Hope behind bars in Dakota County

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It’s easy to isolate ourselves from people with whom we disagree or whose circumstances make us uncomfortable. I’m guilty of this. But how do we lessen crime, substance abuse, mental health crises and homelessness if more of us can’t go beyond ourselves to learn from people we deem different, scary or undesirable? How do we forge effective societal solutions if we don’t learn from others’ experiences?

For example, it’s very easy to ignore incarcerated people. Many criminals must lose their freedom for the safety of the community, yet thousands of people are released from Minnesota jails and prisons each year and face a new start. Many have had substantial hurdles in their human development, such as suffering abuse. It’s easy to ignore such wounds when they’re not yours.

Reflecting on this, I recently collaborated with Dakota County Community Corrections and Sheriff’s Office in a research project. I asked juvenile and adult offenders one voluntary question: If you had one wish, what would it be? I wondered how their wishes would differ from mine or my friends’. Nearly 75 offenders — split almost evenly between adults and juveniles — responded to my question.

I expected most wishes to center on gaining freedom or money, or to emphasize anger or a desire for retribution. However, the majority of adult offenders’ wishes focused on improving their lives and relationships. Verbatim wishes included “a stable life,” “a happy family,” “to never be separated from loved ones,” “to have quality friends,” “to be a good father,” “to know the wisdom I know now and redo my life completely.” Trauma was also expressed. One respondent said, “I wish I could have met my father, because he was murdered right before I was born.”

Youth offenders’ wishes more often mentioned freedom, money or fame, which is consistent with the desires of many of my peers. I was surprised, however, by how many juvenile offenders were introspective and mindful of their impact on others. One wished to be the “best Dad.” Another wished to “rewind two years because I made bad choices that I will forever regret.” Other wishes included “to have a happy life and have everyone proud of me” and “to be [drug-free] forever.” I didn’t expect to hear as many expressions of hope as I did.

According to the Policy Prison Initiative, approximately 208,000 people are released from Minnesota prisons and jails annually. Like many of the offenders who answered my question, I have hope. But mine is backed by caring parents, teachers, coaches and friends who provide structure, support, guidance and safety. If I falter, I know someone has my back. That assurance motivates me. It also makes me wonder how we could fuel the hope and motivation of offenders who return to our communities.

What if Minnesota could provide community corrections teams with the best evidence-based rehabilitation approaches that help offenders leverage hope and build skills and confidence to turn constructive wishes into realities? No such central rehabilitation resource exists nationally.

I propose the Minnesota HOPE Hub — Helping Offenders Persevere and Engage — a centralized website that would help corrections departments easily access rehabilitation practices locally and nationally that have helped offenders re-engage with society and contribute to it. The HOPE Hub’s database of offender rehabilitation practices for mental health, substance abuse, education and vocational development would help corrections departments easily access implementation guidance. Corrections departments wouldn’t have to sort through haystacks to find helpful needles.

At the HOPE Hub, corrections departments in any Minnesota county could share their successes and lessons learned, from which other corrections departments could borrow and adapt to their situations. A possible national resource, the HOPE Hub’s success stories would show the benefit of public investment. This would help make legislative funding cases and help draw philanthropic support. Success means less crime and recidivism, stronger families and better communities. That benefits all of us. It also helps educate the public on how interconnected the work of rehabilitating offenders is and how multiple parts of a community — not just corrections — are integral to success.

These 75 offenders taught me something very important: We can improve lives and our communities if we open our ears, minds and hearts to listen and learn even from those human beings whom it’s much easier to ignore.

Charlie Schubert, West St. Paul, is a senior in high school.