Special thanks to Andrew Davies and the people at Albany Law Review for publishing our co-authored piece for their law journal entitled, “Make Them Hear You: Participatory Defense and the Struggle for Criminal Justice Reform.” It was humbling and inspiring to share our story of families finding innovative and powerful ways to fight for their lived ones freedom in the context of the research and history articulated by our co-authors Janet Moore of University of Cincinnati Law School and Marla Sandys of Indiana University. Janet and Marla hung out with us too when we were building with our partners in Lexington, Kentucky.
And here is a photo of Becky and Gail, two pioneering moms and participatory defense organizers holding up the recently released Albany Law Review at our headquarters at Silicon Valley De-Bug. In the background our weekly participatory defense meeting is starting up, with Cecy facilitating. It is a meeting Gail and Becky helped start years ago as they both fought for their own sons freedom. Now they facilitate weekly participatory defense meetings for other families. And hopefully, a path that they carved out so naturally, may pave a way for other communities to also know how they can impact the court system. Because while it is an honor for our approach to enter the discourse of legal scholars and law schools, and hope that it helps recalibrate the legal field to be more inclusive in its search for justice, ultimately this work is still about what it started as — families sitting around a table seeing how they can bring their collective power, intelligence, and community resources to change the imbalance in the court system and free their loved ones. Just like how Becky and Gail taught us to do.
A long-time De-Bug friend with extensive experience in state and federal criminal appeals and collateral post-conviction advocacy came and gave an incredible workshop to families whose loved ones are just starting that journey. The session was part of our Participatory Defense Training Series for families whose loved ones are entangled in the criminal justice system. At ACJP, we know that just because a judge delivers a sentence, doesn’t mean families give up. And we have been fortunate to have witnessed families welcome loved ones home after they have won an appeal. But navigating what happens after a sentence is rendered can be a confusing maze. And after direct appeals, people incarcerated and their loved ones are often left alone without counsel. Just like at the trial stage, families, and their application of participatory defense principles, can impact the outcome of cases if they are informed more about the process. So below is a road map of what happens after sentencing given by our appeal expert friend and shared at the workshop. It details what options people have after sentencing, a description of what happens at that stage, applicable case law, and what can help towards relief. Below that are a few legislative updates to be aware of, and at the bottom are forms for 1) California Notice of Appeal in a Felony 2) California Petition for Habeas Corpus 3) Federal Habeas Corpus Petition
(Note: This is California specific)
Family members attend workshop at De-Bug Center on appeals to see how they can assist their loved ones.
Special thanks to Time Ideas for running Raj Jayadev’s piece on participatory defense! An excerpt is below, and link to full article…
At the Albert Cobarrubias Justice Project, we encourage families to join their loved ones’ defense team
A family works with Charisse of ACJP to create a Social Biography Packet to be used by the defense attorney in negotiation with the prosecutor.
While police in the streets or inhumane conditions in the prisons have been focuses of social justice movements, the machinery between arrest and incarceration — the courts — have remained a social justice blind spot. In San Jose, California, where I’m from, families have started use the science of community organizing to penetrate the court system. Families who have loved ones facing charges meet on a weekly basis; support each other; and share knowledge about what helps defense attorneys and what sways judges and juries. They form a network behind the person who has been arrested. (Click here to go to full article on Time.com)
ACJP/De-Bug had the honor of traveling to Moscow to give trainings on how to create social biography videos and participatory defense. The training was convened and hosted by the Public Verdict Foundation, a leading Moscow based human rights organization that provides policy research, legal aid, and support for victims of torture and other violations of human rights across the country. Roughly another dozen other partner organizations attended as well. While certainly the political and system context was very different then what we have seen and experienced here in the US, the notion of how individuals and communities can fight for justice remains a global principle. We had the great fortune to connect, train, and build with some of the leading human rights and legal advocates across the country. Below are some snapshots of our training, which was composed of sharing our methodologies from here, and seeing how it relates, or could supplement the amazing work being done in Russia. Just like our trainings in the US, participants produced social biography videos based on a mock case study. We learned so much from our trip, and as these these often do, the experience inspired and refined our thinking about our work in the US. Spasibo! (thank you!)
Social bio video trainers Jean and Fernando on the first day we arrived in Moscow.
By Sajid Khan (This piece originally ran on the National Association of Public Defense)
Santa Clara County Public Defender Sajid Khan writes a compelling reflection on his experiences in relationship to those he represents in court, and the significance of a rarely discussed, yet fundamentally important, value: trust.
The client had been assigned to me for six weeks but I hadn’t met him yet. He didn’t return my calls and I wasn’t sure if his phone was operable. I reviewed the police reports, the preliminary hearing transcript, the notes of the attorneys that preceded me. I knew his case but didn’t know him, yet. His trial date arrived and we were on the cusp of a blind date; he the accused, I his public defender. I called out his name in the bustling Santa Clara County courtroom, he raised his hand and I finally put a face to the name on the file that had occupied a piece of my office for the past several weeks. We escaped into a court interview room and I introduced myself to this man, over 10 years my senior. We discussed his background, his current circumstances, the charges against him and his options. He told me about his job, family and health issues. He hesitated to talk about the case and was defensive about the charges; I sensed embarrassment and shame in his voice. As we talked about potential outcomes, I felt his fear and trepidation of losing his job, his liberty.
Another morning, I strolled into my office to find a new file, a new client, in my mailbox. I opened it to see a face sheet littered with over a dozen serious felony charges, each allegation more grave than the next. I studied the witness statements, photographs and audio recordings that filled the file. It was clear: if this client was convicted as charged, he would spend his life in prison. Days later, I went to see him at the jail where he was held without bail. He, nearly 10 years my junior, was escorted into the interview room by a correctional officer and locked to his seat. He struggled to lift his hand, chained to his waist, to shake mine. We conversed about his upbringing, his mental health issues, how he was doing in custody. The conversation eventually turned to the charges and his exposure to a potential life sentence. Suddenly, the tenor changed and he asked, “are you going to help save me from life in prison?” Continue reading
by Raj Jayadev (This piece originally ran in the Huffington Post)
To call the death of 22-year-old Kalief Browder a suicide is not the full truth. Kalief Browder may have hung himself, but he was killed by the brokenness of our court system.
The story of his short life, told by Jennifer Gonnerman in The New Yorker last year, chronicles the horrors of a 16-year-old who was charged for a stealing a backpack, sent to the isolation and brutality of Rikers Island prison for three years, only for the charge to eventually be dropped by the prosecutor. Follow up articles report that Kalief was so profoundly haunted from his mental and physical abuse inside that upon his release, he was hospitalized and told his mother, “I can’t take it anymore.” Ultimately, he hung himself with an air-conditioner cord at his home this June.
The ubiquity of his name online is a different sort of morbid hashtag. It seems social media adds a new name every week of an African-American killed by police, with a hashtag prefix added on. The names we are familiar with — #MichaelBrown, #TamirRice, #FreddieGray — point to obvious culprits and have fueled a new national movement for police accountability and reform. But the #KaliefBrowder name points to a less talked about, yet as his case shows, equally lethal injustice. Continue reading
We couldn’t fit everyone into one picture, but we’d like to take a moment to honor all the amazing ACJP fathers whose love we get to witness every week. Time and time again, we’ve heard dads say “I’m fighting for my family.” And that powerful love carves paths that break through the justice system’s walls. We honor you today on Father’s Day.
Check out the latest piece by Jonathan Rapping of Gideon’s Promise…
As the nation finally awakens to the reality of our broken criminal justice system, a long overdue conversation about how to reform it has emerged. But the solutions being proposed are destined to fall short, as they focus exclusively on changing policies while the challenge demands a transformation of hearts and minds. Until we recognize the need to tackle the problem of culture, and focus on how we can build a movement to change it, equal justice will remain an illusion.
The assumptions driving our current criminal justice system have been forged by a narrative honed over four decades that has cast poor communities of color as dangerous and persuaded us to adopt policies that made it easier to monitor, control, and punish these other-ized populations. Continue reading
We were very grateful for David Bornstein’s thoughtful and comprehensive article on the growth and potential of participatory defense. His New York Times column is called “Fixes, which looks at solutions to social problems and why they work.” Check it out!
Guiding Families to a Fair Day in Court
By DAVID BORNSTEIN, NEW YORK TIMES
…Today, Jayadev says, when a loved one is arrested, the most that many families feel they can do is hope for a good lawyer. Participatory defense expands their sense of agency. And if the goal is to build the political will to end mass incarceration, he says, “This seems like the most natural mass movement building approach — because it is about people seeing their own power in their own communities, as intimate as the fate of their own families.” CLICK HERE TO READ MORE>>>
In case you missed it, De-Bug/ACJP was featured in a front page story in the New York Times for our social biography video concept. Check it out:
A Flattering Biographical Video as the Last Exhibit for the Defense
By STEPHANIE CLIFFORD, NEW YORK TIMES, MAY 24, 2015
GILROY, Calif. — About 3,000 miles from New York, members of a camera crew gathered around Anthony Quijada, trying to do for their not-famous, not-rich client what some high-priced lawyers are doing for theirs in New York courts: Make a video that can keep him out of prison.
Lawyers are beginning to submit biographical videos when their clients are sentenced, and proponents say they could transform the process. Defendants and their lawyers already are able to address the court before a sentence is imposed, but the videos are adding a new dimension to the punishment phase of a prosecution.
Judges “never knew the totality of the defendant” before seeing these videos, said Raj Jayadev, one of the people making the video of Mr. Quijada, who lives in this Northern California city of about 52,000 people. “All they knew was the case file.” CLICK HERE TO GO TO FULL NEW YORK TIMES ARTICLE>>>