Family members of people locked away in Alabama’s prisons told lawmakers on Wednesday horror stories from parole hearings.
They said the lack of parole — and the new parole guidelines — take away hope and create dangerous conditions inside a dangerously overcrowded prison system.
“Our prisons’ rising violence, staffing shortages, and our massive growing legal costs are all predictable consequences for reducing the primary incentive for rehabilitation,” said Laura Click, who teaches life skills classes to recently released inmates. “The hope of release for prisoners is the strongest driver of change we have.”
She said last month, there were 21 people at work release facilities — people deemed safe to work in fast food and warehouse jobs by day — who were denied parole and saw their next hearing put off for the maximum amount of time of five years.
“That’s not corrections, that’s warehousing,” said Click.
The speakers at Wednesday morning’s Joint Prison Oversight Committee hearing once again spoke largely about the state’s parole system. The last several meetings of the committee, including a contentious one last fall, have devolved into criticism of the three-member parole board.
Ten people — most of them parents or spouses of people incarcerated — spoke to the four lawmakers who attended the hearing and one who attended virtually.
Colleen Howell said she and her husband went to her son’s parole hearing in May. Her son, Corey, had been locked up for possessing marijuana and Xanax. Howell said she was describing her son’s accomplishments in prison and the classes he was taking, when former parole board chairperson Leigh Gwathney “accused my son of lying to us.”
She said Gwathney dismissed her son’s enrollment in his classes and said those programs were not even offered at the facility where her son was being held.
“No one took the time to verify what he had actually accomplished,” Howell told the committee. “They made a ruling based on misinformation and assumptions.”
Howell said she showed proof from her phone about the achievements, but she was still questioned and her son was denied parole. He was not set for another parole hearing and would have served out the rest of his sentence behind bars.
It wasn’t until she and her family were almost to their cars when someone from the building asked them to come back inside. There, Howell told AL.com, Gwathney “immediately started apologizing.”
“Evidently, after we left the building, she just knew that he was lying,” said Howell. “She started calling, doing whatever she had to do to verify that what we said was true. And she was told that in fact, he was (in the programs he claimed.)”
The board reversed the decision and granted Corey Howell parole. He attended the Wednesday meeting with an ankle monitor, covered by his pants and boots.
Gwathney’s term as the chair of the three-member parole board expired last month. Gov. Kay Ivey did not reappoint her to the seat, and replaced her with Jackson County lawman Hal Nash. Nash started the job last week.
When Howell finished telling her story to the lawmakers, Sen. Clyde Chambliss, R-Prattville, clarified that he had confirmed her story about the parole hearing.
Rep. Chris England, D-Tuscaloosa, said the issues Howell described are a feature of the system, and he’s hoping for more transparency and oversight of the parole board.
“What we see as a constant right now in our communication is all the work, all the investment that is made on the Department of Corrections side to rehabilitate someone is just almost ignored in less than five minutes in front of the parole board.”
He said he thinks allowing parole applicants to send in video statements will help some of that information sharing.
“I know how this has been painted that it’s just me and others talking about trying to get as many people out as possible,” said England. “Which is furthest from the truth. What it is trying to make a fair system that gives both sides the opportunity to present information so the board can make a well-informed decision about denial or not. That’s the whole point.”
Click, whose husband is serving a life sentence, also complained about the proposal to make the maximum wait between parole hearings for those serving life sentences 10 years instead of the current five. She said it’s unfair and arbitrary.
Some people are sentenced to 1,000 years — although that still amounts to a life sentence – instead of ‘life’ in prison. Under the proposed rule, the person with the thousand-year sentence would get a five-year maximum between hearings instead of a ten-year gap for those sentenced under ‘life.’
Chambliss sponsored that bill. “I can see how that’s an issue,” he said, and vowed to speak with Click.
England also asked several speakers their thoughts on the newly issued state guidelines for who should be granted parole. Carla Crowder, the executive director of Alabama Appleseed, said a portion of the new guidelines could punish people who aren’t able to get a job or find housing while still behind bars, an “extremely difficult” feat.
Three others talked about their loved one’s experiences in Alabama’s lockups. Tim Mathis described losing his son, who was killed in prison after being denied parole last year, and said the measures to reduce violence in the prisons are “wholly inadequate.”
“There’s too many people dying,” he said. “It demands more action than what’s being given.”
Alabama’s prisons are facing several lawsuits, including a federal investigation into prison conditions and the rampant physical and sexual violence that happens inside. The system has been in the federal crosshairs for years, and the latest lawsuit from the Department of Justice is headed toward a trial next spring.
Yolanda Williams, a 20-year Army veteran, told stories of her husband’s life at Fountain Correctional Facility and the “inhabitable” conditions.
“If those were dogs, we would be calling the police.”
In closing remarks, Chambliss said the public’s input has helped the committee create change. “We are listening,” he said. “We are trying to make things better.”
If Howell had already been in her car leaving the parking deck before the parole workers found her in May, “who knows what would have happened,” she said.
“I’d probably still be there,” Corey Howell told AL.com.
“We were there to fight for him,” said Howell, sitting next to her son. “So many people he knows, there is absolutely no family that cares about him. So all they have is what’s in that file in front of them and if… that paperwork isn’t right, there’s people sitting in prison that should not be in prison.”
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