In the past weeks, I have read about two remarkable people who affected my life and work. The first, Jon Marc Taylor, was not someone I knew well, but I knew of his impact on the world. In my book Shakespeare Behind Bars, I discussed how the removal of Pell Grants almost destroyed college education behind bars. Jon was one of the most important voices in the fight to return them. But rather than talk about him myself, Lynn Glover, his long-time friend, wrote a beautiful letter that was just published in the St. Louis Post Dispatch and she has given me permission to share it below.

“Jon Marc Taylor was a remarkable man. He accomplished more than most people from a prison cell than most people have in the “free world.” He received a bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Ball State University and went on to complete a doctorate in public administration.

Taylor was an author and organizer. He was a strong advocate for reducing recidivism by restoring Pell Grants and he started numerous NAACP chapters in Missouri prisons. In 2010, he arranged for a full-day seminar of the national NAACP meeting in Kansas City to be held at his prison in Cameron, Mo.. Taylor wrote a book designed to help other prisoners rehabilitate themselves through education.

Taylor was incarcerated in Licking, Mo., when he was taken into solitary confinement for over 30 days for having contraband, which amounted to a small amount of butter. This is where he had a debilitating stroke in February 2014. He received therapy for this and was making much progress when his therapy was ended last February and was transferred to Charleston, Mo. He died Dec. 27, 2015, of an apparent heart attack.

Taylor was a brilliant, funny, caring and resilient man who was severely impaired in his ability to communicate from the stroke. He never gave up trying to rehabilitate himself after this and always saw hope in everything that he did. He was turned down for parole four times even though it was determined through a psychological evaluation, and through his many giving actions, that he would be no danger to society.

There is so much more that Jon Marc Taylor did while incarcerated. In the words of writer Bill Tammeus, we really did fail Jon Marc Taylor. If this is what he accomplished behind the walls of prison, it is hard to imagine what he would have done to make our world a better place had he been given his freedom many years ago. Our system is broken and we all need to do something — no matter how big or small — to prevent more injustice.”

Lynn Glover  •  Cabool, Mo.”

Pictured above is Rick Cluchey, author and performer from the amazing play, The Cage, that was my introduction to prison theatre. I saw this production when I lived in the Bay Area in California, and Cluchey, freed from San Quentin, was touring this production. As I wrote in the Forward  of the paperback edition of SBB, ” I was taken less by the content of the play—a nightmare of violence that pitted men against guards—than by the incredible talent of the performers. The image of artists in prison as a cage with men struggling to be free stuck in my mind.” It also helped me take the punge to direct plays in prison, the beginning of my activism.

Cluchey was an amazing talent and as the New York Times recently wrote after being sentenced to prison at age 21,  “his life began to change for the better when the San Francisco Actors Workshop performed Waiting for Godot directed by Herbert Blau, at San Quentin State Prison in November 1957. Thus began the unlikely redemptive arc of Mr. Cluchey’s adulthood, one that led him out of jail and toward a career as an actor and playwright, most notably as a protégé of Samuel Beckett and an interpreter of his cryptic work.”

Cluchey died at age 82, after a career of acting in Beckett’s plays and collaborating with the man himself. he educated himself in prison, read plays, helped start the San Quentin  Actors Workshop, and became devoted to theatre. As the Times wrote, “Mr. Cluchey’s work in prison theater — including a play he wrote about prison life, “The Cage” — was a factor in the commutation of his sentence by Gov. Edmund G. Brown and his release on parole in 1966. He subsequently formed Barbwire Theater, a troupe that including several ex-convicts. They performed The Cage in numerous cities.”

While Cluchey had the chance to change his life on the outside, Jon Marc Taylor did not get the freedom he deserved. And when prisoners die, not enough people know. These two amazing men are getting important shout-outs. We also would do ourselves well to remember the men and women who die behind bars and go unnoticed by most of us.

Christopher Zoukis, incarcerated writer, interviewed me on Huffington Post about why we should not sentence kids to adult prisons, and here’s a piece of his intro:

“In recent years a question has presented itself amongst criminal justice circles: Should juvenile offenders be treated as kids or adults? This question seems to be increasingly important as instances of serious crime committed by juveniles has become more prevalent, or at least more visible, in the United States. The fact that “as many as 250,000 juveniles are tried, sentenced or incarcerated each year as adults”, according to Aljazeera America is enough to give anyone pause due to the breadth of the issue.” More

Photo Courtesy of Dylan Snyder, P.A.

As people across the country know by now, Massachusetts is waiting for the verdict in the trial of Philip Chism, the juvenile accused of murdering and raping Danvers High School teacher Colleen Ritzer. This was a horrendous tragedy, and as someone who has paid close attention to the case, about as awful as one could imagine for the families involved. The crime was horrific, and nothing can bring back the young woman who was beloved by many.

The question of whether or not Chism will be found guilty or not guilty by reason of insanity is certainly the one the jury is considering as I write this. They are swamped with exhibits and notes, images and videos, and their own view of the crime scene as they decide a verdict. But today, I am also considering another question: why are we in a situation where someone age 14 was tried as an adult?

I wrote about this two years ago for Boston Magazine where I pointed out “Since 1996, Massachusetts has had a law on the books that’s one of the harshest in the nation, according to the Massachusetts Coalition for Fair Sentencing for Youth.” We allow fourteen-year-olds accused of homicide to be automatically tried as adults.

We’re years away from the superpredator myth that kids were going to kill at every turn, and yet we still criminalize black youth. The 90’s brought lack of justice to the forefront with terrible cases against innocent kids like the Central Park Five. Since that time, Massachusetts laws have inched along, brain research has been even more linked with law, and there may be new requirements for Salem Superior Court Judge David Lowy when he gets to the sentencing phase of this trial.

As Daniel S. Medwed, professor of law at Northeastern University, recently wrote for WGBH News, we now have research from the National Institute of Mental Health to prove that “[t]he parts of the brain responsible for more ‘top-down’ control, controlling impulses, and planning ahead—the hallmarks of adult behavior—are among the last to mature.” Yes, behavior, the chief honcho, must always be accompanied by its sidekick, brain research when we think about how kids develop.

Neuroscience research won’t necessarily come into play with Chism because he’s being tried as an adult. However, should it? Interestingly, brain scans which the Defense attempted to get admitted into the trial were not allowed by the judge. Julie Maganis, writing for the Salem News said “The teen’s lawyers cannot call an expert on brain development to tell jurors that a recent MRI showed similarities between Chism’s brain and those of people with schizophrenia and traumatic injuries.”  Judge Lowy ruled against allowing the information into the trial in part because Chism had never been diagnosed with schizophrenia.

Dr. Judith Edersheim, cofounder and co-director of the Massachusetts General Hospital Center For Law, Brain and Behavior, said in an interview for Vice that, in general, diagnosing juveniles is difficult because they change so quickly.

But in my mind, knowing that a juvenile’s brain is literally different from an adult’s, as well as the fact that their behavior is different (more impulsive, more risk-taking, more influenced by peers etc.) is a core point. Trying a juvenile as an adult when a juvenile is scientifically NOT an adult is questionable. Can we hold them responsible in the exact same way we hold adults responsible?

We can’t change the fact that this case has already occurred in an adult court although, who knows, maybe appeals will come to that.

Several recent Supreme Court cases have paved the way for us to insist that juveniles be given the chance to change. As articulately explained by Susan Zalkind, “Beginning in 2005, there was trilogy of United States Supreme Court cases; Roper v. Simmons [in which the court ruled juveniles can’t get the death penalty], Graham v. Florida [in which the court ruled juveniles can’t get life without parole for a non-homicide crime], and Miller v. Alabama. Because of Miller v. Alabama in 2012, no longer can judges be compelled to impose life without parole on juveniles convicted of first-degree murder.

In Massachusetts, the Supreme Judicial Court went further in 2013 and said a meaningful opportunity for parole was necessary for such youth. Because of this ruling 63 men (no women in the cohort) who were sentenced to life without parole when they were youths, have been given the opportunity to try for parole. No guarantees for those who apply, and many are in their 40’s and some in their 50’s, but so far almost half those who have come before the Parole Board have been found eligible for parole.

In 2014, the Massachusetts Legislature passed another law. That law provides for initial parole eligibility for those juveniles convicted of first-degree murder at 20 to 30 years, depending on the specifics of the murder charge, but it calls for a mandatory sentencing of 30 years in cases of “cruelty and atrocity,” a legal term defining the means of murder.

Activists fought against this, aiming to keep the SJC’s recommended fifteen years before parole eligibility, but lost. As the state’s child advocate and former juvenile judge Gail Garinger said at a Statehouse hearing on the bill, “We can’t enact a law that only responds to the horrific crimes that are reported in the press.”

And yet, one could argue, because of the Chism case, we did. Judge Lowy however, will have to sentence Chism under the old laws since they were in effect when the young man committed the crime. Chism, a child at the time of the killing, could be held in DYS until he is 18, sent to an adult prison at that time, and not get to see the Parole Board until he has lived what most kids undoubtedly consider another lifetime. Or he could be held in an adult prison and monitored one on one so the prison doesn’t violate prison rape laws to keep him from any adult contact.

Massachusetts raised the age of adulthood from 17 to 18 in 2014, and it is logical to argue that one is a juvenile until he or she is 18. Certainly the age limit for juvenile court varies, but in most states the cut off is age 18. However, Connecticut’s governor, just this past fall, has taken a leap that could be groundbreaking.  After the age was raised twice in recent years, “juvenile crime levels plummeted” said  Vincent Schiraldi, a former commissioner of probation for New York City, and senior research fellow at Harvard Kennedy School. Additionally, “the number of young people in both Connecticut’s juvenile facility and young adult prison dropped to record lows.” Now Governor Dannel Malloy wants to raise the age to 21 and if that occurs, juveniles won’t be tried as adults until they reach the age of majority.

Yes, there are crimes that are brutal and we need ways to address these horrific acts (see the Missouri Model). But sentencing children as adults isn’t the just thing to do, and as we are learning it also isn’t the way to stop crime.  Creating a just juvenile system should be a priority.

I recently attended the annual National Conference on Higher Education in Prison (NCHEP) in Pittsburgh where education and activism was a true reality. After the conference, I wrote an article for Truthout, a powerful online news magazine, entitled Higher Education Is a Key to Decarceration: Let’s Pass the REAL Act. The article aimed to clarify that we need to support the Second Chance Pell Pilot Program recently promoted by President Obama but also: We need to both help students continue their education when they leave prison and to pass the Restoring Education and Learning (REAL) Act, returning education to all. You can read more about that here.

Image courtesy of NCHEP2015

Many of the important players in developing and fighting for higher education for incarcerated and formerly incarcerated people were at this conference. They are working to give people behind bars true opportunity. On Thursday, November 6, as a prologue to the weekend, activists from the Pittsburgh community gathered to share their work. Jacqueline Roebuck Sakho emphasized how important it is to bring all parts of a community together when we are trying to solve a problem as systemic as mass incarceration. The Amachi Ambassadors, young people who have family in prison, a vibrant group I saw the first time this past summer at the Free Her Conference, put on a debate about banning the box. The box is that nasty little box that colleges and employers often use to screen out applicants who have a criminal record. And across the country college students as well as prison activists are fighting to remove it.

Image courtesy of YouTube

While the ambassadors were able to argue both sides, they clearly knew how that box impacts lives. To underscore that point, on a panel where a town hall discussion occurred, Anna Hollis with Amachi Pittsburgh said that 150 laws have been passed in Pennsylvania in the past few years, many criminalizing young people.

On Friday, November 7, some of the most interesting comments about how education changes lives came from the Indiana Women’s Prison Graduate Studies Program where three women were video-conferenced in from prison to discuss their post-graduate work. This is an amazing program organized by Professor Kelsey Kaufman which supports women’s academics at the prison. Students are working towards a PhD without the benefit of any Internet for their research, One woman said “Universities need to demystify their exclusivity.” Another said, “Education has been freedom.” These women are anything but deterred by obstacles.

On Saturday, November 8, formerly incarcerated activists talked about their work on returning Pell Grants to all (see here), and male prisoners video-conferenced in from FCI McKean in Pennsylvania described a therapeutic community and their work as educators. The idea pioneered by prisoners is to train people behind bars to become assistant teachers to students. One man emphasized that we need more men of color teaching incarcerated men. Another commented that education should be measured in terms of “how many men and women have been awakened.” Indeed, he added: “Higher education should inspire wardens to see themselves as heads of educational institutions.” This program is shepherded by a powerhouse educator at the University of Pittsburgh, Tony Gaskew.

I was fortunate enough to present with Karter Reed who I will write much more about in the coming months. When we first met, it was by mail in November 2007, and the encounter was a fluke. Being an avid reader, Reed found a book I had written in the Shirley Massachusetts prison library: Shakespeare Behind Bars: The Power of Drama in a Women’s Prison. He wanted to know if I could help his friend, a female prisoner who wanted information about parole.  One hundred letters and six years later, we had learned about each other’s lives and influenced each other in powerful ways. Through his video clip (he is out of prison but could not attend the conference) and my presentation, we talked about how letters are a particular kind of educational tool. They give hope, provide connection, and allow a way to share ideas, feelings, and dreams for those behind bars. Through our letters, I learned about issues and more about the truth of incarceration, and I became an activist.

Photo by Eileen MacDougall

It is always impressive to see how education inspires activism and this conference underscored that point. The idea of turning prisons into schools has been around for awhile, but to see how much education can mean is impressive: access, hope, knowledge, understanding, a political grasp, skills, and a sense of history.