Juvenile Justice Information Exchange (https://jjie.org/page/61/)
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 impact of the Tessa Majors case could shape juvenile justice policy nationally, said the director of the Research and Evaluation Center at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice.
The Center for Sustainable Journalism is covering how communities target gun violence through 2020. This video summarizes some of our coverage from 2019.
One doesn’t have to look far to find documented reports on the problem of mentally ill residents around the nation cycling through the criminal justice system without the benefit of mental health treatment. According to the Treatment Advocacy Center, law enforcement and jails have become the nation’s default psychiatric crisis response system.
In 1978, a 15-year-old boy named Willie Bosket shot and killed two men in separate incidents, both of which involved robberies. Bosket pleaded guilty to both murders and was sentenced to five years in prison, the longest sentence allowed under state law at the time.
In 1999, the Florida Legislature reimposed mandatory minimum sentences for drug trafficking after repealing most of those same laws in 1993.
As a doctor in an emergency department that only sees children, I have the unfortunate experience of witnessing the impact of violence on our youngest members of society. Getting through adolescence is difficult enough, but for teens exposed to violence the transition to adulthood can be disrupted and even more difficult.
I remember every collapsing sensation in my body when I received the phone call notifying me of his death. I was 22, he was 23 — my boyfriend had died in a freak hiking accident. His loss was devastating to all of us who loved him. His loss was also tragic for the communities he could have continued to contribute to. The future potential of this young man was never fully realized. But I take comfort knowing that up until my boyfriend’s death, he was living freely, wildly and pursuing his dreams.
Taylonn Murphy’s phone chimed steadily as he addressed reporters gathered in a boardroom Thursday. His friends were concerned. The previous night, Tessa Majors, an 18-year-old freshman at Barnard College, was fatally stabbed in a Harlem park by would-be robbers, police said.