Sometimes things just don’t make sense. Take, for example, the way we treat felons re-emerging into society. They don’t get much help. Thanks to a few recent bits of legislation, they get some education in hopes of determining whether or not they’re viable for training to take their place in the local workforce. Recent legislation has provided vouchers so some prisoners can pay rent for three months. Some of them. But more often than not, they’re given a little cash, their belongings, and a pat on the ass. It’s not pretty, and the effects are felt strongly in every community.



At a recent Tacoma City Council study session, State Sen. Mike Carrell (R-28th) offered some soothing statistics that dispelled, at least for now, the perception that Pierce County inherits more than its fair share of former felons. It’s a common perception that Pierce County has become a dumping ground for felons, who frequently end up living on the streets and frequently end up returning to a life of crime, draining public resources and generally mucking things up. According to some preliminary research, it looks like Pierce County is no longer a dumping ground. Something to be soothed about, sure.

But there’s a bigger problem, and it starts with thinking about felons as refuse, numbers, burdens, etc. Felons are people, and our perception of what kind of people they are, and what kind of treatment they deserve once they have paid their debt to society, needs to change.



Talking with Carrell made that  clear.



See, Carrell is approaching the homeless issue because he’s a tough-on-crime politician, and proud of it. It has been in vogue for longer than most can remember to draw links between homelessness and violent crime, despite ample research that indicates otherwise. Research conducted in Baltimore, for example, suggests (beware anyone who says that research proves anything) that the homeless there were less likely than the general population to commit violent crimes, but more likely to commit property crimes, like breaking into old buildings to sleep or stealing food. But the general perception remains — felons are violent criminals, despite the fact that only a small percentage of felons released from prison have ever been convicted of a violent crime. That prejudice is transferred to local homeless people in the process. For the record, as much as 40 percent of homeless populations are families with children, according to the National Coalition on Homelessness. A large percentage are mentally ill, and another percentage struggle with drug and alcohol addiction. A large percentage are veterans. According to the Policy Academy for State and Local Policymakers, between 15 and 27 percent of people released from prison, felons and otherwise, end up in homeless shelters. That’s far from an epidemic of homeless felons. But those stats don’t make for much of a political platform. Meanwhile, felons are all but barred from getting into traditional affordable housing, applying for jobs or receiving public assistance. Many, having toiled in prison for substandard wages, emerge with huge amounts of debt.



In remembering that one of the great factors that determines whether a felon returns to a life of crime — Carrell’s primary concern — is what they emerge with on the other side. What they emerge with, honestly, is a host of barriers, and very little support.



“We’ve sort of thrown people back into society and expected them to swim,” he says.