STATE MUST DO MORE TO ENSURE EX-PRISONERS STAY OUT OF JAIL

A felony conviction in Florida triggers not one, but two kinds of punishment
- - one visible, the other hidden. First, a conviction often means a prison
term. But once that debt is paid, and just as the former inmate begins
piecing together a shattered life, barriers to finding a place to live and
getting a job kick in. Telling felons they are free to rejoin civil life but
then placing obstacles in their way is bad public policy.

This "yes-but" behavior has become a much bigger problem recently. It took
200 years, from 1789 to 1990, for America's prison population to reach the
one million mark. Then, in only 10 more years the number of people behind
bars doubled to two million. A lot of the increase consists of non-violent
drug offenders who don't deserve the double punishment they often get.

During the 1990s officials in Washington and Tallahassee were busy filling
our prisons. Now, with more than 600,000 ex-prisoners re- entering society
each year, it's time they do a better job converting inmates into productive
citizens.

For most inmates, prison means more than the loss of physical freedom.
Families are split up. Children lose a mother or father. Absent wage-
earners and financial troubles go hand in hand. All of this breaks down a
person's place in his or her community.

Nevertheless, an earlier study showed that between 1986 and 1996 state
imposed post-prison punishments surged. States permanently barring felons
from voting increased from 11 to 14; states permitting termination of
parental rights went from 16 to 19; and states requiring felons to register
with the local police shot up from eight to 46. By 1996, a felony conviction
was legal grounds for a divorce in 29 states.

A forthcoming Legal Action Center study titled, "After Prison: Roadblocks to
Reentry," identifies post-prison restrictions that make a felon's re-entry
in Florida rockier than it ought to be.

Jobs: Finding a job after jail is a big challenge. Some states make matters
worse by putting public employment out of reach of a convicted felon. In
Florida, a felony record - on its own - may be used to deny employment in
police and fire departments. For other public agencies to turn a felon away
solely based on a conviction, the offense must be directly related to the
prospective job. Private employers are free to do as they please.

Public Housing: A felon can be denied public housing in Florida. The
Miami-Dade Housing Authority, for example, may bar a felon for three years
after release for drug-related crimes and five years for violent offenses.

Driver's License: Drug-related convictions in Florida can result in the loss
of a driver's license for six months to two years. For six months the state
cannot even grant a restricted license for purposes of employment, education
or medical care.

Don't get me wrong. Society must set rules and dish out just and
constructive punishments. But statutory penalties on top of a prison
sentence only brand ex-inmates, including many thousands of low-level drug
offenders who have never harmed others, as bad people. Should state
governments, in effect, be in the business of promoting unemployment,
divorce and single parent families? Once the prison time is done, the state
should help ex-convicts rebuild their lives.

Jeremy Travis of the Urban Institute in Washington says that we could better
judge the merits of these back-door punishments if states gave them greater
public exposure and debate. Unlike the operation of prisons, according to
Travis, civil punishments don't run up large administrative costs and taxes.
The result? These hidden punishments seldom get the public airing they
deserve.

Travis may, however, be understanding the true costs attached to these
hidden punishments. Sure, if Florida's re-entry barriers lead to a felon's
failure to put together a new life, the individual incurs a huge personal
cost.

But when that person's troubles mount the prospects for more crime mount,
too. And if he or she is sent back to jail for a technical parole
infraction, as is often the case, or for a new crime resulting from a
shattered life, who picks up the $49.39 a day room and board tab? Why,
Florida taxpayers, of course.

In the end, these hidden punishments also have real hidden costs.

Ronald Fraser writes on public policy issues for the DKT Liberty Project, a
Washington-based civil liberties organization.