Just Different Lives
The night before my first court watch, I was recording the preliminary demographic information on defendants for future data analysis. I was filling out page after page of case numbers, charges, and birth years.
But I paused at one defendant whose birth year was “2001.”
My eyes quickly moved from the paper to the screen and screen to the paper, double-checking to make sure I got the birth year of this defendant right.
“2001?” I thought to myself, “Isn’t that my birth year?”
I could not comprehend the overlapping of a college-aged boy and a criminal in my head until I had to—when the next day an ordinary looking 20-year-old Black man was brought into the court in chains and a bright orange jumpsuit.
I still did not understand, though, why he was in chains and restrained by officers, when he could be eating with his friends or playing video games. Then, just as I was falling deeper into my thoughts, the public defender calmly mentioned how this defendant was already sentenced to 6 years in prison at the Dutchess County Court and stated to Judge Volkman that it would be unnecessary to sentence him another 6 months at the City Court.
This 20-year-old was charged with assault in the 2nd degree, the most serious form of assault in NY. It is a felony with a minimum of 2 years and a maximum of 7 years in prison.
Despite the shocking length of his sentence, the court treated his situation as a matter of course. The judge, public defender, assistant district attorney, and court officers looked unconcerned, as if it was just another speeding ticket.
“That is 6 years of someone’s life.” I wanted to tell them. “He will be 26 when I am 26.”
During a break, I tapped the public defender on the shoulder and told him how upset I felt about the case.
The public defender agreed that it was a sad case in which the defendant was caught robbing and possessing weapons. He said that the boy grew up in an institution without a father or mother. “You know, these kids had to fight to survive from a young age. When your lunch is taken, nobody is going to help you. You can only use your fists to fight back.”
Looking at my college sweatshirt, he sighed and said, “just different lives…”
But what does “just different lives” mean? That his path was predetermined as soon as he entered the institution? That his unfortunate condition destined him to prison? Most importantly, what could we as a society do to avoid similar tragedies?
His case reminds us that many youth are in danger of ending up in the criminal justice system. According to the Prison Policy Initiative, in 2019, over 48,000 youth in the US were confined in facilities related to juvenile or criminal justice. Although these facilities are different from the adult criminal justice system in this case, statistics have shown that juvenile facilities pull youth deeper into the criminal justice system. Juvenile detention is ineffective in revising criminal behaviors. There is also a lack of community support for youth who come back into society after their detention. In addition, Black youth are overrepresented in juvenile facilities. “While 14% of all youth under 18 in the U.S. are Black, 42% of boys and 35% of girls in juvenile facilities are Black.” (Prison Policy Initiative juvenile)
If you are interested in knowing what a day in juvenile facility looks like, here is a short clip from The Atlantic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-0bURq6wBo
Here is a clip on “Teenager's First Hours in Juvenile Detention”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZhyEW5fww4