We learn our criminal justice system’s limits the hard way.
A habitual drunk driver crosses the center line and destroys an entire family’s life. A restraining order lacks bite, and a community is shaken by a murder-suicide.
“Right now, we’re locking them up until we think it’s time for them to be back on the street, and they haven’t really learned anything,” said Karen Caouette, communications director for the Maine Council of Churches.
Believing that it takes new ideas to fix an old problem, Caouette’s group cut ribbons Monday and went to work. The interfaith organization unveiled the Restorative Justice Center of Maine at 40 Water St. in Hallowell.
They pronounced the office the first of its kind in the United States. Council members hope their gospel of tough love and true consequences will spread through one police department at a time, one school at a time.
“It’s widely used in places like Canada, Australia and New Zealand. We feel it’s a better way to look at doing things around here,” Caouette said.
Face to face
Restorative justice holds the accused criminal accountable without involving the court system. Of course, the program administrators must agree with authorities – usually police or school administrators – that nontraditional justice is a possible solution.
And there are limitations. Admission of guilt is essential. Also, as a deterrent to future misdeeds, the program works best for young, first-time offenders.
Let’s say 16-year-old Johnny fits that profile. He’s an average student who succumbs to peer pressure and participates in a late-night spray-painting exhibition at a neighboring school.
Caught on camera, he acknowledges, “Yeah, that’s me.” He’s cooperative with teachers and police officers. He doesn’t smirk or swear incessantly.
Traditional justice might issue conditional probation. That way, Johnny’s record remains clear if he refrains from any additional exterior decorating or alcohol consumption for six months. In some communities, he could be assigned volunteer work.
But did the punishment match the crime? Was anything learned?
“A better deal is to show them how what they’ve done affects people and give them an opportunity to set it right,” Caouette said.
That means sitting across a table from their victims.
Making restitution
It’s a heart-to-heart encounter where the people who were wronged get to explain how they were hurt by the crime. There’s a chance for the offender to apologize for the misconduct.
Then a mediator helps determine an appropriate means of restitution.
“This might result in the offender working at the church or school to repair the damage,” Caouette said, “or joining a committee at school.”
Once, I would have considered the concept too flowery, too utopian. Then I met Larry Litchfield.
He’s a man I wrote about last month, a plain-spoken, hardworking guy who had an expensive home entertainment system stolen from his apartment while he was on vacation.
His girlfriend’s 17-year-old son confessed. Admitted that he sold the stolen property, even. But because it was the youth’s first offense in Maine and because he’s unemployed, the court sentenced him to 20 hours and required no restitution.
The boy’s only eye contact with Litchfield after the theft was a passing glance at his hearing.
I had a chance to see Litchfield’s hollow eyes, perhaps too tired to shed tears.
Litchfield lost more than his stereo. He lost a child. Not his own, but one he’d poured time, money and a piece of his heart into. And he lost some measure of faith in society.
“Hell, you can do 20 hours’ community service on Monday and Tuesday and break into houses all day Wednesday, Thursday and Friday,” he said then. “It’s a slap in my face.”
Maybe a look at that face wouldn’t change the kid’s direction. But proponents of restorative justice believe it’s worth a shot.
Better to have an awkward sit-down today than make a larger, life-altering mistake tomorrow.
Kalle Oakes is staff columnist. He may be reached by e-mail at koakes@sunjournal.com.
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