Posted 5/2/01
ëAlternativesí program will give kids reality of prison life
Face-to-face with three convicted murderers, a small group of people, including this editor, heard stories of troubled lives last week at the Rush City Correctional Facility and reasons why three offenders want to give something back to the community by trying to help keep at-risk kids out of prison. They intend to do this by participating in a program call ìAlternatives.î
Anthony ìTonyî Hale is serving a life sentence for murdering his girlfriend, the mother of his two sons. Heís been incarcerated since 1988. He thought he was too clever, too tough as a kid to end up in prison, and 33 years ago he stood at the back of a room in a Tennessee juvenile facility and laughed when an older man tried to warn him about prison life.
William ìBillî Jones calls the Rush City facility home now, heís in for first-degree murder. Heís been locked up for 20 years and has been in several Minnesota facilities. He has a 19-year-old son that he deeply cares for and worries about. Bill believes he began heading for destruction when, at age 6, he started drinking from his motherís beer cans. He never found any love in his home and he never was praised for any accomplishments.
James ìTexî Fields killed a man he mistakenly thought was an undercover cop. He found himself incarcerated for the first time in 1982 and has been there most of his life since then. Because of an abusive father, he turned to drugs at age 11 to ìsaveî his mother and sisters. Finding himself in prison at 19, he said, was ìthe most scariest thing in my life.î He feels communication between parents and children is essential. He wishes he would have been able to talk to his mom and dad when he was a kid.
Just a sad tale or a matter of choice?
The lives of these three men have been marked with abuse, alcohol, drugs and neglect. They could use their unfortunate childhoods as an excuse, but they realize they have made their own choices. They understand how kids can turn to crime and, saying they have turned their own lives around, want to make sure other young people donít follow the same paths, paths that lead to life behind thick walls where the only world you see is through a tiny slit of a window or the inside of an exercise yard surrounded entirely by fencing and wire.
Anthony Hale
Home life left much to be desired, it was no better on the streets. When he was a youngster, Tony found there were times being locked up in a juvenile facility better than being on the streets.
He was an at-risk kid all through his teens. He laughed at the idea of becoming a lifer. Today he wants to tell his story to teens because he knows that many of them donít make the connection between their bad behavior now and being incarcerated for life.
Hard knocks began when his father died when he was three. His male role models, he said, became the men in his community-thieves, hustlers and pimps. His mom and grandmother were alcoholics, although he said they worked hard to take care of him. But his male role models were so dysfunctional. His path to Rush City stared with drinking, smoking pot and violence.
Was there any counseling provided when he was a teen in trouble? No, he says, the mentality then was ìlock em up and throw away the key.î But that isnít the way it is in Minnesota, and Tony believes here, if a ìguy is sincere, he can change.î
When asked what he could say to kids now, that would be different than what that man said back 33 years ago, Tony said, ìIíve been there- smoking, drinking- ever since I was eight. ìIím going to be for real and let ëem know this kind of life is not for real. You have to learn to use your heart.î
Heís already done a share of talking with 18-19-year-old inmates, about God, about getting a GED, about sexual abuse, ìabout everything.î
He wishes someone would have talked to him. Perhaps, he says, if that man 33 years ago would have come back again . . . and again.
He truly believes kids need to have more than one encounter with offenders in this kind of program. He stressed that over and over.
What got to him now that turned his life around?
Tony has two sons and he says he prays they will not fall into crime. When, and if, he is paroled, he wants to do something positive with his life, for them and for even one other young person. And he came back to God.
William Jones
William ìBillî Jones has been locked up for murder in the first degree for 20 years. His parents divorced when he was six and his mom drank all the time. He lived on a reservation. The only positive experience he ever had was participating in a boxing program. But when he brought home his trophy, no one cared. So, he said, he threw the trophy down and started drinking again. ìYou got to praise kids for what they accomplish, he said.
He has a 19-year-old son who started drinking and did get into trouble but now is following the Red Road. When kids drink, he said, they start doing something stupid. He said he thought he was ìcoolî doing those things, but now he realizes he was only trying to hide his hurt feelings at the loss of love from his parents.
ìIt ainít about being cool,î he said. He said you have to tell these kids they donít want to live this way.
Billís turning point came in 1992 when he got seriously hurt in the Stillwater prison. His near death experience brought him back to religion and he said heís following the Red Road (religion) now.
What he found hardest being incarcerated was not being with his people and learning that so many of them have passed on while heís been in prison. He wants to get out now and try to do better before his mother dies.
James Fields
ìTexî is serving a life sentence for first degree murder. He turned to drugs at age 11. He killed a man in 1982. He says he had an abusive father, and to save his mom and sister, he was forced to sell drugs.
Prison scared him fiercely. To survive he joined an arien group. He continued to do drugs in prison and when he was released for the first time in 1988, he was a junky.
He says when he got out if anyone got in his way heíd want to kill them. And one day he did. He killed a man he thought was an undercover cop. He shot him in the head, took his car . . . and ended up in Stillwater where he joined yet another gang. He stayed in that gang until 1996. He knew the ropes. He was the leader and told others what to do.
Then, one night at Oak Park Heights, he said ìthis is it.î He was tired of using people. But when he was transferred to back to Stillwater he says he saw himself going back to the old life, so he put in for a transfer to Rush City and here, heís turned his life around.
He asked if there was a program to help younger offenders when he got here and when he learned there was none, he started doing his own thing by talking to a couple of ìkidsî who were scared. They couldnít talk to their parents, he couldnít either. So now, he wants to listen and help, if only to keep one kid out of prison.
Religion has played an important part in their turnaround.
Tex just got tired of abusing people. Heís given his life to God, he says, and heís going to ìleave it up to the man upstairs, thatís all I can do.î
Bill started seeing the light when his son started following his footsteps. It really hurt him to see this happen, Now Bill tells his son to stay out of gangs.
All three have life sentences, but, under Minnesota law, are eligible for parole. Bill recently went before the parole board and was told he needed more anger management programming. Heís up for parole again next August. ìThatís not saying Iíll get out.î he says.
Tony and Tex will be up for parole next year.
One member of the audience last week wanted to know what they will do if the at-risk kids that come into the program stand there and laugh the way Tony did 33 years ago.
ìIíll tell them what it led me to,î said Tony, adding heíll tell them about their three choices: to take the road to nowhere, the road to easy money or the road less traveled. He was on the first two, he said, and this is the result.
When asked how many of the three were drunk or high when they committed their crimes, all three say they were both, drunk and on drugs.
The penalty for using drugs and alcohol should be stronger, Bill said, kids need to be taught early what that road is all about.
Bill said he was also very angry when he committed his crime, ìThe community should provide more anger management,î he said.
More than one time Bill put the onus on the community. ìShould have things for kids to do in the community before they get in trouble,î he admonished.
Tex believes kids donít know how to communicate with their parents, they are afraid to talk to them.
What the program will do
Could these kids possibly become ìheroesî when it gets known that they had talked to lifers? Possibly, but Tony hopes that they will go away with something to think about, that ìthe light will come on.î
It should be explained this is one of their last chances, Bill said, and that if they keep going like they are, this is where theyíll end up.
He said the kids need real mentors- Michael Jordan is not going to be there when the going gets tough.
How quick is the transition from getting high to arguing to splitting open someoneís head? asked Tim Tougas, a police officer from Lindstrom.
Itís in the company you keep, said Tex.
What would it take to give these kids hope so they donít have to hit bottom before they find the top? the three were asked. What would be out there to help motivate them to find that spark?
Quality time, Tony said. You got to get kids to open up. ìIt canít be done in a perfunctory manner, a kid can feel when youíre faking it.î he said.
A group wrap session is good, Bill said, noting that kids often open up better in a group situation.
Anger management is also important, even if kids donít think they are getting anything out of it. Thereís apparently a lot of anger management being taught in prison programs.
How often do these three men get to use their anger management skills?
ìEveryday!î
And how is it living in prison, in a double bunk cell? they were asked.
Itís routine, over and over, itís staff telling you what to do and if you donít youíre in trouble. Itís waking up in the middle of the night to have your cellmate on the toilet in front of you stinking up your cell.
Itís very miserable living with another man in a cell the size of an average bathroom, said Bill. (Warden Bert Mohs said part of the Alternatives program will include a tour of the facility, including the double bunking quarters - not being used.)
Itís being told when to eat, when to go to bed, and if you break the rules, Tony said, you pay for it. Itís losing everything, Tony continued, your friends, your home, your car, your family. . .
The three appeared in agreement that each person must realize the consequences of his choices.
If they get released, what would they like to do with their lives?
Tony said he will work with kids, using programs heís developing in prison now. Tex wants to go to high schools and talk to kids, and Bill would like to work with kids-even ìring the bell for the Salvation Army.î
Warden Mohs, in responding to Rush City resident Lyle Steltzís question on how many offenders turn out like these three, said he couldnít give a percentage, but that it has a lot to do with age and maturity.
The Alternatives program is a joint effort of the Minnesota Correctional system, Provide Care Inc. out of Wyoming, and local law enforcement. Youth participating in the program will be from this area.
Members of local school districts were part of the audience that night also.
According to Nancy Stacken, physical services director at the prison, details are still being worked out. Initially, it is expected that about eight at-risk kids will be selected for the program, with the group broken down to four per section.
Part of the invited group listening to the three offenders included members of the Community Advisory Board who left the session Tuesday night with positive comments.
Warden Mohs said people often ask what kind of impact will these offenders have on the youth through a program such as Alternatives.
He said some time you plant a see and it may take years to germinate.The impact may not be immediate, he said, but maybe some day, when their back is against the wall, they will remember some of what they heard from these three offenders at the Rush City Correctional Facility.