Winding down the mass incarceration era in California – Whittier Daily News

Our system of justice has long been defined by mass incarceration, wasteful taxpayer spending and racial disparities. So how did we get here? In short, sentencing policy in California and beyond has long been dictated by rare, outlier cases rather than data and science, and when policy decisions are made based on the extremes the public gets stuck with bad policy.

For example, in 1978, California brought back the death penalty and instituted life without parole. Both policies were heavily tied to news that Charles Manson and his cult followers could one day walk free. The public was gripped by fear amidst a media spectacle every time Manson appeared in front of the parole board, but he was never freed. Charles Manson died in prison in 2017, but his impact on California sentencing policy can still be felt nearly a half century later.

Like Manson, many who are eligible for parole will never be released. However, evaluations conducted by the California Department of Corrections show that 95% of people sentenced to prison from Los Angeles County who’ve served 20 or more years are “low-risk” to reoffend, and fewer than .05% of individuals sentenced to life who are paroled commit new violent felonies. It’s among the lowest rates of recidivism in our entire criminal justice system. Yet there are at least 5,000 people serving sentences of life without parole in California’s prisons who have no opportunity for release.

In 1992 a 12-year-old girl was abducted and murdered in Petaluma, California. Her name was Poly Klaas. The subsequent search for the young girl and her kidnapper — along with his ensuing arrest and prosecution — unfolded across virtually every news channel. The nation was glued to their televisions, transfixed by a gruesome crime in a safe, American suburb.

The fear and panic that spread was palpable. If it could happen to this family in safe, sleepy, Northern California — it could happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere. It was an outlier tragedy, but the reaction from lawmakers was swift and expansive. California passed one of the nation’s first three strikes laws, and the impacts were felt quickly.

In 1990 California’s prison population was approximately 94,000. Three strikes became law in 1994, and five years later California’s prison population ballooned to over 160,000 people. Three strikes — a cleverly branded but drastic shift in sentencing policy — promised to improve public safety, but no such gains were achieved. The only tangible implications were an explosion in taxpayer spending on policing, prosecution, and prisons alongside the racial disparities that have come to define the criminal justice system as we know it today.

In 2020, Klaas’ sisters wrote, “we don’t want unjust laws to be her legacy … many of the people who ended up with life sentences under three-strikes laws were convicted of nonviolent crimes — things such as stealing a bicycle, attempting to forge a check, breaking a church window or using drugs.”

But this unjust law is not Polly Klaas’ legacy. It’s a legacy of how rare, outlier crime stories have dictated sentencing policy in California and beyond.

This dynamic, which led to our harsh sentencing practices, also presents the greatest threat to efforts to reform our system of justice.

In 2019, following decades of research showing bail reform enhances public safety, New York enacted sweeping changes to its bail system. Yet after a series of high-profile crimes were effectively blamed on bail reform, legislators faced intense pressure to change course. A 2019 study later concluded that “inaccurate” reporting of the historic bail reforms contributed to the rapid rollback. Reforms that make us safer were undone due to misplaced fear.

Nationally, in June 2020, protests roiled the nation following the murder of George Floyd. At the time, 25% of Americans said police spending should be decreased. But then, as some categories of violent crime spiked during the COVID-19 pandemic, the public was inundated with headlines like “A violent crisis” and “Coast-to-coast crime crisis.” Some types of crime were up, yet so many reports simply failed to mention that overall violent crime rates remained at historic lows not seen since the 1960s.

The damage was done. By October 2021, the number of individuals calling for reductions in police spending fell to 15%. Observers were quick to quip that the reform movement that swept the country in the aftermath of the summer of protests was over. Fear won once again, and the pendulum swung the other way.

How do we fix this?

It’s important that we all maintain awareness about how singular, horrific incidents have the tendency to warp our perceptions. Journalists also have an increasingly important role in a world of click-bait blog posts and TikTok videos that promise to explain complicated topics in mere seconds. Modern media is forced to keep up and tell a compelling story, often one that embraces conflict and draws you in with immersive gritty details. With just 90 seconds or 500 words at their disposal, nuance is often lost, and mistakes are often made that undermine reforms proven to enhance safety and justice.

In April, a mass shooting in Sacramento took the lives of six people. The Sacramento Bee broke a story including a serious error, suggesting that the alleged shooters were released from custody early due to recent reforms in the governor’s parole policy. This was false, but the misinformation spread like wildfire and was picked up by an endless stream of news outlets. Members of the public turned to social media to share their frustrations about problems in parole policy that never were. A few weeks later, the Los Angeles Times opined that “truth is one of the casualties of the Sacramento shooting.”