAIR" to address felony, age, incompetent and residence. Also, the fact sheet stated at the top that "People have died in order that you have the right to vote" and at the bottom "IN A DEMOCRACY, VOTING IS A SACRED DUTY!"

We told the inmates who registered that we would bring their ballots back to them right before the election and would then take them back to the Board of Elections after they voted. Thus, mail would never be used.

On December 20th, a gun that was smuggled into the jail was used to shoot four prisoners. No one was killed but the jail was placed on "lockdown" and inmates were confined 24 hours a day in their cells.

On Monday, January 5th, the Board of Elections and Ethics began calling the jail to find out when we could hand-deliver the ballots. For two days, the only answer the Board received was that only attorneys could have access to the inmates. On Wednesday morning, I faxed a letter to the Director of the Department of Corrections reminding him of his letter of commitment to allow in person absentee voting. One of the reasons for hand-delivery, I explained, was "that the volunteers would be available to answer any questions, and even assist those with disabilities and literacy problems." Another reason, I pointed out, was the unreliability of the mail.

On Wednesday afternoon, I called the Director's Office and talked to his Administrative Assistant. She said that they had received my letter and he would be making a decision shortly. Later that day, I received a call from the Administrative Assistant that an official from the Jail would be contacting me to make arrangements for us to go into the jail the next morning.

The next day at 10 AM we picked up the 200 ballots at the elections board that had the names of the inmates on them. Of the 350 who registered, the Board explained that 150 had not completed the registration form correctly. Or, when they registered, they had indicated that they would be released before the election. Again, we had about ten volunteers and used the jail chapel to sort the ballots according to the cellblocks. To do this, we used a printout of the day's census, which is a listing of where all prisoners are that day. Out of the 200 ballots, sixty had inmates listed who were no longer at the Jail. Then, in teams of two, we again went to the cellblocks.

Ironically, it was much easier to find inmates during the lockdown than it would otherwise have been. Two staffers from the Board of Elections and Ethics were also with us as they were during the registration drive in early December. However, it seemed more important this time because there were more details than I expected in the absentee voting.

Also, this was the first time I and the others had participated in this procedure. I reflected on this and the entire two-step process as we brought the 122 ballots back to the Board of Elections.

It had been a challenge but an extremely rewarding one. A benefit to me was to be able to encounter the inmates directly. I have been involved in prison reform work for almost 32 years. Most of that time has been in correspondence with prisoners and phone calls from families. Thus, the two steps of facilitating registration and voting not only made the inmates feel good about themselves but made me and the volunteers experience a great sense of accomplishment.

I am looking forward to the next election. Of the 600,000 inmates in jails throughout the country, 350,000 are there as pre-trial detainees. Of the remaining 250,000, a substantial number are serving misdemeanor sentences. Therefore, most can vote in the general election in November.

Why not start now and begin to work with your local election agency to make it happen in your local jail? Be prepared for a "long and winding road" but also you can look forward to a very satisfying conclusion.

Americans are often stubborn people, regardless of which side of the law they say they are on. The following story comes from the Associated Press:

The 9th Circuit Court of Appeals told a federal judge to determine whether law enforcement officials should be held in contempt of court for refusing to release a man convicted of murder 24 years ago on the testimony of a jailhouse informant. In their order, the 9th Circuit judges demanded — in bold capital letters — the immediate release of Thomas Lee Goldstein, who just turned 55.

A three-member panel of the court ordered Goldstein to be released without bail. But state prison officials instead turned him over to the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department. He was transported to county jail, where he remained in custody.

Deputy Federal Public Defender Sean K. Kennedy, one of Goldstein's lawyers, has asked the federal court to hold state officials in contempt. In response, Deputy Attorney General William H. Davis Jr. sent a letter to the court, saying prosecutors intended to retry Goldstein. They were concerned, it said, that "if Mr. Goldstein were released, he would seek to avoid further proceedings and leave the state's jurisdiction."

The Los Angeles County district attorney's office had issued a detainer order to state prison officials, and it was "a lawful state order" that provided the basis for keeping Goldstein in custody, the letter said. A court appearance is scheduled, when prosecutors must formally state their intention for a retrial.

The appeals court told District Judge Dickran M. Tevrizian to hold a separate hearing to determine whether "together or individually or with others as yet unknown," law enforcement officials had deliberately failed to comply with the court order and if so, "what sanctions might be appropriate under the circumstances."

In ordering Goldstein's release, federal judges found serious problems with his original trial, especially the use of an informant, Edward F. Fink, who had testified in more than 10 cases that people had confessed crimes to him while they shared his jail cell. Evidence suggests that Fink and authorities had reached a deal for Fink to get a lighter sentence in exchange for his testimony. Prosecutors' failure to tell defense lawyers about the deal violated Goldstein's constitutional rights, the judges said.

Foreigners in American prisons often experience more hardships–and longer sentences–than United States citizens. Texas may be changing that, according to this article from the Star-Telegram:

Texas may be able to free up as many as 2,000 prison beds and save countless tax dollars by paroling and deporting foreign-born inmates who demonstrate that they are unlikely to become repeat offenders, a key lawmaker said. State Sen. John Whitmire, a Houston Democrat and chairman of the Senate Criminal Justice Committee, said he will begin a legislative study on whether foreigners imprisoned for property crimes, drug offenses and other nonviolent crimes are being kept behind bars longer than American inmates with similar records.

"My highest priority is to determine whether public safety can be served by reviewing nonviolent, parole-eligible inmates to see whether they can be let out and returned to their home country," Whitmire said. "And a condition of their parole would be that if they came back, they'd go back to a Texas prison. And I think that would be an incentive in itself not to return."

Whitmire got the go-ahead to begin his study from Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst, the presiding officer of the Texas Senate, who gives directions to committee chairmen between legislative sessions. Dewhurst has instructed the Senate Criminal Justice Committee to examine ways to reduce the cost of incarcerating foreign prisoners, including whether the state can obtain funding from the federal government to offset its costs or whether some of the inmates can be returned to their homelands.

After more than a decade of beefing up the prison system, lawmakers took the budget-cutting knife to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice last year, along with virtually every other state agency, to bridge a $9.9 billion budget gap. The prison system's work force was trimmed by about 1,500 positions. Even dining facilities at the 100-plus units were instructed to trim the fat — literally. The system cut back on the amount of meat it serves inmates and switched from fresh milk and eggs to powdered products whenever possible.

At the time, Whitmire urged parole officials to take a closer look at policies for releasing nonviolent offenders who appeared unlikely to commit new crimes. He also called on officials to develop innovative ways to reduce the number of foreigners in Texas prisons, including whether they could serve their sentences in their home countries.

"For whatever reason, there's been a reluctance to parole these folks, even after they're eligible," Whitmire said. "One of the theories is that they'd come back and offend again. But I think there are a lot of safeguards against them returning. "I think, quite frankly, it could be a win-win situation for the state of Texas," he said. "What it does is it frees up capacity and resources for those who really need to be in prison."

A report prepared for lawmakers last year found that the 150,000-bed Texas prison system houses nearly 9,000 foreigners. About 6,600 are from Mexico. Almost 54 percent of those Mexicans were convicted of violent offenses. The others were imprisoned for such offenses as theft, drug use or driving while intoxicated. More than six in 10 of the other foreigners — mostly those in Central America -- were convicted of violent crimes.

Between 2,000 and 3,000 nonviolent foreign inmates have served enough of their sentences to be eligible for parole consideration, according to the report. Dewhurst and Whitmire said that the Legislature must continue to push the $2 billion-a-year agency to stretch every dollar. "This is a budget issue that lawmakers need to look at," said Mark Miner, Dewhurst's spokesman. "We must make sure our resources are being allocated with the utmost efficiency."

There is a myth that convicts are incapable of compassion. This story from the Shreveport Times in Louisiana helps to disprove it:

Ted "Animal" Durbin stood over David Allen Mackey's grave and dropped a yellow wildflower onto the casket. For Durbin, the act helped provide a final goodbye to his friend. "I developed a bond with David," said Durbin, an inmate who volunteers at the hospice inside the Louisiana State Penitentiary. "This one was tough."

Mackey, 57, died of lung cancer Nov. 19 while serving a life sentence for second-degree murder, convicted of shooting a man through the neck while trying to get him to play Russian roulette. Mackey spent the last months of his eight years behind bars in the prison's hospice, where he met Durbin, a career criminal serving 140 years for armed robbery.

Durbin is one of 15 to 20 inmates, mostly prisoners serving extensive sentences for drug offenses, murder or other violent crimes, who help as many as six inmates at a time in the hospice program. The five-year-old hospice, in a place once known as "the bloodiest prison in the South," is one of only three prison hospices in the country licensed by the American Hospital Association. In the hospice, inmates are given pain medication and comfort by both full-time nurses and inmate volunteers.

Warden Burl Cain said the hospice is necessary in a prison where about 3,200 inmates are serving life sentences and 90 percent will die in custody. The hospice gives them a place to die with some dignity, Cain said. And giving inmates some dignity and allowing them to assist one another creates a less confrontational and safer atmosphere inside the prison.

To participate as a hospice volunteer, inmates must take a course and keep a clean disciplinary record. If an inmate has any disciplinary problems, he is ousted from the program, Cain said.

Tanya Tillman, a nurse who oversees the prison's hospice, said most hospice patients die from cancer or complications related to Hepatitis C. Mackey went into hospice care in September 2002 and spent many of his last months with Durbin, his friend and confidante, at his side.

Durbin, a bear of a man with a bald head and a Santa Claus-like beard, realizes he's not getting out of prison — a common sentiment among the inmate volunteers. "I'm going to die here," Durbin said. "I'm not going home. This is my home." Helping Mackey provided a form of redemption, Durbin said, now that he has reached "criminal menopause" - the point where people often lose interest in lives of crime.

"I can't make amends to society," the 45-year-old Durbin said. "But I can do it here with my people." As Mackey's condition worsened, Durbin eventually had to help him with even the most intimate tasks - using the toilet and bathing.

In October, 1993, Mackey was in Opelousas with Richard Dennis Davis Jr. The two were in town working construction on a hotel and had been sharing a hotel room. Mackey was drinking and took a revolver with one bullet in it and began playing Russian roulette. Davis was on the telephone talking to his girlfriend, and indicated to Mackey that he didn't want to play. Mackey pointed the gun at his own head and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Then he aimed the revolver at Davis and pulled the trigger. The lone bullet hit Davis in the neck.

Mackey called 911, and tried to stop the bleeding. Davis lingered a month after the shooting, but the wound was too serious and he died. Mackey was convicted of second-degree murder in 1994 and sentenced to life in prison in 1996. It was Mackey's first conviction, and it happened when he was 47, sending him to prison for the first time in his life.

By late October, 2003, Mackey rail-thin from cancer, spent nearly all his time in bed under a scraggly blue blanket he called a "whoopee." Mackey's sister, Joyce DeMars, and his older son, John, made a surprise visit at that time. At one point during the visit, DeMars became choked up and began to cough. "I wish I could cough like that," Mackey said. "I'd give anything to be able to cough like that."

On Nov. 11, Mackey, weighing about 100 pounds, went on "vigil," the term hospice workers use to describe the 24-hour watch over inmates whose death is considered imminent. Mackey's younger son, Adam Mackey, 29, made an unexpected visit on Nov. 13 to the father he hadn't seen regularly for eight years. "I just wanted to tell you I love you," Adam Mackey said leaning over his father's bed. "You're always in my heart. I'm sorry I didn't come visit you more."

"Son, you're a good man," said David Mackey, sleepy from an injection of Valium.

Mackey, a longtime smoker, had essentially stopped eating by mid-November, prompting Durbin to spend four consecutive days at his side. After that, Mackey began eating again and expressing a will to stay alive.

The two men frequently said they loved each other. "He said he didn't want to leave me," Durbin said later. "That really touched me."

Durbin arrived a few minutes after Mackey died at 8:20 a.m., Nov. 19, and, along with four other inmates, washed Mackey's body before the funeral the next day. "It's kind of like our closure," Durbin said.

Prison officials have 33 hours to bury inmates interred on the prison grounds because decomposition begins. The prison doesn't embalm the bodies because of the cost and expertise involved in doing so, said Tillman, the hospice coordinator.

Durbin selected the clothes in which Mackey would be buried — a heavy sweat shirt, jeans and thick socks. "He's always cold," Durbin said of the winter wear.

The inmate volunteers sorted through what Mackey's family gets and what remains with the state. "It's a pitiful little that the family will get," Tillman said.

Grieving doesn't begin right away, Durbin said. "You get emotional. I'll think about coming over here to see him, and he's not here."

Mackey's funeral took place in the prison chapel with his burial at Point Lookout 2, the prison cemetery. Other prisons also hold inmate funerals, but the funeral program at Angola is unique. Nearly every aspect — the hearse, coffins, grave markers — is made and cared for by the inmates. The inmate funeral program started about five years ago after decades of prisoners being buried in whatever was available, usually crates and boxes, said Joe Williams, 43, who is 27 years into a life sentence for murder. "We do things right to make sure they have a decent burial," said Williams, a member of the crew that digs and refills the graves.

Cain said inmates deserve a decent funeral because death ends their sentences. "He's not a prisoner anymore," Cain said after Mackey's burial on Nov. 20. "He's free."

An inmate honor guard, composed of eight prisoners who are also military veterans, placed the American flag on Mackey's coffin, marking his service in the U.S. Army, at the start of the chapel service and gave the flag to Mackey's family at the graveside.

When the chapel service ended, Mackey's casket — made by inmates for $250, the cost of the parts — was taken to Butler Park, a small area deep inside the 18,000 acre prison near the Tunica Hills. That's where the funeral procession began under a clear blue sky. Convicted murderer Lloyd "Bones" Bone, dressed in a black top hat and tuxedo, held the reins and sat on a seat atop the black hearse, two large Percheron horses in front of him and Mackey's casket inside the hearse.

"I'll be here until somebody will be driving me to the same place I'm going today," said Bone, who drives the hearse for inmate funerals. Bone drove the hearse about a half-mile to the fenced-in cemetery that features several rows of white cement grave markers.

An inmate choir, singing "Amazing Grace" and "I'll Fly Away," along with other prisoners followed the hearse to the cemetery. After the final prayers, the inmates were loaded onto a bus and taken back to their cells.

"We did love each other," said Durbin, tears welling in his eyes. "He's in a better place."

All inmates who die at Angola and are buried there get a similar, reverential service. Judging from the numbers of inmates serving life, Warden Cain expects many more services like Mackey's. Cain estimates that 90 percent of the 3,200 inmates serving life sentence will die in state custody. About half those will either have no family to claim their bodies or the families will be unable to afford a burial. If that happens, their fellow prisoners will be there to send them off.

There's a reason why so many people are in prison in America. Paul Craig Roberts, author of the well-reviewed book, The Tyranny of Good Intentions, believes he has found it, as he explains in this article:

Studies show Americans close to being the worst educated and least aware population among first-world countries. Americans easily stumble into war and give up their rights because of exaggerated fears of terrorists and criminals.

Americans have been losing accountable government, liberty and justice for a long time. At some point these values become irretrievable. Consider justice. The US has the highest rate of incarceration in the world and imprisons 6 to 10 times as many people as any other industrialized country. Between 1990 and 2000 the US population increased 13%. The US prison population more than tripled.

There are hundreds of thousands of innocent Americans in prison. They are there because the criminal justice system no longer works to discover the truth of a crime, but to convict at all cost whoever happens to be charged with a crime.

They are also there because the US criminalizes more acts than any other country in the world, including tyrannical police states. In the US there are three categories of prisoners: the guilty, the innocent, and those convicted as a result of prosecutors' interpretations of vague and broad statutes that deem conduct to be criminal that reasonable people — and every other country — do not recognize as being criminal. For example, in the Martha Stewart case, the prosecutor criminalized her exercise of her constitutional right to declare her innocence. He said it constituted fraud for her to declare her innocence and he tacked on the charge.

Remember that if you ever stand before a judge.

In fact, most people in prison are wrongfully convicted, even the guilty. According to the US Dept. of Justice, 95% of criminal convictions result from plea-bargains. What is a plea bargain but self-incrimination, conviction without a trial by jury and without a test of the evidence against the defendant? An uninformed public believes plea bargains to be sweet deals for criminals. Sometimes they are, but more often pleas result from prosecutors piling on charges until the defendant, innocent or guilty, cries "uncle" and gives up.

Prosecutors not only coerce defendants, they coerce witnesses to give false testimony. Sometimes coercion takes place behind closed doors. Other times it takes place in full public view.

Consider husband and wife defendants Andrew and Lea Fastow in the Enron case. The Fastows have two young children. In order to coerce "cooperation" and testimony against Enron executives, the federal prosecutors threatened to put both father and mother in prison, effectively rendering the two young children orphans. In Harvard law professor Alan Dershowitz's immortal words, Andrew Fastow is being taught not only to sing but also to compose. To keep his wife out of prison, he will give the prosecutors whatever testimony they want against his bosses.

The American public watches all this in plain view and then believes the testimony! You may think that Enron officials deserve what they get. But do you approve of the illegal and unethical methods used to produce the convictions? Aren't the prosecutors as guilty of criminal behavior as those they pursue?

"Junk bond king" Michael Milken was put into a similar situation. Unless he agreed to a plea, the prosecutors threatened to indict his younger brother. If prosecutors can so easily frame the wealthy and politically connected, what do you think happens daily to the inner city poor?

Prosecutor Rudy Giuliani was a master at using the media to destroy the reputations of his victims, thus pre-empting a trial where evidence of a crime could be tested. Giuliani climbed over the bodies of his high-profile victims to become mayor of New York and a 911 hero.

Now it is Martha Stewart and mutual funds who have been targeted as a prosecutor's path to political advancement. Martha Stewart is falsely charged with "insider trading," an offense of which she cannot be guilty as she is not an insider and had no information from an insider. Legal scholar and law school dean Henry Manne has shown that prosecutor Eliot Spitzer's charges against mutual funds are largely trumped-up. The offenses are partly the unintended result of a Security and Exchange Commission "reform," which capped redemption fees that mutual funds used to discourage market timers.

Prosecutor Spitzer's claims about mutual funds are based, not on law, but on an academic paper written at the Stanford University Graduate School of Business. In other words, the prosecutor has a "theory." Professor Manne has shown the academic paper to be incorrect. What we are witnessing is a mutual fund witch-hunt based on an incorrect academic theory.

This is not rule of law but hocus pocus. No doubt some mutual fund managers exercised bad judgment and some may have broken some rules. But Spitzer's ambition has blown the cases out of proportion. We certainly do not want to criminalize bad judgment. It is hard to find a worse case of bad judgment than the Bush administration's invasion of Iraq.

Research experiments done in prison have a bad name. But a recent study about inmate willingness provides a more balanced view, according to this story adapted from a news release issued by the University Of Iowa:

Over the years, valid concerns have been raised whether research should be allowed in prison settings, based on ethical problems in the past and the fact that prisoners inherently have less free will while incarcerated. However, a University of Iowa study indicates that even prisoners with mental illness, compared to non-prisoners without mental illness, generally are competent to decide to be in a study and do not feel coerced.

The study examined prisoners with mental illness because they are the "most vulnerable of the vulnerable," the UI team reported. The study raises the question whether prisoners, while needing to be protected from being treated unethically as a population of convenience, have theoretically been overprotected from participating in research that eventually could help them. The study is believed to be the first to have gone into a prison setting, and in a scientific and quantifiable way, studied the degree to which prisoners are able to give informed consent and the degree to which they may be susceptible to coercion or other factors that affect their ability truly to be a "volunteer," said David Moser, Ph.D., assistant professor of psychiatry in the UI Roy J. and Lucille A. Carver College of Medicine and the study's lead investigator.

Informed consent is an important step in any research study that involves humans. It helps ensure that potential participants are capable of making a free and informed decision whether to enroll, after being told of all the procedures, risks and benefits. In order to participate in the UI study, prisoners and non-prisoners first had to consider the actual informed consent materials. The 30 prisoners with mental illness (26 men and four women) and 30 healthy non-incarcerated people (26 men and four women) who then chose to participate agreed to pretend they were potential candidates for a study of a made-up cognition-enhancing drug.

The individuals then read and considered informed consent materials that described the hypothetical trial. All participants' decision-making capacity, feelings and thinking related to any coercion, and neuropsychological (cognitive) and psychiatric states were assessed. The two groups were compared on ability to provide consent to the drug trial and susceptibility to coercion.

"Our study reveals we didn't find overt coercion among prisoners, and that nearly every prisoner, with one exception, was competent to make a decision about participating in research," Moser said. "However, although the prisoners were competent, their scores showed they generally were not as competent as the control subjects were. This underscores the need to spend extra time and effort during the consent process to ensure that these individuals understand what they are getting into.

"The study doesn't settle the issue but suggests it is ethically reasonable to do prison research, given some caveats about how that setting influences behavior and thinking," he added. Moser said the coercion assessment (20 true-false questions) revealed that far more prisoners, compared to controls, wanted to participate for one or more reasons: to avoid being bored, meet someone new, help others or, notably, to appear cooperative.

Being in prison affects or influences voluntariness, but it may not lead to coercion, which is being forced to think or act in a way one otherwise might not, Moser said. "We found that prisoners may decide to be in a study to look cooperative, so it's a decision-making factor that is not in play for most non-incarcerated subjects, but it doesn't constitute coercion. It is somewhere in the middle ground between totally free choice and totally coerced choice, and precisely where it lies on that continuum is a matter of debate," he explained.

An interesting finding was that 47 percent of the prisoners initially approached to be in the actual study (27 of 57) said "no," indicating that they felt free to refuse to participate altogether. Most who declined said it was because participating would interfere with recreational time or opportunities to earn wages in prison-based employment. Moser said the findings overall have implications for improving mental health treatment for prisoners.

Nearly 16 percent of all prisoners have a serious mental health condition. "Knowing how best to treat prisoners with mental illness can be difficult. It is a dubious assumption that you can take regular mental health research done in the community setting and just apply those findings to ill prisoners," Moser said. "If research can be done in an ethical manner in prison settings, prisoners as a population might benefit.

"Now we need to find how to achieve the optimal balance between extending adequate protection to those prisoners who want to be research subjects and not placing unnecessary and restrictive guidelines on prison research so that prisoners cannot benefit from studies," Moser added.

Stephan Arndt, Ph.D., UI professor of psychiatry, and Michael Flaum, M.D., UI associate professor of psychiatry, were among the UI researchers on this study. The team also received assistance from John Monahan, Ph.D., University of Virginia and the MacArthur Foundation Research Network, and staff members at the Iowa Medical and Classification Center. The study was supported in part by a Clinical Research Award from the UI Carver College of Medicine. Previous research by Moser and UI colleagues indicated that people with schizophrenia are able to provide consent, although one in five persons with the condition has decreased ability to do so.

Many prisons unfortunately train inmates for positions they cannot hold on the outside, due to their record. Georgia is taking a step to make sure inmates trained in one area, at least, receive their licenses before release, as explained in this story from the Associated Press:

A seemingly innocuous bill to allow prisoners to take cosmetology exams was approved by a House subcommittee, but not without a spirited debate. The bill would require the Georgia State Board of Cosmetology to allow the 25 or so prisoners a year who complete cosmetology studies to take the licensing exam.

The bill's sponsor, Democratic Rep. Jeanette Jamieson of Toccoa, said "it's silly that the inmate cosmetology students can't get certified so they can practice as soon as they leave prison. There is no law banning inmates from taking cosmetology exams, but the licensing board simply refuses to let them take tests. We want them to have an opportunity to be trained to make a living for themselves and their families."

But the cosmetology board is wary, even though the prisons would pay for exams and security during the trip to Macon to take a monthly test. Will there be armed guards when the people from the prisons come to take these tests? Is that good for the testing environment? Board member Billy Barber asked.

A House subcommittee considering the proposal dismissed the security concerns, saying the prisoners approved to take the exams pose no security threat. The bill was unanimously approved, sending it to a full committee. "We know every day that passes without them having a job increases the chance they'll be re-incarcerated," said Rep. Barbara Massey Reece, D-Menlo.

Sometimes police and prosecutors act recklessly, and sometimes they are brought to task for it. This story comes from the San Francisco Chronicle: A man who spent more than 13 years in prison for a San Francisco murder before being cleared last year has sued the city, former Police Chief Earl Sanders and others for allegedly framing him by manufacturing and withholding evidence. In the U.S. District Court suit, John Tennison said police and the prosecutor coached false testimony from two young girls, the only witnesses against him, and concealed another man's confession to the murder. The authorities' "willful suppression of evidence and manufacture and presentation of perjured testimony robbed Tennison of nearly 14 years of his life," said the suit, which seeks unspecified damages.

The defendants include Sanders, who investigated the case as a police inspector and retired as chief last September after 39 years with the department; retired Inspector Napoleon Hendrix, who also investigated Tennison, and Assistant District Attorney George Butterworth, the prosecutor. All three have said Tennison was properly convicted.

Tennison, then 17, and Anton Goff, 21, were convicted of murdering Roderick "Cooley" Shannon, 18, who was shot to death in August 1989 after a group of men cornered him in a convenience store parking lot in the Sunnydale district. Tennison was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison and Goff to 27 to life. After years of unsuccessful appeals, Tennison had his conviction overturned last August by U.S. District Judge Claudia Wilken, who said the prosecution had withheld evidence that might have proved his innocence. District Attorney Terence Hallinan declined to seek a new trial, and Tennison and Goff were freed from prison within weeks.

Another judge later ruled that both men were factually innocent. Tennison's lawsuit alleged that Sanders and Hendrix, then leaders of the newly formed police gang task force, coached 11-year-old Masina Fauolo and 14- year-old Pauline Maluina to identify Tennison, knowing they would be lying. When the older girl told the officers she hadn't seen the shooting, they and Butterworth pressured her into changing her story, the suit said.

Another man, Lovinsky Ricard, gave a taped confession to police after Tennison's trial but before his sentencing. The suit said police and the prosecutor waited more than six months to tell Tennison's lawyer about the confession, and did not disclose pretrial statements by two witnesses who also implicated Ricard and cleared Tennison. Ricard has not been charged.

Politicians are increasingly recognizing the importance of providing educational opportunities in prison. Here's what's happening in South Carolina, according to the Sun News:

Governor Mark Sanford's plan to put $2.5 million into a mandatory prisoner education program offers more relief to the Corrections Department as it struggles with its budget. During his State of the State speech Wednesday, Sanford said he would require all appropriate inmates to take part in education programs that lead to a high-school diploma or its equivalent.

Last year, the Corrections Department cut education jobs as it struggled to balance its budget. It was "crazy to continue sending folks out of a criminal justice system with no better educational leg to stand on and expect good results," Sanford told legislators. About 63 percent of the nearly 24,000 inmates in South Carolina lack high-school diplomas or their equivalent.

Corrections' budget has fallen from $276 million to $257 million in the past three years as its inmate population has grown by 1,000 a year. Sanford's executive budget calls for putting $19 million more into the prison system, bringing its state funding to nearly $277 million.

The state NAACP asked Sanford for the education improvements during the holidays as the governor met with black leaders. "I talked with him about the revolving door in our prison system," Lonnie Randolph Jr., the NAACP's president-elect, said. He told Sanford about how "other so-called industrialized countries do not allow their prisoners to leave worse than when they went in, about how learning a marketable skill is part of the restitution they must pay before getting out."

Inmates are evaluated based on their initial education level and the amount of time they will be incarcerated. Those deemed eligible now voluntarily participate in education programs that the plan makes mandatory. If they do not comply, privileges such as visitation can be taken away. Sanford isn't saying where the money is coming from. He'll talk to House and Senate leaders about moving funds next week.

Religion is either loved or despised in prison. Here's one group that embraces different faiths and is making significant headway, according to this report from Ohio's News Herald:

Kairos Prison Ministry reaches out to those who some may call the "throwaways" in society. The mission of the interdenominational Christian ministry is to help establish and nurture strong Christian communities within state and federal correctional institutions. By doing so, ministry volunteers hope that not only are inmates touched by Jesus Christ, but that they are less likely to commit future crimes and wind back up in prison.

"A lot of people don't perceive prisoners as being valuable, and that they are an expense to society since we as taxpayers have to pay to keep them locked up," said Kairos volunteer Christine Schneider Smith of Fremont. "I think it's important for us to go in and minister to them because they are children of God like all of us. It's good for them to learn about forgiveness — not only to forgive themselves for what they've done, but also to forgive those involved in their criminal case."

Smith said that since about 98 percent of all incarcerated individuals will at some point be released, it's important to prepare them for a better life. "The program is good for society as a whole because recidivism is greatly reduced," she said. "Kairos is one of those programs that helps people to turn their lives around while in prison so when they are released they don't go back."

Statistics show that the financial burden of incarcerating offenders is about $26,000 annually, and that those inmates involved in Kairos are less than half as likely as those who are not to return to prison. In 1998, Smith was invited and attended the closing ceremony of a retreat being held at Marion Correctional Institution. It was then that she realized she should be a part of the program.

"I believe people are called to the ministry, and I had a sense that God was calling me," she said. In Ohio, the Kairos ministry is operating in Lebanon Correctional Institution in Lebanon, Ohio Reformatory for Women in Marysville, Marion Correctional Institution, Ross Correctional in Chillicothe and Trumbull Correctional in Leavittsburg.

The Kairos experience, held within prisons, for inmates begins with a three-day course — held on Thursdays through Sundays — in Christianity that is attended by 42 inmates and provided by a team of 55 trained outside volunteers. The courses are held twice annually. Volunteers receive 32 hours of training before going into work as a part of the Kairos ministry within prisons.

"We have a series of talks over the weekend and the inmates participate in group discussions and other highly organized things which bring them to a great spirituality," said John Meyers of Bellevue, a former Sandusky County prosecutor who is also a Kairos volunteer. Two types of inmates, he said, are selected to participate in the Kairos program — those already attending chapel and leaders.

"If we are successful in getting them to change their lives then they will influence others," Meyers said. There are also Kairos reunions that involve Kairos volunteers and inmates who attended the Kairos experience, or introduction to the program. Kairos graduates attend small prayer and share groups, semi-annual Kairos two-day retreats and monthly reunions with the Kairos volunteers.

The Kairos Prison Ministry serves about 180 prisons in the United States, United Kingdom and Australia. In a Kairos volunteer recruiting video, Marion Correctional Institution Warden Christine Money praised the programs efforts, and said she would recommend other prison wardens allow their inmates to become involved with Kairos. "Inmates go through life-changing experiences, and then become role models and disciples out of the institution," she said.

Unquestionably, many inmates wind up in prison because of short- or long-term psychological problems. A legislator in Nebraska aims to do something to help them, according to this 9NEWS report:

The beating of a man with mental problems at a Lincoln prison demonstrates the need for setting standards for treating inmates with mental illness, a legislative committee was told. "Because a significant number of inmates have psychological, mental, drug, alcohol and other problems, it's necessary that the system recognize these problems and address them," Sen. Ernie Chambers of Omaha told the Judiciary Committee about his bill (LB1000).

Chambers said the recent beating of Daniel Luethke at the prison system's Diagnostic and Evaluation Center illustrates the need for setting such standards. Luethke, 32, has a history of mental health problems. He was booked into the Seward County Jail on suspicion of making terrorist threats. Sheriff's deputies later took Luethke to the evaluation center after he threatened jail staff and broke a window in his cell.

His aunt, Colleen Cingle of Papillion, said Luethke had failed to take the medication he needs for his bipolar disorder. One hour after being placed in a holding cell at the center, Luethke was severely beaten, apparently by another inmate.

Chambers said his plan, which would cost more than $5 million a year, is especially critical because of a plan being pushed by Gov. Mike Johanns to close two of the state's three mental health hospitals. That, Chambers said, means that more people with serious mental illness could wind up in the prison system.

"More people in need of mental nurturing will wind up, unfortunately, incarcerated," Chambers said. "So the state should assume its responsibility toward these people when they fall into the state's hands."

A report issued by the American Civil Liberties Union said health care for inmates in Nebraska prisons and county jails is dangerously close to cruel and unusual punishment. The study said the correctional system fails to provide adequate medication and other forms of treatment to people behind bars. The study, conducted over six months, was based on more than 100 complaints received during a two-year period.

Although the Department of Correctional Services now provides mental health care and some substance abuse counseling and treatment, Chambers' bill would set standards for providing such treatment.

Prison officials estimate that as many as 30 percent of the inmates in Nebraska's prisons get some sort of mental health treatment. By including comprehensive treatment of disorders such as depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress and sexual dysfunction, that could increase to 50 percent, according to state estimates.

Harold Clarke, director of the department, said he supported Chambers' bill. "You cannot argue against anything that would improve care," Clarke said.

There's a movement in America to compensate people victimized by the criminal justice system. Here's what Virginia is doing, as reported by The Washington Times:

What's the price of 21 stolen years? State Sen. Benjamin J. Lambert III, Richmond Democrat, thinks it ought to be about $3 million. He plans to submit a bill in the Senate that would pay that amount to Julius Earl Ruffin, the Suffolk man who spent 21 years in prison before DNA evidence cleared him last year of raping and sodomizing a Norfolk woman in 1981.

"There's no way, really, to put a price on what this has cost me and my family," Mr. Ruffin said. "But I need to be compensated for the wrong that was done to me." He would be the seventh former prisoner in the past decade to request payment for a wrongful conviction and imprisonment. Not all have been paid. Delegate S. Chris Jones, Suffolk Republican, plans to submit a bill for $3 million for Mr. Ruffin's compensation in the House of Delegates, Mr. Lambert said.

The former prosecutor and victim in Mr. Ruffin's case have written letters urging the state to compensate the former prisoner. Mr. Ruffin, 50, was jailed in 1982, sentenced to five life terms and denied parole. He was released in February.

"No one can pay you the full amount of what you missed [while] in prison," Mr. Lambert said. "But when you make a mistake like this, the system needs to pay something for it." Before he was arrested, Mr. Ruffin earned about $4 an hour and was training to become an electrician. He said he made about $1 a day doing prison work over the years.

"He deserves more than just his lost wages for those years," said Gordon Zedd, Mr. Ruffin's attorney. The $3 million would include damages for pain, suffering and loss of liberty. The most recent and largest payout went earlier this year to Marvin Lamont Anderson, 39, a Hanover County man who spent 15 years in prison for a 1982 rape that he did not commit. Mr. Anderson's tab eventually could cost the state about $1.2 million, Mr. Lambert said. The settlement included $200,000 in cash and about $40,000 in annual payments for the rest of his life. He had sought $1.5 million.

Mr. Lambert, who sponsored the Senate bill to pay Mr. Anderson, expects Mr. Ruffin's eventual restitution to include a combination of cash and annual payments. He also expects it to face obstacles from senators and delegates. His bill comes at a time when state budgets are awash in red ink. In addition, Virginia is trying to establish compensation guidelines for people in situations similar to that of Ruffin's. Earlier this year, legislators set up a joint Senate-House committee to recommend ways to handle future cases.

The committee includes just two legislators — Sen. Frederick M. Quayle, Suffolk Republican, and Delegate Robert Tata, Virginia Beach Republican. The impetus for setting some rules was that science is getting better every year at determining guilt and innocence, Mr. Quayle said.

"We've got to be ready for more and more of these cases to come along," he said. Eighteen other states and the federal government have restitution procedures in place, but there's little consistency in their approaches. Some states cap the money that can be paid. Others let judges, legislatures or other public bodies decide each case.

It's been said that TV has created a gloom-and-doom atmosphere in America that has led to millions of people being imprisoned. Now the program 60 Minutes wants to reverse that, and recently aired the following report:

The population in federal prisons has quadrupled from 43,000 inmates in 1987 to 173,000 today — at a cost to taxpayers of $4 billion a year.

How did that happen? In the wake of the cocaine epidemic of the 1980s, Congress passed harsh sentencing guidelines and mandatory-minimum sentencing laws — requiring federal judges in most cases to impose long jail terms on anyone convicted of drug trafficking, no matter how small their crime.

But now, objections to the drug laws are coming from an unexpected source — federal judges themselves. Normally reluctant to speak out on political matters, federal judges by the dozens have protested harsh drug laws. They contend the laws force them to send some people to prison who don't belong there, and others for many more years than they deserve.

The overwhelming majority of inmates convicted of drug trafficking are small fry in the narcotics trade. Most are people with no track record of violent criminal behavior, like Brenda Valencia. In 1991, Valencia was a 19-year-old former high school athlete in Miami who'd never been in trouble with the law until she gave a ride to her roommate's stepmother. Brenda knew the woman was a drug dealer and knew she was going to West Palm Beach to pick up money from a cocaine dealer.

Why didn't she walk away? "I've asked myself that question a million times. But honestly, I wasn't even thinking about that day. I just made a very immature and quick decision," says Valencia. "I didn't even think twice about it. Because even though I knew what she did, in my mind I felt I had nothing to do with it."

In West Palm Beach, federal drug agents arrested Valencia, the woman she gave a ride to, and the two men who set up the deal. Prosecutors charged Valencia with being part of a cocaine conspiracy, and federal law required the judge to sentence her to at least 12 years and 7 months in prison. But he wasn't happy about it, and wrote, "Even the low end of the guideline range is an outrage in this case..."

"As a 19-year-old, I should have known better, and I should never have gotten involved in it to begin with," says Valencia. "But I don't feel that the time I received was a just punishment."

Neither does Joe Bogan, who, for 18 years, was a warden in the federal prison system, and spent six years at a penitentiary in Fort Worth, Texas. Bogan says Valencia's case is not unusual. "You could go in here and you could find hundreds of cases that would make the same point. Maybe the cases wouldn't be quite as minimally involved as she was, but you would find cases where, you know, if people thought about it, this is what happened to this woman, this is what she did, she ends up with 15, 20, 30 years," says Bogan. "It's not fair. It's not just. I mean, if you look back here in this prison, there are maybe 1,400 inmates, and there are probably 700-800 of them who could be out. And their sentences would still be just. It would still hold them accountable for their criminal conduct. Our sentences are just too long in this country."

Last spring, Congress passed a law that makes it even harder for a federal judge to impose a lighter sentence when that judge feels it is called for. That was too much for Judge John Martin, a former prosecutor and a Republican appointee to the federal district court. "Judges throughout the country, of all political persuasions, feel that they have to have discretion so that they can do justice in the individual cases," says Martin, who is resigning from the bench. "It is unjust. It's taking people who are low-level violators and putting them in jail for 15-20 years. I had a situation where a defendant was an addict. He sat on his stoop. People came to him and said, 'Do you know where I can buy some crack?' He told them about an apartment where there was crack being sold. For this, the people who sold it every once in a while gave him some crack for his own personal use. The guideline range for that man was 16 years in jail. That doesn't seem to me like justice."

But aren't they reducing the sale of drugs by taking the drug dealers off the street? "No, if you take some narcotic addict who is sitting on a stoop selling drugs, if he goes off to jail, there's a person to replace him within a nanosecond," says Martin.

In 1986, when he was the lead attorney for the House Subcommittee on Narcotics, Eric Sterling helped write the mandatory-minimum drug legislation. Sterling has left Congress and is now working to change the drug laws.

"This has been the worst legislation I've ever been involved with," says Sterling. "And it's probably the worst thing I've ever done professionally, as a lawyer. This was the hastiest thing, the most unusual thing I've ever been involved in on Capitol Hill."

What was the rush? Back then, images of drug busts dominated TV news. The war on drugs was the No. 1 issue on the minds of Americans. But it was the fate of a celebrated basketball player that got the tough drug laws passed. Len Bias, a star at the University of Maryland, died of a cocaine overdose just after he was selected as the top draft pick of the Boston Celtics. For legislators, in search of an issue for the midterm election, Bias' shocking death was just the ticket.

"They knew Len Bias and when he died it set off a kind of media political frenzy on Capitol Hill," says Sterling. "It was like a heated Sotheby's auction where everyone was trying to be tougher than the next guy."

In those days, Congressman Bill McCollum was one of the toughest guys in favor of stricter drug laws — and he makes no apologies for it. "You'd had a lot of deaths from this stuff. And people wanted to send a strong message: to get it off the streets as much as possible and say ‘By golly, you deal in this stuff, you're going to jail for a long period of time.' And it didn't take a large quantity to cause that death or to cause that problem."

The federal judges that 60 Minutes has spoken with say that the great majority of the people they sentence for drug crimes are at the bottom of the totem pole, and not in any way the higher-ups.

"You know what we have a problem with? It's recidivism. When people commit these crimes, they get back out on the streets. They'd do it over and over again," says McCollum. "And so you're going to have 'em back on the streets dealing, even more dealers. So the idea of lesser sentences makes no sense to me at all."

But will this really serve as a deterrent? "They're bound to be people out there who are deterred from doing this because of the jail time they're going to get. And there are some people who aren't. I think the idea of characterizing these people as small fry is a terrible characterization," adds McCollum. "It's a misnomer. Yeah, they may be comparatively smaller in terms of the quantity of drugs they're selling, but they're still major drug dealers and traffickers."

Patrick Murphy, the chief judge of the federal district court in East St. Louis, Ill., doles out long sentences nearly every week to drug dealers and traffickers. He says those sentences haven't helped in his district: "You're in East St. Louis. East St. Louis is crime-ridden, poverty-stricken, violent, dirty, dangerous, and here the sentences are the longest and the hardest anywhere in the federal judiciary … Here, prosecutions happen regularly. Sentences are meted out long and hard. Hardest sentences in the United States, right here."

What does he say to someone who claims that these tough mandatory sentences are taking drug kings and putting them out of business by locking them up in prison? "What passes for a drug king in 99 percent of the cases is nothing more than a young man who can't even afford a lawyer when he's hauled into court. I've seen very few drug kings," says Judge Murphy.

What he does see, however, is defendant after defendant like Brenda Valencia, who served 11 years of a 12 year — 7 month sentence for giving a drug dealer a ride — twice as many years as she would have gotten if she'd killed someone and been convicted of manslaughter.

Some drug traffickers do get lighter sentences by agreeing to testify against other traffickers. Why didn't Valencia's lawyer try to make a deal in her case? "The other two people were already cooperating with the government. So they had the people they needed to cooperate," says Valencia. "And I didn't know anything, and I couldn't give the government any information."

"The people with the least culpability haven't had any information to trade to the prosecutor for a reduced sentence, but the people who were more culpable, they've got lots of information, they trade it," says Bogan. "So you've got the less culpable getting maybe 10-15 years and the more culpable getting five. Again, it's not just."

If you look at the government's own figures, it had 12 million illegal drug users in 1991. Now, there are 19 million, so it's gone up after a decade of tough sentences by 7 million drug users.

"If we didn't have those tough sentencing laws, you'd have a whole lot more people than 19 million on drugs," says McCollum. "It would be worse today if we didn't have them. Far worse."

These drug laws were created to protect kids from drug dealers. But Sterling argues that we're not doing this at all. "This doesn't work to protect kids. When you look at what kids say, 'How hard is it for you to get drugs, easy or hard?' We've been asking the same question of samples year after year, and now kids say it's easier to get heroin, marijuana, cocaine then ever. That's not protection."

Even conservatives on the Supreme Court are saying that Congress has gone too far. Last August, Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy, a Reagan appointee, told the American Bar Association, "I accept neither the wisdom, the justice, nor the necessity of mandatory minimums." In all too many cases, he said, they are unjust.

Reading is a popular pastime in prison. In this article from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, a special arrangement in the state of Washington pays inmates to do it: Tucked into the quiet spaces they can find — linen closets, vacant visiting rooms, their cells — the women read about philosophy, auto mechanics, math, art. They read into tape recorders about management and physiology. Windows XP and world history. Then they place the audiotapes into FedEx envelopes and send them to community college students who couldn't learn without them.

It's a nascent program at the Washington Corrections Center for Women that's helping people toward college degrees and perhaps preventing some of these women from making return visits to this prison near Purdy. It's also allowing the women involved to grow in ways one doesn't expect.

But the point of the effort is people such as Cyndi, a Tacoma Community College student who had tried before to go to school, but dropped out when she couldn't keep up with the reading. "I was reading at a third-grade level," she said. "Everything was getting in the way -- I just couldn't keep up." When she left her abusive husband a year ago (the reason she asked that neither her last name nor hometown be used), she thought she had few options. "I didn't think I'd be able to do it," she said of starting over on her own. "I thought I'd be a street person."

She'd already once been fired from a job at a pet-supply store because she routinely charged customers incorrectly. "I couldn't tell the difference between a 20-pound and 40-pound bag of dog food," she said. "I was doin' the best I could." Cyndi was diagnosed with a number of learning disabilities, including dyslexia. She now studies domestic violence and chemical-dependency counseling at TCC, aided by audiotape recordings of her texts.

"It's what saved me," said Cyndi, who now has a 4.0 grade-point average. When Cyndi learned that the tapes are produced in a prison, she wrote a letter to the women, thanking them. "I couldn't get through college without them," she wrote.

That kind of note strikes a chord with Kim McIntosh, an inmate here whose daughter went deaf and required specialized study help while at the University of Washington, earning a master's degree in education. "She did that because of somebody's help," said McIntosh, adding that she wasn't very involved in her daughter's life. "So, I feel blessed that I can do that for somebody else."

McIntosh always volunteers to read the science books, such as a recent one she read on cell biology. "I wanted to be a doctor as a child," she said. But her drug addiction caused her to quit college three times. And now, with a felony record including drug use, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to work in the medical field. "Even if I don't get a degree," she said, "I'm still learning college courses -- and that's really important to me."

For Candy Flowers, the reading program has meant learning discipline. "I don't think I knew the meaning of the word 'structure' when I got here," she said. "I've never been able to discipline myself -- and that's why I'm in prison."

Flowers is the most prolific reader. She's read 28 textbooks in one year. All told, the nine women now in the program have read nearly 200 college texts. They work with 12 local community colleges and are looking to expand to Oregon schools and K-12 special education programs.

At least 15 other women in the prison have expressed interest in reading texts. All this, from a man who began teaching in the prison somewhat on a whim.

Dr. Steven Nourse likes to try something new and off-the-wall every year. Once, he decided to take a stab at acting and auditioned -- and was cast — for a play at UW. Another year, he decided to take up bread making. And once, he chose to teach in a prison. That's how he got to Purdy, teaching general education and basic English to felons.

Women from around the state sentenced to more than a year and a day spend their time here, at the Washington Corrections Center for Women. There are about 900 inmates.

It's been about three years since Nourse began teaching here. Through his studies in special education, he knew Kathryn Held, special education coordinator at Tacoma Community College, and heard about problems she'd had finding college text audiotapes for students who are blind or have reading disabilities.

Many books aren't available, Held said. Many others, recorded by a non-profit organization, are old editions. Held previously tried hiring students to read the textbooks her students needed. It was difficult to find readers, organize them and control the quality of the tapes, she said.

So she collaborated with Nourse, and the program was born at Purdy last January with just a couple of women, one college and a few tape recorders. The women in the prison are paid $1 an hour, with 50-cent increases each time they complete 100 90-minute audiotapes. That's much more than the 42 cents inmates get for most jobs, such as cooking and laundry.

Flowers said she's almost up to $3 an hour. That kind of wage allows her to pay off some of her Department of Corrections debt, save for when she is released and send some money to her family. She recently bought gifts for her grandchildren and a new pair of shoes for herself.

But the women gain much more than money for their work. Nourse says the women take great pride in what they do. And that's evident when listening to Noreen Erlandson. "Sometimes the assignments come with names on them. And I know, for example, that 'Eric' is depending on me," she said. "It becomes a personal thing. I have a commitment to Eric to read two books by a certain time."

The women are producing tapes for less money than government texts-on-tape programs, while not taking jobs away from anybody, Nourse said. And in the meantime, they are being challenged and exposed to different worlds. "This is my first trip to prison," said Heidi McReynolds. "And when I got here, I was feeling very repressed — and oppressed — and I got this book, called 'The Material World: A Global Family Portrait' by Menzel." The book consisted of photographs from around the world of families, with all of their possessions, in front of their homes. Not only was it a challenge to narrate photographs, but it was also an eye-opener. "I realized that I have more than so many of those families — even in here," she said.

Along the way, there have been other challenges. Reading a text about keyboarding, Susan Lemery had to spell out the e-n-t-i-r-e b-o-o-k. And knowing nothing about music, Flowers had to describe notes and chords. But the more common challenge is just trying to find somewhere to read and record. There are fire drills and intercom announcements and noisy day rooms.

Nourse believes the program will help prevent these women from returning to Purdy. Many of them have been in and out before. But education lowers the rate of recidivism, Nourse said. Flowers says she's thankful for the program for a simple reason — "for being able to give back something to the people out there."

Here's a sampling of the books the inmates have read: "Liberty, Equality, Power: A History of the American People" "T. Rex & the Crater of Doom" "The Practice of Generalist Case Management" "Breaking Through College Reading" — 6th Ed. "Fundamentals of General, Biological, and Organic Chemistry" — 4th Ed. "African American Poetry, An Anthology 1773-1927" "Homophobia — A Weapon of Sexism" "Murder American Style" "Health, Safety and Nutrition" — 5th Ed. "Making It in Clay" "Uppers, Downers, and All Arounders" "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead" "The Pornography of Meat" "Manual of Woody Landscape Plants" "Touch Operation of the Electronic Calculator" "Washington Real Estate Fundamentals" "Simplified Engineering for Architects and Builders"

When the press can better gain access to government information, everyone benefits, except people who want to conceal things. In this story, The San Francisco Chronicle reports on efforts to open prisons to the media:

Two lawmakers are reviving legislation to allow more media access to inmates, saying recently reported troubles inside prisons show the need for more scrutiny of the state's $5.3 billion prison system.

Bills to reverse California's strict rules limiting journalists' ability to interview prisoners were vetoed by both Republican Gov. Pete Wilson and Democrat Gray Davis. But legislators are hopeful they may win the signature this year of Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, who campaigned on a theme of providing more openness in government operations. And with a recent federal report and legislative hearings airing allegations of corruption and coverups among guards and administrators inside prisons, both state Sen. Gloria Romero, D-Los Angeles, and Assemblyman Mark Leno, D-San Francisco, say the need is clear for more oversight of the state's corrections department.

Leno noted that Schwarzenegger has proposed saving state money by eliminating an independent state agency that acts as a prison watchdog. Increasing media access to inmates is a cheap way to allow the public and policymakers more insight into what goes on behind prison walls, Leno said.

"This is oversight without any cost to taxpayers," he said. Leno, the chairman of the Assembly's Public Safety Committee, plans to introduce his bill soon. Romero, who for two weeks co-chaired hearings that detailed problems inside prisons and the difficulties whistle- blowers face in coming forward, introduced her bill, SB1164 already. Both are similar to legislation last attempted by former Assemblywoman Carole Migden of San Francisco.

Ideas to increase media access to prisons have enjoyed bipartisan support in the Legislature. Prison rules created in 1996 by Wilson make it difficult for reporters to set up interviews with specific prisoners — it often takes more than a month. Journalists are also prohibited from using notebooks or recording devices during interviews, and can only meet with inmates during visiting hours, which are on weekends.

Leno and Romero want to change that to require the Department of Corrections to help reporters meet with inmates, provide more flexibility in the timing of interviews and allow notebooks, recorders or video cameras.

Restricted access has significantly decreased the media's coverage of prisons at the same time the state's corrections budget has soared, said Jim Ewert, legal counsel for the California Newspaper Publishers Association. The rules essentially make it difficult for the public to determine whether the state is spending money wisely, according to Ewert.

Romero agreed. "This is simply about open government — this is a troubled agency, and it's a $5-billion-a-year agency," she said. "It needs some sunshine."

Davis twice vetoed Migden's bills for more prison access. His vetoes, he said then, were based partly on concerns he had that inmates would gain celebrity and that celebrity would cause harm to crime victims. Crime victims' groups appear poised to use the same arguments again.

"It sounds like all we're doing is giving prisoners more rights," said Harriet Salarno, president of Crime Victims United of California. "Let's remember why these people are in prison to begin with. Why do we need to glorify them?" Salarno said her group would likely lobby against both bills.

A spokesman for Schwarzenegger said the governor would not comment on pending legislation. But the governor emphasized openness as a campaign theme, suggesting the public is entitled to know more about the internal workings of the government they pay for. "For a governor who wants to blow up boxes and let people know how government operates, this is in line with that," Leno said.

With time on their hands, many prisoners like to earn as they learn. In Arizona, they can do this through a retail selling program, as reported by the Tucson Citizen:

David Stocks spends hours rolling paper into stems and fashioning dough into leaves to create delicate flowers, all from a prison cell. It's a skill he learned from another inmate and one he started using to earn income about a year and half ago. "There are some really gifted artists in here," said Stocks, a 47-year-old former contractor who is serving a 15-year sentence for fraud. "I keep finding talents even at my age."

Stocks' lacquered flowers are among dozens of items sold at the Arizona State Prison Outlet. It is in Florence, about 60 miles north of Tucson, near the state prison grounds. Resembling an Old West general store with red trim and horse rails, the outlet sells merchandise made by inmates as part of prison work programs or on their own. Among the store's best-known items are birdhouses made of scrapped license plates and a line of wooden stagecoaches, available in kits or assembled. American Indian crafts such as dream catchers and moccasins, leather goods, woodwork, paintings, sketches and beaded jewelry are sold as well.

"They're great gift items to begin with but are unique in that they are manufactured by an inmate in the state prison or an inmate in the state of Arizona," said John Spearman, assistant director of Arizona Correctional Industries, the state program that runs the store.

Scrimshaw and bone carvings made by Alaskan inmates housed at a nearby private prison are also popular. "Those are really unique kinds of things that we don't see in Arizona," Spearman said.

Staffers get inquiries from out of state about inmate-made products. Those requests are turned down because laws restrict interstate commerce of inmate-made goods.

Inmates from any of Arizona's prisons can purchase their materials and sell artwork and crafts through the store. They receive 75 percent of the sale price. The store keeps the remainder. The system yielded revenues of $81,957 in fiscal 2003 for the store. During the previous fiscal year, revenues reached $91,114.

For many inmates, the outlet sales have proved profitable. Daniel Farrell, who is serving a six-year sentence for burglary, earned about $1,000 in one year painting portraits and acrylic Western scenes. The earnings allow Farrell, 32, to save and prepare for when he's released. "The more I get into it, the more it looks like it's something I should do when I get out," he said of his painting. "Plus, the way I sell, it's kind of encouraging."

More than 360 inmates from Arizona's state and private prisons have sold articles through the retail outlet since September 1997. Corrections staffers are considering how to expand artwork and craftmaking to foster an entrepreneurial spirit among inmates and help them become self-sufficient, Spearman said. "We ought to teach them what a business plan is and how they can utilize the time they got incarcerated to become proficient in their art, and guide them in such a way they can effectively transition when released," he said.

Prison officials could boost the items produced by expanding materials sold to inmates from just basic paints and coloring pencils to upgraded art supplies, Farrell said. Spearman said he wants prison officials to consider relaxing rules that limit tools that inmates can use for arts and craftmaking, or devise additional safety procedures in the prison system. For example, certain sharp instruments used in leather work were forbidden, and horse hair used for weaving can pose a threat, Spearman said.

"We recognize that our first and foremost job is to protect the public," he said. "But we also recognize we have a responsibility to the citizens of the state to do something to change and help inmates modify their behavior so they become law-abiding citizens," he added.

Whether you are pro- or anti-unions, you cannot deny their potential for influencing government. The following story comes from the San Francisco Chronicle:

After convening a grand jury to look into allegations that Corcoran State Prison guards brutally beat 36 inmates, Kings County District Attorney Greg Strickland found himself in a political nightmare. Days before he hoped to win re-election in 1998, the guards union spent $30,000 to mail and call every voter in the county with suggestions that Strickland was soft on crime. His elected career ended that week.

"I had no idea it was coming," Strickland said. "The union took me out after one four-year term because I convened a grand jury."

Feared, admired and often hated for its moxie and influence, there are few greater heavyweights in state politics than the California Correctional Peace Officers Association. The union, built into a powerhouse by a former guard known for his trademark hat, has played a major role in electing governors and spread contributions through every corner of California.

But all of that political clout is now under scrutiny. Lawmakers and prison watchdogs say the union's power among decision-makers has translated into too much control within prison walls.

Phone calls from the union can change corrections procedures, according to internal department e-mail. A contract overwhelmingly approved by the Legislature and signed by then-Gov. Gray Davis not only gives guards big raises, it also gives the union more institutional control. And as a recent federal report concluded, the union can step in and end investigations into guards accused of committing crimes while on the state payroll.

"My assessment of the union's clout, particularly under Gov. Davis' administration, is that when the union would call and say jump, the response was how high," said Sen. Jackie Speier, D-Hillsborough, one of two lawmakers who have vowed to break the union's hold on the state's troubled Department of Corrections.

Davis is gone, but the union's reach still touches the highest echelon of prison bureaucracy. Rod Hickman, appointed last month by Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger to be the Secretary of Youth and Adult Corrections, is a former prison guard who remains a member of the union. A spokesman said Hickman continues paying dues to enjoy the health care benefits.

Union officials say they're proud of their track record of aggressively representing their members. A union vice president noted guards were "the Oakland Raiders of law enforcement." They say they've pushed for higher salaries and better training for guards to ensure a more professional workforce.

"They stand up for their employees and do what a union does," said Assemblyman Rudy Bermudez, D-Norwalk (Los Angeles County), a former parole agent and longtime union member. "Wouldn't you want a strong union representing you?"

The union's rise is largely attributed to two things. One is a tough-on-crime fervor that has dominated state politics for years, leading to a prison-building boom that added thousands of members to the union, each of whom now pays at least $60 a month in dues. The other is Don Novey.

Rarely seen in public without one of his trademark hats, Novey was president of the union for 22 years before retiring in 2002. It was Novey's idea to align the union with crime victims' groups, giving it a sympathetic ear in the Capitol. It was Novey who steered more than $100, 000 to the campaign for the state's three-strikes initiative. And it was Novey who coined the slogan that guards walk "the toughest beat in California."

The union, with 100 employees and 30,000-members, boasts a stable of savvy lawyers and well-connected Sacramento lobbyists, as well as a political war chest known statewide. Davis got a huge boost when the guards endorsed him in 1998, showering him with more than $3 million during his years in office.

The union is one of the biggest donors to lawmakers as well. Last year, it contributed to 40 of the 120 members of the Legislature, according to state records. The guards' contributions span the political spectrum. They delivered a $25,000 check last year to Senate President Pro Tem John Burton, a San Francisco Democrat — three months after giving $12,000 to Senate Republican Leader Jim Brulte of Rancho Cucamonga (San Bernardino County).

The guards frequently score major victories in Sacramento. They were the sole opponents of legislation in 1999 that would have given the attorney general more power to prosecute prison guards accused of wrong- doing. The bill was killed in an Assembly committee.

They persuaded Davis to close three privately run prisons, even though they housed inmates at substantially lower costs than state-run facilities. And the 2002 contract with the union that gave guards a nearly 7 percent raise this year and substantial new benefits — amid giant state budget deficits — sailed through the Legislature before Davis signed it.

The union's clout isn't just about who its members support, political veterans say. It's who they oppose. Former Republican Assemblyman Phil Wyman of Tehachapi (Kern County) advocated more private prisons. The guards gave $200,000 to his opponent in 2002, and Wyman lost his race.

State Sen. John Vasconcellos, D-Santa Clara, led opposition to a prison-building bond as an assemblyman in 1990. The guards gave more than $80,000 to an unknown opponent who narrowly lost to the much more visible Vasconcellos. "If the guards don't like you, they're willing to spend money to get you, " said Bill Leonard, a longtime GOP lawmaker who is now on the state Board of Equalization. "Very few special interests go negative quite like they do. That certainly adds to their power — you don't want to be considered hostile to them." Union officials defend their political practices.

"The bottom line is we believe in supporting candidates who are willing to listen to the issues facing correctional officers and public safety," said Lance Corcoran, a union vice president. He said the union went after Strickland because he failed to investigate numerous charges of inmates assaulting guards.

A growing chorus of union critics say its clout inside the Capitol and around the state has translated into substantial power within the state's Department of Corrections. One internal department e-mail seems to back that up. The e-mail was made public as part of a federal investigation into conditions at Pelican Bay State Prison in Crescent City (Del Norte County).

Sent by a top department attorney to two other corrections employees, the e-mail notes that former corrections Director Edward Alameida had decided to make the state foot the bill for the criminal defense of a Pelican Bay guard who shot an inmate. The decision came at the request of the union, and despite a department legal opinion that concluded the union — not taxpayers — should pay for the defense. Alameida sided with the union over his own attorneys.

The e-mail also notes that a union vice president had asked that a department internal affairs agent not be seated at the prosecutors' table during the trial; the union was concerned about the appearance of having a prison official sitting with prosecutors. The agent later told a federal investigator that he was told he would have to stand outside the courtroom during the trial.

Prison supervisors say the contract implemented by Davis and the Legislature has given control of facilities to the union. Because of the contract, union officers have more freedom to pick the jobs they want, regardless of management's concerns. Clauses in the contract allow the union more ability to obtain information about investigations of guards, which has slowed internal affairs probes. And sick leave requirements have been eased, allowing guards to abuse sick time, according to Rich Tatum, a 33-year prisons veteran and president of the California Correctional Supervisors Organization, a group that represents prison managers. The change adds to overtime costs, he said. "It does seem at times like the union is running the department," Tatum said.

Outsiders agree. "No one has the guts to stand up to the union," said John Irwin, a retired sociology professor at San Francisco State University who has written four books on California prisons. "What I found very disturbing is the wardens don't feel they have much control of what goes on. The cliques — mostly led by sergeants — at the prisons are very strong, and the union, of course, backs them up when they get into trouble."

Union executives dismiss his analysis. "There is such a myth of the overreaching power of the CCPOA; we're not omnipotent," Corcoran said. "God, I wish we could choose wardens, but it's not true." Whether the union's clout will wane under the new administration remains to be seen. There are mixed signals. Schwarzenegger is the first governor in two decades who is refusing to accept contributions from labor, and he has said he intends to clean up California prisons.

But his plan to dismantle the independent state agency that has acted as a prison watchdog is criticized by Sens. Speier and Gloria Romero, D-Los Angeles, who say more, not less, oversight is needed. And the federal investigation of Pelican Bay does hold a powerful hammer over the department to make internal affairs procedures more immune to union influence. A federal judge has the authority to take over internal affairs if state officials can't do a better job.

Many inmates write while they are in prison. Here's a story from New-24 TV in Houston, Texas, about one man who came up with a unique idea:

A former inmate who prepared last meals for condemned prisoners has published a collection of his recipes. San Antonio native Brian Price served 14 years in prison on sexual assault and kidnaping charges. He's now free and living in Crockett, about 130 miles north of Houston.

His cookbook called "Meals to Die For" includes recipes with ghoulish titles, such as "Old Sparky's Genuine Convict Chili," "Last Wish Fish" and "Time's Up Tartar Sauce." The book also includes a compilation of last meal requests and the crimes that led to them.

The 52-year-old Price says he wants to give the public a look at what goes on behind prison walls.

With state budgets at the breaking point, alternatives to imprisonment are being sought. Georgia is looking at various options, according to this story from The Atlanta Journal-Constitution:

The state needs to open more transition, diversion and day reporting centers, putting a greater emphasis on helping inmates re-enter society successfully and avoid returning to prison, Commissioner James Donald said. "Georgia does a great job of keeping inmates. But we need to do a better job of changing them so they are not likely candidates for re-conviction, Whether you like them or not, they're going to come back out and be your neighbors."

Such halfway houses offer intensive drug abuse treatment programs, job training, career counseling and other services. They also are far cheaper than repeatedly housing the same lawbreakers. Brian Owens, Donald's executive assistant, said that it costs $17.5 million a year to operate a 1,000-bed prison.

"For $17.5 million, we can open and operate 34 day reporting centers," Owens said. Donald emphasized that most efforts will be focused on nonviolent offenders, such as those convicted of drug and property crimes, and that the department will consider locking up violent offenders its top priority. About 30,000 of the state's more than 47,000 prisoners are convicted murderers, rapists, armed robbers and other violent felons.

Donald noted that 95 percent of Georgia inmates will serve out their sentences and be released. Twenty-seven percent of them will return to prison within three years. In the past two years, the rate of inmates returning to prison who have gone through the Atlanta Day Reporting Center — the only one in the state — is just 7 percent, Owens said. Donald plans to release a detailed "transformation plan" for the prison system.

He offered glimpses of the plan. Unless officials work together to consider less expensive alternatives to prison, the system is projected to take in 11,000 more inmates during the next five years, Owens said. Building prisons to accommodate those inmates would cost as much as $550 million, while running them would cost $200 million a year.

The ideas are not new. But with Georgia's prisons packed by tough-on-crime laws and with the backing of Gov. Sonny Perdue, who appointed Donald in November, the plan has a chance of coming to fruition. The prison population has doubled in the past 10 years, while Corrections' budget has gotten smaller. Parole board member Mike Light said the climate is right for talking about changes. "Look no further than the president's State of the Union speech, where he pledged $300 million for re-entry," said Light, who has worked in the parole and corrections departments for 25 years. "Ten years ago, we were talking about money to put them away. Today, we're talking about money to bring them home."

Donald acknowledged that his department is one piece of the criminal justice puzzle. The agency will have to work with prosecutors, judges, the parole board — even churches — to implement its philosophy of diverting criminals to alternative sentencing options. The department's responsibility, Donald said, will be to make sure that such options as halfway houses exist.

The state of Michigan is allocating money for alternatives to incarceration rather than building new prisons. Hopefully prison-loving prosecutors and judges are getting the message, according to this editorial in the Detroit Free Press:

Michigan Department of Corrections must hold counties accountable for the way they spend state money for low-cost alternatives to prison. Most counties are cooperating fully with state efforts to control the prison population by diverting low-risk offenders into community programs.

But those counties that aren't using community corrections money properly shouldn't get it. A few counties, such as Muskegon, continue to send too many nonviolent offenders to prison, instead of using community alternatives. If that's what local prosecutors and judges want to do, that's their business. But the state is right to threaten to withhold money from Muskegon for not using the money effectively.

Other counties could give the state's taxpayers a better return on the investment. Michigan's prison population should hold steady this year, after decades of increases, thanks largely to efforts by Corrections and counties to expand community sanctions.

Such alternatives include drug treatment, electronic tethers, halfway houses, day reporting centers and county jails. Counties get $50 million a year to help pay for them. The efforts reduced, by 6 percent, offenders coming to prison during the first nine months of 2003.

Expanding community options means judges can sentence more offenders to a local program instead of prison, where each inmate costs nearly $30,000 a year. Corrections also sent back to prison 1,248 fewer parolees who commit technical violations, like not showing up for a meeting with a parole officer.

State taxpayers are benefitting, but the Department of Corrections must make sure all counties get the message: Use community corrections money the way it was intended or surrender it to counties that will.

The Florida Department of Corrections has been sued for practicing censorship by a magazine that says the state wants to block inmates from taking advantage of a cheaper way to call their families. The following report comes from The Miami Herald:

An inmate advocacy magazine is suing the Florida Department of Corrections in federal court. The reason: The DOC allegedly banned Prison Legal News from Florida prisons, saying that the magazine threatens prison security because it has ads for discount prison phone services.

A DOC memo says that the magazine has ``advertisements that encourage phone companies other than those assigned to the institution." What this means is that inmates' families can get a break from the comparatively high collect-call fees from Florida prisons, which now run $4 for a five-minute call in the state.

MCI has the DOC contract for long-distance collect calls from prisons. The company charges the families of inmates a high long-distance collect call rate, then gives a percentage of the profit -- over $10 million a year — to the state. "It's a revenue-generating contract," DOC spokesman Sterling Ivey said. `We chose MCI because we got the greatest return."

But the Prison Legal News ad tells prisoners' families how to get around the high rates: The families can call the magazine advertiser, Outside Connections, which gives them a local number for their inmate relatives to call. Outside Connections then forwards the inmate collect calls to their families at a long-distance rate much lower than what MCI charges.

To do this according to DOC rules, inmates put the local number of Outside Connections as well as the number of the relative they are calling on their 10-person call list. "It's a perfectly legal way to help prisoners' families avoid being gouged with unconscionable long-distance rates," said Mickey Gendler, attorney for Prison Legal News. The Florida Justice Institute Inc. also represents the magazine in the suit.

Randall Berg, an attorney with the institute, said that the magazine was not violating any prison policies or regulations. "Banning Prison Legal News from Florida correctional institutions is the kind of censorship you'd expect in Cuba or Iraq, but not in America," he said.

Ivey could not comment specifically on the lawsuit because he had not yet seen it. But he did talk about the long-distance charges prisoners' families pay. "MCI wanted to increase the rate recently, but DOC Secretary [James] Crosby said it was high enough, " the spokesman said.

Government committees charged with finding ways to save money are offering recommendations. This story from the Portland Press Herald explains the work of one group Maine:

A panel that studied sentencing practices to find ways to eliminate prison overcrowding has recommended boosting the amount of "good time" inmates can earn, eliminating probation for certain offenses and allowing low-risk offenders to serve sentences at home.

Other recommendations include a one-year moratorium on sentence increases and reducing burglary of a motor vehicle to a misdemeanor. The 128-page report by the Commission to Improve the Sentencing, Supervision, Management and Incarceration of Prisoners was released last week.

The panel is trying to reduce the number of people sent to jail and the frequency with which convicts commit new crimes. The final report contains an eight-page minority report by Evert Fowle, district attorney for Kennebec and Somerset counties. He objected strenuously to dropping probation for the minor offenses, and urged a delay in instituting other recommendations.

"Courts, prosecutors, defense attorneys need more alternatives to address issues raised by the thousands of cases processed each year, not fewer alternatives," he wrote. The commission found that the population in the state prison system has increased 20 percent since 2000 and county jails are growing 8 percent annually.

The state´s crime rate has dropped since the 1990s. The commission found that overcrowding is caused by longer probation periods and more violations, more drug-related convictions, inadequate substance abuse treatment, too few programs for juveniles, inadequate re-entry programs and a shortage of appropriate treatment for mentally ill people.

Despite its efforts to reduce prison populations, the panel recognized that numbers will continue to grow in the short term. To ease overcrowding immediately, the commission recommended the Legislature appropriate enough money to open 212 beds at the Maine State Prison, the Maine Correctional Facility, and the Charleston Correctional Facility.

The Prisons Foundation is pleased to announce that it has just received funds from the National Endowment for the Arts to hold a Prison Arts and Crafts Show in Washington, DC in September 2004. If you are a prison artist who would like to display and sell your work at this prestigious event, please write us for complete details. Prisons Foundation, 1718 M Street, NW, #151, Washington, DC 20036

George Passarelli, resident, Waupin Correctional Institution, Wisconsin. Mr. Passarelli's favorite pastimes are creative writing and music. His hometown is Muskegon, Michigan.

Steve Farley, resident, Troup County Correctional Institution, Georgia. Mr. Farley's favorite pastimes are writing, reading, studying and exercising. His hometown is Carroll County, Georgia.

Gregory W. Bagley, resident, Pender Correctional Institution, Burgaw, North Carolina. Mr. Bagley's favorite pastime is reading his Bible.

Your ad or announcement here at little or no cost. Contact Staff@PrisonsFoundation.org Prisons Foundation 1718 M St. NW, #151 Washington, DC 20036

Subscribe to Freedom Now! Prisons Foundation Bi-Monthly Digest of News You Can Use Annual Subscription Rates for conventional mail delivery: Individuals in Prison $19 Other Individuals $29 Libraries and organizations $49 Foreign $59 Annual Subscription rates for electronic access $25 Yes, I want to subscribe! Enclosed is my check or money order. Your name________________________________________________________ Address___________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________ Email (optional)____________________________________________________ Send with payment to Prisons Foundation, 1718 M Street, NW, #151, Washington, DC 20036 Or you can subscribe on line by going to www.PrisonsFoundation.org