From dentures to job training, ex-prisoners get help to thrive
| Dallas
The defining years of Richard Miles鈥� life weren鈥檛 the 15 he spent wrongfully incarcerated for murder. They haven鈥檛 been the 11 years since his exoneration, either. What has defined his lifework has been the 30 months between the two.聽
It鈥檚 that period, when he was just another guy who had served time struggling to rebuild his life, that inspired him to help found Miles of Freedom. He could have focused his efforts on other wrongful convictions, as other exonerees have done. His home state of Texas, after all, has more exonerations than almost any other. But while he knows better than anyone the deep injustice of a wrongful conviction, he also knows better than most the broad injustice felt by the thousands of people who are released from America鈥檚 prisons each day.
鈥淲e started Miles of Freedom not because I was innocent, but because I was in prison,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 felt that there was a larger problem than the social injustice of wrongful conviction. Innocent or guilty, coming home, we need help.鈥�
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onMiles of Freedom helps people leaving prison. The most important thing it offers: community.
In Texas on an average day, north of 1,600 people come home from prison. The state gives them a set of clothes, $50, and a bus voucher. Mr. Miles knows that鈥檚 not enough to rebuild a life.聽
What formerly incarcerated people need as much as anything is a stable job, and that鈥檚 what Miles of Freedom works to provide in Dallas.
The organization offers jobs, job training, and resources. Mr. Miles estimates that he and his 13 full-time employees have helped around 2,600 men and women. They offer jobs through the group鈥檚 lawn service and food through its food pantry. They helped one man get a drive shaft so he could fix his car. They got another man free dentures.
鈥淔or someone who鈥檚 been wronged by the system, beat up by the system, to want to give back just shows what kind of man he is,鈥� says Jay Dan Gumm, a formerly incarcerated man who founded Forgiven Felons.
The justice system 鈥渟eems to not want to make it easy. They actually make it harder on us,鈥� he adds. 鈥淚t鈥檚 about all of us collaborating to fill in the gaps.鈥�
Help for those with no one
Corina Bernal went decades without help.
When she first went to prison, she was a pregnant teenager. She gave birth to her second daughter while incarcerated. Over the next 30 years, she cycled in and out of prison. She struggled to hold down jobs. With no family to turn to, when she got in a tough spot she would start selling drugs. 鈥淚t鈥檚 hard for me to shake it off and get out,鈥� says Ms. Bernal.聽
鈥淚鈥檓 not going to be broke. I鈥檓 not,鈥� she adds. 鈥淚t shouldn鈥檛 affect me that much, but it really does because I don鈥檛 have family.鈥�
Near the end of her most recent sentence, she heard from another imprisoned person about Miles of Freedom. About six months later, on a rainy November morning, she鈥檚 celebrating getting a driver鈥檚 license. She鈥檚 been working part time at the lawn service, but now that the crucial hurdle of getting an ID has been overcome, she鈥檚 eyeing the future. Her next goal is to open a bank account, and then get a permanent job at Miles of Freedom. Long-term, she wants to work as a truck driver.
鈥淛ust having a support system, that鈥檚 [what is] good with Miles of Freedom,鈥� she says. 鈥淎lso, what鈥檚 helpful is the people that you work around are very positive people.鈥�
Indeed, as necessary as it is to teach formerly incarcerated people how to put together a r茅sum茅 and make a budget, the most important thing Miles of Freedom provides is a community.
Mr. Miles knows he was more blessed than most in the support he got returning home after prison. But because he had still been convicted of a crime, he struggled to find housing and a job. A minister at his church found him work at a hotel, and a childhood friend co-signed on an apartment.
鈥淩eentry, bottom line, is about building relationships,鈥� says Mr. Miles.聽
But that can be difficult for someone coming out of prison. In prison 鈥測ou become a recluse,鈥� he says. You learn to never reveal much of what you鈥檙e thinking or feeling in case it sparks an altercation.聽
鈥淭he hardest part of my transition was talking about the things that I was going through, talking about how lost I was, talking about how hurt I was,鈥� he adds.
鈥淲e have people that came here [who鈥檝e] done 36, 37 years, and when they come [in], the relationship that they鈥檙e met with knocks them off guard,鈥� he continues. 鈥淲hen they feel that, not having a place to stay, not having a job is bearable.鈥�
A patched-together system
About 30% of U.S. nonprofits fold within 10 years. Celebrating its 11th anniversary, Miles of Freedom has the traits of a group that鈥檚 in this for the long haul.聽
The organization has multiple offices and over a dozen permanent employees managing casework. No one who makes an appointment is turned away. Those who have issues the nonprofit isn鈥檛 equipped for 鈥� substance abuse, for example 鈥� are referred to organizations with more expertise.聽
Over the past decade, Miles of Freedom has become a valuable part of an informal, largely nonprofit-
driven network of reentry service providers in the Dallas area.
鈥淭he beauty of the relationship that we have with Miles of Freedom is we supplement what Richard is doing,鈥� says Annette Jenkins of One Man鈥檚 Treasure, a nonprofit that provides free clothing 鈥� from shirts and pants to suits and work boots 鈥� to men released from prison.
Compared with the court system and the prison system, there鈥檚 very little government presence in the reentry space. In Texas, for example, the state Department of Criminal Justice spent $200 million on parole and reentry, according to the most recent budget. It spent over $3 billion on incarcerating people.
This lack of investment in reentry has public safety consequences, experts say.
A 2021 study by the U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics found that within 10 years of release, 62% of prisoners are back in prison. What many people need is a foothold in society they can use to build a healthy and law-abiding life, says Ms. Jenkins.
鈥淓very time that happens, then communities are safer,鈥� she adds. And the benefits can last lifetimes. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a short-term solution for that immediate [person], and long-term for their family. It鈥檚 generational.鈥�
One in 3 adults in the United States have a criminal conviction, according to a 2021 report from the Alliance for Safety and Justice. In Texas, it鈥檚 1 in 2. The burden of rehabilitating those who go through the criminal justice system has largely fallen on this patchwork of family, community, and nonprofit supports.
Because of these holes in the system,
Mr. Miles believes, justice remains elusive for people who have paid their debts to society.
鈥淲e close our eyes and allow this system to autonomously run. That鈥檚 where we have wrecks and casualties,鈥� he says.聽
鈥淛ustice is not [inherently] in the system; it鈥檚 what we want to come out,鈥� he adds. 鈥淓ven for [a guilty] person. We want that person to come out just.鈥澛�
