ANOTHER ROAD TO JUSTICE

PROGRAMS SEEK TO CHANGE OFFENDERS' THINKING

Fourth of four parts

Green Bay - The group of men listens, mesmerized, as Lynn BeBeau talks
about the last time she saw her husband alive.

"I told him the same thing I always did: 'I love you. Be careful.'
"

Her husband grinned back.

"Honey, don't worry about me. Me and God are like this." He held up
two crossed fingers and smiled.

Hours later, the Eau Claire police officer was shot to death in the
line of duty.

The hulking men in prison greens sit perfectly still as BeBeau fights
back tears. They are murderers, armed robbers, drug dealers, child
molesters.

Later, convicted killer Ruben Herrera tells BeBeau what her story
meant to him.

"I hear you talking about forgiveness. That would be something I would
ask for, but it would be selfish," he said in a voice racked with
emotion. "I don't have any right to ask for forgiveness or to forgive
myself. I don't even know how to go about doing that."

As judges follow the state Legislature's mandate of truth in
sentencing, giving prisoners little hope for early release, a movement
to help criminals change their thinking - and their behavior - is
under way. BeBeau is one of its foot soldiers. Another is former state
Supreme Court Justice Janine Geske. Another is Milwaukee County
Assistant District Attorney David Lerman. Their cohorts fan out across
the state, a counterpoint to the proponents of truth in sentencing who
believe that longer prison and supervision terms are the answers to
the crime problem.

"There are two different philosophies at work," Dane County Circuit
Judge Angela Bartell said. "Do people need to be treated, monitored,
and considered human resources, or just locked up?"

Department of Corrections Secretary Matthew J. Frank said the two
aren't necessarily mutually exclusive.

"Truth in sentencing is not inconsistent with giving judges more
options. . . . The challenge here is to be smart on crime and that we
give options to our judges to hold people accountable in ways that
best protect the public safety," he said.

Changing thinking, behavior

Geske, who sentenced her fair share of defendants to life in prison
during her tenure as a Milwaukee County circuit judge, believes people
who commit crimes need to change their thinking, whether they're
serving time or not. In contemporary terms, the concept is called
restorative justice, and it is a far cry from the adversarial court
system that is the norm in American courtrooms.

Restorative justice has a long tradition throughout history, including
in Native American cultures. It teaches that communities, victims and
offenders need to be healed after a crime occurs.

"Unfortunately, most people do not think about how much their actions
hurt others," Geske said. "Knowing that information can dramatically
affect future behavior."

Challenges and Possibilities, a program at the maximum-security Green
Bay Correctional Institution where BeBeau and Geske volunteer, is one
way community members are trying to inspire prisoners to change their
behaviors. About 30 inmates in a recent semester-long course attended
workshops where they interacted with crime victims and with one another.

The prisoners work on their attitudes through group therapy-style
discussion, writing and art. Volunteers include victims and survivors
of violent crime, who share their stories in hopes that the offenders
will think about the consequences of their actions.

During a session this fall at Green Bay, Mayda Crites told the story
of her son, Bryon, who was killed by a drunken driver in 1999.

Afterward, inmate Jesse Vega spoke up.

"I don't even want to drink no more," said Vega, who admitted drinking
and driving in the past. "I just thank God I didn't hurt anyone.

"Now that I heard you speak, I don't even want to ride a bike anymore.
It touched me, what you said, and I'm sorry you had to go through that."

In the Green Bay program, a few volunteers serve as representatives of
the people who have been harmed by the inmates. In the Milwaukee
County district attorney's office, however, participants in a
restorative justice program talk directly to the people they have
robbed, defrauded or otherwise harmed.

Neighborhood involvement

Milwaukee County's community conferencing groups include victim,
offender, a facilitator and a community representative - ideally
someone who lives in the neighborhood where the crime occurred. The
parties discuss both the facts of the case and its impact. They may
ask each other questions, which often leads to emotional insight.

"There is a ripple effect to many of these crimes," said Lerman, who
is in charge of the program.

For example, a simple car theft may prevent the car's owner from
getting to work, which could lead to his being fired. A corner drug
dealer may intimidate neighbors, keeping their children from playing
outside.

Only non-violent offenders who have admitted their crimes may
participate in community conferencing. Although the judge may consider
it at sentencing, prosecutors make no promises of leniency.

Lerman and Erin Katzfey, who works with him, have seen victims and
community members benefit, too, as they gain a greater understanding
of the crime. A victim of home burglary, for example, may fear she is
being stalked and her home will be violated again. In reality, the
offender may have chosen the house at random and already forgotten
where it is.

"I like to watch the faces as the dialogues are going on," Katzfey
said. "It's humanizing for the victim. They see that this is not a
monster that did this thing. It's a person who made a really dumb decision."

Funding will run out

Milwaukee County's community conferencing began in 2000 with a $20,000
grant from the Milwaukee Foundation. The following year, the state
Legislature earmarked federal grant money to fund Lerman's full-time
position and a similar one in Outagamie County. That funding expires
next summer. Lerman is hopeful that it will be renewed or that he will
be able to come up with an alternative funding source to continue his
work.

Wisconsin isn't the only place where money is an issue. Restorative
justice programs around the country - even those touted as amazingly
effective - face funding hurdles. For example, in Deschutes County,
Ore., the state gave the county the money it would have spent to lock
up certain juvenile offenders. In turn, the county spent half the
money on rehabilitation and half on prevention. In 2000, Deschutes
County received $800,000 from the state.

The Oregon program was hailed as a beacon of corrections reform and
copied by municipalities around the country. Nonetheless, its funding
was cut during a state budget crisis last year. Today, it continues
with local funding, said Wisconsin native Dennis Maloney, who
spearheaded the Deschutes County program.

Maloney, now the president of an Oregon consulting firm, formerly
served as superintendent at Lincoln Hills school for delinquent
juveniles in Wisconsin.

"I would see highly motivated kids getting ready to leave the
institution, and the community didn't want them back, even when they'd
done their time. Just doing your time doesn't win you redemption in
the community," he said.

And without community support, the motivation to stay out of trouble
began to slip away. After moving to Oregon, Maloney pioneered a
program that allowed young offenders to earn their way back into
society through restitution and service. For example, juveniles who
have committed serious property crimes build Habitat for Humanity
houses, which in turn are given to families affected by domestic
violence. They work four to six hours a day, all the while earning
money for restitution.

Meanwhile, citizens decided the prevention money should go to things
such as parenting classes, home health care for pregnant teens and
kindergarten for at-risk children.

As a result of the program, incarceration in Oregon's juvenile
institution was reduced by 72%, Maloney said.

"If you don't do this kind of thing, you create an incentive for
counties to unload as many people into the state prison system as
possible, because they pick up the tab for you," Maloney said. "This
model turns it around."

'Not just about punishment'

Restorative justice also saves money indirectly by reducing
recidivism, its proponents say.

"Justice is not just about punishment. Prison is not necessarily
enough to deter a person from committing crimes, and - (prison)
doesn't necessarily help the community," Milwaukee County's Lerman
said.

Although restorative justice programs and other creative approaches to
rehabilitation can be pricey, many believe they would cost less than
prison in the long run.

"There's no question in my mind that as expensive as those programs
are, they're a lot cheaper than building prisons," said Oneida County
Circuit Judge Robert Kinney. "We're not going to build ourselves out
of this problem."