On an Unjust Justice System: Innocent Until Proven Poor

Our country’s system of cash bail doesn’t work like you were probably taught. Every year, millions of people are coerced into paying money bail after they’re arrested in order to remain free while their cases are processed. Even though these individuals are still innocent in the eyes of the law, they and their families or communities are forced to pay non-refundable ten percent deposits to for-profit bail bonds companies. Rather than helping to ensure that defendants return to court for future court hearings (a reminder phone call works just as well), the cash bail system fuels mass incarceration and disproportionately impacts Black and low-income communities. 

Oftentimes, young children are fed certain beliefs to give them a basic understanding of how the world works. They are told that doctors make them feel better when they are sick, that prison is where bad people go so they don’t harm others, that their teachers are always to be trusted, that the justice system rights wrongs and makes the world a more just place.

As we grow older, it is imperative that we question the beliefs we were taught and analyze them for ourselves to search for the truth – if any – within them. Today, I ask you to challenge your beliefs about the “justice” system and its accompanying money bail system.

How many people does this affect?

Here in the land of the free, there are 646,000 people locked up in more than 3,000 local jails – of these people, 70 percent have yet to be convicted of a crime and are legally presumed innocent. Who are they, you may ask, and why are they there? According to data from the non-profit, non-partisan Prison Policy Initiative (PPI), fewer than 30 percent of those currently locked up in local jails were arrested for violent crimes. And the reason they are still there? It has a lot to do with the United States’ system of money bail.

Through the money bail system, defendants are required to pay a certain amount of money as a pledged guarantee that they will attend future court hearings. Defendants who are unable to come up with that money, however, can be incarcerated from the time of their arrests until their cases are resolved or dismissed in court – a process that can, sometimes, take up to 10 years. The Pretrial Justice Initiative found that most people detained pretrial will receive “dismissals, no jail time, or a jail sentence less than time served in pretrial detention.” It seems that the “constitutional principle of innocent until proven guilty only really applies to the well off.”

Bail amounts are often equivalent to a full year’s income

According to PPI’s research, which uses Bureau of Justice Statistics data, the median annual income for people in jail, prior to incarceration, was $15,109 – this is less than half (48 percent) of the median for people of similar ages who are not incarcerated. Since those in jail are drastically poorer than non-incarcerated individuals, it is oftentimes extremely difficult for them to pay the required bail amount. In fact, the nationwide median bail amount is almost equivalent to a full year’s income for the typical person unable to meet a bail bond.

Also important to note in these statistics is the fact that Black women had the lowest incomes prior to incarceration. This means that the money bail system especially harms Black women, as they are the least likely to be able to afford their bail amount. Many may have heard the story of Sandra Bland, a Black woman who died in custody in July 2015, after being unable to afford the $515 amount. Sadly, this story is not hers alone. In that same month, five additional Black women died in jails around the country waiting to post bail, the majority on minor shoplifting charges.

The money bail system further disadvantages people of color, as data presented by the Pretrial Justice Institute found that Hispanic men had a 19-percent higher bail than white men, while black men had bail amounts 35 percent higher than white men.

Cash bail often triggers housing, employment and custody crises

The bail system further exacerbates a system of poverty. According to data from the Bureau of Justice Statistics, 71 percent of inmates were employed when they were arrested. As stated in the aforementioned article by Brave New Films, “there is no way to calculate how many of those people will lose their jobs because they can’t afford to bail out and will fail to come to work, or how many will lose their housing as a result of the downward spiral.” Additionally, people can also lose custody of their children during this jail time – thus leaving entire families more vulnerable to violence.

Huge profits for bail bonds corporations; a cycle of poverty for individuals

Like most instances of injustice, this has dire consequences not only on those directly affected, but on family members as well. One practice for families that cannot afford bail is to enter into financial agreements with bail-bonds corporations. A practice that is only present in the United States and the Philippines, these for-profit bail businesses require individuals to pay a non-refundable portion of the total bail amount to a bail-bonds company. Even if there’s no conviction, defendants and their families will never get that money back. Not only do these bail bonds “often leave families paying loan installments and fees even after a case is resolved,” but they can even result in property loss if a house or other asset was selected as collateral.

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Source: Prison Policy Initiative

Jurisdictions that limit or eliminate their use of money bail often have equally high – if not even higher – percentages of people showing up for their court dates.

Cash bail can/should be eliminated

Instead of utilizing the money bail system, which further disadvantages people of color, especially Black women, courts could adopt non-financial forms of release, such as release on own recognizance – in which a person is released “after promising, in writing, to appear in court for all upcoming proceedings.” Additionally, instead of arresting people, police could issue more citations – “orders to appear before a judge on a given date to defend against a stated charge” without having to serve jail time or be subjected to pay money bail. It is also worth noting that jurisdictions that limit or eliminate their use of money bail often have equally high – if not even higher – percentages of people showing up for their court dates.

You can help us TAKE ACTION

As we rethink our own beliefs about money bail, let us not forget those who are currently suffering the consequences of this unjust system. Currently, the Action Alliance is supporting Southerners on New Ground (SONG)’s Black Mamas Bail Out Action – a project to free as many Black women as possible (cis and trans) to bring them home to their families for Mother’s Day. Join us today in supporting this cause and reuniting families for Mother’s Day.

On May 10, the Action Alliance will host, “Getting Our People Free: What is Bail Reform and Why Do We Need It?”. This teach-in will be held 5pm-7pm at the Action Alliance office and is co-sponsored by the Richmond Chapter of Southerners on New Ground. Join us for community, conversation, snacks, and to learn more about how to end money bail.

Cover image source: https://www.injusticewatch.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/FullSizeRender-1170×889.jpg


Maryum Elnasseh is a second-year student at Virginia Commonwealth University, where she is double-majoring in journalism and political science, with a concentration in civil rights. At the Action Alliance, Maryum is an intern for the Real Story Internship. She hopes to use her voice as a tool to ignite social change.

Radical Transformation and Doing 180’s – A Story and An Invitation

Content warning: white supremacy

I grew up in a family that was steeped in Southern racism, not saying there was not Northern racism or West Coast racism, just saying it was a racism that was steeped in a legacy of slavery and exploitation that felt different than other parts of the country, at least to me, and at least in relation to what I was able to gather about the world through library books and encyclopedias at the time.

I grew up before the internet was in every house and became a teenager just as diverse faces started to emerge in prime time television. I spent much of my childhood in a small Louisiana town with my grandparents. When friends called my grandma’s house, she would ask what color they were before determining whether or not I could receive the call. I was told it would be better to bring a girl home than a Black man. My grandpa thought it important for me to know where the hanging tree was, pointing it out on our drives “to town”. I was a child and these are the lessons I was taught. There was us and there was them and ne’er the twain shall meet.

texas

Image source: nicklosdrilling.com

I spent the rest of my childhood in Houston, Texas where my experience was tempered by a desire from my parents to white-wash my experience. They moved us to the suburbs to escape our Mexican neighbors. Ironically, they could not escape our class situation so I grew up in the most diverse school in our suburban district – the one all the working class folks attended. I share all this because I used to believe the things my parents told me, my grandparents told me, the preacher at my grandma’s church, the teachers at my school (who shared a white-washed legacy of the story of Texas and Mexico), the other white kids around me – I believed it because it was what I knew, what information I had access to at the time – to me, it was truth.

My radical transformation came in the shape of punk rock music and culture. I joined local groups working on things like housing access and police brutality. I went to meetings where folks actually talked about all of this and I heard people of color speaking about their experiences. I started to learn about systemic exploitation of people of color in service of white supremacy and capitalism. I also learned about feminism and reproductive justice and it was like a mask I had been wearing for 16 years shattered. Needless to say, I was a radically changed person and I remember my mother telling me she did not like who I was becoming. But I did.

There have been a few twists and turns in my path since my first 180 in life and I continued to be challenged to learn and grow.

180

Image source; moaablogs.org

I used to believe that our work to end sexual and intimate partner violence could be achieved in a vacuum. I did not necessarily have the words for that thought, but I used to think working on things like economic justice and racial justice and reproductive justice was work for folks like Virginia Organizing, Planned Parenthood, and the Richmond Peace Education Center. As a member of the Action Alliance, I remember taking my dots during a strategic planning session nearly a decade ago and diverting them from strategies like economic justice initiatives. I remember struggling to understand why that would be “our thing”.

Then, like before, I had a radical transformation. I learned from people who were talking about systemic oppression versus individual acts of prejudice. I learned about how self-determination and autonomy were often linked to one’s capacity to navigate a web of oppression and how financial exploitation was both a systemic tool and an individual weapon that hindered a survivor’s ability to determine their own path. It was such a lightbulb moment for me, that, much like when I first latched on to punk rock, it is so hard for me to remember the before, when I believed in another truth.

Because of these radical transformations and my openness to see the bigger thing of it, making the leap to seeing racial justice as a necessary part of our work to address sexual and intimate partner violence was easy. Easy for me. And because of my radical transformations, I can see how it can be difficult for others; for folks who have not had opportunities like I have had, to learn another way, to learn from others who have also moved on this path, to learn from mistakes, to be open to other truths. It can be difficult to see larger connections when the work of serving individual survivors and families feels so immediate and so enormous. It can be difficult to see the way to a 180 when the other side is beyond the shadow of the moon.

It can be difficult and yet I am inviting folks to try it. To consider what a world would look like if our efforts in service of a world free from sexual and domestic violence were linked up tightly in the work for liberation of all who are suffering from systemic oppression. It will require a radical transformation or revolutionary change which Brene’ Brown describes as “tumultuous, turning things upside down, you can’t go back”. She talks about vulnerability and courage a lot and I am inviting those of you reading this to dig in to your vulnerability and practice it, dig in to your courage and lean on it, and get ready for revolutionary change and radical transformation. We need to be in this together. Let me know if you’d like to talk!

brene brown

Source: Tibalsimplicity.com

Quillin Drew Musgrave is a Programs and Services Manager at the Action Alliance, a Board member of the Virginia Anti-Violence Project, and operates Harrison Street Café with their partner. Quillin is learning to engage the world from a place of connection and gratitude and gets great joy from seeing their child, StaggerLee, learn to navigate life as a four-year old.

 

The Action Alliance is hosting the The Warmth of Other Suns Conference  August 10-12. Come join the conversation.

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