In late September, Torri was driving down the highway with her 11-year-old son Junior in the back seat when her phone started ringing.
It was the Hamilton County Sheriff’s deputy who worked at Junior’s middle school in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Deputy Arthur Richardson asked Torri where she was. She told him she was on the way to a family birthday dinner at LongHorn Steakhouse.
“He said, ‘Is Junior with you?’” Torri recalled.
Earlier that day, Junior had been accused by other students of making a threat against the school. When Torri had come to pick him up, she’d spoken with Richardson and with administrators, who’d told her he was allowed to return to class the next day. The principal had said she would carry out an investigation then. ProPublica and WPLN are using a nickname for Junior and not including Torri’s last name at the family’s request, to prevent him from being identifiable.
When Richardson called her in the car, Torri immediately felt uneasy. He didn’t say much before hanging up, and she thought about turning around to go home. But she kept driving. When they walked into the restaurant, Torri watched as Junior happily greeted his family.
Soon her phone rang again. It was the deputy. He said he was outside in the strip mall’s parking lot and needed to talk to Junior. Torri called Junior’s stepdad, Kevin Boyer, for extra support, putting him on speaker as she went outside to talk to Richardson. She left Junior with the family, wanting to protect her son for as long as she could ...
TUCSON, Arizona — Adriana Grijalva was getting ready to head to class at the University of Arizona in the fall of 2022 when she got a text message from her cousin telling her to stay put. The cousin, who works in maintenance at the university, had watched law enforcement descend on campus and reached out to make sure she was safe. A former student had just shot a professor 11 times, killing him.
Equal Justice USA (EJUSA) announced October 8 that it will partner with four new communities to build new restorative youth justice diversion programs. Restorative justice includes an accountability process that identifies root causes of youth criminal actions, while providing an opportunity for healing both for the person harmed and the person who has caused harm.
Louisiana is the only state to pass and then reverse Raise the Age legislation. Louisiana’s criminal justice system now treats all 17-year-olds as adults. Is reversing Raise the Age making a difference in the number of violent crimes by 18-year-olds?
The new law is retroactive. It allows persons to have prior marijuana-related convictions for which, under the new rules, they would not be arrested, to be expunged from their record. Expungement of prior records was critical to ensuring fairer justice for communities disproportionately policed, arrested and affected by drug policies, said New York State Assembly Majority Leader Crystal Peoples-Stokes (D-Buffalo). “Black communities, brown communities, have always been the target of these laws,” Peoples-Stokes said. “If we’re going to take the market above ground, we have to remove those convictions.”
Though technically it was against the rules, a juvenile corrections officer had been watching and chuckling along as a group of girl detainees enjoyed riding a foam mattress down a flight of stairs at a Union, S.C. detention facility in November 2020. Declaring the scene a riot, the supervising officer ordered his underlings to search the girls. In front of male officers the girls were forced to strip down to their bras and panties.
Pure Earth and UNICEF reported in 2020 that, globally, one out of three children are exposed to dangerous levels of lead, a poison that gets into the bloodstream, then impairs the brain and the body in many ways.
The United States has made great progress toward reducing lead exposure from gasoline and paint. But more work is needed to protect all American children, including those whose exposure to lead during early childhood — and even while in their mother’s womb — has been linked to behaviors landing them in the juvenile justice system.
ByMichelle Liu, Associated Press/Report for America |
COLUMBIA, S.C. (AP) — About two dozen correctional officers and teachers at South Carolina's beleaguered juvenile justice agency joined an impromptu walkout Friday, protesting what they describe as low staffing, poor pay and mismanagement. The walkout from the agency's Broad River Road complex in Columbia follows weeks of legislative scrutiny into the agency after an audit released in April found an uptick in violence, a failure to maintain adequate security staffing and many other deep-rooted problems.
“Move the bodies.” That’s what a defense lawyer recently overheard an employee in juvenile court say, as if the young people being brought into the courtroom for the next hearing were animals to be herded. The dehumanizing of young people involved in the criminal legal system is common, unfortunately. Those comments, and the attitudes underlying them, can have detrimental effects on youth who hear themselves spoken about with bias, disapproval and disrespect.
Malcolm Stuckey was pulling up in a burgundy Pontiac Grand Prix to his friend’s birthday party in Chicago’s once-prosperous Englewood neighborhood when a bullet fired from a gun, bought 840 miles away in Mississippi, tore into his brain. His killing in 2014 placed the 19-year-old college student, college basketball player and museum janitor among 2,581 people shot in Chicago, which recorded 4,133 shootings in 2020. The city has counted more than 1,100 shootings already this year.
The near-stagnant pace of federal gun law reform and lack of gun possession restrictions in Mississippi make it easy to get a gun in the Magnolia State — and for hundreds of them to end up on Chicago streets every year. Police stated that they don’t even bother arresting gun traffickers in some cases because weak laws reduce such arrests to petty crimes.
Supporters of the juvenile justice status quo wrongly claim that community-based organizations are not yet strong enough to serve all youth who may otherwise cycle through juvenile courts, detention centers and on and off parole rosters. Ideally, opponents to reform say, youth would be served by nonprofits close to home, but that cannot happen until enough suitable nonprofits are available. This line of thinking ignores the community-based direct services already offered in many areas, from life coaching in Oakland to legal support in Los Angeles. Failing to adequately support these existing community services keeps us stuck in a cycle of waiting. Instead of waiting for community-based organizations to grow above and beyond their present capacities, how about we actually do the work required for their growth?
