This is an opinion column.

150.

One hundred and fifty incarcerated men and women.

One hundred and fifty incarcerated men and women sentenced to serving life without parole in a cage for a crime in which no one was seriously injured. Sentenced more than a quarter century ago under an outdated three-strikes-you’re-out law that was flushed in 2000, after these 150 men and women were locked away.

One hundred and fifty incarcerated men and women whose crimes were not a homicide or a sex offense, who would not have been sentenced to life without parole today.

Men and women likely in their 60s and beyond who are likely less danger to you and me than the air we breathe.

HB29, authored by Rep. Chris England, D-Tuscaloosa, an ardent purveyor of criminal injustice system reform, would have provided these 150 men and women with a second chance. With a chance to apply for a new sentence, a fair sentence—in many cases, that would mean freedom if the new sentence was mitigated by time served.

Freedom. Freedom from the walls of a prison system that is overcrowded, dangerous, and deemed by the U.S. Justice Department to be unconstitutional.

HB29 was an opportunity for our state lawmakers to show compassion, to show that they’re more than dismantling programs designed to create equal opportunities and safe spaces where our young people can thrive; more than fear-berating librarians and teachers, more than claiming phantom “ballot harvesting” as an excuse to make it harder to vote.

More than chasing red-meat matters in a state that could use a clean diet.

An opportunity to show humanity.

Almost nine in 10 Alabamians supported HB29, found a survey—heck, nine in 10 Alabamians don’t much agree on anything.

But not our lawmakers. HB29 is dead, the repast long since over. The bill was smothered by something called a procedural vote in which three-fourths of the House was needed for passage. The vote was 49-48 in favor. Ninety percent of Alabamians favored this bill but barely half the people supposedly elected to represent them voted to give it life—to give it a chance. (A second chance, actually; the House passed a similar bill from England in 2023, but it failed to survive the Senate.)

RIP, HB29. RIP, compassion—in Montgomery.

There are two more chances for lawmakers to demonstrate humanity for men and women in the criminal justice system before this wacky session ends. Humanity not for the 150, sadly, but for pregnant women on the brink of serving sentences and for families desperate for information about the condition of family members or loved ones on the other side of the wall.

HB411, sponsored by Rep. Rolanda Hollis, allows judges discretion to provide pregnant women sentenced to incarceration with 12 weeks of “pre-incarceration probation” to care for their child outside of prison walls after giving birth. The bill was approved by the Alabama House Judiciary Committee last week and could be put a vote. It would also have to pass the Senate to become law.

The Senate is considering a bill crafted by Sen. Clyde Chambliss, R-Prattville, that creates a team of employees solely responsible for providing family members with information on men and women behind the walls. Information about incarcerated relatives or friends that may have been brutalized or killed.

Last year, the Legislature’s Joint Prison Oversight Committee, which Chambliss chairs, heard the pleas of men and women, declaring their frustration and the slow drip of information from a system overwhelmed with ills.

SB322 seeks to add one new employee would be assigned to each of the Alabama Department of Corrections’ 14 major prisons, with a supervisor placed at the ADOC central office.

Two weeks ago, ADOC Commissioner John Hamm shared plans to create a family services group, but wants the law to protect the program in perpetuity—”…to keep the policy in place under future commissioners,” he said.

Chambliss says his committee will study the bill.

After Wednesday, state lawmakers have just seven days to pass these two bills and show they possess a compassionate heart—at least a heartbeat—for men and women caught in the web of incarnation.

Or if they’ve flatlined.

I’m a member of the National Association of Black Journalists Hall of Fame and a Pulitzer Prize finalist for commentary. My column appears on AL.com, as well as the Lede. Tell me what you think at [email protected], and follow me at twitter.com/roysj, or on Instagram @roysj.