By Mark Hicks
The Detroit News
DETROIT — After years of run-ins with police and months in jail, Jason Buley was leery of being anywhere near someone with a badge.
A former inmate at the Dickerson facility in Detroit, he said he spent more time fleeing officers, not embracing them.
“I didn’t trust them at all,” Buley, 27, said.
Now, after three months in a program that lets Detroit police officers mentor parolees, Buley calls some of them his friends.
With their help, he said he recently landed a packaging job at a local company and plans to attend community college this fall.
Organizers said it’s the first time Detroit police have worked closely in such a program with former inmates, who say it’s too easy to get pulled back into crime without a little help on the outside.
“This is a blessing in disguise,” Buley said during a break from a recent mentoring session, wearing a beige suit — to demonstrate, he noted, how serious he is about shaping up. “It really got me on the right track.”
The program, New Beginnings, pairs police officers with the men for a personal push to change lives. The first class graduated Sunday, but the program — launched this year as a partner in jail-based re-entry efforts by the Detroit-based Chance for Life Organization — may see its federal funding dry up after a second class begins.
Parolees discuss their struggles, go on outings and even participate in neighborhood cleanups. Officers help with resumes and resources, such as steering the parolees to housing upon graduation.
“Bringing in the police helps bridge that gap between them leaving jail” and their next moves, said Jessica Taylor, a police commissioner and executive director of Chance for Life.
Each week the former inmates leave a halfway home in the city for the Police Department’s Central District building off Woodward, where they meet with a core group of about 10 officers.
Some still wearing ankle tethers, the ex-inmates attend weekly sessions focusing on re-entering the work force, anger management and curbing the temptation to resort to old habits.
Louis Thompkins, 51, of Detroit, whose four stints in prison included one lasting 16 years, said he feels ready to rejoin society. “I don’t want to go back,” he said. “That’s my motivation. I want something in my life.”
With the Michigan Department of Corrections’ renewed push to find and incarcerate parole violators, the effort takes on even greater importance in the first few months after release, when many offenders struggle to re-enter society and can return to crime, state officials said.
Such efforts can help keep the state’s recidivism rate among the lowest in the Great Lakes region, said Russ Marlan, a Corrections Department spokesman.
“We know from best practices and national research, having someone engaging these folks in pro-social activities is a key component,” he said. “When you have law enforcement do that, it has more of an impact on offenders.”
A federal grant provided more than $100,000 for the program, Taylor said.
To take part and stay in the program, inmates cannot commit new or violent crimes.
Opening up opportunities
The men range in age from their 20s to early 50s. Some have children or grandchildren, or girlfriends. All have served time for offenses ranging from retail fraud to assault.
Groups gather during weekly mentoring sessions for talks about violence, drunken driving, drug use and other topics.
In a brightly lit room on a recent evening, the men nod during a presentation by Geoffrey Townsend, a police officer and CEO/founder of the nonprofit Reality Check Detroit, who offered pointed inspiration.
“This is not your last chance,” he tells the group. “Tomorrow will never get here. ... Your second chance starts today.”
For some of the men, another chance hasn’t come easy.
Jeremy Gaynor, 27, of Hell once sold drugs and spent two years in prison.
Released in 2010, he joined another re-entry program that he said didn’t work. Earning little money from odd jobs and frustrated by few other prospects because of his record, Gaynor returned to crime.
“It’s easy to get sucked back in,” he said. “It’s so easy to go back to what you knew.”
Now, Gaynor is starting a new job he found through Chance for Life. “They’re opening up more opportunities for us,” he said.
The likelihood of an inmate returning to jail or prison can be as high as 50 percent, said Jeffrey Ian Ross, a criminologist with the University of Baltimore and co-author of the book “Beyond Bars: Rejoining Society After Prison.”
“Those inmates who have a supportive family, a place to live, a job to go to, money and a marketable skill have a greater chance of succeeding,” Ross said. “That describes a tiny percentage of those who are released.”
After “closing arguments” in a mock trial during another session, Officer Otis Milhouse reminded the group that old ways can lead back to crime. “If you want to do better, you have to change your way of thinking,” he said.
That weighed on Waddell Miller, 52, who said he has struggled with a shoplifting habit but has changed with the structured mentoring.
“It’s helping me to re-interact with society,” he said.
The group has volunteered in the community, joining the Motor City Makeover in May and helping build a local playground last month.
“That was new to me,” said Leroy Blakey. “It felt good helping young kids have something that looks decent.”
Besides the lessons and community work, the group also has gathered for dinner downtown and attended a Tigers game.
Police-parolee bonding
The contact between the officers and the ex-inmates has produced an unexpected feature: a close bond.
In one session, when an inmate revealed he had been diagnosed with cancer, other participants and officers rallied around him and pledged support.
“We’re going to be here like we’ve been here,” said Officer Viera Brownlee, another mentor.
Minutes after a tense discussion about character flaws, Officer Michael Martin warmly shook hands and clapped the men on the back.
“That’s family,” he said.
Three months of meetings and outings have tweaked perceptions.
“I think it’s changed the both of us,” said Officer Wendy Flanagan. “It’s given us a better understanding of what they have to go through.”
Detroiter Terrance Graham, 51, jailed on and off some 20 years, said he plans to pursue real estate management.
“I want to be a positive example of what this program can produce,” he said.
Copyright 2012 The Detroit News