Tales from My Job in NOLA

Background: I work as a case manager for the Defenders Services Program at the Orleans Public Defender’s office. In this role, clients are referred to us through their attorneys to be set up with various services that will hopefully prevent them from recidivating and ending up back in jail.

A few weeks ago, amidst updating resource databases and visiting some folks in jail, I had the privilege of traveling to Gonzales, LA to attend a meeting of the Louisiana State Public Defenders Board. Sitting among attorneys from all over the state, I listened to them harp on the details of distributing a budget one third the size it should be and develop a strategy to fight for more money even though the public defender’s office is “not the most popular kid on the block.” The discussion was fascinating (since I was watching a state body reveal its weaknesses and vulnerabilities) and vividly displayed the hardship associated with preserving every person’s Sixth Amendment right to public defense.

Being a defender is a hard job that leaves little room for gratitude and inspiration. When there seem to be so many people in need of support who did not make “bad decisions,” why spend resources on those who screwed up? This is a question that these people must confront everyday. Beyond discovering their own individual answers to it, they must then sell those answers to state bodies that financially support their offices (and have very little money to distribute throughout a state that desperately needs a great deal of services). Though this work is protected by American law, the cause of public defense seems to conflict with our inclination to provide support to those in obvious crises. And that can, in a subtle manner, impact the quality of defense offered by this occupation and this much larger institution.

Yet, the meeting was capped off with a more hopeful message, one in which public defense can be used as a tool for positive change rather than just mitigating problems. My two amazing supervisors offered an inspiring presentation about the work my specific division has done in its first year of existence (since it is the pilot program for the whole state). As Johnetta and Sophia revealed mind-boggling statistics, such as our client’s record low recidivism rate, 9% (in contrast to over 50% all over the state), and explained the variety of services we connect our clients to (substance abuse recovery, mental health support, employment, education opportunities, temporary shelter, etc), the board members were pleasantly surprised by and quite receptive to the success. I was overcome with an immense feeling of pride and motivation, for I realized that we are knee-deep in a novel pursuit to establish a criminal justice system that actually puts faith in people rather than dooming them to lifetimes of anger, isolation and limited opportunity. That statement may seem extreme, but in the past five weeks, this work seems to be calling for nothing short of a revolution.

Diversion programs work. Offering people relevant alternatives to longer sentences that are simply going to harden and break so many, offering a crack addict who recognizes that he or she has hit rock bottom and wants to live a different life a free rehabilitation plan, setting up a kid who has had few positive role models and little educational opportunity with GED classes and job training, is going to help create constructive members of society, not just more thugs rotting away in prison. Rather than ignore problems by stashing people who suffer from so many social injustices out of sight, this approach offers relevant solutions to countless problems that make me question the sincerity of American meritocracy.

Though these options and services may not be included in common Sixth Amendment rights, to me, this rehabilitative alternative to a criminal justice system that currently focuses solely on punishment, can send the message that our nation is motivated not by anger but by a responsibility for others and an accountability for its own shortcomings. But amidst all this large-scale excitement and hope, amidst the opportunity to be an ally to clients rather than an obstacle, I know that there are limitations attached to my role within this larger project. As a white, upper-middle class, college-educated Northerner, I have a very set idea of what success is and what the best decision might be. Yet it is not my places to impose that upon someone with a vastly different background and value system; that would be playing into a very dangerous racial, class-based power dynamic that limits agency and suggests a moral relativism with which I am extremely uncomfortable. To me, getting a GED and a job seems like an obvious superior alternative to homelessness and a crack addiction. But for someone who may only get as far as a minimum wage position with no benefits after pursuing the former and thus cannot support his or her dependents anyway, there is something very alluring about the freedom the latter seems to offer. I am not here to place moral judgments upon other people’s lives, I simply propose options. Only the clients can decide if they are ready for and want those alternatives.

In my job, responsibility to others does not mean “helping” people ‘better” their lives using a measuring stick established by my history. It means making options available to people who seek them and have few places to look. Yet as I try to accept my restricted position in this battle, it is so difficult not to be inspired by the successes of our work and want that for others. This balance of excitement for this novel strategy of systemic social change and understanding that it is an individual’s choice to fully immerse oneself in options we present is going to be tricky. I hope I am up to the task, but I worry how much I can truly contribute when these complex power dynamics will always be hovering over my head. I also wonder if diversion as an institution will be accompanied by this sensitivity, because ultimately, it is an individual’s prerogative to decide what is best for him or her. I guess we will just have to wait and see…..