Ex-Offenders Tell Council: Start Prisoner Reentry Process Early

One by one they came to the podium; the convicted murderer who served 25 years in state prison; now he counsels juveniles before they go to prison. The long-term addict who turned to drugs after relatives sexually abused her when she was less than ten years old; now she counsels women in prison. The former elected official who took money under the table and when his scheme unraveled, he went away to the federal Big House; now he counsels offenders and families. One by one, they came to the podium with nearly the same message: If you want to rehabilitate someone, start early. By Mike Klein

By Mike Klein

One by one they came to the podium; the convicted murderer who served 25 years in state prison; the long-term addict who turned to drugs after relatives sexually abused her when she was less than ten years old; the former elected official who took money under the table and when his scheme unraveled, he went away to the federal Big House.  One by one, they came to the podium with nearly the same message:  If you want to rehabilitate someone, start early.

“It is impossible to let a person go five-to-six years in prison and expect that person to rehabilitate himself and begin that process six months before you come home,” said convicted murderer Aakeem Woodard.  “How do I know that?  I went to prison at 15 years old and I spent 25 years in prison.”

“I was addicted for 35 years and it started at nine years old.  I was sexually molested by three family members and when I discovered drugs, I escaped,” said Pamela Greene Winderweedle.   While she was inside Lee Arrendale state prison Winderweedle founded a peer counseling program that she named “From The Inside OUT” to focus on the needs of incarcerated women.  Today she continues to run the program as part of Chebar Ministries, which she founded when her incarceration ended two years ago.

“I am a Reverend who works in the community and a former elected official but most important to this committee, I am an ex-offender,” said Rev. Henry Mathis, former disgraced Albany city commissioner who was convicted for taking under-the-table money from local businesses.  Today Mathis works with ex-offenders.  “They say to me, you don’t know what I’m going through, you never walked in my shoes.   Unfortunately, I walked in their shoes.  I do understand.  I did federal time.  That is the big boys of it all.  I understand who you are.”

Woodard, Winderweedle and Mathis were among 18 witnesses who testified before the Georgia Council on Criminal Justice Reform last week in Forsyth.  This was the last public comment meeting of the Council before final work to finish a comprehensive report about prisoner re-entry policies that is due to Governor Nathan Deal before the General Assembly session in January.  The original goal was to finish in mid-December but the complexity of prisoner re-entry, including lots of public input for months, made delivering the report on its original timetable an impractical task.

Prisoner re-entry is phase three of work that began with 2012 adult criminal justice legislation and 2013 juvenile justice and civil code legislation.  The Council has switched its emphasis from who should be incarcerated and for how long to, how do we better prepare inmates for a lawful return to society and how do we track and assist them through that process once they are released?

Questions within that scope are vast and diverse, for adults and juveniles.  These include education, job training, difficulties released felons have gaining acceptable housing and meaningful employment, health care, substance abuse treatment, re-integration into the family structure (or not, when there is no family structure), transportation, even resources as basic as clothing and food.

“I can find housing in drug-infested neighborhoods.  I can find housing in gang neighborhoods,” said Woodard, who was a juvenile convicted as an adult for a 1988 murder.  “Everywhere I wanted to go, even though I have money, I couldn’t (live) because of my felony.”  Released last year, Woodard created the Bridge Foundation to assist juveniles during their transition from freedom to prison.  He works with Emory University’s Barton Juvenile Defender Clinic and the Fulton County Public Defender’s Office.

Woodard’s productive life outside prison began at age 40, a time when other folks are entering the middle stages of their lives and careers.  Woodard has expanded the reach of his message with a strong YouTube presence.  When he works with youth who are going behind bars he tells them to be relentless.  “There has to be an attitude of being relentless,” Woodard told the Council.  “Nothing is going to stop you from being successful.”

Obsessed with drugs, Winderweedle was arrested and incarcerated eight times, and sentenced to three prison terms before she decided, “I have to change or I will be in here for life.”  She realized looking at other women in prison that they “wanted to sleep, wanted to pass the time until they could get out … They go right back to the same place they came from.  They don’t have an alternative.”   She told the Council, “I am very thankful I had people who believed in me.  These women have nobody.”

“From The Inside OUT” is the program she began to refine during her time inside Lee Arrendale prison in Habersham County.  The initiative is structured as six months of heavy intervention before release, then six months post-release.  “Inside OUT” is not officially inside any state prison now, but she hopes that a pilot project will be approved soon for Lee Arrendale Prison.

“If I can make it, they can too,” Winderweedle said.  “Core issues have to be brought out.  Everything that has happened to them, they keep suppressing it by going back to drugs, the old environment.  Changing the mindset is vital.  It has to start in prison.  It is one day at a time.  It’s going through an emotional breakdown, removing the obstacles.  We’re going to give them a new perspective on life and a new perspective of themselves because they don’t have it.  I was there,” she said about Arrendale.  “The women there are ready for it.”

The crime committed by Mathis – extortion by a public official – no doubt is a different path from those taken by Woodard who committed murder or Winderweedle who became a victim of drug dependence.  But like Woodard and Winderweedle, Mathis told the Council ex-offenders like him are a resource who should become “ambassadors” inside prisons to work with inmates prior to release.  “We can’t wait until six months and then expect them to come out into society and operate effectively.”  Mathis said, adding, “I am willing to go back this time under different circumstances!”

By Mike Klein

One by one they came to the podium; the convicted murderer who served 25 years in state prison; the long-term addict who turned to drugs after relatives sexually abused her when she was less than ten years old; the former elected official who took money under the table and when his scheme unraveled, he went away to the federal Big House.  One by one, they came to the podium with nearly the same message:  If you want to rehabilitate someone, start early.

“It is impossible to let a person go five-to-six years in prison and expect that person to rehabilitate himself and begin that process six months before you come home,” said convicted murderer Aakeem Woodard.  “How do I know that?  I went to prison at 15 years old and I spent 25 years in prison.”

“I was addicted for 35 years and it started at nine years old.  I was sexually molested by three family members and when I discovered drugs, I escaped,” said Pamela Greene Winderweedle.   While she was inside Lee Arrendale state prison Winderweedle founded a peer counseling program that she named “From The Inside OUT” to focus on the needs of incarcerated women.  Today she continues to run the program as part of Chebar Ministries, which she founded when her incarceration ended two years ago.

“I am a Reverend who works in the community and a former elected official but most important to this committee, I am an ex-offender,” said Rev. Henry Mathis, former disgraced Albany city commissioner who was convicted for taking under-the-table money from local businesses.  Today Mathis works with ex-offenders.  “They say to me, you don’t know what I’m going through, you never walked in my shoes.   Unfortunately, I walked in their shoes.  I do understand.  I did federal time.  That is the big boys of it all.  I understand who you are.”

Woodard, Winderweedle and Mathis were among 18 witnesses who testified before the Georgia Council on Criminal Justice Reform last week in Forsyth.  This was the last public comment meeting of the Council before final work to finish a comprehensive report about prisoner re-entry policies that is due to Governor Nathan Deal before the General Assembly session in January.  The original goal was to finish in mid-December but the complexity of prisoner re-entry, including lots of public input for months, made delivering the report on its original timetable an impractical task.

Prisoner re-entry is phase three of work that began with 2012 adult criminal justice legislation and 2013 juvenile justice and civil code legislation.  The Council has switched its emphasis from who should be incarcerated and for how long to, how do we better prepare inmates for a lawful return to society and how do we track and assist them through that process once they are released?

Questions within that scope are vast and diverse, for adults and juveniles.  These include education, job training, difficulties released felons have gaining acceptable housing and meaningful employment, health care, substance abuse treatment, re-integration into the family structure (or not, when there is no family structure), transportation, even resources as basic as clothing and food.

“I can find housing in drug-infested neighborhoods.  I can find housing in gang neighborhoods,” said Woodard, who was a juvenile convicted as an adult for a 1988 murder.  “Everywhere I wanted to go, even though I have money, I couldn’t (live) because of my felony.”  Released last year, Woodard created the Bridge Foundation to assist juveniles during their transition from freedom to prison.  He works with Emory University’s Barton Juvenile Defender Clinic and the Fulton County Public Defender’s Office.

Woodard’s productive life outside prison began at age 40, a time when other folks are entering the middle stages of their lives and careers.  Woodard has expanded the reach of his message with a strong YouTube presence.  When he works with youth who are going behind bars he tells them to be relentless.  “There has to be an attitude of being relentless,” Woodard told the Council.  “Nothing is going to stop you from being successful.”

Obsessed with drugs, Winderweedle was arrested and incarcerated eight times, and sentenced to three prison terms before she decided, “I have to change or I will be in here for life.”  She realized looking at other women in prison that they “wanted to sleep, wanted to pass the time until they could get out … They go right back to the same place they came from.  They don’t have an alternative.”   She told the Council, “I am very thankful I had people who believed in me.  These women have nobody.”

“From The Inside OUT” is the program she began to refine during her time inside Lee Arrendale prison in Habersham County.  The initiative is structured as six months of heavy intervention before release, then six months post-release.  “Inside OUT” is not officially inside any state prison now, but she hopes that a pilot project will be approved soon for Lee Arrendale Prison.

“If I can make it, they can too,” Winderweedle said.  “Core issues have to be brought out.  Everything that has happened to them, they keep suppressing it by going back to drugs, the old environment.  Changing the mindset is vital.  It has to start in prison.  It is one day at a time.  It’s going through an emotional breakdown, removing the obstacles.  We’re going to give them a new perspective on life and a new perspective of themselves because they don’t have it.  I was there,” she said about Arrendale.  “The women there are ready for it.”

The crime committed by Mathis – extortion by a public official – no doubt is a different path from those taken by Woodard who committed murder or Winderweedle who became a victim of drug dependence.  But like Woodard and Winderweedle, Mathis told the Council ex-offenders like him are a resource who should become “ambassadors” inside prisons to work with inmates prior to release.  “We can’t wait until six months and then expect them to come out into society and operate effectively.”  Mathis said, adding, “I am willing to go back this time under different circumstances!”