Posts
Guiney
2 weeks ago
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Quick Fixes for the Backlogged Incompetency to Stand Trial Systems
Click here for the presentation from the GAINS center.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Lack of housing, funding, support dooms many mentally ill residents to a life on the streets
From the Dallas Morning News:
One in an occasional series By KIM HORNER / The Dallas Morning News
khorner@dallasnews.com
Richard Antwine's last home was the county jail.
The 47-year-old ended up there, again, after another round of homeless shelters, boarding homes and psychiatric hospitals. This time, it was because he failed to report to his parole officer. He said he missed the appointment because he was hospitalized. He has severe depression and was hearing voices telling him to hurt himself. His court-appointed lawyer said he doesn't belong in jail. "Somebody dropped the ball somewhere," she said.
Antwine's situation is all too common among the chronically homeless, those with disabilities such as mental illnesses who have been on the streets long-term. But it's not new.
Chronic homelessness resulted from a shift away from the institutions that once housed more than half a million mentally ill people. Get people out of the state hospitals, experts thought in the 1960s, and they can live on their own, thanks to medications that were new at the time.
But the mental health services that were supposed to help those people adjust came up short. And many of the people, including growing numbers of Vietnam veterans, were left homeless. In the 1980s, cities looking to revitalize their downtowns tore down the cheap rooming houses where the very poor lived. Finally, in the 1990s, the political climate made it difficult to get more government money for housing and mental health treatment.
The result is today's disjointed system of psychiatric hospitals, substance-abuse treatment centers and homeless shelters. It's a system that comes at a huge expense to taxpayers and doesn't come close to solving the problem.
"We've just come to accept the fact we have homeless people roaming the streets like we have rats roaming the alleyways," said Michael Stoops, executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless. "We have grown accustomed to having human beings living on the streets. It's kind of a sad commentary."
Shortage of services
On any given night, there are at least 1,000 chronically homeless people in Dallas and more than 124,000 nationwide. At the heart of the problem is a lack of mental health services, a deficiency that's especially acute in Texas.
The state ranks 48th nationwide in spending on mental health care for its poorest residents. And this lack of commitment goes back more than a century, if you believe Dr. J.A. Corley, the superintendent of Texas' first state hospital, the State Lunatic Asylum. He complained that the 9-year-old facility was overcrowded and underfunded after it had filled to capacity with 352 patients.
"Our sister state of California, though younger than Texas, has provided accommodations for over one thousand of her insane," Corley wrote to try to shame the Legislature. That was in 1870.
Such institutions were being de-emphasized by the 1960s, the first of a series of factors that have conspired against the chronically homeless. Among them:
• A shortage of affordable housing. Revitalization efforts in the 1980s led to the tearing down of cheap housing even as federal housing assistance programs were being cut. About 18,000 people are on a waiting list for housing assistance from the Dallas Housing Authority, and the wait is three to five years long.
"The bottom line is we have a housing affordability crisis, and it most negatively affects people on very low incomes," said Dennis Culhane, a University of Pennsylvania professor who has done extensive research on homelessness.
• Low disability benefits. Many of the chronically homeless receive disability checks of about $675 a month, hardly enough to rent an apartment and pay other living expenses.
• Disenfranchisement. People on the streets with mental illness have had little voice among lawmakers. This year, the mayors of Texas' largest cities asked for $50 million over two years to help the homeless. The measure is pending.
• Fiscal conservatism. Advocates for more housing and mental health treatment face a tough political climate.
"Over the last six years, there's no doubt that there has been a tone of fiscal conservatism that has perpetuated the reputation of Texas being stingy with mental health dollars," said state Rep. David Farabee, D-Wichita Falls, a longtime mental health advocate. Farabee said he's hopeful that federal stimulus money also will allow the Legislature to provide more mental health dollars.
• A fragmented system. Many homeless people fall through cracks because of a lack of coordination among social service agencies. A person leaving one psychiatric hospital, for example, may be told to follow up at an outpatient clinic. But if the person doesn't show up, the clinic is not likely to track him or her down because it has no funding to do so.
• Stigma. There's a lack of understanding that the chronically homeless are extremely vulnerable and need significant help putting their lives back together. Instead, they are blamed for their situation.
"Generally, mental illness is something you can't cure by yourself," said John Castañeda, executive director of Turtle Creek Manor, a Dallas center that serves people with mental illnesses who also face addictions. "To say 'pull yourself up by your own bootstraps' won't work. It's impossible."
Many challenges
Richard Antwine wants to get off the streets. He wants his own apartment. And he wants to work.
Some days, he walks several miles asking business owners if he can sweep their parking lots. He talks about making a little money clipping other homeless guys' hair, saying he once attended a barber college.
But he's up against a lot. His severe depression has left him suicidal at times. He hears those voices. He has abused cocaine and alcohol, a common escape from mental illnesses.
He has a criminal record that includes drug possession, theft and unauthorized use of a motor vehicle. The divorced father of three grown daughters does not have the kind of family support that keeps some others from spiraling into homelessness.
Antwine's sister, JoAnn Williams of Garland, has watched him through psychiatric institutions, shelters and jail for years. She cooks for him and gives him cash here and there, but she has a family to take care of and said her brother needs more help than she can provide.
"I don't know where he is from one day to the next," she said. "If I don't hear from him, I don't have no way of calling him. He don't have a phone, and I don't know if he's dead. I watch the news all the time. Sometimes I am scared to watch the news."
'Good intentions'
Across the nation, thousands of people like Antwine have ricocheted through institutions for years despite the many programs designed to help them.
"We've had a quarter-century of good intentions, well-meaning programs and human gestures, but to be honest, they have not worked," said Philip Mangano, executive director of the United States Interagency Council on Homelessness. "The antidote to homelessness is, shockingly, a place to live."
Many programs to help the homeless traditionally have not placed enough emphasis on housing, Culhane, the professor, said.
"We have a lot of homeless people who get social services, shelters, mental health services, all of which does nothing to solve their housing problem," he said. "It's not a good use of resources to spend all this money and they're still in a cardboard box on Main Street."
Mangano, who will leave his post this month, led efforts to encourage cities including Dallas to adopt 10-year plans to end chronic homelessness. This has led to increased funding for special housing and support for the chronically homeless, and that's gotten a number off the streets.
But there's still not nearly enough housing, leaving many chronically homeless people like Antwine to fend for themselves.
Passed around
Antwine's dizzying ordeal through psychiatric hospitals, emergency rooms, boarding homes and shelters in just the last four months shows how the lack of care can doom someone to the streets.
In January, he spent about two weeks at Terrell State Hospital, a psychiatric hospital with about 300 beds and several aging empty buildings that once housed nearly three times that number of patients. From there, he was taken to a clinic, but he left before seeing the doctor.
Instead of going to a boarding house as planned, he ended up at The Bridge, Dallas' homeless-assistance center. Soon after, he said, he was robbed and stabbed as he searched for an East Dallas rooming house. He recovered at a Pleasant Grove boarding house but soon left over a rent dispute. From there, he went to the Salvation Army's shelter and finally to another boarding home.
In March, Antwine was placed under the care of a special team of caseworkers who stay in close contact with patients to make sure they take medications, show up for appointments and remain stable. It's an intensive service that few receive because of strained budgets. Antwine started feeling better and made plans to move into an apartment on April 1. But even the caseworkers had no control over what happened next.
Police arrested Antwine as he walked downtown on a warrant for not reporting to his parole officer. Instead of moving into a new home, Antwine was in jail, wearing a striped uniform, eating skimpy bologna sandwiches and staring at the wall because he could not afford anything to read.
"I don't know what's going on," Antwine said last month. "I'm just sitting here doing nothing when I shouldn't be here."
'It's a travesty'
At an April 17 parole hearing, Antwine's lawyer, Raquel D. Brown, argued that her client tried to do everything right.
"That's why I think it's a travesty," she said.
On Thursday night, after a month in jail, Antwine was released.
His whereabouts were unknown.
One in an occasional series By KIM HORNER / The Dallas Morning News
khorner@dallasnews.com
Richard Antwine's last home was the county jail.
The 47-year-old ended up there, again, after another round of homeless shelters, boarding homes and psychiatric hospitals. This time, it was because he failed to report to his parole officer. He said he missed the appointment because he was hospitalized. He has severe depression and was hearing voices telling him to hurt himself. His court-appointed lawyer said he doesn't belong in jail. "Somebody dropped the ball somewhere," she said.
Antwine's situation is all too common among the chronically homeless, those with disabilities such as mental illnesses who have been on the streets long-term. But it's not new.
Chronic homelessness resulted from a shift away from the institutions that once housed more than half a million mentally ill people. Get people out of the state hospitals, experts thought in the 1960s, and they can live on their own, thanks to medications that were new at the time.
But the mental health services that were supposed to help those people adjust came up short. And many of the people, including growing numbers of Vietnam veterans, were left homeless. In the 1980s, cities looking to revitalize their downtowns tore down the cheap rooming houses where the very poor lived. Finally, in the 1990s, the political climate made it difficult to get more government money for housing and mental health treatment.
The result is today's disjointed system of psychiatric hospitals, substance-abuse treatment centers and homeless shelters. It's a system that comes at a huge expense to taxpayers and doesn't come close to solving the problem.
"We've just come to accept the fact we have homeless people roaming the streets like we have rats roaming the alleyways," said Michael Stoops, executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless. "We have grown accustomed to having human beings living on the streets. It's kind of a sad commentary."
Shortage of services
On any given night, there are at least 1,000 chronically homeless people in Dallas and more than 124,000 nationwide. At the heart of the problem is a lack of mental health services, a deficiency that's especially acute in Texas.
The state ranks 48th nationwide in spending on mental health care for its poorest residents. And this lack of commitment goes back more than a century, if you believe Dr. J.A. Corley, the superintendent of Texas' first state hospital, the State Lunatic Asylum. He complained that the 9-year-old facility was overcrowded and underfunded after it had filled to capacity with 352 patients.
"Our sister state of California, though younger than Texas, has provided accommodations for over one thousand of her insane," Corley wrote to try to shame the Legislature. That was in 1870.
Such institutions were being de-emphasized by the 1960s, the first of a series of factors that have conspired against the chronically homeless. Among them:
• A shortage of affordable housing. Revitalization efforts in the 1980s led to the tearing down of cheap housing even as federal housing assistance programs were being cut. About 18,000 people are on a waiting list for housing assistance from the Dallas Housing Authority, and the wait is three to five years long.
"The bottom line is we have a housing affordability crisis, and it most negatively affects people on very low incomes," said Dennis Culhane, a University of Pennsylvania professor who has done extensive research on homelessness.
• Low disability benefits. Many of the chronically homeless receive disability checks of about $675 a month, hardly enough to rent an apartment and pay other living expenses.
• Disenfranchisement. People on the streets with mental illness have had little voice among lawmakers. This year, the mayors of Texas' largest cities asked for $50 million over two years to help the homeless. The measure is pending.
• Fiscal conservatism. Advocates for more housing and mental health treatment face a tough political climate.
"Over the last six years, there's no doubt that there has been a tone of fiscal conservatism that has perpetuated the reputation of Texas being stingy with mental health dollars," said state Rep. David Farabee, D-Wichita Falls, a longtime mental health advocate. Farabee said he's hopeful that federal stimulus money also will allow the Legislature to provide more mental health dollars.
• A fragmented system. Many homeless people fall through cracks because of a lack of coordination among social service agencies. A person leaving one psychiatric hospital, for example, may be told to follow up at an outpatient clinic. But if the person doesn't show up, the clinic is not likely to track him or her down because it has no funding to do so.
• Stigma. There's a lack of understanding that the chronically homeless are extremely vulnerable and need significant help putting their lives back together. Instead, they are blamed for their situation.
"Generally, mental illness is something you can't cure by yourself," said John Castañeda, executive director of Turtle Creek Manor, a Dallas center that serves people with mental illnesses who also face addictions. "To say 'pull yourself up by your own bootstraps' won't work. It's impossible."
Many challenges
Richard Antwine wants to get off the streets. He wants his own apartment. And he wants to work.
Some days, he walks several miles asking business owners if he can sweep their parking lots. He talks about making a little money clipping other homeless guys' hair, saying he once attended a barber college.
But he's up against a lot. His severe depression has left him suicidal at times. He hears those voices. He has abused cocaine and alcohol, a common escape from mental illnesses.
He has a criminal record that includes drug possession, theft and unauthorized use of a motor vehicle. The divorced father of three grown daughters does not have the kind of family support that keeps some others from spiraling into homelessness.
Antwine's sister, JoAnn Williams of Garland, has watched him through psychiatric institutions, shelters and jail for years. She cooks for him and gives him cash here and there, but she has a family to take care of and said her brother needs more help than she can provide.
"I don't know where he is from one day to the next," she said. "If I don't hear from him, I don't have no way of calling him. He don't have a phone, and I don't know if he's dead. I watch the news all the time. Sometimes I am scared to watch the news."
'Good intentions'
Across the nation, thousands of people like Antwine have ricocheted through institutions for years despite the many programs designed to help them.
"We've had a quarter-century of good intentions, well-meaning programs and human gestures, but to be honest, they have not worked," said Philip Mangano, executive director of the United States Interagency Council on Homelessness. "The antidote to homelessness is, shockingly, a place to live."
Many programs to help the homeless traditionally have not placed enough emphasis on housing, Culhane, the professor, said.
"We have a lot of homeless people who get social services, shelters, mental health services, all of which does nothing to solve their housing problem," he said. "It's not a good use of resources to spend all this money and they're still in a cardboard box on Main Street."
Mangano, who will leave his post this month, led efforts to encourage cities including Dallas to adopt 10-year plans to end chronic homelessness. This has led to increased funding for special housing and support for the chronically homeless, and that's gotten a number off the streets.
But there's still not nearly enough housing, leaving many chronically homeless people like Antwine to fend for themselves.
Passed around
Antwine's dizzying ordeal through psychiatric hospitals, emergency rooms, boarding homes and shelters in just the last four months shows how the lack of care can doom someone to the streets.
In January, he spent about two weeks at Terrell State Hospital, a psychiatric hospital with about 300 beds and several aging empty buildings that once housed nearly three times that number of patients. From there, he was taken to a clinic, but he left before seeing the doctor.
Instead of going to a boarding house as planned, he ended up at The Bridge, Dallas' homeless-assistance center. Soon after, he said, he was robbed and stabbed as he searched for an East Dallas rooming house. He recovered at a Pleasant Grove boarding house but soon left over a rent dispute. From there, he went to the Salvation Army's shelter and finally to another boarding home.
In March, Antwine was placed under the care of a special team of caseworkers who stay in close contact with patients to make sure they take medications, show up for appointments and remain stable. It's an intensive service that few receive because of strained budgets. Antwine started feeling better and made plans to move into an apartment on April 1. But even the caseworkers had no control over what happened next.
Police arrested Antwine as he walked downtown on a warrant for not reporting to his parole officer. Instead of moving into a new home, Antwine was in jail, wearing a striped uniform, eating skimpy bologna sandwiches and staring at the wall because he could not afford anything to read.
"I don't know what's going on," Antwine said last month. "I'm just sitting here doing nothing when I shouldn't be here."
'It's a travesty'
At an April 17 parole hearing, Antwine's lawyer, Raquel D. Brown, argued that her client tried to do everything right.
"That's why I think it's a travesty," she said.
On Thursday night, after a month in jail, Antwine was released.
His whereabouts were unknown.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Prayer Camps in Ghana (Not in Texas, yet)
People with mental health problems in Ghana are turning to privately-run 'prayer camps', hoping religion will be a cure for their problems.
With only four practising psychiatrists in the country and a stigma attached to mental illness, doctors say the only way to cope with the workload is to work with the Church-run camps.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Crisis Intervention, Green Oaks Hospital, and Dallas PD
One poster sent this information from Green Oaks Hospital in regards to Crisis Intervention and the Dallas PD. Here's an excerpt:
The Division is comprised of 2 major sections:
Crisis Assistance and Homeless Outreach.
CRISIS ASSISTANCE
a. Geriatric Mental Health: Two Crisis Assistance
caseworkers are assigned citywide to provide on-the-scene
assessments of seniors, aged 60 and over who are experiencing
situations involving dementia, abuse, neglect and exploitation.
These caseworkers assist citizens in crisis with rapid access to
social, health, and mental health services, and provide postcrisis
follow-up to ensure that the client is self-sufficient.
b. Mental Health Response: One mental health
caseworker is responsible for responding when requested by
public safety or health-care professionals. The caseworker will
attempt to stabilize the client through intervention and
assessment to determine the level of cognitive reasoning and
functionality. Finally, the caseworker will link citizens with
psychiatric services through professionally trained caseworkers.
c. Domestic Violence: One caseworker responds to onscene
domestic violence calls when requested by patrol officers,
and conducts post-crisis follow-up to victims of domestic
violence. These interventions are aimed at assisting victims cope
with domestic violence, and gives victims of domestic violence
a calm, non-intimidating source of assistance. Immediate
information is provided as to the next steps in staying safe.
d. Child Neglect/Abuse: One caseworker is assigned to
respond to requests from police and/child protective services to
assist families experiencing a crisis relating to victimization
involving children. Typically, the caseworker handles three types
of primary referrals: 1) Allegations of child neglect/abuse, 2)
Parent/child disputes, and 3) Custody disputes involving abuse
allegations. The majority of referrals come from the Dallas
Police Department via calls to 911. The referrals are generated
because the police have been called to either a residence or
school facility involving an allegation of child neglect or abuse,
below the level of a Child Protective Services referral.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Marc Levin: Mental Illness and the Texas Criminal Justice System
Introduction
The relationship between crime and mental
illness has always been complex. Contemporary
attitudes and knowledge concerning the
treatment of mental illness indicate the urgent
need for careful restudy and reshaping
of this relationship.
Reformers in the late 1960s and early 1970s
pressed successfully for deemphasizing institutional
care, which they contended often
led to abuse of patients. Their idea was that
patients could function in society with supervised
reliance on medications for the control of
erratic, sometimes anti-social, behavior. In the
1950s mental institutions housed three times
as many patients as prisons held convicts.
Both populations, at that, were small by current
standards. Throughout the U.S. today,
prison inmates total more than 2 million,
compared with only 338,029 in 1970. General
population growth is partly responsible;
even more significant factors are increased
crime and tougher sentencing laws. In Texas,
the prison population is 13 times larger than
in 1970—12,000 back then vs. more than
157,000 today.
Particularly striking is the recent estimate
that “deinstitutionalization”—the release of
mental patients into the general population
—now accounts for up to 14 percent of the
growth in incarceration. Today, eight times
as many mentally ill persons are admitted
into prisons and jails as mental hospitals.
Mentally ill offenders also contribute to the
probation and parole caseloads. Texas has a
significant percent of offenders with mental
illness throughout its prison, probation, and
parole systems.
Mental illness also has a substantial impact
on county jails. Of the 1 million offenders
jailed every year, 17 percent are former
MHMR clients. Some 20 percent of Harris
County Jail inmates receive medications for
mental illness.
Here's the rest of the story from Texas Public Policy Foundation, Center for Effective Justice.
The relationship between crime and mental
illness has always been complex. Contemporary
attitudes and knowledge concerning the
treatment of mental illness indicate the urgent
need for careful restudy and reshaping
of this relationship.
Reformers in the late 1960s and early 1970s
pressed successfully for deemphasizing institutional
care, which they contended often
led to abuse of patients. Their idea was that
patients could function in society with supervised
reliance on medications for the control of
erratic, sometimes anti-social, behavior. In the
1950s mental institutions housed three times
as many patients as prisons held convicts.
Both populations, at that, were small by current
standards. Throughout the U.S. today,
prison inmates total more than 2 million,
compared with only 338,029 in 1970. General
population growth is partly responsible;
even more significant factors are increased
crime and tougher sentencing laws. In Texas,
the prison population is 13 times larger than
in 1970—12,000 back then vs. more than
157,000 today.
Particularly striking is the recent estimate
that “deinstitutionalization”—the release of
mental patients into the general population
—now accounts for up to 14 percent of the
growth in incarceration. Today, eight times
as many mentally ill persons are admitted
into prisons and jails as mental hospitals.
Mentally ill offenders also contribute to the
probation and parole caseloads. Texas has a
significant percent of offenders with mental
illness throughout its prison, probation, and
parole systems.
Mental illness also has a substantial impact
on county jails. Of the 1 million offenders
jailed every year, 17 percent are former
MHMR clients. Some 20 percent of Harris
County Jail inmates receive medications for
mental illness.
Here's the rest of the story from Texas Public Policy Foundation, Center for Effective Justice.
Jail Commissary
Since I mentioned jail commissary on the last post, I thought I would devote a whole post to jail commissary. I am curious to gather as many stories as possible about ludicrous commissary charges, events, etc. Also, I am curious about what types of items are on the commissary lists of various jails.
Michael Moore to tackle private prisons in new film?
Got this from Texas Prison Bid'ness:
Michael Moore, if you are listening? Don't forget about the mentally ill in prison!
On another note, I got a call from a family member in reference to commissary charges at the local county jail (not prison and not private). Her family member was being charged 60% of his commissary for gas money to the local mh clinic. The local mh clinic is less than two miles away, and they are not charging the county for the psychiatric visit! Sounds like a heck of a deal for the jail! I'm curious what all charges are legal for commissary? Anyone have any clues?
Will Michael Moore make private prisons the focus of his newest documentary expose? That's the question the film-indusry blog slashfilm.com:
A film crew for Michael Moore’s next yet-to-be-titled documentary was in Wilkes-Barre, PA last week interviewing people involved with the Luzerne County Courthouse scandal. According to FilmBuffOnline, Moore wasn’t present during filming. For those who don’t know, county judge Mark A. Ciavarella Jr. accepted a $2.6 million from two privately owned juvenile detention centers in exchange for helping secure contracts worth upwards of $30 million.
Details about Moore’s new documentary have been kept tightly under wraps, but it was announced as a quasi-follow-up to Fahrenheit 9/11, focusing on a post-Bush administration world and the financial crisis. Privately owned prisons have become a big business over the last decade, but what does outsourcing government services to the private sector have to do with the big picture? The Geo Group has recently come under fire for possible mistreatment of prisoners, which may have resulted in inmate deaths at some of their facilities.
We'll keep you posted on developments...
Michael Moore, if you are listening? Don't forget about the mentally ill in prison!
On another note, I got a call from a family member in reference to commissary charges at the local county jail (not prison and not private). Her family member was being charged 60% of his commissary for gas money to the local mh clinic. The local mh clinic is less than two miles away, and they are not charging the county for the psychiatric visit! Sounds like a heck of a deal for the jail! I'm curious what all charges are legal for commissary? Anyone have any clues?
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Building an Offender Reentry Program
A Guide for law enforcement.
In an effort to determine the state of law enforcement’s participation in offender reentry initiatives,
the International Association of Chiefs of Police (IACP) partnered with OJP’s Bureau
of Justice Assistance (BJA) to comprehensively examine law enforcement’s role in offender
reentry initiatives. IACP’s goal, through this project, is to increase law enforcement’s participation
in offender reentry through the provision of information, sharing of leading practices, and
development of products to promote public safety partnerships. The intended outcomes of
this effort--through increased law enforcement participation in reentry programs--are reduced
recidivism, victimization, and disorder while increasing officer safety.
In an effort to determine the state of law enforcement’s participation in offender reentry initiatives,
the International Association of Chiefs of Police (IACP) partnered with OJP’s Bureau
of Justice Assistance (BJA) to comprehensively examine law enforcement’s role in offender
reentry initiatives. IACP’s goal, through this project, is to increase law enforcement’s participation
in offender reentry through the provision of information, sharing of leading practices, and
development of products to promote public safety partnerships. The intended outcomes of
this effort--through increased law enforcement participation in reentry programs--are reduced
recidivism, victimization, and disorder while increasing officer safety.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
US Citizen with Mental Illness Wrongly Deported to Mexico twice, then Honduras, then Guatemala, then . . .
http://www.newsobserver.com/news/story/1507200.html
Published: Apr 30, 2009 05:02 AM Modified: Apr 30, 2009 07:19 AM
Feds wrongly deport N.C. citizen
Believing Mark Lyttle was Mexican, they launched him from a Wayne County prison on an odyssey across Latin America.
By Kristin Collins, Staff Writer
Mark Lyttle expected to return home after serving a few months in prison for inappropriately touching a woman's backside.
Instead, he says, the U.S. government deported him to Mexico, Mexican officials deported him to Honduras, and Honduras deported him to Guatemala - even though he is a North Carolina-born U.S. citizen who speaks no Spanish.
U.S. immigration officials confirmed this week that they wrongly deported Lyttle, 31, who his family says is mentally ill and suffers from mild retardation, in December after finding him in a North Carolina prison. He and his lawyer say he spent four months bouncing among Latin American prisons and homeless shelters before ending up this month at a U.S. embassy in Guatemala, where officials confirmed his citizenship.
Lyttle returned to his family on Friday, but only after immigration officials at the Atlanta airport tried to deport him again. He said that, throughout the process, federal agents repeatedly ignored his assurances that he was a U.S. citizen and native of Rowan County, about
125 miles southwest of the Triangle.
"I said, 'All I know is the United States.' I said, 'I was born here in Rowan County,'" said Lyttle, who is now staying with his brother in Kentucky. "They just totally ignored it."
Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials said that before they deported Lyttle, he gave them two sworn statements in which he said he was a Mexican named Jose Thomas. But ICE officials also said Lyttle made other, conflicting sworn statements in which he used his true name and claimed U.S. citizenship.
Agency spokeswoman Barbara Gonzalez declined to release copies of the statements.
"It's never the U.S. government's intention to detain an American citizen," Gonzalez said Wednesday. "But clearly in this case, Mr.
Lyttle stated that he was a national of Mexico."
Lyttle's lawyer, Neil Rambana of Tallahassee, Fla., said that Lyttle had no identification but that federal officials could have contacted his family or checked his Social Security number, which he can recite from memory.
"A simple phone call could have helped this person who has a mental condition," Rambana said.
The affair began at Neuse Correctional Institution in Wayne County, where Lyttle was serving a sentence for assault on a female.
Lyttle was adopted at 7 years old after being removed from an abusive home, his family says. He has a dark complexion because his father was part Puerto Rican.
He is bipolar and has suffered from behavioral problems most of his life, his family says, and had recently spent time at Cherry Hospital, a state mental institution. He says he was charged with the crime while living in a halfway house in Jacksonville.
When he was admitted to prison in August, state prison officials say, Lyttle reported being born in Mexico. Keith Acree, a spokesman for the N.C. Department of Correction, said the state has an agreement with ICE that requires the prisons to report all inmates who say they were born in other countries.
An ICE agent interviewed Lyttle on Sept. 2, and Lyttle signed a statement that day saying he was Jose Thomas, a Mexican citizen who entered the U.S. when he was 3 years old, Gonzalez said.
Lyttle said in a telephone interview that he did not claim to be Mexican and had never heard the name Jose Thomas before the ICE agent said it to him. He says he gave ICE agents the names of his mother and two brothers, who are in the Army, and his Social Security number.
As soon as Lyttle's prison term ended in October, ICE took him to a federal detention center in Atlanta, state prison officials said.
There, Lyttle said, officials told him he could spend up to two years in prison if he did not agree to be deported to Mexico. He eventually agreed, and immigration judge William Cassidy ordered him out of the country despite his protests in court that he was a U.S. citizen, Lyttle said.
"I did what I had to to get out of there because there was no other way," Lyttle said.
Just before Christmas, immigration officials flew him to Reynosa, Mexico, removed his handcuffs and sent him off on foot. Lyttle had no food, money or spare clothes. On Dec. 29, he tried to come back over the border at Hidalgo, Texas. He was again deported to Mexico, immigration officials say.
Not a unique case
Jacqueline Stevens, a political science professor at the University of California Santa Barbara, said she has been researching wrongful deportations for the past year. She said she has found at least 34 U.S.
citizens who have been deported since 2003.
Stevens said Lyttle's case is similar to several others in that ICE relied on his statements and never investigated his citizenship. "They could have looked up his information, but they didn't, and that's not just in Mark's case but in all cases," Stevens said.
Gonzalez said federal judges are responsible for determining whether there is enough evidence to deport people. In Lyttle's case, she said, "We carried out the order as issued by a judge."
Lyttle said he didn't know how to contact his family or get copies of his birth certificate.
His mother had moved during his prison term, and he didn't have her address or phone number. His two brothers were in the military, and he couldn't remember where they were stationed.
In Mexico, Lyttle says, he found a homeless shelter and occasional construction work. Eventually, missionaries dropped him in Mexico City, where he hoped to find a U.S. embassy.
Instead, he says, he was picked up by Mexican immigration authorities, who imprisoned him and then sent him on a bus to Honduras. Many Hondurans come illegally to Mexico en route to the United States.
In Honduras, Lyttle says, he was again picked up by immigration authorities and kept in jail for month with gangsters and drunks, given little food and never allowed to shower.
Eventually, he says, he was put on a van that stopped in Nicaragua and then dropped him in a small town in Guatemala, where he spent a night in the street. In the morning, he found a police station, and officers took him to a U.S. embassy in Guatemala City.
Along the way, Lyttle says, he told everyone he came in contact with the names of his mother and two brothers. The embassy officials were the first to try and track them down.
They found his brother, Thomas Lyttle, at his home near Fort Campbell, in Kentucky, last week. Thomas Lyttle said his brother came on the line and said, "Tommy, you've got to get me out of here."
Gonzalez confirmed that Lyttle returned to Atlanta from Guatemala last week. At the airport, customs agents found records of his previous deportations and tried to deport him again, Gonzalez said. He was released after two days, when they confirmed that he was a U.S.
citizen.
Gonzalez said ICE is correcting Lyttle's record.
A family's long search
When the call came from Guatemala, Lyttle's family had been hunting him for months.
His mother, Jeanne Lyttle, who lives in Georgia, said North Carolina prison officials told her only that Mark had been released. She had no idea he had been deported.
She said Mark spent years in mental hospitals and halfway houses, and never held a full-time job, and she thought that perhaps he had gone off with a woman or ended up imprisoned. She and her sons did Internet searches and called mental hospitals and prisons.
"I can't believe that this could even happen," she said of his deportation. "It's absurd."
Now, the family is consulting with its lawyer and seeking compensation from the government. They say that they spent more than $1,500 to fly Mark back from Guatemala and that Mark didn't get his federal disability payments after being declared an alien.
Mark Lyttle says he is staying with his brother because he is afraid to return to North Carolina.
"I know I can't trust my own country now," he said. "They humiliated me."
kristin.collins@newsobserver.com or 919-829-4881
Published: Apr 30, 2009 05:02 AM Modified: Apr 30, 2009 07:19 AM
Feds wrongly deport N.C. citizen
Believing Mark Lyttle was Mexican, they launched him from a Wayne County prison on an odyssey across Latin America.
By Kristin Collins, Staff Writer
Mark Lyttle expected to return home after serving a few months in prison for inappropriately touching a woman's backside.
Instead, he says, the U.S. government deported him to Mexico, Mexican officials deported him to Honduras, and Honduras deported him to Guatemala - even though he is a North Carolina-born U.S. citizen who speaks no Spanish.
U.S. immigration officials confirmed this week that they wrongly deported Lyttle, 31, who his family says is mentally ill and suffers from mild retardation, in December after finding him in a North Carolina prison. He and his lawyer say he spent four months bouncing among Latin American prisons and homeless shelters before ending up this month at a U.S. embassy in Guatemala, where officials confirmed his citizenship.
Lyttle returned to his family on Friday, but only after immigration officials at the Atlanta airport tried to deport him again. He said that, throughout the process, federal agents repeatedly ignored his assurances that he was a U.S. citizen and native of Rowan County, about
125 miles southwest of the Triangle.
"I said, 'All I know is the United States.' I said, 'I was born here in Rowan County,'" said Lyttle, who is now staying with his brother in Kentucky. "They just totally ignored it."
Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials said that before they deported Lyttle, he gave them two sworn statements in which he said he was a Mexican named Jose Thomas. But ICE officials also said Lyttle made other, conflicting sworn statements in which he used his true name and claimed U.S. citizenship.
Agency spokeswoman Barbara Gonzalez declined to release copies of the statements.
"It's never the U.S. government's intention to detain an American citizen," Gonzalez said Wednesday. "But clearly in this case, Mr.
Lyttle stated that he was a national of Mexico."
Lyttle's lawyer, Neil Rambana of Tallahassee, Fla., said that Lyttle had no identification but that federal officials could have contacted his family or checked his Social Security number, which he can recite from memory.
"A simple phone call could have helped this person who has a mental condition," Rambana said.
The affair began at Neuse Correctional Institution in Wayne County, where Lyttle was serving a sentence for assault on a female.
Lyttle was adopted at 7 years old after being removed from an abusive home, his family says. He has a dark complexion because his father was part Puerto Rican.
He is bipolar and has suffered from behavioral problems most of his life, his family says, and had recently spent time at Cherry Hospital, a state mental institution. He says he was charged with the crime while living in a halfway house in Jacksonville.
When he was admitted to prison in August, state prison officials say, Lyttle reported being born in Mexico. Keith Acree, a spokesman for the N.C. Department of Correction, said the state has an agreement with ICE that requires the prisons to report all inmates who say they were born in other countries.
An ICE agent interviewed Lyttle on Sept. 2, and Lyttle signed a statement that day saying he was Jose Thomas, a Mexican citizen who entered the U.S. when he was 3 years old, Gonzalez said.
Lyttle said in a telephone interview that he did not claim to be Mexican and had never heard the name Jose Thomas before the ICE agent said it to him. He says he gave ICE agents the names of his mother and two brothers, who are in the Army, and his Social Security number.
As soon as Lyttle's prison term ended in October, ICE took him to a federal detention center in Atlanta, state prison officials said.
There, Lyttle said, officials told him he could spend up to two years in prison if he did not agree to be deported to Mexico. He eventually agreed, and immigration judge William Cassidy ordered him out of the country despite his protests in court that he was a U.S. citizen, Lyttle said.
"I did what I had to to get out of there because there was no other way," Lyttle said.
Just before Christmas, immigration officials flew him to Reynosa, Mexico, removed his handcuffs and sent him off on foot. Lyttle had no food, money or spare clothes. On Dec. 29, he tried to come back over the border at Hidalgo, Texas. He was again deported to Mexico, immigration officials say.
Not a unique case
Jacqueline Stevens, a political science professor at the University of California Santa Barbara, said she has been researching wrongful deportations for the past year. She said she has found at least 34 U.S.
citizens who have been deported since 2003.
Stevens said Lyttle's case is similar to several others in that ICE relied on his statements and never investigated his citizenship. "They could have looked up his information, but they didn't, and that's not just in Mark's case but in all cases," Stevens said.
Gonzalez said federal judges are responsible for determining whether there is enough evidence to deport people. In Lyttle's case, she said, "We carried out the order as issued by a judge."
Lyttle said he didn't know how to contact his family or get copies of his birth certificate.
His mother had moved during his prison term, and he didn't have her address or phone number. His two brothers were in the military, and he couldn't remember where they were stationed.
In Mexico, Lyttle says, he found a homeless shelter and occasional construction work. Eventually, missionaries dropped him in Mexico City, where he hoped to find a U.S. embassy.
Instead, he says, he was picked up by Mexican immigration authorities, who imprisoned him and then sent him on a bus to Honduras. Many Hondurans come illegally to Mexico en route to the United States.
In Honduras, Lyttle says, he was again picked up by immigration authorities and kept in jail for month with gangsters and drunks, given little food and never allowed to shower.
Eventually, he says, he was put on a van that stopped in Nicaragua and then dropped him in a small town in Guatemala, where he spent a night in the street. In the morning, he found a police station, and officers took him to a U.S. embassy in Guatemala City.
Along the way, Lyttle says, he told everyone he came in contact with the names of his mother and two brothers. The embassy officials were the first to try and track them down.
They found his brother, Thomas Lyttle, at his home near Fort Campbell, in Kentucky, last week. Thomas Lyttle said his brother came on the line and said, "Tommy, you've got to get me out of here."
Gonzalez confirmed that Lyttle returned to Atlanta from Guatemala last week. At the airport, customs agents found records of his previous deportations and tried to deport him again, Gonzalez said. He was released after two days, when they confirmed that he was a U.S.
citizen.
Gonzalez said ICE is correcting Lyttle's record.
A family's long search
When the call came from Guatemala, Lyttle's family had been hunting him for months.
His mother, Jeanne Lyttle, who lives in Georgia, said North Carolina prison officials told her only that Mark had been released. She had no idea he had been deported.
She said Mark spent years in mental hospitals and halfway houses, and never held a full-time job, and she thought that perhaps he had gone off with a woman or ended up imprisoned. She and her sons did Internet searches and called mental hospitals and prisons.
"I can't believe that this could even happen," she said of his deportation. "It's absurd."
Now, the family is consulting with its lawyer and seeking compensation from the government. They say that they spent more than $1,500 to fly Mark back from Guatemala and that Mark didn't get his federal disability payments after being declared an alien.
Mark Lyttle says he is staying with his brother because he is afraid to return to North Carolina.
"I know I can't trust my own country now," he said. "They humiliated me."
kristin.collins@newsobserver.com or 919-829-4881
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Jail Inmates at Midyear 2008
Released last month. Click here. Again, from the Bureau of Justice Statistics.
Prison Inmates at Midyear 2008
From the Bureau of Justice Statistics. Read report here. Released this month.
I don't have time to summarize information at present, but wanted to provide this to you.
I don't have time to summarize information at present, but wanted to provide this to you.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Dallas County Conviction Integrity Unit in Primetime
Tuesday, April 28th @ 10pm ET/PT, only on Investigation Discovery.
Go inside the Conviction Integrity Unit (CIU) and see how they work tirelessly to prove that for some convicted people, DNA can hold the key to freedom.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Execution Date Set for Clifton Williams
From Tyler Paper:
From Longview News Journal:
Execution Date Set for Man Who Killed Tylerite
By CASEY KNAUPP
Staff Writer
A state district judge set the date of execution Thursday for Clifton Lamar Williams, who has been condemned for killing a 93-year-old Tyler woman in 2005.
Williams, 25, was convicted of capital murder and sentenced Oct. 13, 2006, to death by lethal injection for killing Cecilia Schneider and setting her on fire.
Judge Christi Kennedy, of the 114th District Court, ordered that the defendant be put to death on July 28.
With their verdict, jurors found Williams was not mentally retarded and there were no miti-gating circumstances that warranted a life sentence instead of the death penalty.
Two mental health experts hired by the state said Williams was not mentally retarded.
Defense attorney Melvin Thompson said Thursday that they raised the issue of mental retardation during the trial and they continue to assert that issue.
During the trial, Thompson said evidence showed that the defendant was mentally retarded. A mental health expert who examined Williams in early adulthood for Social Security benefits diagnosed Williams with mental retardation and paranoid schizophrenia. Another expert hired by the defense examined Williams and found him to be mentally retarded.
From Longview News Journal:
"A real problem in our culture in individual freedom is that people have the right not to take their medications," said Paul Andrews, clinical and forensic psychologist in Tyler who has worked with Smith County juvenile treatment programs.
He pointed to the story of Clifton Williams, who was sentenced to death this fall for killing a 93-year-old Tyler woman. Andrews said Williams suffered from schizophrenia and was receiving as many as three visits per week from mental health case workers. Funding cuts later ended those visits.
"He stopped taking his medicine, and 90 days later he killed a person. We have two people dead because of funding cuts," Andrews said. "Not everyone ends up with a crime of homicide, but a lot of people end up with no services or a lack of services ... and they end up in jails, in courts or in prison. I think the greatest way to prevent that would be more money for community health on an outpatient basis."
More than half of Texas prison inmates suffer from some form of substance abuse, Andrews says, and very few are treated in the criminal justice system so they often revert to old behavioral patterns when released from prison.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The New Asylums
After watching the previews of the upcoming Frontline special on "Released," I decided to watch Frontline's "The New Asylums." Then, I bought the DVD ($29.99).
What Really Happens To Mentally Ill Offenders When They Leave Prison
The Released: Frontline Investigates What Really Happens To Mentally Ill Offenders When They Leave Prison
PBS
April 28, 2009
Five years ago, FRONTLINE’s groundbreaking film, The New Asylums, went deep inside the Ohio prison system as it struggled to provide care to thousands of mentally ill inmates. This year, FRONTLINE filmmakers Karen O’Connor and Miri Navasky return to Ohio to tell the next chapter in this disturbing story: what happens to mentally ill offenders when they leave prison. The Released—airing on Tuesday, April 28, at 9 P.M. on PBS (check local listings), is an intimate look at the lives of the seriously mentally ill as they struggle to remain free.
PBS
April 28, 2009
Five years ago, FRONTLINE’s groundbreaking film, The New Asylums, went deep inside the Ohio prison system as it struggled to provide care to thousands of mentally ill inmates. This year, FRONTLINE filmmakers Karen O’Connor and Miri Navasky return to Ohio to tell the next chapter in this disturbing story: what happens to mentally ill offenders when they leave prison. The Released—airing on Tuesday, April 28, at 9 P.M. on PBS (check local listings), is an intimate look at the lives of the seriously mentally ill as they struggle to remain free.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The Right Prescription for Crime
The Right Prescription for Crime April 16, 2009
By Marc Levin
Mental illness is a key factor in driving up correctional costs in Texas.
There are 42,556 offenders with a mental health diagnosis in prison, 55,276 on probation, and 21,345 on parole. Additionally, some 170,000 mentally ill inmates are admitted into Texas county jails every year.
Mentally ill inmates cost more to house and they stay longer. They are also more likely to recidivate.
Fortunately, there are policies that can reduce both the recidivism and cost associated with the mentally ill in the criminal justice system.
First, counties can divert mentally ill offenders from jail through programs that protect public safety while saving taxpayer dollars.
Bexar County has established a successful three-pronged jail diversion program that can serve as a model for other Texas counties.
First, it employs specially trained law enforcement personnel called Crisis Intervention Teams (CIT). These teams are often able to defuse incidents involving the mentally ill without an arrest. Participants in CIT programs spent on average two more months out of jail than non-diverted individuals, resulting in significant jail cost savings. While the largest Texas metropolitan police departments have CIT personnel, smaller police departments can create a CIT program through cooperatives with other nearby departments.
With Bexar County’s second prong, arrested offenders are screened for mental illness and, if not a threat to public safety, released on a mental health bond or to a treatment center. Screenings are conducted at the Crisis Care Center, a 24-hour facility that provides significantly quicker service at a lower cost than the emergency room. Once stabilized, offenders are released on a mental health bond. Because the wait for a trial date can be as long as six months, outpatient monitoring significantly reduces the utilization of county jail space.
Finally, Bexar County diverts such misdemeanants from jail through an initiative called MANOS, which includes intensive case management that consists of outpatient medication management and counseling.
Of the 371 offenders admitted to the MANOS Program, only 6.2 percent were re-incarcerated. This compares to a re-incarceration rate of 67 percent for mentally ill offenders without the intensive case management services offered by the jail diversion program.
Savings from Bexar County’s jail diversion program are estimated at between $3.8 million and $5.0 million per year.
The state can also take steps to address the impact of mental illness on the criminal justice system. About 2,500 probationers and 800 parolees participate in a state-funded initiative involving intensive case management and a smaller caseload with a specially trained officer.
The three-year re-incarceration rate is 15.1 percent for participating probationers is and 16.0 percent for parolees. In contrast, there is a 52 percent re-incarceration rate for mentally ill probationers and parolees who do not receive treatment. Increasing the number of probationers and parolees in this program could more than pay for itself through lower recidivism.
Another way to address mental illness in the criminal justice system is through mental health courts. Several Texas counties -- including Bexar, El Paso, Tarrant, and Dallas -- have established mental health courts in which a judge orders the defendant to obtain treatment and supervises his progress. A RAND Institute study found significant cost savings from mental health courts due to lower jail utilization.
Finally, defendants who are mentally incompetent to stand trial can be diverted from a state hospital. In 2008, the state launched outpatient competency restoration pilot programs. Taking Travis, Tarrant, Bexar, and Dallas Counties together, some 427 offenders are projected to be served in 2009. The total cost of these four programs is $2.16 million compared with the state hospital cost of $14.95 million based on an average cost of $35,000 per offender. Accordingly, it makes sense to expand these pilot programs to additional sites.
Mentally ill offenders will always pose a substantial challenge in the criminal justice system. But through initiatives like these, we can achieve our goals of enhanced public safety and reduced costs to taxpayers.
Marc A. Levin is Director of the Center for Effective Justice at the Texas Public Policy Foundation, a non-profit, free-market research institute based in Austin.
By Marc Levin
Mental illness is a key factor in driving up correctional costs in Texas.
There are 42,556 offenders with a mental health diagnosis in prison, 55,276 on probation, and 21,345 on parole. Additionally, some 170,000 mentally ill inmates are admitted into Texas county jails every year.
Mentally ill inmates cost more to house and they stay longer. They are also more likely to recidivate.
Fortunately, there are policies that can reduce both the recidivism and cost associated with the mentally ill in the criminal justice system.
First, counties can divert mentally ill offenders from jail through programs that protect public safety while saving taxpayer dollars.
Bexar County has established a successful three-pronged jail diversion program that can serve as a model for other Texas counties.
First, it employs specially trained law enforcement personnel called Crisis Intervention Teams (CIT). These teams are often able to defuse incidents involving the mentally ill without an arrest. Participants in CIT programs spent on average two more months out of jail than non-diverted individuals, resulting in significant jail cost savings. While the largest Texas metropolitan police departments have CIT personnel, smaller police departments can create a CIT program through cooperatives with other nearby departments.
With Bexar County’s second prong, arrested offenders are screened for mental illness and, if not a threat to public safety, released on a mental health bond or to a treatment center. Screenings are conducted at the Crisis Care Center, a 24-hour facility that provides significantly quicker service at a lower cost than the emergency room. Once stabilized, offenders are released on a mental health bond. Because the wait for a trial date can be as long as six months, outpatient monitoring significantly reduces the utilization of county jail space.
Finally, Bexar County diverts such misdemeanants from jail through an initiative called MANOS, which includes intensive case management that consists of outpatient medication management and counseling.
Of the 371 offenders admitted to the MANOS Program, only 6.2 percent were re-incarcerated. This compares to a re-incarceration rate of 67 percent for mentally ill offenders without the intensive case management services offered by the jail diversion program.
Savings from Bexar County’s jail diversion program are estimated at between $3.8 million and $5.0 million per year.
The state can also take steps to address the impact of mental illness on the criminal justice system. About 2,500 probationers and 800 parolees participate in a state-funded initiative involving intensive case management and a smaller caseload with a specially trained officer.
The three-year re-incarceration rate is 15.1 percent for participating probationers is and 16.0 percent for parolees. In contrast, there is a 52 percent re-incarceration rate for mentally ill probationers and parolees who do not receive treatment. Increasing the number of probationers and parolees in this program could more than pay for itself through lower recidivism.
Another way to address mental illness in the criminal justice system is through mental health courts. Several Texas counties -- including Bexar, El Paso, Tarrant, and Dallas -- have established mental health courts in which a judge orders the defendant to obtain treatment and supervises his progress. A RAND Institute study found significant cost savings from mental health courts due to lower jail utilization.
Finally, defendants who are mentally incompetent to stand trial can be diverted from a state hospital. In 2008, the state launched outpatient competency restoration pilot programs. Taking Travis, Tarrant, Bexar, and Dallas Counties together, some 427 offenders are projected to be served in 2009. The total cost of these four programs is $2.16 million compared with the state hospital cost of $14.95 million based on an average cost of $35,000 per offender. Accordingly, it makes sense to expand these pilot programs to additional sites.
Mentally ill offenders will always pose a substantial challenge in the criminal justice system. But through initiatives like these, we can achieve our goals of enhanced public safety and reduced costs to taxpayers.
Marc A. Levin is Director of the Center for Effective Justice at the Texas Public Policy Foundation, a non-profit, free-market research institute based in Austin.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
1 IN 31
Explosive growth in the number of people on probation or parole has propelled the population of the American corrections system to more than 7.3 million, or 1 in every 31 U.S. adults, according to a report released by the Pew Center on the States. The vast majority of these offenders live in the community, yet new data in the report finds that nearly 90 percent of state corrections dollars are spent on prisons. One in 31: The Long Reach of American Corrections examines the scale and cost of prison, jail, probation and parole in each of the 50 states, and provides a blueprint for states to cut both crime and spending by reallocating prison expenses to fund stronger supervision of the large number of offenders in the community.
READ REPORT.
Court to examine Texas killer who wants to die
Found on KLTV.com
HOUSTON (AP) - A federal appeals court is sending the case of a condemned Texas inmate back to a lower court to see if the prisoner is mentally competent to decide he wants to die for the slaying of an 84-year-old East Texas woman nine years ago.
Danielle Simpson, 29, has told the courts he's tired of being locked up and if he can't be free he wants to die. The federal court issued its ruling Monday.
Simpson was condemned for the 2000 slaying of Geraldine Davidson, a former Palestine school teacher and church organist.
Davidson was abducted from her home during a burglary, was bound and gagged, driven around in the trunk of her car and then beaten and dumped into the Neches River. She was wrapped in duct tape and had cinder blocks tied to her ankles.
HOUSTON (AP) - A federal appeals court is sending the case of a condemned Texas inmate back to a lower court to see if the prisoner is mentally competent to decide he wants to die for the slaying of an 84-year-old East Texas woman nine years ago.
Danielle Simpson, 29, has told the courts he's tired of being locked up and if he can't be free he wants to die. The federal court issued its ruling Monday.
Simpson was condemned for the 2000 slaying of Geraldine Davidson, a former Palestine school teacher and church organist.
Davidson was abducted from her home during a burglary, was bound and gagged, driven around in the trunk of her car and then beaten and dumped into the Neches River. She was wrapped in duct tape and had cinder blocks tied to her ankles.
One Year Evaluation Findings for the Crisis Services Redesign
Read the report here.
In 2007, the 80th Texas Legislature appropriated $82 million to the Department of State Health
Services (DSHS) to address problems in the state’s mental health and substance abuse crisis service
delivery system. Texas A&M University was selected to serve as an independent, external evaluation
team to examine the impact of Crisis Service Redesign (CSR). This report contains the initial
evaluation findings regarding the first year of CSR.
Utilizing a combination of visits to selected Local Mental Health Authorities (LMHAs), interviews with
law enforcement officers, judges, and emergency room staff, statewide online surveys of key
stakeholder groups, and satisfaction surveys of users of CSR-funded services, the evaluation team
has generated 6 findings regarding the impact of CSR.
In 2007, the 80th Texas Legislature appropriated $82 million to the Department of State Health
Services (DSHS) to address problems in the state’s mental health and substance abuse crisis service
delivery system. Texas A&M University was selected to serve as an independent, external evaluation
team to examine the impact of Crisis Service Redesign (CSR). This report contains the initial
evaluation findings regarding the first year of CSR.
Utilizing a combination of visits to selected Local Mental Health Authorities (LMHAs), interviews with
law enforcement officers, judges, and emergency room staff, statewide online surveys of key
stakeholder groups, and satisfaction surveys of users of CSR-funded services, the evaluation team
has generated 6 findings regarding the impact of CSR.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
TDCJ Lobby Day
From Tx Justice Dot Org:
Thursday April 16, 2009 Lobby Day
There is a TDCJ Lobby day at the Texas Capitol building April 16, 2009 at 9 AM. Meet on the East steps of the Capitol (that is the side of the Capitol near San Jacinto St). From Huntsville meet at 5 AM next to the TDCJ HR Headquarters building next to Shipleys Donuts on Hwy 30 W. From here we will leave to Austin. Vans and car pooling available. The next day our payraise will be voted on the House floor, so this date is important.
May 14 march at the Texas Capitol.
TDCJ employees will meet at 9 AM on May 14, 2009 at 1106 Lavaca St, Austin, TX 78701 (across from the Governor Mansion at Lavaca & 11th St.) From Huntsville meet at 5 AM next to the TDCJ HR Headquarters building next to Shipleys Donuts on Hwy 30 W. From here we will leave to Austin. Vans and car pooling available.
All TDCJ employees should attend. Thursday's Corrections meeting had a good showing of Industry and Maintenance employees. They made a good impression on the Corrections Committee.
Thursday April 16, 2009 Lobby Day
There is a TDCJ Lobby day at the Texas Capitol building April 16, 2009 at 9 AM. Meet on the East steps of the Capitol (that is the side of the Capitol near San Jacinto St). From Huntsville meet at 5 AM next to the TDCJ HR Headquarters building next to Shipleys Donuts on Hwy 30 W. From here we will leave to Austin. Vans and car pooling available. The next day our payraise will be voted on the House floor, so this date is important.
May 14 march at the Texas Capitol.
TDCJ employees will meet at 9 AM on May 14, 2009 at 1106 Lavaca St, Austin, TX 78701 (across from the Governor Mansion at Lavaca & 11th St.) From Huntsville meet at 5 AM next to the TDCJ HR Headquarters building next to Shipleys Donuts on Hwy 30 W. From here we will leave to Austin. Vans and car pooling available.
All TDCJ employees should attend. Thursday's Corrections meeting had a good showing of Industry and Maintenance employees. They made a good impression on the Corrections Committee.
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