Published: Wednesday, August 2, 2000
Section: Editorial
Page: A11
BYLINE: By JOHN ARTIS Guest Columnist
TEXT: R ecently, I watched in dismay as
Florida
prosecutors announced that the
13-year-old boy who is
charged with shooting his teacher on the
last day of
school would be tried as an adult.
Nathaniel Brazill, barely a teen, now
sits in an adult
penal facility. Nothing can undo what
Nathaniel did,
nor restore the life he took. But
Nathaniel is a child
- too young to comprehend the gravity of
his actions
and far too young to be incarcerated in
an adult jail.
I should know. I spent 15 years in the
adult system
for a crime I didn't commit. I was 19
years old and
college-bound, a track star with an
unblemished record
and dreams of being an Olympic medalist
when the
prison doors clanged shut and I began
serving a life
sentence.
By the time I was freed, I was 35. I bore
deep mental
and physical scars from all the things I
saw and
experienced - including the loss of
several fingers
and toes to an incurable disease.
The world of prison was brutal and bleak.
But I
believe I was put there for a reason.
Prison taught me
that adult institutions are no place for
kids. It also
showed me that if we're serious about
curbing crime,
we have to start early: by taking care of
our youth.
I spent my days inside teaching grown men
to play
sports, get through basic adult education
and pass
their GEDs. I realized how few of my
fellow prisoners
saw opportunities outside the prison
gates. I saw that
without faith in themselves, education or
hope, many
felt condemned to the only life they
knew: in and out
of a prison cell.
By contrast, I was strengthened by the
drive, desire
and determination my family and track
coach had
instilled in me as I struggled for
athletic success.
These "three Ds" sustained me
through my years behind
bars, and still do so today.
That's why I've spent my last 18 years of
freedom
helping at-risk youth to build resilience
and follow
their dreams.
My mission is to prevent every kid I can
from
following me into the bowels of the
beast.
I'm very disturbed by the growing trend
of trying more
kids as adults.
According to a recent study,
"Florida, The Transfer of
Juveniles to Criminal Court: Does it Make
a
Difference?" youth who are tried as
adults re-offend
more often - and with more serious crimes
- than those
who are tried as juveniles. They're also
more likely
to be sexually assaulted, beaten, killed
or attempt
suicide in adult institutions.
As early as 1900, reformers in this
country recoiled
at the revelation that 8-year-olds were
being abused
in adult jails and created the world's
first juvenile
court. They envisioned a system that
would remove
youth from adult facilities and
rehabilitate them
instead.
That vision has helped millions of kids
overcome their
transgressions - kids like Olympic
long-jump champion
Bob Beamon, a former gang member; Los
Angeleno Scott
Filippi, who shot his abusive mother at
the age of 15
but went on to join the presidential
honor guard; and
even former U.S. Sen. Alan Simpson,
R-Wyo., who was
once declared delinquent for destroying
federal
property.
Early prevention and intervention,
after-school and
mentoring care are the best tools for
cutting crime,
according to a recent study by the
American Youth
Policy Forum.
Yet from New York to California, we've
passed laws to
try 11-year-olds as adults, eroded
protections that
keep kids apart from adults, and have
kept as many as
3,500 minors locked up in adult prisons
on any given
day.
My work with youth in the Norfolk
Juvenile Detention
Center has reinforced my belief that
tough talk and
threats of doing time just aren't enough
to turn these
kids' lives around.
They need an escape route from the
revolving door
between prison and the streets.
They need to learn to respect themselves
enough to
reach higher than the deceptive allure of
the street
economy.
They need help to heal the scars of
childhood neglect
and abuse.
They need to be taught to dream - and to
be offered
mentors and resources to help them strive
for those
dreams.
Our "get tough" approach
perpetuates a cycle of crime
and violence. It's time to invest instead
in programs
that break that cycle - programs that
help youth to
realize their dreams.
Artis was wrongly convicted of a triple
murder along
with Rubin "Hurricane" Carter
in 1966. After 15 years,
he and Carter were freed and later
exonerated. Artis
now works with at-risk youth in
Portsmouth.
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