UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS

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      University of California Press

      Berkeley and Los Angeles, California

      University of California Press, Ltd.

      London, England

      © 2013 by Sabine Heinlein

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Heinlein, Sabine 1973–.

      Among murderers : life after prison / Sabine Heinlein.

      p. cm.

      Includes bibliographical references.

      ISBN 978–0–520–27285–9 (cloth : alk. paper)

      eISBN 9780520954779

      1. Criminals—Rehabilitation—United States—Case studies. I. Title.

      HV9304.H45 2013

      364.80973—dc232012025825

      Manufactured in the United States of America

      22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13

      10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

      In keeping with a commitment to support environmentally responsible and sustainable printing practices, UC Press has printed this book on Natures Natural, a fiber that contains 30% post-consumer waste and meets the minimum requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48–1992 (R 1997) (Permanence of Paper).

      To Giovanni García-Fenech

      CONTENTS

      Acknowledgments

      Introduction

       1.Freedom Day

       2.At the Garden

       3.Street Code

       4.Talking Murder

       5.Poster Boys

       6.Dinner with Bruce

       7.Job Readiness

       8.Prisoners Still

       9.The Penis Dialogues

      10.At the Barber

      11.Causalities

      12.The New Coat

      13.A Haunted House

      14.Waiting for Nothing

      15.Growing Old

      16.Silent Forgiveness

      17.Lies and Good Luck

      18.Sex, Love, and Race

      19.From Attica to Broadway

      20.The New Home

      21.On Guard

      Epilogue

      Notes

      Bibliography

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      Angel, Adam, and Bruce: I am indebted to you for your openness, your honesty, your courage, and the endless hours you spent with me. Thank you!

      Thanks also to the Fortune Society, its clients and staff, for opening your doors: Barry Campbell, JoAnne Page, David Rothenberg, Rene Sing, and “Rich Stone,” as well as the many others who were willing to share your experiences and expertise.

      I am grateful to Mae Dick and all the Quakers in Rochester and at the Attica Correctional Facility, particularly Richard Robles, whose frequent letters provided crucial insight from behind bars.

      When you begin your career as a writer, you are often warned of the loneliness it requires. You rarely hear of the many friends and colleagues who are there to help. A million thanks to Robert Boynton, in whose class the seeds of this project were planted and who has been an avid supporter from beginning to end. David Samuels, thanks for helping me hear my own voice—and for never mincing words. Erin Soros, thank you so much for inviting me to read from my manuscript at the University of East Anglia. I am grateful to Ted Hamm from the Brooklyn Rail for publishing my first stories about society's outcasts and to Karol Nielsen and Willard Cook from Epiphany for publishing an early excerpt from this book. Thanks also to Ted Conover, who gave instrumental advice after reading an early draft.

      I am grateful to Roxana Robinson for her support and to Sam Swope for taking the time to review with me each chapter of this book for several hours in the very (!) early morning.

      The evenings of food, drinks, and laughter with Carrie Villines, Rachel Stevens, and Leslie Hutchings helped me to get up the next day and continue my work. Franziska Lamprecht, please never stop visiting me when I least expect it. I so very much appreciated Josh Weinstein's afternoon visits, which invariably turned into hours of inspiring conversation. Thank you to Melissa Dunn for helping me think when I couldn't think anymore and to Deborah Lutz for being an excellent reader and much-appreciated supporter. I am grateful to Karl Monger for valuable editorial input on an early draft and to Alexandra Zendrian for her help with transcriptions. I am indebted to Bill Dineen, whose “life should be good” made all the difference in the world, and to Simon Eskow, who listened and cheered me on and up when I most needed it.

      I am also grateful to Glenn Martin, Ronald Mincy, Devah Pager, Gabriel Torres-Rivera, Jeremy Travis, and—most of all—Edward Latessa, each of whom took time out from their busy schedules to discuss the challenges of reentry and rehabilitation with me. Many important thoughts were formed as a result of these conversations.

      Many thanks to the Corporation of Yaddo, the MacDowell Colony, the New York Foundation for the Arts, and the Margolis Award for understanding my work and providing me with financial support, time, and space.

      Thanks are also due to Rachel Berchten, Stacy Eisenstark, Chris Lura, Alison Mudditt, and Naomi Schneider of UC Press for guiding the book through its various production stages. Joe Abbott did a magnificent copyediting job, saving me many embarrassments.

      And finally, if I had to name one person whose intelligence, love, enthusiasm, support, humor, and ideas made the writing of this book possible, it would be my husband, Giovanni García-Fenech. Thank you for never saying no when asked to read the same section for the one hundredth time and for believing in me like no one had ever believed in me before.

      INTRODUCTION

      By talking and hanging out with murderers, child molesters, burglars, drug dealers, and robbers, I entered a parallel world unfamiliar to most of us. Although these former criminals are among us, our lives rarely intersect. What is life like for those who have spent several decades in prison and are released into a world in which people and places they once knew have ceased to exist? What is it like to start over from nothing? And did prison succeed in making them see the error of their ways?

      I was still working on my master's degree at New York University's Carter Journalism Institute when I set out to learn how New York's growing net of reentry organizations helps former prisoners ease back into freedom. The goal of these agencies is to rehabilitate their clients—to restore their livelihoods and prevent them from going back to prison. After spending large parts of their lives locked up, these men and women need a roof over their heads, medical care, and a job—any job, really.

      In 2007 I began to attend reentry events where advocates,