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

Good luck!
(Note: This is California specific)

Family members attend workshop at De-Bug Center on appeals to see how they can assist their loved ones.

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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.

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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. 

Sajid Khan

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 →