“Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.” This past Saturday, NPR All Things Considered Saturday Host Scott Simon mused about the lasting nature and questioning legacy of William Butler Yeats and his poem, “The Second Coming.” Yeats, an Irish poet and dramatist of the 20th century, wrote the poem in response to the catastrophes that plagued the world through 1920. Yet Simons asks a provoking question of Yeats, a provoking question many of us ask about the Great Writers and Artists of the past: Do their politics, their loyalties, their ideas inform their art and by consuming their art, do we consume these ideals? Yeats was a known nationalist. He supported Mussolini, condoned eugenics, and saw promise in authoritarian regimes. Simon muses that, like with all art and literature, we choose how we navigate these relationships between creator and creation.
This quandary plagues many of us who study the Humanities, who ask if by studying Shakespeare or Kipling we further some of the darkness surrounding the works. Or do we let the work speak for itself? Can a piece take on relevance and meaning in the present while also bearing the layers of history? These questions stem from the act of reading, from the act of experiencing art. And with the latest book ban from Allegheny County Jail, incarcerated individuals cannot ask such questions or create their own meaning under the limited purview of the list of “allowed” books.
On November 18, 2020, Charlie Deitch’s article “Fahrenheit 412” was published in the Pittsburgh Current, laying bare the news of the Allegheny County Jail’s decision to ban physical books for yet-to-be-specified “security reasons.” Yet as Deitch and Juliette Rihl’s piece in Public Source makes clear, the ACJ’s move to tablets speaks to the continuation of a for-profit incarceration system in which physical books fail to bring in the profits. Looking at the pattern of book bans across the U.S.’s prison system, bans arise when prisons partner with telecommunications companies and introduce tablets across the wards. Recent bans in Seattle and West Virginia have been overturned thanks to public pressure.
At the time of publication, ACJ has partnered with the eBook distributor OverDrive, which will supposedly allow those incarcerated to access thousands of free eBooks. However, this effort has several problems:
Not every individual has access to a tablet, depending on their ward.
The wi-fi in the ACJ is notoriously unreliable.
There is a 90-minute time limit while using these apps.
So while the ACJ strives to spin this ban as an act of “care” or praises the “value of education, recreation, and mental health stability” (according to Warden Orlando Harper), the roots of this ban move beyond access to reading materials and unveil the undercurrent of the prison industrial complex and the brutal systemic treatment of incarcerated individuals.
Due to COVID-19, those at the ACJ are confined to their cells for 23 hours a day. Although this fact is frequently used to describe incarceration’s tortuous detainment, it is worth reflecting on what this long-term solitary confinement truly means. This type of prolonged solitary detention falls under inhumane treatment, according to the United Nations. Mental health, already fragile in such violent conditions, can rapidly decline without access to meaningful acts of communication and activity. Books thus become incredibly valuable in prison, held with care by their readers.
The Allegheny County Jail’s population is 67% percent Black while only 13.7% of Black people make up the county’s demographics. This statistic shows a drastic over-policing and detaining of the Black population. The Abolitionist Law Center labels this unjust criminalization as “apartheid punishment,” rooted in anti-Black racism. Such racism additionally occurs in the latest book ban and the selection of works accessible on these new tablets.
ACJ published a list of books currently available through Overdrive.
I have repeatedly searched this list and confidently say that the list is entirely made up of white Euro-American writers.
Aside from the fact of the complexities of race, ethnicity, and how we label writers of color (I.e., if one were to argue that by having Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote on the list that this proves a writer of color and therefore absolves the ACJ of white-washing literature), the books listed feed into the theory of the Classics as rehabilitative. There is a lengthy history of allowing Dickens, Aeschylus, Hemingway, and Whitman into prisons – writers who those running the prisons assume to preach strong societal values and make an individual learnéd. While one could readily argue for the subversive nature of some of these writers, the issue with these now-available books is that they contribute to the idea of using art to produce a civilizing effect. By offering access to a reading list composed almost entirely of “Classics” (many which are conveniently also out of copyright) with the idea of using art solely as a rehabilitative tool, the prison provides an outdated, white Euro-American perspective on what it means to be a “good citizen.” But returning to the idea that consuming art prompts difficult and productive questions, how can one empathize, critique, question, or even genuinely enjoy these questions without works that reflect their experiences, identities, and livelihoods?
The lack of representation on the list of available books privileges the white Classics and de-emphasizes the importance of valuable BIPOC literature.
I don’t ask such questions with the expectation of an answer from a system that thrives off of the 19th-century notion of punishment and quasi-rehabilitation, but rather to highlight the space books and art occupy in our psyche. The banning of books holds a powerful place in the public sphere, harkening back to the burning of books in Nazi Germany, the suppression of literature by the Irish Free State, or banning literary works in the Soviet Union. Frequent book bans occur in schools and other institutions in the United States, with Catcher in the Rye, Beloved, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Color Purple, and Native Son appearing on lists of challenged and banned titles. (Notably, these books also do not appear on ACJ’s available titles list.) The cruel and profit-motivated removal of literature from detention centers offers an entry point to explore the interconnected issues of racism, injustice, and legalized torture in the ACJ. At ALC Court Watch, we call on the public to get involved with the fight for abolition by first helping to put public pressure on the latest moves at the ACJ.
The book ban’s eventual overturning starts us on the path towards abolition, but the ban is just the first step of many in a complete dismantling of the prison system as we know it.
Courtney E. Colligan is a PhD Candidate in Theatre and Performance Studies at the University of Pittsburgh. Courtney’s areas of study include performances of social justice, Early Modern theatre and performance, queer theory, and museum studies. She has worked for GirlGov, Pitt’s Archives and Special Collections, and is co-founder of the Archive Theatre Project.
A Brutal History: Slave Patrols & Building a Racist System with Political Power
THE SLAVE PATROLLER’S OATH (North Carolina, 1800’s):
“I [patroller’s name], do swear, that I will as searcher for guns, swords, and other weapons among the slaves in my district, faithfully, and as privately as I can, discharge the trust reposed in me as the law directs, to the best of my power. So help me, God.”
– Squadrons of armed white “volunteers” (vigilantes) formed state-sanctioned “night watches” to crush slave rebellions, reassert white supremacist domination thru random assault, enforce “law and order”, and exacting revenge on Black people who had escaped their white masters.
In the US, the modern context of ruthless policing or oppressive social control originated as far back as the 1790s. The Charleston City Watch and Guard controlled the movement of the slave population at the time. The Guard was armed with swords and pistols, and it imposed a nine o’clock curfew for Black residents of the city. White slave owners wanted to prevent uprisings and revolts. Patrols closely monitored those in captivity, especially when they were working outside of the sight or the control of the enslaver.
The creation of the first publicly funded police force, in Boston, was in the 1830s. By the 1890s, every major city in the United States had a police presence, born from racist, slave patrols in the era of slavery and relied on through Black Reconstruction, and the Jim Crow era.
Now, rather than upholding slavery, cops enforce laws and policies similarly meant to control the lives and movement of Black people. The late 1960s and early 1970s was a period of enormous social turmoil that raised the possibility of revolution. All fundamental institutions of society—the government, the “free” market, the military and war, the police, the nuclear family, white supremacy and others—were challenged. The elite, white, ruling class responded to these direct challenges to their power with Lyndon B. Johnson’s “War on Crime,” followed by Nixon’s “War on Drugs,”which were jumping off points for subsequent administrations to maintain their preferred social order. The “War on Drugs,” renewed with vigor by Ronald Reagan, still rages, and the U.S. has had the highest incarceration rate in the world since at least 2010. The increase of law enforcement in schools creates a “school to prison pipeline,” in which out-of-school suspensions, expulsions, and school-based arrests are increasingly used to deal with student misbehavior, especially for minor incidents, and huge numbers of children and youth are pushed out of school and into the juvenile and criminal justice systems. Not surprisingly, children of color (as well as children with disabilities and children from other vulnerable populations) are disproportionately targeted with these punitive measures.
During the 1980s, the ideology of “zero tolerance” school discipline originates from the “get tough on drugs and crime” policies of that era. This was also the dawn of mandatory minimum sentencing laws — fixed sentences for individuals convicted of a drug crime, with no judicial leniency allowed. More than 1.6 million people are arrested, prosecuted, incarcerated, placed under criminal justice supervision, and/or deported each year on a drug law violation. “Three-strikes” laws, now in place in 28 states after first appearing in 1994, require anyone previously convicted of two or more violent crimes or serious felonies to receive a life sentence upon a third felony conviction,, regardless of the circumstances or, as in California, sometimes even the severity of the offense (e.g. felony petty theft).
The “War on Terror,” following the September 11, 2001 attacks, was a catalyst for the use of military grade weapons on protestors, most conspicuously in Ferguson in 2014, following the fatal police shooting of Michael Brown. So began the Black Lives Matter movement.
Scenes from the Ferguson Uprising. Ferguson, MO (2014)
Cops are Tools of Class Oppression & Mass Incarceration
Cover of the Officer Friendly Teacher’s Resource Unit booklet (1968)
For decades, starting in 1966, school districts across the country employed the “Officer Friendly” program that brought cops into local Elementary classrooms. Their goal was to indoctrinate children with the belief that the police are an indispensable part of society, who not only uphold the law but protect them. Perhaps this is because the police were established to protect the interests of the wealthy. Racial violence has always been a part of the mission to protect private, crooked institutions.
The institutions that the State has endowed with the most direct power over people’s lives, and a disproportionate share of tax dollars, are the police, prisons, courts, and the military. These enact forms of legalized punishment and repression under the guise of neutrality by being “bound to laws.” In reality, the laws primarily serve one class: the wealthy. Cops are the primary line of defense for a small fraction of the U.S. population – a handful of private corporate owners. A clear example of this is the role police played in the housing crisis.
The number of empty, unsellable homes far exceeds the number of homeless. Based on currently available numbers, there are about 31 vacant housing units for every homeless person in the U.S. If policing served the people, cops would have arrested the bankers and the white collar criminals who made enormous profits by manipulating the housing market, even after their schemes created a massive global recession in 2008, and a spike in homelessness. Cops would be helping to seize homes to end, not create, homelessness. Yet evictions continue on a daily basis.
The “Bread and Roses Strike” (Lawrence Textile Strike of 1912). Immigrant and women textile workers in Lawrence, Massachusetts hold the line, surrounded by armed local militia advancing to break the strike.
Who does policing target? Police are typically deployed to criminalize poverty, concentrating their efforts on criminalizing those with dark skin, forcing millions of people – primarily people of color, people with mental illness, and those in poverty – into the prison system, depriving them of voting and employment rights, and thereby preserving privileged access to housing, jobs, land, credit, and education for whites. Police are used to break strikes and assault picket lines, where workers are struggling for basic human rights and better conditions. Protests and uprisings during the Black Lives Matter movement have resulted in the use of military crowd control techniques. The political aim of the police is seemingly to silence the demonstrators and curtail their constitutional right to free speech and freedom of assembly, especially Black, Brown, Indigenous folks, and communities of color.
The Violent Military Industrial Complex Leaks into the U.S. Police State
The Military Industrial Complex is directly connected to policing and the Prison Industrial Complex in this country. American policing has become unnecessarily and dangerously militarized, in large part through federal programs that have armed state and local law enforcement agencies with the weapons and tactics of war, with almost no public discussion or oversight. The U.S. already acts as the police force of the world, enforcing authority through drone wars, proxy battles, and meddling. Black liberation is a global struggle, and there is a link between racial oppression internationally and domestically. A militarized police is only equipped to escalate situations.
Unredacted memo of J Edgar Hoover’s COINTELPRO directive to destroy radical Black political groups thru surveilling, discrediting, psyops, and secret assassinations.
Throughout US history, the police (including federal policing agencies like the FBI) have attacked and undermined social justice organizations and efforts, at home and abroad, through various forms of surveillance, infiltration, sabotage, and assassination. The political function of the police destroys any form of revolution, so it’s no surprise that in the 10 years of anti-establishment social unrest between 1965 and 1975, the number of police officers grew by roughly 40 percent nationally. In 1974, $15 billion was spent on criminal justice, 57 percent going directly to police expenditures4. With this increase of spending, the FBI’s infamous COINTELPRO “neutralized” political dissidents and threats, like the Black Panther Party, through subterfuge and extreme violence. In league with local police units, the FBI declared war on radicals and groups from nationally oppressed communities. Then, the Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) teams were first formed in Los Angeles in 1968. Fifty years later, the US still holds these political prisoners captive, like Mumia Abu-Jamal. The Free Them All Campaign continues to advocate for their release, even as the police continue to use these tactics against protestors today
On March 13, 2020, Breonna Taylor (26) was executed in her sleep by three white plain-clothes officers: John Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove of the Louisville Metro Police ‘Crime Interdiction Division’.
Using federal funds, state and local law enforcement agencies have amassed military arsenals to wage the failed “War on Drugs,” disproportionately in communities of color. Aggressive enforcement of this mandate from decades ago has lost its public mandate, as 67 percent of Americans think the government should focus more on treatment than on policing and prosecuting drug users. Aggressive drug arrests and prosecution has impacted millions of lives , disproportionately in communities of color, though drug use rates are quite similar across race and class. Law enforcement agencies’ routine use of heavily armed SWAT teams to search people’s homes for drugs is the same hyper-aggressive form of domestic policing that killed Breonna Taylor.
The militarization of American policing is evident in police officer training, which encourages them to adopt a “warrior” mentality and view the people they are supposed to serve as enemies. It’s also evident in the equipment they use, such as battering rams, flashbang grenades, and APCs. The 1033 Program transferred surplus military equipment to civilian police departments. Only 45 days after the September 11, 2001 attacks, Congress effortlessly passed the Patriot Act , which George W. Bush signed less than a month after the United States invaded Afghanistan, as part of the “War on Terror”. It broadly expanded law enforcement powers to search, surveil, investigate and indefinitely detain people. Among its effects, the Patriot Act has been used to expand the racist war on drugs.
Additionally, the Department of Homeland Security, created in 2002 to coordinate government intelligence gathering in order to improve counterterrorism efforts, has set up centers with the FBI and local police that have been used to spy on protest movements, from Occupy Wall Street to Black Lives Matter. More than 7,000 people were arrested during the Occupy movement over the course of just a few months. These arrests, alongside incidents of police brutality, were intended to stamp out a movement that took aim at the face of class oppression from the rich, elite of Wall Street.
Since May 2020, the uprising spurred by the police lynching of George Floyd, has intensified the militarized mobilization of law enforcement. The police forces are equipped in full riot gear and use weapons designed for war. Black and Brown activists in the United States, especially during the Ferguson protests, have described domestic police departments as “occupying forces,” much like those in Afghanistan or Yemen or Palestine. In fact, allowing Israeli forces and U.S. participants to learn from each others’ violent practices and tactics results in the violation of the human rights of Black and Palestinian people, but there are efforts to end this through a campaign called, “End the Deadly Exchange.” Our police, at the behest of local government, wield not only military arms, but what they’ve learned from the military’s formal joint training, tactics (both street combat and psychological operations), and other means of suppression. At least 200 cities in the U.S. had imposed curfews by early June, while more than 31 states and Washington, D.C. activated over 75,000 National Guard personnel, arresting over 10,000 people. Yet widespread police brutality and the mobilization of military law enforcement tactics, like kidnapping protestors, have only furthered massive civil unrest.
The Case for Revolutionary Optimism: A Path towards Abolition
So, how do we fight an institution doing what it has been designed to do, one that’s protected by government leaders and employment contracts, and is therefore incapable of reform? The problems of punitive, racist policing are cultural — ingrained in our society — and cannot be solved by merely identifying a couple murderers or “bad apples,” if you will.
Given how corrosive policing has historically been and continues to be, it shouldn’t be surprising that with alternatives, our society could flourish without cops. Policing could, and should, be defunded and abolished.
Promo for ongoing organizing by ALC to end qualified immunity and arbitration agreements of Philadelphia police – and ultimately dismantle its fake “union” – FOP Lodge 5 – in its entirety.
A society that prioritizes human needs ahead of profit means communities that have sufficient housing, food, health care workers, prisoner re-entry services, and community practices that hold all of its members accountable for any harm and enact restorative justice. Mutual aid, rather than one-time giving events, would allow us to share our skills collectively and all contribute.
It may seem implausible or unreachable. It requires divesting from police, prisons, and the military, and instead, investing in communities of color and supporting the public policies that encourage, not inhibit, family-sustaining wages, job development, education, and the equitable distribution of resources. We cannot accept corporate, private interests to define our way of living. The ruling, capitalist class is in power, controls our government policies, and we must not capitulate to the world they want us to live in. It is one with an illegal slave system that is the Prison Industrial Complex. A society with an abolitionist as a focus will not be built on the violence of a capitalist state designed to defend property and capital, but one in which the people are empowered to provide for each other.
We must build class unity and solidarity through organizing within our communities to protect one another. There are few tools within the system to fight the State’s abuse politically and legally, but we can ask for the immediate release of inmates in this country’s tortuous prison system; the end of three strikes and overly harsh sentencing guidelines; changing the 13th Amendment to eliminate the clauses that allow for slavery and “involuntary servitude” for people who are convicted; the end of qualified immunity for officers; the repeal of federal programs that send military equipment to local police; the end of “Broken Windows” policing tactics, including stop-and-frisk and other police harassment tactics; the prohibition of no-knock entry; and laws that make it harder for the police to obstruct free speech activity.
While these are only reforms, we can also strengthen community accountability models that critique punitive systems that maintain repressive, colonial ideology. Together, we can connect movements, groups, and individuals to transgress the boundaries of institutions. These alternatives must include continuing critiques to improve social conditions, as well as provide accessible, sustainable levels of resources that are consistent with anti-capitalism, anti-racism, and anti-colonialism principles. This is how we can transform and empower communities towards justice and abolition.
Kaity Baril is a community organizer and advocate, specifically focusing on anti-imperialistic, anti-capitalist, and working class struggles. She is a University of Pittsburgh graduate, majoring in Urban Studies. She has published research on housing affordability, gentrification, and racial injustice in East Liberty, as well as journalism pieces in Liberation News. She is also a member of the ALC Court Watch program.
In the time since this piece was written, there have been several developments:
Formal charges were brought against Tranquilli by the Judicial Conduct Board to the Court of Judicial Discipline on August 12th.
Tranquilli wrote an apology, not to the victims of his racist remarks “the courts and our community,” that was published in a tweet on August 26th.
On the same day, The Court of Judicial Discipline ordered that Tranquilli be suspended without pay.
In turn, on September 3rd, Tranquilli’s legal team issued a Respondent’s Brief in Support of Relief from the courts order to suspend his pay. The Brief argues that certain items in the complaint are not true, and that the decision to suspend him without pay is without precedent
However, the case against Tranquilli is moving along as per the order dated, August 26th, “the case will be conducted on an expedited basis with discovery to be completed by September 15, 2020, Pre-trial Memos of the parties filed by September 18, 2020, the Pre-trial Conference to be held on September 21, 2020, and the Trial will commence on October 5, 2020.”
We seek the removal of this racist judge from Allegheny County Courts.
We demand his resignation.
Throughout his tenure, Tranquilli has embodied white supremacy in the courtroom. If he does not resign, and if he is not fired, then he must be recused from all cases involving Black communty members, including jury members, witnesses, and the defense. #ResignTranquilli
With protestors across the nation rising up against police brutality and the systematic targeting of Black and Brown people by law enforcement, it is time we also pay attention to the racism festering in other parts of our criminal justice system: the judiciary.
In January of 2020, Judge Mark Tranquilli of the Allegheny Court of Common Pleas was exposed for making racist, anti-Black statements. Tranquilli called a Black Juror “Aunt Jemima” and speculated that she had a “baby daddy” at home who is “slinging heroin.” Since then, several of Judge Tranquili’s other racist remarks have come to light, such as when he mockingly employed African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) while lecturing Black parents in a custody conciliation on how they should communicate: “And when I say communication, I don’t mean, ‘and den da bitch done dis, and den da bitch done dat.’”
Due to Judge Tranquilli’s blatantly racist statements, the Pennsylvania Judicial Conduct Board filed charges against him alleging six counts of judicial misconduct on August 12, 2020. This begs the question of how a virulently racist judge, who has been under fire for judicial misconduct since 2005, has been allowed to keep his seat for so long.
Judge Tranquilli is protected by a system of criminal “justice” that not only tolerates but perpetuates racism and white supremacy. The three major institutions of the criminal justice system–the judiciary, police and law enforcement, and prisons–work in tandem to systematically oppress Black and Brown people. While the criminal justice system is often portrayed as a series of institutions involved in the fair administration of justice to those who have committed crimes, judges and the judicial system should not be seen as impartial arbiters of justice. Black people are 50 percent more likely to be wrongfully convicted of murder and 12 times more likely to be wrongfully convicted of drug crimes than white people. One out of every three Black boys born today can expect to be sentenced to prison, compared to 1 out 6 Latino boys and one out of 17 white boys. This is a institution that is systematically targeting racial minorities, while it purports to be race-blind.
With the national discussion focused on the Black Lives Matter movement to address police brutality, our calls to defund and abolish the police should be paired with an equally critical examination of our judiciary and prison systems. Let’s take Tranquilli as simply one clear example of the racist legacy of our criminal justice system that extends back to the “Slave Patrol” of the 1700s and continues to target Black communities today. This is a man who admits to having “no milk of human kindness left in these veins,” in reference to his low tolerance for probation violations. The Judge’s clearly deep-seated racist biases and systematic targeting of Black people in his courtroom represent just one example of how the criminal justice system has perpetuated the systematic oppression of Black people for centuries.
To draw attention to such deeply rooted racism within the criminal justice system, we at the Abolitionist Law Center Courtwatch and the Pittsburgh Women’s March partnered for a week of action (August 3-9) to demand Tranquilli’s resignation and further investigation. While the subsequent action taken by the Judicial Conduct Board is a step in the right direction, we are calling for further evidence of his racist disposition to be brought to light. Therefore, we are putting out a call for public comment from any individuals affected by Judge Tranquilli’s systematic racial bias.
It is time for us to demand justice for the centuries of racism that continue to structure our criminal justice system. From judges to police and prisons, we must leave no stone unturned until the fair administration of justice is not just a myth, but a reality.
Sofia Huang is a rising second-year doctoral candidate in Clinical Psychology at Duquesne University.
“Judge Accused of Making Racist Remarks Forbidden from Hearing Cases.” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 6 Feb. 2020, www.post-gazette.com/news/crime-courts/2020/02/06/Allegheny-County-Common-Pleas-Judge-Mark-Tranquilli-racist-remarks-forbidden-hearing-cases/stories/202002060120.
Ward, Paula Reed. “Allegations of Racist Comments Put Judge Tranquilli under Scrutiny.” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 5 Mar. 2020, www.post-gazette.com/news/crime-courts/2020/03/08/Allegations-of-racism-put-Judge-Mark-V-Tranquilli-under-scrutiny/stories/202003040183.
Silver, Jonathan D. “Uncivil Court Prosecutor to Apologize for Dustup at Hearing.” Gazette, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 17 May 2005, www.post-gazette.com/uncategorized/2005/05/17/Uncivil-court-prosecutor-to-apologize-for-dustup-at-hearing/stories/200505170226.
Before joining the ALC Court Watch program, I was naive; I believed that courtrooms weren’t meant to be observed by anyone other than judicial officials. The legal system is devoted to upholding “principles of justice” – or so it is publicly perceived. Why would individuals who hold these influential positions need to be monitored? The judicial system has this superior and confidential impression on society, allowing its activities and developments to go about undisclosed from the public. Immediately after becoming involved with Court Watch, it was clear to me that not only is it critical for our communities that local courtrooms be observed – but more so, it is our fundamental First Amendment right to observe them.
Before the Allegheny County court closures due to COVID-19, I attended my first in-person arraignments with my fellow court watcher, Maple. Inside an appearance or hearing, you quickly realize that there are not many individuals present during these cases. Those who are present are typically judicial officials, the defense and prosecution, and family members from both sides. Court watchers can act as unbiased observers to these cases. Maple is our first and most knowledgeable in-person court watcher and reflects on her time in the courts before the pandemic
M A P L E
I started going to the Allegheny County Criminal Courthouse in January of this year. The goal was to take notes on the demographics and ambiance of the courtrooms. After a few visits, I found that responses from the judges, clerks, and attorneys were skewed. Some were open to our presence and observation, while others expressed how uncomfortable they were.
Most of my time observing the players of the courtroom was spent looking at how individuals were being treated by members of the authority. I was able to sit in on a homicide trial where the room watched a video of the defendant meeting with his relative while incarcerated. Everyone in the courtroom watched the screen for 45 minutes with no sound. The family of the victim was present, and the attorneys, as well as police officers, treated them with respect and sympathy. The officers didn’t have much interaction with us, besides warning graphic images to be played on the screen. I walked away that day with no notes of disappointment or distress from the players of the courtroom, which is what we were told to look for as our focus.
While most observations came and went with nothing too notable, there were a few I found unacceptable. I had a chance to sit in on a few sentence hearings in Tranquili’s courtroom. This was one of my first experiences in a courtroom, and it was negative. I did not feel comfortable, nor did I feel like everyone in the room was being respected. I had no interaction with anyone except the clerk, who just seemed annoyed at our presence.
The goal of our in-person court watch for the first months was to hold the players accountable for how they treat others in the courtroom. We were able to achieve that by sitting in the ‘audience’ – as members of society who are invested in seeing equivalent justice served with respect and acknowledgment.
During the months Pennsylvania and the rest of the country were on lockdown, court proceedings continued through virtual and telecommunications. Many states and cities allowed for the public to gain access to the courts through live YouTube feeds or streaming via Microsoft Teams. Allegheny County did not provide any means for the public to practice their first amendment right to attend and access hearings. After many unreturned voicemails from judges chambers and several letters left unresponded, weeks had gone by without any insight to the ongoings of the courtrooms.
After the initial stages of the COVID-19 quarantine, we decided it was time to get back into the courtrooms with in-person eyes. The first time the administration let us back in, we weren’t actually able to see any hearings, arraignments, or trials. When walking into the courtroom, the clerk asked us what case we were here for. We stated we were just here to observe, and the clerk then said (appearing pretty annoyed) that they might not have space for us. We said we would leave if more than 25 people came into the room (25 was the maximum to adhere to social distancing regulations). After a few minutes, defendants and their attorneys continued to file in, so we had to leave. We then found another room where we could observe a meeting between multiple attorneys and a judge discussing when a case would be ready to go to a jury trial. The judge stated it would most likely take until next year to get people in for a jury. The following week the court shut down once again, and we were not allowed in.
Our community has been completely deprived of our constitutional access since March. With no virtual admittance available, one month turned to two, and two turned to three. Later in June, when courts were briefly open, there was no room for the public – contrary to what was promised. As we enter August and the summer comes to a rapid close, when will transparency of our local judicial systems become available? Will we be forced to speculate and predict the clandestine undertakings of the Allegheny County criminal courts?
“You’re either racist or antiracist; there’s no such thing as ‘not racist.’”
Ibram X. Kendi
With high-powered protests sparking significance around the country, many are asking how they can continue to show their allegiance for the Black Lives Matter movement. I felt it was necessary to share the current circumstances surrounding racial justice at the Allegheny County Court of Common Pleas. Our Court Watch is committed to transformative, racial justice by holding the courts accountable through our observation and reporting. The knowledge we expose holds immeasurable value when looking at the difficulty our community faces through our justice system.
In March of this year, it was announced that Judge Mark Tranquilli of Allegheny County’s Court of Common Pleas had been suspended from hearing any cases according to a court order issued by President Judge Kim Berkeley Clark. In a written complaint, Judge Tranquilli is accused of referring to a Black juror as “Aunt Jemima” during comments in chambers. These claims came after the acquittal of a drug case. As specified by the complainant, Judge Tranquilli also refers to the woman as having a “baby daddy” who is likely to sell drugs, leading her to make a biased decision and ultimately the not guilty verdict. After the verdict, Judge Tranquilli allegedly made these racially insensitive comments in his chambers in the prosecutor’s presence, Ted Dutkowski, and the defense attorney, Joe Otte. According to Judge Clark’s order, Tranquilli will be restricted to “administrative duties only, effective immediately.”
With this recent incident comes a history of additional inappropriate comments and complaints of Tranquilli’s harmful language in the courtroom. According to an article by The Pittsburgh Post Gazette, many defense attorneys at the court of common pleas have made past complaints about Judge Tranquilli, “alleging that he forces defendants into plea agreements, has a prosecutorial bent and makes intemperate remarks.” The article goes on to highlight an incident from a 2018 hearing. Tranquilli openly condemned a woman about having her two children out of wedlock while she was pleading guilty to drug charges. According to a transcript, Tranquilli is quoted saying,
“Are you familiar with the phrase, if you lay down with dogs, you wake up with fleas…you have woken up with two lovely children, probably two lovely children I’m betting you were probably not planning on…And for the cost of three shiny quarters in any bathroom in any rest stop in Pennsylvania, you probably could have gone a different direction.”
In another incident, Tranquilli is said to have spoken in ebonics in a complaint filed by an attorney in February. The attorney quoted Judge Tranquilli to have said, “And when I say communication, I don’t mean, ‘and den da bitch done dis, and den da bitch done dat.'”
Before being an Allegheny County Common Pleas Judge, Tranquilli was a deputy district attorney for the county, with complaints stemming decades back prior to being a judge. A Pittsburgh Post Gazette article from back in 2005 claims, “Deputy District Attorney Mark Tranquilli plans to write a letter of apology to District Judge Rob Wyda…Tranquilli and Assistant Public Defender James Sheets launched into an angry back-and-forth during a preliminary hearing for a homicide suspect”. The article continues with a statement from DA Stephen Zappala, “We have concluded that although [Tranquilli] may not have violated any rules of disciplinary conduct, he violated the rules of civility.”
Following his recent administrative leave, the Pennsylvania Judicial Board has neither confirmed nor denied if a current investigation into Tranquilli is being held.
“In a racist society, it is not enough to be nonracist. We must be anti-racist.”
Angela Davis
The Pennsylvania Constitution established a specific mechanism for judicial officers’ discipline, independent of the legislature or state governor. The provisions created the Judicial Inquiry and Review Board, with the intent and authority to investigate reports of judicial misconduct and prosecute and adjudicate them. Once a complaint is made to the Judicial board an investigation is launched. If warranted, it files charges against the accused judge in the Court of Judicial Discipline. The court then hears formal charges brought against a judge by the board and decides whether or not to impose discipline. The judge may appeal to the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, or if he/she is a Supreme Court Justice, to a Special Tribunal.
While Judge Tranquilli still obtains access to the court’s administrative duties, it is alarming that the Pennsylvania Judicial Board no less than confirms that an investigation is indeed occurring. With no indication of future removal, Judge Tranquilli continues to unjustly hold such an influential position. Considering a decade of complaints made by attorneys and court officials, what will it take to see the permanent removal of this judge from our courtrooms. Someone who does not suitably use their judicial power normalizes this behavior for future cases and judges to treat defendants as offensively as Tranquilli has thus far. Now is the time for the court of common pleas to take action on a situation that challenges the integrity of Allegheny County’s judicial system.
“The only way to undo racism is to consistently identify and describe it – and then dismantle it”
Ibram X. Kendi
Ines Borges is a senior at the University of Pittsburgh, majoring in Administration of Justice. She is also an active member of the Court Watch program and an intern with ALC.
“Judge Accused of Making Racist Remarks Forbidden from Hearing Cases.” Gazette, 6 Feb. 2020, www.post-gazette.com/news/crime-courts/2020/02/06/Allegheny-County-Common-Pleas-Judge-Mark-Tranquilli-racist-remarks-forbidden-hearing-cases/stories/202002060120.
Silver, Jonathan D. “Uncivil Court Prosecutor to Apologize for Dustup at Hearing.” Gazette, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 17 May 2005, www.post-gazette.com/uncategorized/2005/05/17/Uncivil-court-prosecutor-to-apologize-for-dustup-at-hearing/stories/200505170226.
Ward, Paula Reed. “Allegations of Racist Comments Put Judge Tranquilli under Scrutiny.” Gazette, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 5 Mar. 2020, www.post-gazette.com/news/crime-courts/2020/03/08/Allegations-of-racism-put-Judge-Mark-V-Tranquilli-under-scrutiny/stories/202003040183.
It’s been exactly one month since our publication on Renewal halfway house’s defacto private prisons conditions. Since then, there’s been little to no changes of procedure on behalf of Renewal, Inc. to allow residents to move freely in and out of the complex. Residents are still trapped inside, for upwards of 70 days now, under the same cramped, lockdown conditions that do not allow for proper social distancing measures.
Residents have been hearing mixed accounts of how their movement will continue to be restricted, even as Allegheny County moves into the green phase of eased restrictions surrounding COVID-19.[1] According to residents inside, Darren Hood, the case manager supervisor at Renewal, Inc. had previously told those inside that they would be allowed out yesterday (6/5/20) due to the transition to green phase. However, individuals are now being told they will not be let out so long as the protests related to George Floyd’s murder continue, though some may be let out for work or medical appointments starting next week. This policy disregards the fact that many who have been laid off due to COVID-19 will still be stuck inside. Mike Henry, a Renewal resident who was been laid off due to the pandemic, reports, “this is still not fair to the guys who don’t have a job [who are] punished and still stuck in this building.”
While we were unable to reach Morris Robinson, the regional director of the Bureau of Community Corrections in PA (Region 3 which includes Allegheny) for comment in the last article, we have now confirmed that the DOC is not only aware of Renewal’s fascistic policies, but is directly involved in enforcing the continuing lockdown and restrictions at Renewal. When contacted for comment, Morris Robinson stated that they are not letting all residents out due to the protests in order to “keep everyone safe…there is a lot of looting and things of that nature going on.”
Morris Robinson did not cite any legal reasons for why protests have any bearing on individuals’ right to be outside. Individuals at Renewal are not inmates, and have the right to freely move about during daytime hours as per Renewal’s guidelines.[2]This is a clear suspension of the civil rights of Renewal’s residents.
In other halfway houses around the country, residents imprisoned inside have brought class action lawsuits against the Department of Corrections to address the suspension of rights and inadequate provision of resources during COVID-19.[3]
It is not a coincidence that protests surrounding the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, Ahmaud Arbery, and countless Black and brown people are being used to justify the continued suppression of rights of the residents of Renewal.
It is time we recognize the complicity of Renewal, Inc., PA’s Department of Corrections, and the policing and criminal justice system in our country in stripping the rights of individuals at will — whether that be individuals locked inside halfway houses, trapped in prisons and jails, or being brutalized by police in the streets.
Sofia Huang is a rising second-year doctoral candidate in Clinical Psychology at Duquesne University. She is the author of last month’s Court Watch article,“RENEWAL HALFWAY HOUSE: PITTSBURGH’S DE F
Bail is a contract. Bond is the fulfillment of bail. The agreement of bail is the temporary release of someone who has been accused of and/or charged with a crime. Although it does not have to be, often bail is indicative of a financial exchange. In that sense, bail is the amount of money defendants must post to be released from custody until their trial 1. But, there is also bail through non-monetary means, such as electronic monitoring and release on own recognizance (ROR). Unsecured bail carries a dollar-amount, but not needed at the time of release.
The purpose of bail is to provide a means out of detainment and is meant to insure a defendant’s appearance at pretrial and trial hearings for which their presence is required. With that in mind, the cost of monetary bail is returned once the accused person shows-up for their trial. However, no-shows mostly results in a forfeiture of bail monies. Moreover, the full amount of an unsecured bond is due from the individual charged fails to attend their hearing.
Not meant as a fine or form of punishment, the 8th amendment to the constitution promises protection from cash bails set too high to meet for anyone accused of a crime. Clearly stated, “Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.”2 However, our states fail us by conforming to strict bail requirements for the release of unheard citizens. Bail impositions greatly contribute to the state of mass incarceration: the prison-industrial complex today.
In 2011, critical race theorist Michelle Alexander published The New Jim Crow – a powerful and damning portrait of the impact of the prison-industrial complex on the lives of people of color in the United States. While the U.S. represents about 4.4% of the world’s population, it houses around 22% of the world’s imprisoned people. Not only those confined to prison, but also those on probation, parole, immigration detainment and local jails. Five years after the publication of her book, 2.3 million people were still incarcerated in the United States.
The Bureau of Justice Statistics reports that 35% of state prisoners are white, 38% are Black, and 21% are Hispanic/Latino3. Although Black and brown people make up a minority of the US population, “African Americans are incarcerated in state prisons across the country at more than five times the rate of whites, and at least ten times the rate in five states.”4 Alexander illuminated the staggering observation that more Black men were behind bars or custodians of the criminal justice system during the time of her writing, than were enslaved in 1850. Bail is the threshold to this phenomenon.
Prior to the onset of coronavirus, it was said that, “on any given day” there are about a half million people sitting in jails of which the majority are there because they cannot afford the bail monies set for their release5. Accused – but not found guilty – lawfully innocent people are arrested and detained with gross regularity across the country.
To quote the Prison Policy Initiative, “Six out of 10 people in U.S. jails—nearly a half million individuals on any given day—are awaiting trial. People who have not been found guilty of the charges against them account for 95% of all jail population growth between 2000-2014.”6 63% of those in jail have not been convicted” and sit as pre-trial and unconvicted members of the jail population, despite their innocence.7
The presumption of innocence fails in the face of monetary bail. Because cash bail inherently disenfranchises the poor, it is the marginalized populations within our society who are smothered by the stigma of accusation and further impoverished by the price of justice. For the wealthy, bail may be an unexpected inconvenience. For others, bail is debt bondage.
“How much is your freedom worth?” the words of spoken word artists ring out when hearing from the sales pitch of the bondsmen.8 The artistic piece produced by Brave New Films features the experienced arrest, detainment and the option for bail. Days of jail time can mean loss of employment, housing property and relationships. The stigmas associated with being in jail runs deep. “Because even a brief period of pretrial detention can have a devastating impact on the person jailed” all of the trauma produced, is caused despite presumed innocence.9 Therefore, innocent people in jail and their families are often forced to seek the assistance of a bail bondsman.
Bail bondsmen profit from the criminal justice system. The bondsmen target the poor, as only those who cannot afford cash bail need to use their services. The United States and the Philippines are the only countries that allow for-profit bail companies. Charging only a percentage of the bail cost, bondsman companies post bail that is not refundable to the accused even once they show-up at court. Yet, payments to the bondsman continue until the debt is fulfilled.
Despite the findings that the cost of bail does not determine a person’s appearance in courts. Instead, an exceedingly pragmatic and much cheaper reminder of an upcoming court date is found to be much more effective.10Cash bail continues to be demanded by the courts of Pennsylvania, and is thereby a capitalist strategy for perpetual arrests, and continued detainments of Black, brown and poor people in Allegheny County.
Until recently, about 20% of the ACJ population was held as pretrial detainees according to the 2016 Criminal Justice task force report. The Jail Stats Report dated May 15th shows that “22% (285) of people in the jail itself were held pretrial-only, meaning they had no other reason (such as external holds or detainer) keeping them in the jail. Of these people, only 2% were screened as low risk for re-offense based on the Allegheny County locally validated pretrial risk assessment (without consideration of the seriousness of the current offense). The report cites that only 86 individuals (approximately 7% of the jail population) are currently being held in the Allegheny County Jail pretrial-only on monetary bonds. Of these individuals, only 5 screened as low risk for new criminal activity, and all 5 of these individuals were facing charges for violent offenses.”
“Arrest is kidnapping: bail is ransom.” This is the fundamental conviction of Man-E, and the motto of the Bail Bukit Fund which calls for the end to cash bail in Pittsburgh and everywhere else the practice exists. Abolitionists at heart, Bail Bukit Fund believes that no one should be caged. Impassioned by the loss of Frank ”Bukit” Smart, who died when restrained during a seizure at ACJ, the Bail Bukit Fund fights for the abolition of all jails and freedom for those ensnared by it.
Man-E knows its trappings well. He’s been arrested and detained three times, but has never been found guilty of either charge.”The whole system is really unfriendly and biased,” he says.
Man-E was a teen at his first arrest with no prior charges. “I was arrested with a co-defendant, his bail was $5,000 and mine were $25,000. Guidelines of fairness are not adhered to. He was on probation and should have been deemed as a more serious case than I was. But who is to say how the judge was thinking at the time.”
The second arrest led to the same $25,000 cost set for bail. Yet the third was double that amount. Man-E tells the story. “In my case we went to a bail bondsman, they charged us a percentage and my mother put-up her house.” There was no other way to pay the bond set for him. Although he had no prior convictions, Man-E was denied a bail reduction. He explains, ”I had previous charges, but no convictions despite being innocent before proven guilty.”
The $50,000 had to be paid through the bail bondsman. “To stay in jail and essentially get punished without even being tried. I was acquitted 2 years later. And yet, he says, “There is no reconciliation for the time or money spent.” Had he remained in jail for that amount of time, “I would have lost my job and possibly my house. Some lose custody of their children. Some die,” he added.
“Cash bail and really doesn’t serve the intended purpose but serves to make as much money as you can, not only for the courts but the bail bondsman. When the case is resolved,” he continues, “they get the money back plus the percentage. And had I not shown up, they would have got my mom’s house as well.” He says further, the bondsman company did not return their asset as eagerly as they had taken it. “They did not contact us to return the deed, we had to go to him.“
“In all of my cases I was found not guilty, but was treated as if I was simply because I was charged. The system overall is flawed even though it’s been here so long, most cannot imagine it any other way. Cash bail itself shouldn’t have a place in our criminal justice system. If a person is dangerous, the only thing that prevents them is how much money they have.”
“There are a lot of things wrong with the criminal justice system, but most people would agree that pre trial detention is one of the most egregious. It punishes people despite the presumption of innocence.” From his experience and what he has seen, Man-E contends that the trial process in “Allegheny county takes so long, they plead out to get time served, and hope to get out on probation.”
Man-E shares that the conditions at ACJ are often seen as worse than any Pennsylvania State Penitentiary.
“The first time I was there, I was 16. I saw someone get knocked out. The CO saw and didn’t say anything. I’m a vegetarian and they didn’t care. They charge ridiculous amounts of money to speak to your family. They give you just enough to survive. There is no dignity” there, he says.
“A social worker told me that they make it as bad as possible so that you will not want to come back. They don’t treat you like a human there,” he said. But what he wants to share, a message of hope for those confined in jail. ”They weren’t there their entire lives, they won’t be there their entire lives.”
“There are a lot of people who are victims who do not know that people care about them. The whole experience is disheartening and some have a hard time coping even when they are released. Some cannot cope at all and begin to take drastic measures. People are aware, care and are working to make a difference.”
“Bail reform is a civil rights issue. Bail reform is a human rights issue. Bail reform is a national crisis that’s hidden in plain sight” – Wade J Henderson
Whether in need or in want to support the movement to abolish cash bail in Allegheny county and beyond, please visit bukitbailfund.org.
District and common pleas courts feed and maintain the Allegheny County Jail population. Folks detained there become subject to the care of the county and so does their health and wellness. ACJ governance is refusing to adopt a platform for universal COVID-19 testing and is now reporting data as if the jail is coronavirus free.
Here is what’s been recorded:
The ACJ population
1668
Number of individuals tested
65
Number of Negative results
35
Number of Pending result
2
Number of Positive results
38 *1 hospitalized
Number of COVID-19 positive people who have recovered or been released from ACJ
28
Number of COVID-19 positive people remaining at the ACJ
Allegheny County insists on a test-less methodology shown in their failure to pass a motion for universal testing. By Wednesday this week, only 65 out of the 1665 detained individuals have been tested for coronavirus. This constitutes a %.04 testing rate of the people detained at ACJ; less than ½ of 1% of the ACJ population has been tested. 3 new tests have been given this week.
The county jail is not a vacuum, but has workers, staff services, PO’s and CO’s, etc., filing through on a regular basis. Long and short term destined people are vulnerable to unsanitary conditions and contracting the virus. Rather than moving decisively forward with an interest in our public health that aims to overcome the current crisis and divert the threat of a second wave, authorities are failing to protect lives by testing widely.
We support Councilperson Bethany Hallam’s motion for universal testing for county-run facilities and urge the council committee, under the leadership of Councilperson Olivia “Liv” Bennet, to test all people under county care.
Mass incarceration and the adverse collateral consequences of criminal prosecutions and convictions are deeply entrenched in Allegheny County, PA.
More than 80% of those held in the Allegheny County Jail (ACJ) are not serving a sentence for a criminal conviction but instead are held pre-trial or on alleged probation violations.
More than half of those held in ACJ are being held pending resolution of probation violations, which are often technical violations that do not involve a new charge.
The County has a higher incarceration rate of Black people than the national average.
While only 13% of the County population is Black, approximately 50% of those held in ACJ are Black.
MAY 20 – SNAPSHOT
Lack of Testing in ACJ Will Fuel the Second Wave
District and common pleas courts feed and maintain the Allegheny County Jail (ACJ) population. People detained there become subject to the care of the county, their health and wellness jeopardized by the negligence of elected and anointed officials. ACJ governance is refusing to adopt a platform for universal COVID-19 testing and is now reporting data as if the jail is coronavirus free.
Here is what’s been recorded:
The ACJ population
1668
Number of individuals tested
65
Number of Negative results
35
Number of Pending result
2
Number of Positive results
38 *1 hospitalized
Number of COVID-19 positive people who have recovered or been released from ACJ
28
Number of COVID-19 positive people remaining at the ACJ
0
MAY 20, 2020 via https://www.alleghenycounty.us/jail/index.aspx
Allegheny County insists on a test-less methodology shown in their failure to pass a motion for universal testing. By Wednesday this week, only 65 out of the 1665 detained individuals have been tested for coronavirus. This constitutes a %.04 testing rate of the people detained at ACJ; less than ½ of 1% of the ACJ population has been tested. 3 new tests have been given this week.
The county jail is not a vacuum, but has workers, staff services, PO’s and CO’s, etc., filing through on a regular basis. Long and short term destined people are vulnerable to unsanitary conditions and contracting the virus. Rather than moving decisively forward with an interest in our public health that aims to overcome the current crisis and divert the threat of a second wave, authorities are failing to protect lives by testing widely.
We support Councilperson Bethany Hallam’s motion for universal testing for county-run facilities and urge the council committee, under the leadership of Councilperson Olivia “Liv” Bennet, to test all people under county care.
by Autumn Redcross, with Dolly Prabhu. Introduction and edits by William Lukas.
Popular media journalists and militant abolitionists have framed the importance of releasing “high risk” vulnerable people from prison amidst the COVID-19 pandemic. The messaging almost always centers the voices of incarcerated elders and adults with underlying medical conditions. But what about the voices of children and young people locked up behind bars?
In this piece, ALC Court Watch takes us to the darkest corners of children’s jail cells in Allegheny County – and the legislation, courtroom practices, and cultural mythologies that make caging children possible and commonplace. While working as a caseworker for a youth re-entry program in San Francisco, I was always taken aback by the interiors of the city’s youth detention center: the floor tiles, the furniture, the lighting, the prison guard’s panopticon desk which was set up to look like a teacher’s. It was unclear where I was – if I was in a school building classroom or in a prison unit. But this is exactly the purpose of incarcerating children: to normalize the State’s control and punishment. To conflate housing, education, and imprisonment as one. “To get them used to a lifetime in prison” a correctional officer casually said to me after I finished helping a 13-year-old with his homework.
As more youth experience lethal toxic shock syndrome brought on by COVID-19, abolitionists are reminded that children are high risk too and that young people’s voices – and futures – must be incorporated in the movement to #FreeTheVulnerable and beyond.
There are children in jail.
As of today, May 19, there are sixteen youth – people ages 18 and under – detained at the Allegheny County Jail (ACJ). The ACJ was built in 1995 with an original occupation capacity of 1,850. However, recent statistics reflect an average daily population of 2,400 over the last three years. Since the state-sanctioned shut-down and subsequent March 16 order to the courts, the jail population has drastically reduced – yet the number of children detained there has largely remained the same. ACJ currently holds 1,686 people.
Children warehoused in adult jails and prisons is commonplace in Pennsylvania. Depending on the nature of the criminal charges, it is possible for minors to be tried as adults given the outcome of waivers and, or exclusions. A waiver occurs when a juvenile court judge transfers the case from juvenile to adult court. Waivers help determine the course of legal proceedings regarding the charges a child in Pennsylvania may face.
Waivers for cases involving teens are sometimes issued where there is a history of offenses, or when the current alleged offenses are particularly egregious. A ‘discretionary waiver’ is provided in the interest of the public. A ‘presumptive waiver’ is issued when there is the use of a deadly weapon and commits a serious offense. In that case, there is a presumption that the public will be better served with the minor facing adult criminal prosecution. Finally, ‘statutory exclusions’ are charges where a minor will always be charged as an adult.
Despite the fact that state policy does not allow children in the same age group to vote, buy cigarettes, consume alcohol, enlist in the military, the law has determined that children are fit to undergo damning the measures of the court and penal sentencing. In 2010, the Supreme Court Ruling of Graham v. Florida established that young people’s brains “lack of maturity and an underdeveloped sense of responsibility.” Yet, children are still held to the measure of the law put forth, adopted, and implemented for adults. According to the Sentinel, the criminal justice system is “holding them accountable for behavior that doesn’t actually reflect where they are in life.”
Act 33 was passed during the ‘90s culture wars, in which “progressive” and conservative pundits adopted and promoted John DiIulio’s “superpredator” theory. The anti-Black superpredator euphemism defined a generation of Black youth living in cities as the most dangerous than any group of children and teens that had existed before.
“The young thugs across this Commonwealth who have held people hostage in their homes and in their streets and in their neighborhoods will come to an end” stated Sen. Michael Fisher, on the state Senate floor in 1995. “Hopefully, it will be somewhat abated by the passage of this legislation,” he said, introducing the bill that became Act 33. Yet, the peak of youth crime had already occurred four years earlier. It has been falling ever since.
But the legacy of Act 33 continues to haunt our county jails and courts.
“On any given day, dozens of children ages 14-17 are housed in adult jails in counties across Pennsylvania while facing charges in adult court. Most will see their cases dismissed or moved to juvenile proceedings, but not before they spend weeks, months, or even years locked up with adults,” the Sentinel reports.
CHILDREN TRAPPED INSIDE ACJ:
Prison labor, roaches, strip searches and “the hole”
This has been the experience for youth currently in ACJ. Children in Pittsburgh’s downtown jail are separate from the adults. “They have their own pod,” explains Dolly Prabhu, a recent graduate of Pittsburgh Law School and legal intern for the Abolitionist Law Center. Dolly notes, “People assume that everyone who is a kid ends up at Shuman or something.” The Shuman Center is the juvenile detention center in Allegheny County. Dolly’s externship allowed her several hours visiting with the children at the ACJ.What she has seen and heard from her young clients is disturbing.
Jail pods are open floor plans which contain tables, chairs, and the Correction Officer’s (CO’s) bench. The single cells that the children are assigned to are cramped, sterile, and ugly little enclosures. There is the customary cot, a sink, and a steel toilet in each cell. And they are cold. Minors detained at ACJ report needing to clothe themselves in both of their issued uniforms and get under the covers to have some type of warmth.
Certain children are designated as “cleaners,” on the unit. Although the cleaners may earn advantages, such as extra time in the game room, the teens may also be subjected to harsh discipline. “Cleaners” may be expected to clean excessively to meet the standard of expectation. At times they are addressed by their room numbers rather than their names. They are never paid in their role as a “cleaner.”
“I feel like it’s prison labor, and that they are exploiting the fact that they are children desperate for stimulation and acceptance”, Dolly explains.
Being called by their inmate numbers – and not their names – is another tragic aspect of the children’s time in jail. The food is said to be awful, which is only worsened by the CO’s laughter when serving particularly “gross” meals. Dolly was told that roaches (dead and alive) are sometimes found on their meal trays.
Strip searches and shakedowns are part of safety regulations at jails and prisons. Although these sanctioned searches of cell and property are designed to discover and remove contraband, the teens believe these strip searches and shakedowns are used to humiliate them. There are times when the CO’s have taken legal work from the youth, tossed their property and personal hygiene products around in the room. The CO’s are often crass in demeanor and use profanity and name-calling.
As a means of discipline, children at the ACJ are put into “the hole”, Dolly writes. When placed in solitary confinement, teens cannot be released until they have met with the sergeant within 7-10 business days. The meeting, between the youth and the sergeant, takes place somewhere on the pod. If the teen does not return from solitary within 10 days, “COs take all your stuff and throw it out,” as told by some teens at ACJ.
“The hole” is mentally taxing for adults and stands to exacerbate mental illness. Children confined like this, “get depressed, angry, and don’t know how to handle it,” says Dolly. The youth’s visits often do not pan out and they’re deprived of the use of the phone and are not allowed commissary. Dolly notes, “what often causes them to be thrown in ‘the hole’ results from boredom.”
Although there is a gym on the pod with a pull-up/bench press machine, and possibly a basketball hoop, the children are in school for five to six hours a day. But they are not allowed to be in school if they are in the hole, and they cannot play in the gym if they are not in school. Some teens report that they do not have access to their mental health care providers even after asking and many children do not get the medications that they are in need of.
Freeing our youth in the fight to #FreeTheVulnerable
Observations of these conditions occurred pre-COVID-19. Since the shutdown, children like adults in ACJ are not allowed physical visitation of any kind and are no longer attending school. Children are potentially put into solitary confinement – under the guise of “quarantine”. The Allegheny Intermediate Unit sends in schoolwork packets that the children are expected to complete and send back, as reported at the Jail Oversight Committee meeting
How is community trauma perpetuated by the court’s incessant charging of children as adults? By the county jail’s heartless conditions and vicious practices? Can we imagine justice and creative alternatives for care of our young people – alternatives like rehabilitation, therapy, tutoring, community-based programs, wellness and social-emotional learning, arts and sports enrichments, career and college readiness projects – that go beyond carceral optics and hellish tools of confinement?
The words of anti-apartheid revolutionary and political prisoner Nelson Mandela remind us, “There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.” There are children in jail and we fight for their rights in the movement to #FreeTheVulnerable.
