FRED WEBER MAXES OUT -- BUT FREE? Not.
Caryl Rosenthal
May 20, 2008
After twelve years, Fred Weber is a free man. Or is he?
Rehabilitation is supposed to be a goal of a prison sentence, but the system is set up to insure failure on the part of former inmates at every turn. By trying to take charge of his life, Fred is more of a prisoner now that he is out, than he ever was inside.
Knowing he was facing the end of his prison term, Fred arranged with old friends in another state for a job at something he wanted to do, a place to live and was looking forward to making up for the years he gave to the Commonwealth of Virginia. He applied in plenty of time to have his parole transferred to his new home, turned mountains of paperwork over to his prison counselor, and relieved that the dark days were finally over, he waited.
He waited, then waited some more. With no response to his request he tracked down his assigned counselor. Two days before his anticipated release date, he learned that his request had been turned down because the people willing to aid him in his recaptured life were not related by blood, nor were they or the parole board in the new state ever contacted by Virginia.
With virtually no warning, he discovered that he would not only have to fend for himself in a town where he knows not a soul, without, prospect of a job, but also that he would be restricted in his movements for thirty days so he wasn´t free to look for one. He needs caretakers to accompany him at their convenience, and because his drivers´ license expired years ago, he travels by bus to the library to use the internet.
I sent a money order for $250 in anticipation of his release, with the understanding that the prison would release him with cash. Instead, they handed it to him uncashed with a bus ticket, food stamps and a list of halfway houses with no way to pay for a roof over his head. He found a place to work and sleep at the mission, where he is paid $15 a week.
He connected with his long lost and ailing mother, who after taking a few days to think about it, invited him to come live with her in yet another state. There is no job there for him and not many prospects in this economy under the best of circumstances, but since she is a blood relation, his transfer will probably be approved.
Upon learning Fred had been assessed one demerit during his twelve years of incarceration, his parole officer was of the opinion that he could get Fred´s request on the fast track. He would probably be able to move home to his ailing mother in less than ninety days.
Fred is in better shape than most prisoners at release. He was told that had "maxed out" of prison, the state had no choice but to release him, but the basics that the prison system has provided for the past twelve years – food, a bed, clothes, in fact, everything he could need, he now has to provide for himself with no way to do it, through no fault of his own. For better or worse, he provides for no one but himself, and can barely do that.
Fred Weber stepped up to the plate, and, confident of a home run, hit a pop fly instead. So, he still waits and waits for the mountains of paperwork to be processed which will allow him to go home to his mother, where no job or prospects wait for him, but blood is thicker than water.
Rehabilitation is supposed to be a goal of a prison sentence, but the system is set up to insure failure on the part of former inmates at every turn. By trying to take charge of his life, Fred is more of a prisoner now that he is out, than he ever was inside.
Knowing he was facing the end of his prison term, Fred arranged with old friends in another state for a job at something he wanted to do, a place to live and was looking forward to making up for the years he gave to the Commonwealth of Virginia. He applied in plenty of time to have his parole transferred to his new home, turned mountains of paperwork over to his prison counselor, and relieved that the dark days were finally over, he waited.
He waited, then waited some more. With no response to his request he tracked down his assigned counselor. Two days before his anticipated release date, he learned that his request had been turned down because the people willing to aid him in his recaptured life were not related by blood, nor were they or the parole board in the new state ever contacted by Virginia.
With virtually no warning, he discovered that he would not only have to fend for himself in a town where he knows not a soul, without, prospect of a job, but also that he would be restricted in his movements for thirty days so he wasn´t free to look for one. He needs caretakers to accompany him at their convenience, and because his drivers´ license expired years ago, he travels by bus to the library to use the internet.
I sent a money order for $250 in anticipation of his release, with the understanding that the prison would release him with cash. Instead, they handed it to him uncashed with a bus ticket, food stamps and a list of halfway houses with no way to pay for a roof over his head. He found a place to work and sleep at the mission, where he is paid $15 a week.
He connected with his long lost and ailing mother, who after taking a few days to think about it, invited him to come live with her in yet another state. There is no job there for him and not many prospects in this economy under the best of circumstances, but since she is a blood relation, his transfer will probably be approved.
Upon learning Fred had been assessed one demerit during his twelve years of incarceration, his parole officer was of the opinion that he could get Fred´s request on the fast track. He would probably be able to move home to his ailing mother in less than ninety days.
Fred is in better shape than most prisoners at release. He was told that had "maxed out" of prison, the state had no choice but to release him, but the basics that the prison system has provided for the past twelve years – food, a bed, clothes, in fact, everything he could need, he now has to provide for himself with no way to do it, through no fault of his own. For better or worse, he provides for no one but himself, and can barely do that.
Fred Weber stepped up to the plate, and, confident of a home run, hit a pop fly instead. So, he still waits and waits for the mountains of paperwork to be processed which will allow him to go home to his mother, where no job or prospects wait for him, but blood is thicker than water.
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