The Meaning of 'Life'

Editor's note: The Rev. Jeannie Alexander is the director of No Exceptions Prison Collective, an interfaith prison ministry program. She previously served as the head chaplain at Riverbend Maximum Security Institution.

One could scarcely miss the recent coverage of Cyntoia Brown's bid for clemency. Brown was a 16-year-old girl who looked about 12 when she was forced into sex trafficking. By any accounts today, she'd be seen as the victim, but for the fact that she shot and killed Johnny Allen, a 43-year-old man who picked Brown up for sex, and whom Brown claimed she shot out of fear for her own life.

The only thing surprising about the attention her case is now receiving, including strong support from celebrity voices (Kim Kardashian West, Rihanna and LeBron James have all spoken up about Brown's case), is that it has taken so long. Brown, through the hard and persistent work of her legal team and team of advocates, led by Nashville legal icon Charles Bone Sr., may finally find justice and be freed after more than a decade of imprisonment. Many people the world over are appalled by the fact that under Tennessee's life-sentence law, Brown will not be eligible for parole until she is 67. That 51-year life sentence is the broader issue of injustice codified by Tennessee law. If Cyntoia Brown is granted clemency and we all celebrate the fact that an injustice has been righted, and then just go about our business, we will allow the perpetuation of one of the biggest failures of criminal justice policy in this country.

The 51-year life sentence is unique to Tennessee. Surrounding states have life sentences with the possibility of parole within a range of between 15 and 30 years. In this state, if an individual is convicted of first-degree murder, they may receive either the death penalty, life without possibility of parole or life with the possibility of parole. The national average for life with parole is 25 years, and historically, prior to 1995, that was the case in Tennessee as well. Today the chance for parole is so distant as to be virtually meaningless.

In the mid-1990s, Bill Clinton was determined to out-tough the Republicans, and in his administration's quest to prove its no-mercy-for-bad-guys reputation, the 1994 Omnibus Crime Control Act was passed. With it came so-called truth-in-sentencing laws, which had the effect of doubling the sentences for a slate of violent crimes. The federal government offered financial incentives to states that would follow suit, and half of them, including Tennessee, took the feds up on their offer. In 1995, the Tennessee General Assembly passed its version of the law, which carried a projected fiscal note of about $60 million over 10 years. Although there was a brief discussion of whether the new sentences were financially sustainable in the long run, the decision was made to kick the can down the road and let the General Assembly 10 to 26 years out deal with it. Turns out, the cost of 51-year life sentences will be measured in billions, not millions. What was entirely absent from discussions by legislators was the question of whether it was actually necessary in the interest of public safety to increase sentences. Were such sentences a response to a rise in violent crime, or a necessary response to violent crime recidivism? Such discussion was absent because there was no need to increase sentences in the interest of public safety. The passage of so-called tough-on-crime sentencing reform in 1995 correlates to a different phenomenon in the years since: the rise and expansion of private prisons.

So here we are with Cyntoia Brown and a jury that did not choose to impose a sentence of life without parole - but that's exactly what she received, Tennessee's hidden death penalty. But this is about more than one person who should have the chance to live and contribute outside of prison walls. There are nearly 1,200 other individuals, who also have a story to tell, who were not given an actual life-without-parole sentence, and who also have mitigating circumstances. Perhaps this hidden death penalty would be OK if everyone who killed someone really were the worst of the worst, consistently posing an ongoing threat to society for their entire existence. But the facts don't bear that out. A study by Stanford Law School that tracked recidivism rates for more than 800 paroled lifers over a 15-year period of time, and a U.S. Bureau of Statistics report that examined 272,000 lifers paroled from 15 states, found recidivism rates of less than 1 to 1.2 percent, and none for repeat violent offenses. This is far below a national average of recidivism approaching 60 percent, and Tennessee's 50 percent rate. The low rate of recidivism for folks convicted of first-degree murder is not surprising in the face of decades' worth of credible social-science studies showing that murder is typically a young man's crime, and that those who commit that terrible act, for whatever reason, age out of violence. Long-term, they are typically the best-behaved of the prison population - and best able to re-enter their communities once released.

Additionally, juries that hand down a life rather than a life-without-parole sentence have their determination of what is fair and just nullified by a mandatory minimum sentence that eliminates a meaningful chance for parole. There is also the moral and spiritual question: What does it mean for a society to completely give up on the possibility of redemption? Murder is devastating in any circumstance, and still, redemption is possible - a person's life still has meaning after their worst decision. The upcoming legislative session in Tennessee can begin revisiting and repealing the failed increased sentencing laws of the mid-'90s. On the table is HB 135, which would permit a "defendant who is sentenced to life imprisonment to become release eligible after service of 60 percent of 60 years, and in no event less than 25 years including sentence reduction credits" - this would reset life with parole back to 25 years, so that folks who should have at least a chance for parole will finally receive that chance.

Retribution is a reaction to pain, not a long-term solution to crime. We can begin to figure out what the rest of the Western world already has - that communities need restoration, not retribution.

Email editor@nashvillescene.com