SENTENCING RULES SHOULDN'T LOCK OUT SECOND CHANCES

Editor's Note: This is the start of an occasional series of columns and
editorials on the issues facing Michigan in this important election year.

You probably don't know Dalvin Jones, but before he leaves prison, or dies
there, he could cost Michigan taxpayers more than $1 million.

They won't get much for that: no potholes filled or roads widened, no
schools built, no extra police officers in the neighborhood.

They will get one convicted drug dealer off the streets, though that won't
slow the clocking of illegal drugs, as long as people want them.

Jones, 28, of Detroit, is serving a mandatory life sentence in Mound
Correctional Facility for conspiracy to deliver more than 650 grams of
cocaine, or crack cocaine.

He says, as does a Court of Appeals document, that he didn't have any drugs
on him when he was arrested in Muskegon. But a case report says Jones
possessed 48 grams of crack cocaine. In any case, prosecutors argued that he
was part of an operation with sales exceeding the statutory minimum of 650
grams. Jones was sentenced to life in December 1998, the same month his
daughter was born.

Tough drug sentences are one reason Michigan's prison population rose during
the 1990s, though not as fast as it did in the 1980s.

During Gov. John Engler's 11 years in office, the state's prison population
rose more than 43 percent, from 34,210 to 49,050. Meanwhile, the Department
of Correction's annual budget doubled, from $808 million in 1991 to $1.6
billion now. On top of that, the state bonded for nearly $1 billion worth of
prison construction.

All this happened as violent crime dropped in Michigan by an estimated 27
percent.

Do people feel safer? I doubt it. People read and hear so much about crime
and violence that they probably feel less safe. Which is why fiscal
conservatives are often liberal when it comes to spending on prisons. For
most people, fear and maybe a desire for vengeance evoke even stronger
feelings than economic self-interest.

But at a time when finding money to improve schools, clean up waterways or
hire more cops will become tougher and tougher, it would be stupid not to
take a hard look at what we spend to lock people away, and not to consider
more alternatives.

With crime dropping and prison costs rising, several states last year took
steps to reduce inmate populations, such as getting rid of some mandatory
minimum sentences and bans on early parole, as well as expanding
alternatives such as electronic monitoring.

That's not to say many people shouldn't be locked up -- for society's good
and their own. Few people, including him, would deny that Jones needed to go
to prison, where he's studying for a GED. But a life sentence leaves him
little chance ever to contribute to society. And contrary to what a lot of
people believe, people who have committed crimes can turn their lives
around.

My brother-in-law, Shannon Keys, spent more than seven years in Michigan
prisons. Like Jones, he was convicted of cocaine dealing, though charged
with selling a lesser amount. Unlike Jones, he got a chance to make good
when he was released five years ago, and he did.

Now 30, Keys, formerly of Detroit, is a senior at Ferris State University,
an honor student majoring in music industry management. He was the school's
homecoming king in 2000, and he's president of his Kappa Alpha Psi
fraternity.

Keys helps support his 14- and 2-year-old daughters by running an on-campus
clothing business.

He was always a hustler, but now he's doing it right. He's giving to society
instead of taking, either through crime or by costing taxpayers $23,000 a
year in prison.

"I made a mistake, but I was given an opportunity and I took it," Keys told
me.

Jones and a lot of other young men may not get that chance. Ever. Somehow,
we're all poorer for it.

Next Thursday: Out on parole