And the World Changed: Mass Clemency for Christmas.

I'm taking Davon Acklin's family to prison today to see him for Christmas and may not be blogging much until tomorrow. Will thus leave you all with the wise words of another to contemplate and dream on: a marvelous holiday essay for all the prisoners and their loved ones out there, printed last year in the Huffington Post...


Blessings to all. Be safe and well this day.


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What I Want For Christmas: Mass Clemency

Jacob M. Appel
Bioethicist and medical historian
Posted: December 23, 2009 09:41 PM


The United States Constitution and the laws of most states permit the President and governors to issue pardons and commutations, a prerogative frequently exercised during the winter holiday season. Unfortunately, with a few laudable exceptions, our chief executives have displayed considerable stinginess--and even outright political cowardice--in exercising this remarkable power.


President George W. Bush drew criticism from liberals for only pardoning 189 individuals and commuting 11 prison sentences during his eight years in office, but Bill Clinton cut short a merely marginally better 61 prison terms and pardoned only 396 convicts. Most of those pardoned each year have committed small-stakes crimes in the distant past such as selling bootleg whiskey or passing bad checks. Others, like Dan Rostenkowski and George Steinbrenner, are politically well-connected. It often seems that the principal purpose of these rare reprieves, much like the pardoning of a Thanksgiving Day turkey, is to make the pardoning politicians appear generous and affable to the electorate.


Yet with the United States now boasting the highest incarceration rate in the world -- more than 1 in every 100 Americans in currently behind bars -- our nation is long overdue for a mass clemency of non-violent felons and those unlikely to re-offend. Such a collective pardon and commutation would reunite hundreds of thousands of families, save billions of dollars in incarceration costs, and might foster a national spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation.


Few American politicians have dared to issue mass clemencies in the past. Andrew Johnson's grant of amnesty to former Confederate soldiers and Jimmy Carter's pardon of Vietnam-era draft evaders are likely the two largest acts of blanket forgiveness -- and both helped to heal our national wounds after periods of great division. Former New Mexico Governor Toney Anaya and ex-Illinois Governor George Ryan both deserve credit for commuting all of their state's death sentences to life terms. However, our current political leaders -- in both parties -- far more often appear afraid to ask for broad or bold clemencies.


John McCain's drive to secure a pardon for African-American boxer Jack Johnson -- convicted in 1913 of violating the Mann Act for his relationship with a white woman -- embodies this problem. Don't misunderstand me: I am all for pardoning Johnson, and Ethel Rosenberg, and Sacco & Vanzetti, and righting as many of the moral miscarriages of history as possible. However, I would much rather free the thousands of non-violent offenders serving long sentences under the draconian Rockefeller drug laws in New York State. So here's my Christmas wish: Each chief executive should order a special panel to determine, as quickly as possible, which prisoners either have a history of extreme violence or pose a high risk of re-offending. Those meeting neither criteria should be transitioned home as quickly as possible.


The advantage of a mass clemency is that it can be framed in terms of social policy and a spirit of charity, rather than the merits of any specific incident. That is not to say that there are not thousands of individual cases worthy of attention. In Michigan, for example, Shontelle Cavanaugh has now gone nearly five years without a trial for smothering her infant during a psychotic break -- a calamity compounded when the local prosecutor withheld video footage of Cavanaugh at the height of her psychosis. Governor Granholm could order this unfortunate woman's release. And there is the tragic case of Michelle Collette in Massachusetts, whose own trial judge blasted the severity of her seven-year sentence for possession of 14 to 28 grams of illicit oxycodone -- an injustice that could be rectified by Governor Patrick. But by focusing on these individual cases, as compelling and heart-wrenching as they may be, one risks losing sight of the greater cruelty of denying human beings liberty long after they pose any meaningful threat to society.


An individual pardon focuses on the nature of the crime. A mass pardon allows us to transcend questions of right and wrong. Unlike an individual grant of clemency, which often suggests that a miscarriage of justice has occurred, a mass clemency avoids the controversial issue of whether justice has been served and focuses on the question of whether it furthers any ethical purpose to perpetuate the punishment. One could simultaneously pardon Scooter Libby and all of the undocumented immigrants detained on identity-fraud charges while still avoiding the political hot potato of endorsing their specific conduct.


While an individual pardon may appear to be a slight to crime victims, who also merit our recognition and empathy, a collective pardon does not mitigate the respect that we should accord these victims' suffering. Moreover, a one-time mass clemency does not undermine the deterrent effect of stiff criminal penalties, because no potential offender is ever going to break the law in the hope that a second, future mass clemency will free him if he is arrested.


One of the glaring -- yet too often overlooked -- failings of contemporary America is that we have become a nation obsessed with justice and retribution. We claim to be The Land of the Free, yet we have lost sight of what it means to be imprisoned: denied liberty and access to one's family, subjected to isolation and violence and unspeakable boredom. We have come to believe, in the most pernicious way, that people should get what they deserve. What a sea change it might be in our public discourse and our civic life if we focused instead upon mercy and forgiveness. A merciful and forgiving culture might find itself with less anger, less social disruption, and even less crime. If we liberated only half of our prisoners, we could spend the billions of dollars saved educating children, or providing substance-abuse treatment to addicts, or training mental health workers -- breaking the cycle of neglect that sets future prisoners on their initial trajectory toward misconduct.


I am not naive enough to believe that all of our prisoners should be freed. Some individuals are truly unfit for reintegration into society. No reasonable person would argue that Charles Manson or Scott Roeder or admitted Al Qaeda terrorists should be sent home for the holidays. Fortunately, the majority of our more than two million prisoners are not fanatics and sociopaths. Many are good people who have exercised poor judgment. They have the same hopes and dreams as ordinary, free Americans, but they now squander their lives behind bars because our prison-industrial complex has gone haywire. They are, in short, the meek and wretched who the Biblical Jesus -- whether literal or figurative -- would want us to remember in our holiday prayers.


Will the White House read this column and decide upon a mass clemency? Unlikely. Such a bold step might make President Obama truly worthy of his Nobel Prize, and win him the praise of history, but political leaders of all stripes think in terms of poll numbers. I suspect that a mass clemency could be sold to the American public -- particularly as more and more Americans find their own loved ones imprisoned -- but I understand that to attempt such a courageous step requires a leap of considerable faith. I am more optimistic that, if enough people clamor for a mass clemency, one inspired state governor -- possibly a lame-duck chief executive without a political future -- will consider such a dramatic and compassionate act. If that happens, and the social order does not crumble, other political leaders may have the courage to follow. In the interim, I can only hope that the government lawyers assembling last-minute pardons lists, possibly as I write this, remember that each name they add to their clemency register is another flesh-and-blood human being who will be able to spent the Christmas holiday with his or her family.

from the Syracuse Cultural Workers

Arizona: Mercy, Mercy Me...

Davon's clemency board hearing was yesterday - the decision to turn him down was clearly made before we walked into the room, however. The chair made only passing reference to the thick stack of mail that had arrived in support of Davon's application, and cut me off when I was speaking on his behalf. He made a special point of reading things into the record to justify their determination against him. The county attorney's office can be expected to oppose such applications, but they went out of their way, it seems, to damn him - which was precisely what the board needed and asked for. Not that I'm accusing them of any impropriety - I'm sure they did what they felt was right - just as I'm doing. We just come from different places, and they don't know Davon like I do. As evidenced by their decision yesterday, They don't know him at all.


Pardons in Arizona have nothing to do with mercy or grace, by the way - or even justice for that matter, even when sincere people try to deliver it. Look at what our good governor did to Bill Macumber, the innocent man who has already spent 35 years in prison for murder and may well die there. Convinced beyond any doubt that his conviction was based on perjured testimony and manufactured evidence, the Arizona Board of Executive Clemency unanimously recommended him for a full pardon, which would have gone into effect if Brewer had simply left it alone for 90 days. Instead she quashed it, in the interest of her kind of "justice". Affirming Bill's innocence would have implied his ex-wife's guilt. As she worked for the Maricopa County Sheriff's office at the time she framed him, I suspect Brewer was doing someone with history there a favor. But what do I know?



Sadly, despite his story saturating the media across the country before November 2, the voters in Arizona elected that woman anyway.



As for Davon: the outcome of his hearing was no surprise, really - probably least of all to him - but it was still a disappointment; his little sister left the room abruptly in tears. We did, however, raise awareness about the prosecution of the seriously, mentally ill for their symptoms rather than their criminality, and built a network for prisoners with Hep C and their families. We also entered our objections to the prison industrial complex into the public record (that was the part I think they didn't want to hear). One of our legislators even turned out to corroborate Davon's mom's assertion that Arizona's prisoners aren't getting the medical care they need in there - and that came from a self-described "conservative Republican". I suspect he will pay a price for having done that, which is why I won't name him here. I doubt he would endorse my own take on the system, but he's still one of the few politicians I've ever met with real integrity. I can't think of a single Democrat in this state who would put themselves on the line like that for a convicted violent, crazed felon seeking mercy - much less another Republican.



I'm convinced that clemency boards exist largely to reinforce the illusion that the system we have of doling out punishment in our country is a "just" one that serves the best interests of society at large. By allowing room for pardons and commutations, we suggest that the legal system we live under, as a rule, delivers justice to criminals and victims alike, and that any abuse of power or injustice perpetrated by the state in the process is an exception that needs to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. If that was the reality, however, our prisons would not be packed almost exclusively with the poor - most of whom have the least ability to do great harm. In a truly just and morally evolved society it is the money-lenders, warmongers and rogue sheriffs of this land who would be doing time for exploitation, mass murder, and kidnapping - not making the rules the rest of us have to live by. They certainly wouldn't be retiring with honors and drawing down our collective dime.



But ours is neither a just nor a moral society - it isn't even a democracy. It is a capitalist republic in which the wealth and power of the few still depends on their ability to co-opt, terrorize, and restrain the many. We literally replaced our plantations with prisons when overt slavery went out of style. America's governments exploit and injure far more innocent and vulnerable people than all our lone criminals combined do. We've even made the perpetuation of victimization and crime an attractive, acceptable industry from which savvy investors can profit.



Thanks, everyone, for all your support through this. Stay with us, please - this fight is much bigger than one young man, and has only just begun. Keep an eye on what's happening with Davon for awhile longer - he went further out on a limb in the interest of prisoner rights and health care than any of the rest of us had to - and risks paying a much higher price now than the one extracted from him at sentencing. We'll see if he's allowed to keep his good time - and make it successfully through the 4 years of probation he has yet to serve -in light of his and his mother's public defiance. I guess we'll also see if the Arizona State Legislature shows any mercy for the honesty and courage of one of their own.

Julie Acklin: Tenacious advocate for prisoner's rights.

Julie Acklin (holding photo of son Davon)
with the Arizona Liver Foundation staff/volunteers.

Anyone who's read more than just a few blurbs on this blog should know who Julie and Davon Acklin are, by now. What follows is just one story of how Julie's touched others' lives for the better. I pulled it off of her Facebook - her friend Verena posted it there to remind her of how much she means to those of us who know her, and to ignore the skeptics and haters who occasionally land on her pages and try to sabotage her efforts to assure decent medical care for her son. I've met Verena and her daughter, and know this story to be true.

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Sunday, September 6, 2010

Hey Julie,

We love you, and the ones that truly know you know what you are capable of.

Here is my story of my beautiful daughter who almost died at the hands of Texas Prisons. My daughter was 21 and on 9/9/09, first let me tell you she suffers from a mental illness. She had been on suicide watch numerous times; she was in the treatment part of the prison for substance abuse and behavioral health issues. She stands only maximum of 5 foot 2in, and very petite.

A couple of weeks before I received a call, my daughter called me from her counselor's office. I asked my daughter if I could speak to her counselor, my daughter handed the counselor the phone, I tried to give the counselor the information on what my daughter needed to work on and the counselor hid behind the HIPPA law stating that she could not take any information from me regarding my daughter. I informed her I wasn’t seeking information but felt it necessary so my daughter could be treated for these issues. Remember HIPPA Laws state that you can receive information, but the professional can not give it with out a written Release of Information, or verbal permission from the patient. My daughter handed her the phone that was a verbal.

I received a call from the Warden, a few weeks later telling me my daughter is on life support, when I asked what happened she told me she hung herself. I lost it. Now I’ve lost control, and going insane it felt like, the warden told me I needed to get to Texas, ASAP. So I contacted my Mother and we left for Texas. I had to see my daughter on what they call a High Five ventilator. I guess it shoots 300 breaths in to the patient; my understanding was they said it’s the most intense ventilator they had.

While at the hospital the Dr. told me that my daughter had a 9 % chance to live. I had to leave Tx and come back home. I had not heard of Julie until I got back - I think one of my friends called her or knew of her. When I got back from Tx, I received a call from Julie telling me she is a prisoner rights advocate for the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI). She asked me what happened and all I could do is cry.

Julie was so patient with me, and so understanding with me, she provided me with hope, which I lost in Tx. Julie kept in touch to see how I’m doing on a daily bases. Julie jumped in to action and started calling everybody, God only knows who, Julie did something and the charges were dropped on my daughter and she got better and was sent to the prison psych ward, while being released.

The prison told Julie that I could call and talk to my daughter, so I tried to, but the prison would not let me talk to her. They stated that she was still in custody, I explain to them she has been released, needless to say I was not successful, so I called Julie and was crying again and explained to her what happened.Julie got back on the phone and next thing you know I received a phone call the staff at the prison, and they put my daughter on the phone. She didn’t sound like she was all there yet, she wasn’t fully back to being her.

When I went back to Texas to get my daughter and bring her home to AZ, we had to pick her up from the psych prison ward. My daughter had MERSA (staph infection) on the back of her head, she couldn’t walk, she over enunciated her speech, and had traumatic brain injury. She had memory loss, too. My daughter had not had a bath in 4 days, was left to defecate and urinate on herself. She was unable to walk or stand; she needed help with every thing. My daughter would still be there in prison or dead if it hadn’t been for Julie.

Julie fought day and night for my family; she is a blessing to have. If Julie went to bat for you she fights with all she has. Not all situations will turn out the way this one did, but it’s not from a lack of trying on her part. Julie is my friend and she has a heart for justice for our loved ones in prison.

If you all don’t believe me I have pictures of my daughter on life support , and you can meet my daughter get a hold of me on Facebook and leave me your # and I will be more than happy to meet you in public. Julie saved my daughter's life. Thank God my daughter turned 22 this yr.

Verena and her daughter, with Julie's daughter Kirsten, at the 2010 Liver Life Walk raising awareness about prisoners with Hepatitis C. They're holding up a birthday card for Davon, Julie's imprisoned son, for whom we were all walking that day.

The Free Man in Prison: Visiting Davon Acklin.

Wanted to let folks know that I was finally allowed to see Davon at ASPC-Tucson this weekend, and we had a really nice visit. Considering my recent protests and letters, I was kind of surprised that they didn't greet me with all sorts of bomb- and drug-sniffing dogs, hostile guards, petty rules, and unpleasantness falling just short of a strip search to get in. The whole affair was pretty low-key, though: the men and women in brown were civil - even friendly - as they checked me in and told me to keep my feet on the ground (they were killing me and I kept stretching them out on the bench).

Davon looked gaunt and pale, but his smile was warm, his hugs were strong, and our conversation flowed as if we had been friends for years. He's mature, insightful, bright, and kind. I correspond with a lot of prisoners, some of whom have committed pretty heinous crimes, but many of whom are either innocent or have been abusively sentenced. Davon is one of the few who takes responsibility for the decisions and conduct which led to his arrest and ultimate incarceration, even though his prosecution was inappropriate and the sentence was excessive - in my book, anyway.

Rather than ruminating on how unfair life has been to him, Davon's spent a lot of time learning what he can from being where he's at, and thinking about what things he needs to do differently once he's free again. It's not just that he wants to avoid returning to prison - he spoke both humbly and eloquently of his remorse for what he's put his family through, for stealing from others who worked hard to acquire their possessions, for letting addiction run his life and wreak havoc in the lives of others. We talked about our respective sources of spiritual strength and understanding, and struggles managing our moods and minds. I was AA-raised and he was prison-raised, but somehow we both ended up with similar conceptions about our responsibilities to our families, our communities, and ourselves.

Davon isn't in a 12-step program, nor is he enrolled in any kind of formal treatment in prison. But he's spent a bit of time studying religion, reflecting on his own values, exploring the world through the Discovery Channel, and growing despite his confinement. He is as engaged in the process of recovery as I was at his age, going to meetings every day and celebrating sobriety anniversaries (my 3 and 6-month ones over and over again the first few years) only he may well be more mature than I was at the time. His wisdom has come at greater price than most have to pay, though - and he'll likely be paying for it for awhile.


Davon worries more about his mom and little sister (whom he adores) than he does about his health. He wasn't nonchalant about it - he really hasn't been feeling well and as much as he wants a job to occupy his time and pick up a few more bucks a week (which is all it amounts to, literally), he admits he doesn't have the energy to be a predictable employee right now. The day we visited he said he was having a good day - that was evident by the life in his eyes and all the cupcakes he consumed. But once you get a job there, if you fail to show up for it you start accumulating tickets - there doesn't seem to be any real accommodation for someone who is struggling with fatigue, weight loss, and other symptoms like he is.

It was clear from our conversation that Davon's been studying up on Hep C and taking responsibility for not exposing others to his virus. A few months ago I sent him a calendar for prisoners about Hep C, which he read through and has been using. He talked about the different recommendations they made for preventing transmission in prison - like not sharing tattoo equipment, razors, or other items that could have blood on them. He observed that they were good recommendations for preventing HIV infection, too, so he's trying to protect both himself and others from further harm.

It was also clear to me that he doesn't have his hopes up about a pardon - I'm not sure he's convinced he "deserves" one. Davon sees men suffering around him every day who have heavier burdens that he thinks he does, and less help to carry them. He takes responsibility for his crimes and has accepted his sentence; he's not expecting to get out until his scheduled release date, though he appreciates everything that Julie and others are doing to try to spring him. He does hope to be better educated about his medical status, to get a full workup, and to have some kind of choice about treatment to rid his body of this virus - he realizes that the sooner that happens, the better his chances are of successfully recovering. He doesn't like being sickly and wasting away, and he's concerned about the implications of the labs that have come back thus far, as is Julie. He doesn't want to be an infectious threat to the health of others, nor does he want to die at an early age of liver or kidney failure. He wants to work in construction with his step dad and have a family someday; he wants to have a life after prison, and put what he's learned into better use for others than he has thus far. That doesn't seem to be too much for a young man to yearn for.

Davon is still good-natured about being a poster boy for Hep C in prison - he figures that with all the work his mom has done to get him decent health care, at least his misfortune can help educate and serve others. He seems to have the respect of his peers, and has managed to avoid being sucked into the gang scene. He stands on his own two feet, but I can tell there are plenty of fellows there watching his back, too. According to him, that's as much due to the help his mom has given the other guys and their families as it is to his own reputation and character. He chuckles knowing that he's probably experienced some retaliation by guards as a result of Julie's activism as well, but sees a certain amount of that as unavoidable.

Not that he's happy about that, but he seems to think that it's still better to be mistreated because of something good he or a loved one does than to be ignored for being indifferent to injustice or suffering. He's not stupid and running to everyone's rescue, but his value system tells him that doing nothing when something is clearly called for can be worse than getting in trouble for doing the wrong thing. That's the kind of person he is.

I have no idea how long we ended up visiting Sunday, and there's a whole bunch of stuff we talked about that I can't even begin to get into, but that pretty much sums up the heart of it all. Davon apologized for not writing back to everyone who's written to him - those letters really do mean a lot, and he loves the pictures he gets of other places in the world. Postage is hard to negotiate sometimes - especially for letters overseas. And he just doesn't have as much energy or focus as he used to - even I don't get as much mail from him now. He asked me to extend his appreciation, though, to everyone who's written to him, signed his mom's petitions, joined his cause, and pulled for him in one way or another. He's especially relieved to know that Julie isn't in this alone, for her sake. He loves her and worries about her a lot. He doesn't want her to worry so much about him. Because of that, I suspect that he's feeling worse than he lets on most days.

Davon's rap sheet would tell you that he's an out of control drug-addicted, mentally ill violent criminal - a repeat offender, even - who some would say shouldn't ever see the light of day. But a closer look at him reveals a compassionate, responsible, maturing young man who has become a better human being despite, not because of, the dehumanization of life in an Arizona state prison. Perhaps his good character shouldn't have any bearing on whether or not he gets medical treatment for his Hep C infection, but we all know that value judgments figure into equations like that anyway. Why else would the state eliminate AHCCCS funding only for those liver transplants needed by people with Hep C, if it wasn't because the population is made up largely of those who have been criminalized for their addictions? It's the same reason we took so long to do anything meaningful about treating AIDS: the twisted logic goes that these are society's undesirables, anyway, who did it to themselves, and therefore deserve what they get. Some sick pups would even call such a fate divine justice. They've clearly never lost anyone they love before.

Davon is a more free man in prison in many ways than a lot of us - he chooses who to be and how to conduct himself without making excuses like so many do. He deserves better than what he's getting now, I can assure you, whatever standard you measure that by. They all deserve better, but he's the one in my sights right now.

As for Divinity's role in this young man's future - God is Love, as I understand it, and works miracles through the actions of ordinary people. Davon seems to be doing his part. So, please join the cause, visit the new page Julie's friend set up for her urging that he gets treatment now, and sign the petition to the Clemency Board if you haven't already - then spread the links to your friends. If you've done all that and want to take it a step further, write Governor Brewer a personal letter urging better treatment for all those with Hep C, and send a copy to Julie, the AZ Department of Corrections and your local paper. Remind them that prisoner health is public health, too. We need to be educating everyone else about this, before it's too late.