In Conversation: The School-to-Prison Pipeline “It Affects Everybody”

Featuring Amelia Herrera, Organizer, Voice of the Experienced (VOTE), and Dr. Matthew Green, Associate Professor of Education, UL Lafayette

Amelia Herrera: I’m Amelia Herrera, an organizer with VOTE — Voice of the Experienced — in Baton Rouge. I’m also an advocate and a mother. I’ve been doing criminal justice reform work and following the criminal legal system in Louisiana for about seven years now.

Dr. Matthew Green: My name is Dr. Matthew Green. I’m a VOTE member and an associate professor of education. I’m also the interim department head of the curriculum and instruction department at UL Lafayette. I’ve been working with VOTE for about five years. Part of my research and teaching is around the school-to-prison pipeline — how school suspensions and education systems push students out of educational opportunity and into the criminal legal system.


How are you both coming into this conversation today?

Dr. Green: I’m tired but energized. Anytime I come to work with a community like VOTE, it re-energizes me. Even though times are tough, I’m feeling inspired.

Amelia: I can say the same. I’m inspired and energized — especially around this subject. Though many of us know it exists, it’s not a well-discussed topic. So I’m glad we’re lifting it up.


Why did you each want to be part of this conversation?

Amelia: I grew up in New Orleans, graduated high school, and went off to Xavier before eventually moving to California. When I came back home and had kids of my own, I took a look at our school system and was alarmed. There was a stark difference from what I was accustomed to raising my kids elsewhere. I kept thinking — why isn’t anyone paying attention to this?

Dr. Green: For me, it was moving to Louisiana and seeing the carceral nature of how this state approaches almost everything. People often think schools and prisons are the antithesis of each other — but Louisiana is the only state I’ve ever lived in, taught in, or done work in where there’s a person at schools with the job title of disciplinarian. Everywhere else, discipline is one part of a role. In Louisiana, there’s a person devoted specifically to punishment. That stark contrast from how other places approach schools is really how I came to this work.


How would you define the school-to-prison pipeline?

Amelia: I’d identify it as a systemic process — a way of pushing marginalized communities, specifically Black and brown youth, into the incarceration system. It’s a pipeline. All the pieces are systematically put together so that incarceration becomes the most accessible path — sometimes the only visible way out — for many in our communities. Intentional, systemic, and closed-box syndrome.

Dr. Green: I explain it as the policies and processes that push students out of educational opportunity and into the criminal legal system — things that favor incarceration over education. And I use that phrase deliberately: favor incarceration over education. If you look at the funding in Louisiana, there’s far more money per capita going to our carceral systems than to our education systems. When you give more money to something, you’re showing that you favor it over something else.


What do you want people to know about this topic that they might not know?

Dr. Green: The thing I want people to understand is that it affects everybody. It affects your child’s school. It affects kids and adults across the full age spectrum. When we talk about the school-to-prison pipeline, we’re not just talking about teenagers. We’re talking about kindergartners who are arrested at school, punished, denied educational opportunity. We’re talking about adults who were pushed into the criminal legal system years ago. And we often associate this issue with schools in dangerous neighborhoods or certain parts of town — but the way it operates, it affects every kid in every community, because every student is under the same umbrella. The same systems that either provide educational opportunity or push people out of it work across Louisiana and across the nation. It is not one school, one community, one isolated instance.

Amelia: What I want people to know is: what are the identifiers? What should we look for? Coming from a Black mother — it starts as young as third grade. A lot of people in our community don’t know that. Everyone looks at the middle school and high school years as the primary danger zone, but the pipeline goes all the way back. The marks teachers put on your child’s record in pre-K, kindergarten, first and second grade — those are determining their future. You can be involved. You can ask for your child’s records. You can show up and ask questions. Just because someone is a teacher or administrator doesn’t mean they have your child’s best interest at heart. I want people to identify this big, ugly system that is locking our kids up.

Dr. Green: I want to add — it sounds simple, but: kids don’t suspend themselves. That requires a teacher, an administrator, a decision by an educator. One of VOTE’s most important principles is that those closest to the problem are closest to the solution. Once teachers start identifying that they are in control of many of these outcomes, we can begin working with parents, students, and communities toward real solutions.

Amelia: And we also have to look at what teachers are bringing into the space — predisposing biases, assumptions about how a child looks or how they show up. For a Black child, the default response is often to punish rather than support or encourage. Teachers aren’t always culturally cognizant of what each student from a different neighborhood or household is carrying when they walk through that door. And they’re going to demonize these kids without even knowing what they’re dealing with.

Dr. Green: And teachers aren’t always coming from the communities that their students come from. They don’t always understand the history and context of that community.


What are some common myths about the school-to-prison pipeline?

Dr. Green: The myth I always focus on is that the punishment fits the infraction. There’s a well-known study out of Tulane — done about six years ago — that looked at school suspensions across Louisiana and examined the disproportionality. It found what is found nationwide: three groups are suspended more than any other. Not that they commit more infractions — they are suspended more. Those groups are Black and brown students, students in special education, and students in poverty. What was most striking: a Black student and a white student can get into the exact same fight with each other, and on average across Louisiana, the Black student is suspended one day longer. Most suspensions in this state are for nonviolent offenses. Not contraband, not weapons, not fighting — but subjective things: disrespecting a teacher, questioning authority, insubordination. Things that require a teacher’s judgment. And even when the infraction is clear-cut, we see disproportionate suspensions along racial lines.

Amelia: I always bring it back to community. Take two kids — James and Tommy. James is a Black child from a two-parent home. Tommy comes from an abusive household. They’re in the same classroom with the same teacher. Tommy is carrying trauma that James isn’t carrying. If James doesn’t act out and Tommy does, why isn’t there support for Tommy? Because no one knows — or cares — what Tommy is going home to. So teachers start marking him as disobedient, unable to grasp the material. The records pile up. The child gets discouraged and stops wanting to go to school. Then you have truancy. And there are officers in the schools now. That is a direct pathway to the incarceration system.

Dr. Green: That’s a perfect description of how small infractions become systematized — repeated over time, put on records, escalating punishments, until kids don’t want to go to school. Or they get kicked out. Why would you go to school if it’s a hostile place toward you?

Amelia: I met a parent whose son was on the spectrum. She didn’t have the tools or resources to support him properly, so she hoped the teachers would catch it. The teacher didn’t — she ridiculed him in front of the class. So he wrote a note to the teacher, something he’d seen on television. The teacher took it to the school resource officer. Instead of recognizing a child crying out for help, it was treated as a criminal matter. That child now has to report to the juvenile detention center. He has a full record. Because of one outcry that no one knew how to answer.

Dr. Green: This is why I always teach that all behavior is communication. The behavior of kids who sit still and silent, the behavior of rambunctious youth — it’s all communicating met and unmet needs. The school-to-prison pipeline is what happens when the response to those unmet needs is punishment: demerits, paperwork trails, infractions, suspensions. All negative consequences rather than care.


What does summer mean for youth in Louisiana, in the context of all this?

Dr. Green: Before we get to summer, I want to name something. VOTE member Ronald Marshall championed a bill a couple of years ago about mental health screenings for anyone entering incarceration. For many people, that is the first mental health screening they have ever had. When we talk about under-resourced schools, when we talk about Amelia’s story of that child — if going to prison is the first time someone receives a screening for trauma or mental health needs, it is way too late to change the course of that person’s life.

Amelia: What summer looks like to me — I’m going from this conversation to a budget hearing where they’re giving more money to the Baton Rouge Police Department. Our communities are already being over-policed. Juveniles roughly ages 8 to 16 have nothing to do. No parks to go to. No mentorship programs. Where are the Boys and Girls Clubs? So these neighborhoods are over-policed, officers already arriving with assumptions about who these kids are. Meanwhile, the pull of the street is real — especially for a child whose parent is too busy surviving to be home, who has no clean park, no structured activity, nothing to do but sit on the porch. A police officer sees that and calls it a threat. Not knowing that if you gave that child a basketball, a safe park, a resource — the outcome could be completely different. It’s intentional. I see it as intentional. There are police cars parked throughout certain neighborhoods, and when I cross to the other side of town, they’re nowhere to be found.

Dr. Green: From an educator’s perspective, if people could compare what summer looks like for different children across Louisiana, it would be staggering. Some children have summers full of enriching experiences: academic programs, summer camps, structured and unstructured play, great parks, tons of opportunity. Others have the complete opposite. And that is a strategic, purposeful decision. Louisiana loves to talk about community — but where we draw the lines of community matters. Because if we’re truly a community, we should be taking care of every child in this state. Which parks get funded. Which sports leagues. Which neighborhoods. The decision to defund programs, remove parks, eliminate spaces where people can gather — and then at the same time complain about young people being on their phones — you took away all the other spaces. And when you layer surveillance systems and police monitoring only in certain neighborhoods on top of that, you’re going to arrest more people in the places police are. This is a layered system that starts with decisions that don’t seem to be about schools or prisons at all — and yet they determine children’s lives and opportunities.


What solutions do you see? What are you working toward?

Amelia: I’m going to go back to community. There’s an intersectionality here that we can’t ignore. In EBR Parish, roughly 38% of Black and brown children in impoverished communities — about 72% of them are being pushed down the pipeline. That’s alarming. So what happens on the back end? Fully incarcerated people coming home — they are mentors. They can go in and talk to at-risk youth and say, this is not what you want. The parent is too busy surviving. The teacher has already given up. Someone has to care. Pull on your community. Pull on the ones who’ve seen it, done it, been there. Because the people governing are not prioritizing this — they’re closing schools and building prisons. We have to demand that money come back to the community. Educate impacted communities to know: you don’t have to accept this. You can go to your child’s school and ask questions. You can advocate for your child. Who said you had to listen to what that resource officer said? That is your child.

Dr. Green: From a school perspective — the easiest, most concrete solution is: stop suspending students. There are alternatives. Even one suspension increases the likelihood of a child interacting with the criminal legal system by 50%. Avoiding that first suspension is critical. But the bigger battle, and for me the most viable long-term solution, is changing the mindset that children deserve to be punished. It is pervasive. One of the first classes I taught in Louisiana, students asked me: “Dr. Green, if you don’t punish a kid, how will they learn?” That was eye-opening. There is a deep-seated notion that punishment is right, deserved, and produces positive outcomes. That same mindset drives the adult incarceration system too. But in schools, with children, it is toxic — it hampers educational opportunity and life opportunity. When you break it down and ask someone: do you really think a five-year-old deserves to be kicked out of school? It sounds ridiculous. But that is what is happening. To kindergartners, to third graders. The things we do to high school students — who we too often see as adults rather than children — we also do to the youngest kids in our schools.


Any final takeaways?

Amelia: I want to say — we need bridges between community members and experts like Dr. Green. This issue is so prevalent, but it isn’t discussed. If you don’t know what to say or how to go about it, go to the experts. Let them show you the way. Something needs to be done, and something can be done.

Dr. Green: To anyone listening — the first step is holding up a mirror, for yourself and in your conversations with others: What are you willing to accept, and what are you not? The reason we have a school-to-prison pipeline is because as a society, we have accepted far too many children being suspended, punished, pushed out. We accept it because we think they deserve it. That is a harsh and damning critique of our society. And my last thought: if we are willing to do it to children, we are definitely willing to do it to adults — and worse.

Know Your Laws: 2026 Louisiana Legislative Update

The 2026 Louisiana Legislative Session produced many changes. Below are the major bills that either became ACTS, signed by the President or House speaker, or were sent to the Governor. 

All bills supported by VOTE failed to make it across the finish line. While these bills did not pass this year, they highlighted important issues facing Louisiana families and communities and helped continue the conversation around fairness, public safety, housing, healthcare, and voting rights.

The bills included:

  • HB 270 – expanding absentee voting for eligible incarcerated people
  • HB 404 – increasing access to medication-assisted treatment in prisons and jails
  • HB 432 – ending prison-based gerrymandering
  • HB 458 – increasing take-home pay for people in work release programs
  • HB 479 – requiring lawmakers to project the true long-term costs of incarceration policies
  • HB 564 – reforming Louisiana’s accomplice liability laws
  • HB 617 – strengthening protections for renters by limiting hidden application fees and barriers to housing

All efforts to provide relief for people convicted by non-unanimous juries failed during the 2026 Legislative Session. HB 1065, HB 532, SB 215, and HB 219each sought to create some form of parole eligibility, post-conviction relief, or constitutional remedy for people convicted under Louisiana’s former non-unanimous jury system. No new pathway for relief was created this year, leaving many people convicted by non-unanimous jury verdicts still waiting for justice.

Criminal Justice & Incarceration 

Several bills expanded sentencing restrictions, supervision requirements, and post-conviction limitations. 

  • HB 51 (ACT 271) Restricts post-conviction bail for people convicted of certain aggravated offenses when the victim is a minor. 
  • HB 111 (ACT 28) allows incarcerated people to earn an additional 90 days of “good time” credit for completing an associate degree while incarcerated. 
  • HB 125 (ACT 123) mandates lifetime supervision for certain offenders whose victims are under 13. 
  • HB 131 (ACT 54) makes post-conviction relief harder to obtain and delays release eligibility while appeals continue. 
  • HB 143 (ACT 530) Increases the daily payment DOC makes to local jails for housing state inmates from $26.39 to $29.39 starting in Fiscal Year 2027–2028. 
  • HB 191 (ACT 134) prohibits overlapping jail credit on consecutive sentences, effectively increasing time served. 
  • HB 245 (ACT 423) creates a limited medical parole exception despite Louisiana’s post-2024 “No Parole” framework. 
  • HB 280 (ACT 425) reorganizes parole eligibility statutes without major structural changes. 
  • HB 336 (ACT 104) limits timelines for state post-conviction review after federal court findings. 
  • SB 125 (Vetoed by the Governor) increases wrongful conviction compensation from 10 years to 15 years. 
  • SB 201 (ACT 585) removes the “worst of the worst” language from juvenile life without parole hearings. 

Jury Trials & Court Procedures 

  • HB 108 (ACT 419) permanently disqualifies individuals convicted of violent crimes or sex offenses from jury service. 
  • HB 179 (ACT 60) clarifies court control over records when court reporters retire or leave employment. 
  • SB 81 (ACT 455) allows defendants in noncapital felony cases to waive their right to a jury trial. 

Policing & Public Safety 

  • HB 132 (ACT 125) expands battery of a police officer to include harmful sound directed at officers and increases penalties for group-related incidents. 
  • HB 231 (ACT 140) creates a crime for intentionally avoiding service of protective order paperwork. 
  • SB 46 (ACT 201) creates penalties for operating unlicensed group homes, including enhanced penalties if serious harm or death occurs. 
  • SB 51 (ACT 203) creates penalties for falsely claiming military service or honors for personal gain. 
  • SB 58 (ACT 349) increases penalties for aggravated flight from police and directs fine revenue toward police pursuit training and safety technology. 
  • SB 121 (ACT 2) Allowed the State to eliminate a majority black congressional district 

Elections & Government Accountability 

  • HB 547 (ACT 163) strengthens penalties related to election offenses. 
  • HB 691 (ACT 6) requires verification of citizenship for registered voters. 
  • SB 207 (ACT 364) creates a 10-year statute of limitations after a public official leaves office for crimes such as bribery and malfeasance. 
  • SB 47 (ACT 592) requires boards and commissions to publicly list member emails and direct phone numbers. 

Additional Changes 

  • HB 56 (ACT 8) adds additional fines for impaired driving to fund the Louisiana Emergency Response Network. 
  • HB 57 (ACT 26) allows judges to consider the full criminal record of all parties when deciding temporary restraining orders. 
  • HB 64 (ACT 68) allows magistrates to cancel previously issued arrest warrants. 
  • HB 68 (ACT 115) expands disturbing the peace laws to include disruptions of religious services. 
  • HB 98 (ACT 119) strengthens confidentiality protections for domestic violence victims and increases penalties for violations. 
  • HB 161 (ACT 131) adds stricter conditions and employment restrictions for certain trafficking-related offenses. 
  • SB 207 (ACT 364) 10-yr statute of limitations, after official leaves office, on Bribery, Malfeasance in office, etc. 
  • HB 639 (ACT 559) addresses the use of artificial intelligence in telecommunications systems and services. 
  • HB 656 (Sent to Governor) establishes a Department of Corrections pilot program exploring new incarceration and reentry approaches. 
  • HB 813 (ACT 317) changes the Orleans Parish sheriff’s term start date and adds term limits. 
  • Sb 68 (ACT 38) Constitutional amendment to provide for jurisdiction of the Louisiana Supreme Court. 
  • SB 256 (ACT 15) This law eliminated the Calvin Duncan’s seat as Orleans Clerk of Criminal District Court 
  • SB 479 (Sent to Governor) Allows legislative address to the governor for the removal of certain judges for malfeasance, gross misconduct, or incompetence committed while in office. 
  • SB 217 (Sent to Governor) Reduces the number of judges in Orleans Parish 

Why I Keep Showing Up at the Louisiana State Capitol

By Amelia Herrera, VOTE Organizer

There’s a feeling you get the moment you walk into the Louisiana State Capitol. 

It starts before you even reach the committee room. 

You walk in, you get checked in, you nod at the familiar faces at the front desk—but once you get past all that, something shifts. The air gets heavy. The building itself feels like it’s telling you: you don’t belong here. 

And if you listen too closely, your mind starts to echo it. 

What you have to say doesn’t matter. 

They’re not going to listen. 

You should just leave. 

But my feet keep moving anyway. 

Up those hard stairs. 

Down those long halls. 

Into rooms where decisions are made about people’s lives—about my community, about families I know, about the people still locked behind walls and fighting systems that weren’t made to protect them. 

Systems that were never broken—systems that were built to break people. 

Every time I walk into a committee to testify, my body goes into fight or flight. 

My hands tremble. 

My chest tightens. 

Everything in me says: turn around, walk out, run. 

But there’s something stronger than fear. 

It’s the commitment I made to the people I serve. 

It’s the faces of the families who are waiting for someone to speak up. 

It’s the voice of a loved one who can’t stand there themselves. 

And I know—if I don’t speak—I’m letting them down. 

And that feeling? That’s heavier than fear. 

So I stay. 

Even when I feel like I don’t belong. 

Even when I look into the faces of people who refuse to see me. 

Even when I hear laughter, side comments, or watch them scroll their phones like the stories being told in that room aren’t about real human lives. 

There are moments I sit there and ask myself: 

Why am I doing this? 

Why do I keep putting myself through this? 

They don’t care. 

But then something in me answers back. 

What if one person does? 

What if onvoice reaches someone sitting behind that desk? 

What if one story shifts something—even just a little? 

What if the record matters, even when the room doesn’t respond? 

Because putting it on record matters. 

Saying their names matters. 

Telling the truth out loud—where they cannot erase it—matters. 

So I make myself steady. 

I stand at that table. 

I become someone stronger than I feel. 

Impenetrable, even when I’m shaking inside. 

And I speak. 

No matter how uncomfortable it is. 

No matter how much my body wants to shut down. 

No matter how much doubt creeps in. 

I speak because I have to. 

This isn’t something I do once. 

It’s something I do every time. 

Every bill. 

Every hearing. 

Every return to that building that makes me feel small the moment I step inside. 

And still—I go back. 

Because this fight doesn’t end when I leave the Capitol. 

It follows me home. 

From the moment my feet hit the floor in the morning 

to the moment I lay down at night— 

I’m fighting. 

For people who look like me. 

For families who are trying to survive systems stacked against them. 

For the ones still inside, still waiting, still hoping someone out here hasn’t forgotten. 

And I’ll be honest: 

I’m tired. 

I hate that this is the fight we have to fight. 

But I’m more afraid of something else. 

I’m afraid of what happens if we stop. 

Because if we lose hope— 

if we stop showing up— 

if we decide it’s not worth it— 

then we lose everything. 

So I keep going back. 

Not because it’s easy. 

Not because I feel welcome. 

Not because I believe those rooms always care. 

But because somebody has to stand there. 

Because our stories deserve to be heard—even when they try not to hear them. 

Because silence would cost too much. 

And because somewhere, in the smallest, slimmest chance— 

it might make a difference. 


Amelia is a dedicated organizer for Voice of the Experienced in Baton Rouge. She is committed to fighting against overly punitive criminal procedures that disproportionately affect Black communities and champions climate justice. She focuses on critical issues such as housing, mental health, employment, and education, while actively advocating for policy changes that support our most vulnerable populations.

FICPFM Submits Comments to the FTC on the Need for Fairness in Rental Housing Applications

RE: Trade Regulation Rule on Unfair or Deceptive Rental Housing Fees Practices (Document Number 2026-04907)


Dear Chairman Ferguson,


We, the undersigned members of Formerly Incarcerated Convicted People and Families Movement (FICPFM) write to support and encourage your pursuit of fair rule making in the rental housing market. FICPFM is a national movement of seventy organizations across twenty six states. We are people directly impacted by mass incarceration and the lifetime of discriminatory policies impacting our lowered economic caste and infringed rights of citizenship. We work to educate the public and policymakers regarding systemic harms, and offer alternative proposals that reduce the primary drivers of crime, reduce recidivism, and elevate overall
community outcomes.

Our grassroots organizations have led multiple local and statewide rental housing campaigns for over a decade, including shifting the direction of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) towards inclusionary policies. We have experienced the digitization and dehumanization of the rental application process during a time when housing is increasingly concentrated in the hands of absentee corporate landlords. Their profit motives do not always align with community sustainability, while those rents flow away from the neighborhoods from where they came.

We have seen the rise of online platforms enabling short-term rentals. This reduces housing stock and drives up rents. Visitors replace neighbors and streets become less safe.

Finally, we have witnessed the rise of unfair, hidden, and deceptive practices in the rental application process. This system has become a racket, causing far more harm than the notorious flight, hotel and concert ticket pricing. The over-reliance of automated online platforms to rent housing is creating barriers for people who struggle with literacy, mental health, and other physical disabilities. Most significantly, blanket barriers for people with conviction histories remain.


Consumer choice is hidden behind a paywall.


The computer algorithms that make decisions in rental housing are programmed with rules and restrictions. Property managers and realtors direct people to apply through portals, as they themselves typically lack the discretionary power to rent a property. The application, inevitably, has a fee, typically a non-refundable $50 – $200. None of the restrictions are actually listed prior to spending money. Other than lotteries, we can think of no other product a person can purchase (in this case, a rental application) which can result in total failure.

Criminal records are an unseen omnipotent barrier. Over 100 million Americans have a criminal history, and millions more are impacted as household members. It is extremely rare for a rental advertising to mention convictions at all, and definitely never with the specificity that provides consumer guidance as to their eligibility. A student, for example, knows the criteria a college requires to be a strong applicant for limited seats. They also frequently receive fee waivers if requested. Housing merchants do not provide fee waivers, nor do they post their criteria.

There are a broad range of circumstances for the millions of people with felony convictions who seek housing. Some received probation for a petty offense and, in the course of a month, that conviction may have been used for their eviction prior to them going back into the rental market to find a new place to live. The recent nature of their conviction will often be held against them (and their entire family) by a computer program that never meets the prospective renter. The eviction will be held against them even where the conviction had absolutely nothing to do with their home or neighbors.

Others may have served a long sentence, whether for a violent crime or not, and may have been incarcerated since they were teenagers. Their lack of credit history will be held against them, as will the seriousness of the offense regardless of how long ago. Despite the natural growth and maturity of all humankind, a convicted person’s character becomes “frozen” by the computer systems and society for decades on end.

Renters with criminal histories are unable to put their own circumstances into eligibility criteria and decide if this is a waste of their time and money, or not. Taking applicants’ money, and then revealing their ineligibility, is a classic bait and switch. Many people have theorized that some apartment listings exist only to collect application fees. If so, this would be a fraudulent advertisement from a deceptive merchant in commerce.


Reducing housing access increases crime in America.

It is self-evident that people without a place to sleep are in volatile situations. It is difficult to take a shower, store clothes, affordably eat, and charge a phone; which makes it even harder to get and keep a job. The secret restrictions hidden behind application paywalls only impact people who actually have the money to rent an apartment. Typically, they have steady employment. Sometimes they have a spouse and/or children. These are the people some rental businesses are
forcing into desperation rather than allowing access to all people who can afford it.

Denying access discourages participation in society and encourages a “work-around” by whatever means necessary. Hotels and motels do not have background checks and computers deciding eligibility, yet a denied $1500 apartment would be replaced by an accepted $4500 motel for a month. Life is more expensive, and desperation for food and shelter should not be anyone’s motive for crime in any civilized nation. Instability impacts children as well, who are forced to live out of a suitcase, car, or a maze of shelters as their parent confronts faceless computers making decisions based on events occurring before the child was born.

Additionally, states and municipalities are creating more statutes that criminalize “public camping,” a phrase made popular by the U.S. Supreme Court’s infamous ruling in City of Grants Pass v. Johnson (2024), regarding the criminalization of having no home to sleep in. These efforts also criminalize people living out of their cars. Americans are increasingly being squeezed out of any place to live, and yet the prison gates are always open.

Over three million people currently live in the community while sentenced to probation. This is considered an “alternative to incarceration,” deemed appropriate by prosecutors and judges who felt a person’s accountability was best served in the community. Terms of their probation typically require their gainful employment and stable housing, and every judge across America either encourages or admonishes a person to “get it together.” But nobody tells the rental market.

Over a million people live in the community, after being released on parole. These people were reviewed by a government parole board, often with extremely strict criteria, and deemed safe to be given a chance prior to the eventual end of their full sentence. Typically, they need permission from their parole officer to move into a property; thus, there needs to be conversation between the property manager and the officer who must approve the apartment. Thus, a person (generally very low income) must pay an application fee, get approved by the property, then contact their officer to investigate the property and speak with the manager, then pay the rent, then move in. It should puzzle nobody when a property manager revokes the offer to rent the property because this is seen as “too much.”

Many jurisdictions now have courts that specialize in Veterans, Mental Health, Drugs, and Homelessness. They are generally creations of the state legislatures, and intended to create non-criminalization supportive services, yet sentencing someone to “probation” can impact their housing pursuits in the same manner as any other court. Housing providers who undermine public policy are contributing to criminal desperation rather than crime reduction.

Rental Property is commerce.

We have seen the lobbyists of rental marketeers subvert actual market forces through the hand of the governments. Very few marketeers are the “Mom ‘n Pop” landlords of old, where a second home is a rental property for a working family. Most own dozens, hundreds, even thousands of units. They put out false narratives about the danger of renting to someone with a criminal record, and seek to incite fear amongst neighbors yet still remain the only people opposing inclusive policy reforms.

The corporate landlord is often based across state lines, using nationwide providers of computer services for their application processing. They mention, yet fail to cite, these so-called legal liability cases where a landlord lets a person with a criminal record into an apartment building, who then commits a crime against a neighbor in the building, and the court holds the property owner liable. Their admissions policies should reflect that they are subject to commercial regulation, and should be sanctioned for unfairness or deception. They are not individuals seeking a preferable roommate.

Conclusion

If society has no place for the households with a criminal record who have the means to rent an apartment, how are we ever going to find pathways to success for the people who do not have the money to rent an apartment?

If we cannot fairly regulate commercial activity through good public policy, we leave our citizens to either file litigation (which is only successful to the extent courts reinforce inclusive housing policy and constitutional fairness). Many people, particularly those with little means, do not have genuine access to the court system. This leaves citizens to exercise their 1st Amendment rights of assembly and peaceful protest, and/or to become a market force such as boycotts, picket lines, shaming and otherwise impacting the commerce of discriminatory, unfair, deceptive, and fraudulent actors.

We encourage you to take a deep dive into the issue of hiding the criteria behind a paywall, using application fees as a money-making scheme, and the computer programs that use background checks to deny people housing with no rational relationship between criminal activity and being good tenants.

If the Commission wishes to better understand our issues, or in any way collaborate on furthering fairness in the rental market, please reach out to Bruce Reilly, our lead on the Housing4All campaign.

Sincerely,

David Ayala, Executive Director
Formerly Incarcerated Convicted People & Families Movement (FICPFM)
David@FICPFM.org

Bruce Reilly
FICPFM #Housing4All
Voice of the Experienced (Louisiana)
Bruce@VoiceoftheExperienced.org

“I Was Born Into Resistance” Staff Spotlight | Sara Louis-Ayo

I was born into resistance. 

In 1989, Sudan fell under a military regime. Six months later, my mother went into labor during the curfew. She and my aunt were stopped at gunpoint near Kubri kobar (Bridge) while trying to reach the hospital. Soldiers screamed at them to stay put.  We were not allowed to pass until morning. My aunt later told me she still doesn’t know how my mother survived that night or how I survived being born into it. 

That is how my life began: in chaos, fear, and defiance. 

My father was a political activist who was forced into exile. Growing up, I learned about uncles and neighbors who were jailed, disappeared, or executed. Others fled to neighboring countries and we don’t know if they are alive or gone. Political violence wasn’t something I read but my lived in my family. 

Our journey to the United States was not easy. We crossed borders from Sudan into Egypt. I remember the desert and the warmth of the Nile. I remember mostly women and children. I remember silence and survival. When I finally arrived here, I carried that journey with me the borders crossed, the languages that failed me, the constant feeling of being “other.” 

One thing was always clear: I am a Black refugee woman living in the South. Everything was at stake. 

I used to dream about what justice looked like. Someone once asked me what “radicalized” me. The truth is, I didn’t know what to do with my grief except to speak out. I thought about the men in my family who were jailed or killed. Silence was never an option (I repeat this to myself quietly even today in rooms where injustice is loud, but the space was never designed for me to speak up) 

My first protest was after the death of Sandra Bland. It was also the first time I experienced police violence directly. One officer stopped me, then called others over. They surrounded me. I was handcuffed, threatened with jail, and asked how I “got here” whether I swam from Africa to Louisiana. They laughed as they questioned my presence in this country and told me they couldn’t wait for ICE to take me. I was a U.S. citizen at the time. 

What makes this moment even more terrifying and clarifying is that I later saw one of those same officers inside the 19th Judicial District Court while I was observing court. In that moment, I understood something deeply: this is not abstract. These are the same people who police our streets, fill our jails, and decide who is treated as human. 

That encounter broke something in me, but it also anchored me. It showed me exactly why I fight and why I choose to fight the way I do. 

In Louisiana, punishment is treated as a solution to everything. Mental health crises are met with handcuffs. Poverty is met with cages. People are locked in pretrial detention not because they are a danger, but because the system is easier than care. 

And I know what it means to build something different. 

VOTE exists to shift power back to communities to organize where harm happens, to heal where violence has been normalized, and to demand solutions rooted in truth and dignity. 

Intersectionality: criminal justice and immigration  

Because of how policing, immigration enforcement, and the criminal legal system collide, harm in our communities doesn’t happen in separate silos as it happens at the intersections. What I experienced on that street was not just police violence; it was a moment where criminalization and immigration stigma met in real time. 

Across the United States and especially here in Louisiana the systems that are meant to “protect” people are more likely to detain them. Louisiana has become one of the states with the largest immigration detention presence, with multiple ICE facilities (8; there is one being considered in Port Allan) operating across the state and holding thousands of people. Researchers and local advocates describe Louisiana as a major hub of immigration detention, second only to Texas in the number of detainees held statewide and several of these facilities house people under contract for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). 

At the same time, the national narrative that immigration enforcement focuses on “the worst of the worst” doesn’t match the data. According to federal compilations of ICE statistics, over 70% of people in ICE detention as of late 2025 had no criminal conviction at all. Many are held solely because of civil immigration violations or minor offenses, not violent crimes. ICE arrests statewide have surged in recent years, often sweeping up people who are not charged with serious crimes. 

This is the moment where the criminal legal system and immigration enforcement overlap in the most harmful way: police, jails, and federal detention work together to funnel human beings’ neighbors, parents, workers into cages, often without serious criminal histories. This is not ambivalent; it is a choice of systems that prioritize enforcement over care and detention over dignity. 

This is the harm I live with and resist every day. Because real safety and justice do not come from detention cages or policing that sees people as threats. They come from community-rooted solutions that center dignity, mental health, and healing, not punishment. And that is why our work with VOTE and the Unjustified campaign goes beyond voter registration. We are confronting the truth of these interconnected systems and building alternatives that treat people as whole human beings, not problems to be managed. 

Through VOTE and our Unjustified campaign, we center community healing and tell the truth about harm. We call out systems that rely on punishment instead of dignity. We push back on the lie that safety comes from jails. 

Real safety comes from mental health support. From community-led solutions. From treating people as human beings, not case numbers or threats. 

This work is personal to me. I am an impacted family member across criminal justice and immigration harm. I know what it means to fear a traffic stop, a jail call, or a knock at the door. I know what it means to be Black, targeted, and disposable in the eyes of the system. 

This is not abstract to me. The harm created by these systems is something I carry with me, and resisting it is the work I choose every day. That is why VOTE and the Unjustified campaign are not about surface-level participation, but about real transformation. We name the truth about systems that default to punishment, and we invest in community-led solutions that prioritize dignity, healing, and safety without relying on cages. 

I was born under guns and curfews. I crossed borders to survive. Those experiences taught me early that systems do not automatically protect people like me. Change only comes when communities organize, demand better, and build something new. This work is how I bring that truth into the light, and how, with your partnership, we create a future rooted in care, accountability, and justice. 

Post Authored By Sara Louis-Ayo

The Cage is the Same: VOTE Statement Against ICE  

We, the staff and leadership of Voice of the Experienced (VOTE), are based in Louisiana, a state built on stolen land and forced labor. We are led by people who have lived through incarceration and its long shadow.  Our families, our histories, and our bodies carry the marks of systems built to control, extract, and disappear people deemed disposable.  

What we are witnessing with Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in Louisiana and across the country is not about public safety. It is state-sanctioned violence.

Policing, incarceration, detention and deportation are not separate systems. They are coordinated parts of the same machinery, designed to control, confine, and disappear people under the guise of law and order. It is the same punishment machine that has caged Black, poor and working-class people for generations, now accelerated and repackaged around a new target.

We are seeing this machinery operate in real time. ICE terror, aggressive policing, and large-scale immigrant detention are not isolated incidents. They are the strategy to implement ethnic cleansing. ICE is flooding communities with newly recruited agents lured by bonuses and fast placement, many with minimal training and unchecked authority over people’s lives. These agents implement brazen racial targeting, and sweeps moving from city to city, from New Orleans to Chicago to Minneapolis. They raid homes and businesses without warrants and are armed to the teeth. They escalate traffic stops into violence and arrest. Their deployment is often accompanied by the National Guard.  

Communities are being openly terrorized. Our neighbors are being hunted and kidnapped from neighborhoods, workplaces, schools, and immigration proceedings. Families are being driven into hiding and forced to withdraw from daily life.  Children have stopped going to school. People are now avoiding hospitals, jobs, and public spaces altogether. Witnesses and protestors to this rising authoritarianism have been met with state-sanctioned intimidation, violence, and lethal force. We are being told not to believe what we are seeing with our own eyes.  

This is not public safety. This is abusive state power that is disappearing people in plain sight, enforced through fear, force, and violence.  

Louisiana sits at the center of this machinery not because this state has more immigrants, but because it already had the carceral machinery to exploit. For generations, Louisiana has built an economy around punishment and a business out of cages. When the language shifts from “war on drugs” to “tough on crime” to “immigrant detention and deportation,” the violence always stays the same. When the state takes your body, cages you, moves you far from your people, and controls your future without your consent, that is the American carceral system. The words change. The harm does not.  

In 2017, the Justice Reinvestment Initiative was passed to reduce the Louisiana prison population. It worked. Thousands of prison beds were cleared and millions of taxpayer dollars were saved. That should have meant closing prisons. Instead, empty beds became an invitation. The state went looking for a new market and new people to fill it. First, they brought people from other states. Now they are filling those same beds with our immigrant brothers and sisters. Louisiana has a history of doing this: the immigration detention center at Jena was once a juvenile detention center.

Federal enforcement chose Louisiana because the state’s jail and prison network could be repurposed to serve an expanding deportation regime. The 1,600-bed  Winn Correctional Center in Winnfield, once a state prison, now operates as one of the largest ICE detention facilities in the country. Alexandria has become a major deportation hub, with routine deportation flights leaving from a regional airport few people ever think about. ICE has proposed building massive detention facilities on the Northshore, designed to fast-track deportations at scale, treating human beings like inventory in a warehouse. 

Immigration enforcement has never been about safety. It has always been about profit and control.  Federal custody of immigrants pays more than state custody of incarcerated people, so sheriffs, politicians, and private prison companies chase “capacity” and “infrastructure.” Through 287(g) agreements, now spreading across Louisiana, local law enforcement become deputized as immigration agents, and are rewarded financially for feeding people into the deportation pipeline. Taxpayer dollars are used, with interest, to build cages, locking future generations into debt while schools, healthcare, and coastal restoration are left to collapse. Every bed in this system is a business decision. Every transfer is a contract. Every expansion is a choice. 

We see the consequences up close. Look at East Baton Rouge Parish Prison, people are over incarcerated, neglected, and have died in a jail meant for pretrial detention. That is why VOTE Baton Rouge Organizers launched the Unjustified campaign, to expose the human, financial, and moral costs of this system and fight for safety rooted in care, not punishment. Now they want to build that jail even bigger. Bigger does not mean safer. Bigger means more bodies, more neglect, more profit. 

Look at Angola State Penitentiary, an 18,000-acre plantation prison. Camp J was its most notorious solitary and disciplinary unit, so brutal that even staff refused to work there. A federal judge declared it unconstitutional and uninhabitable, and it was shut down. Today, it has been repainted, renamed Camp 57, and reopened to hold “the worst of the worst” undocumented immigrants detained in the federal system. Same land. Same cages. New target. 

From inside Angola, one man shares: 

“Camp J, once a condemned property, is now being reopened for ICE to pack immigrants into the once infamous disciplinary camp… I don’t know how their medical needs will be met in a system already declared unconstitutional. This feels like a violation of both immigrants’ and prisoners’ civil liberties.” 

This system survives by convincing us we are separate from another. That one group can be sacrificed to protect another. But we know the truth. When they build cages for one, they are building cages for all of us. Any system designed to disappear one group will always go looking for the next. 

As formerly incarcerated people and their loved ones, we know that control does not end at the prison gate. Probation, parole, surveillance, rearrest. The form changes. The power does not. That is why we recognize this system wherever it shows up.  

If you build a system to disappear people for profit, it will always need new people to take. If you build the cages, they will fill them.  

Louisiana incarcerates more people than almost any other state. That also means Louisiana holds enormous collective power. More people who know this system. More families who have felt its harm. More communities ready to resist. VOTE calls this unification process ‘waking the sleeping giant’: When everyone touched by incarceration and state violence realizes our shared power, this system cannot stand. 

The cage is the same. 
And our liberation is tied together. 

Standing Up for Fair Housing: A Response to HUD’s Rollback on Criminal History Guidance

In November 2025, HUD Secretary Scott Turner issued a letter to Public Housing Authorities and private owners that rescinded decades of guidance on how criminal arrests and convictions should be considered in housing decisions. This dramatic policy shift threatens to destabilize families, increase homelessness, and undermine years of progress toward fair and evidence-based housing access.

For Louisiana—the most incarcerated state in the nation—the stakes couldn’t be higher. That’s why housing advocates, legal aid organizations, and community partners across the state are speaking out. Below is the letter being sent to Public Housing Authorities throughout Louisiana, urging them to maintain fair housing practices despite the federal rollback.


Dear Public Housing Authorities,  

The following organizations write to share with you our concerns about HUD Secretary Scott Turner’s November 25th letter to Public Housing Authorities and private owners of project-based rental assistance. HUD has rescinded all prior guidance regarding criminal convictions and arrest records. This decision casts aside decades of progress toward fair, evidence-based affordable housing access for people with criminal arrests and convictions.  In response, we offer the following information and perspective:  

HUD’s own mission is to create strong, sustainable, inclusive communities and quality affordable homes for all. HUD is working to strengthen the housing market to bolster the economy and protect consumers; meet the need for quality affordable rental homes; utilize housing as a platform for improving quality of life; build inclusive and sustainable communities free from discrimination and transform the way HUD does business.  

This mission can’t be met if entire families are denied housing because a family member has a past conviction, an arrest that never resulted in a finding of guilt, or a history of substance use.   

You see daily, through your work, how closely housing insecurity is tied to the criminal legal system. Our state has made intentional commitments towards rehabilitative and public health approaches to addiction, mental illness and physical disabilities. Our housing policy should not diverge from these efforts, as safe, stable housing is central to sustainability.  

Louisiana is the most incarcerated (and formerly incarcerated) jurisdiction in the world. Even more Louisianans have been sentenced to forms of “alternative” supervision, such as probation, where judges and prosecutors hope to see people, and their families, succeed when sentenced to less than jail time.  The direction suggested by HUD’s letter would lead to an unnecessary (and difficult to reverse) spike in homelessness, destabilize families, and work against court-ordered goals for rehabilitation and public safety.   

Additionally, basing housing decisions on arrests alone violates both the presumption of innocence and right to Due Process. Championing outdated “One Strike” policies, as in the recent HUD letter, not only removes discretion from local decision-makers, but also creates a heartless program that will result in devastating, and often irreversible, family separation. Additionally, these policies expose PHAs and owners to increased risk of litigation and community pushback.  

Our federal, state, and local governments have been building programs to reduce discrimination, support reentry, and keep families unified. Nothing in the Secretary’s letter requires you to abandon those efforts. You retain broad authority to  

adopt policies that promote community safety and lean into building “inclusive and sustainable communities free from discrimination.”  

Please notify us of any upcoming proposals to revise your Admissions and Continued Occupancy Policies (ACOP), Housing Voucher Administrative Plans, or related screening and termination standards. This allows us, and our partners across the state, to provide input and support policies that meet HUD’s mission while protecting the stability of Louisiana’s families.    

Thank you for your continued work and your commitment to safe, inclusive communities.   

Sign On Organizations Include:  

  • ACLU of Louisiana, Sarah Whittington, Advocacy Director  
  • Greater New Orleans Housing Alliance  
  • Housing Louisiana  
  • Housing NOLA  
  • Louisiana Parole Project  
  • Operation Restoration  
  • Power Coalition for Equity and Justice  
  • StepUp Louisiana  
  • UNITY of Greater New Orleans  
  • Vera Institute of Justice  
  • Voice of the Experienced  
  • Voters Organized to Educate  

Even The Accused Have Voting Rights

Jan 13th 2026| New Orleans Times-Picayune, Editorial Board Opinion

“Some violations of civil rights occur not by design but by situations unforeseen by the law’s designers. When this happens, the correct response is to fix the law without fuss.

That’s what Louisiana lawmakers should do in the case of people who are in jail, but not yet tried for alleged crimes, who are not allowed to vote. Unless and until they are convicted, their right to vote and their practical ability to do so must not be infringed.

Even if only a tiny subset of the population is denied its legal right to vote, provision must be made to preserve that right.

A group called Voice of the Experienced filed suit Dec. 12 in the state’s 19th Judicial District Court about this problem. State laws intended to guard against voter fraud require voters who register online or by mail to cast their ballots in person if they’ve never voted before. Exceptions are made for the disabled and military personnel deployed away from home, among others.

Whether such a restriction is wise or necessary is subject to debate, but a one-time in-person rule is no more unusual than a requirement for someone to show up in person for a first driver’s license. The civil rights problem arises only in the law’s application to those in jail awaiting trial.

Because they are in jail, it is the state itself that is keeping them from showing up in person to vote. They are literally not free to comply with his particular voting law. Yet, at the same time, the combination of the 13th, 14th and 15th amendments to the U.S. Constitution makes it incontrovertible that, as unconnected citizens, they have absolute rights to vote.

Especially in a state that features jurisdictions with among the longest pre-trial incarcerations in the country – at some risk, by the way, of violating the Sixth Amendment’s right to a speedy trial – the problem of unconvicted inmates being unable to vote is very real. For example, the suit filed last month names Rachael Day, who has been awaiting trial for more than six years for alleged involvement in an armed robbery that turned deadly.

If Day did commit the crime, she deserves the punishment she would receive. But she should not lose her rights for a single week, much less for six years, without having her day in court.

To fix the problem would be easy. All lawmakers must do is add “unconnected people awaiting trial” to the list of exceptions (disabled, military) to the law requiring first-time voters to appear in person. After all, because they are in the state’s custody, the state already can verify their identities, which makes the possibility of voter fraud entirely moot.

It’s a simple problem with a simple fix, and lawmakers need to start fixing it on the very first day of the next session.”

Originally Published in print on January 13, 2026 in the New Orleans Times Picayune Opinion section as the Letter From The Editor (https://www.nola.com/opinions/our_views/editorial-even-the-accused-have-voting-rights/article_81a87b30-3b1a-4567-87f5-f90f853c1962.html)

Challenging Louisiana’s Illegal Barriers for First Time Voters in Jail

Campaign Legal Center (CLC) is representing Voice of the Experienced (VOTE) and an incarcerated first-time voter in a case challenging laws which bar eligible, first-time voters in East Baton Rouge jail from voting. Many people in jail are eligible to vote, such as those who are pre-trial or serving misdemeanors, which usually do not affect voting rights. This right to vote is protected under state and federal constitutions. But for some jailed voters in Louisiana, this constitutional promise is impossible to fulfill. Read more on this loophole that silences voters here.

Campaign Legal Center and Voice of the Experienced (VOTE) Challenge Laws in Louisiana that Disenfranchise First-Time Voters in Jail

EAST BATON ROUGE, La.  On Thursday, December 11, Campaign Legal Center (CLC), on behalf of Voice of the Experienced (VOTE) and an incarcerated first-time voter, filed a lawsuit challenging contradictory Louisiana laws that deny ballot access for first-time voters in jail, despite explicit constitutional protections guaranteeing them the right to vote.

Under the Louisiana Constitution, every eligible voter has the right to cast a ballot. That includes people in jail who are awaiting trial and presumed legally innocent, as well as those serving sentences for misdemeanor convictions that do not affect their voting rights. But Louisiana’s conflicting laws make that constitutional promise impossible to fulfill.

Here’s the issue:

  • One set of state laws requires first-time voters to cast a ballot in person.
  • Another set of state laws requires voters in jail to vote absentee.
  • The combination of these laws means that first-time voters in jail have no way to cast a ballot.

This is an impossible bind. First-time voters in jail can’t vote in person, and they can’t vote absentee. They are locked out entirely.

Louisiana’s first-time voting requirement is not unique to jailed voters. Many other people may struggle to vote in person, like those with disabilities or students away at college. The law allows for these individuals to vote absentee for the first time if they provide paperwork showing their identity and the reason why they can’t vote in person. But there’s no such exception for jailed voters, even though the sheriff can verify their identity and incarceration status.

“Most folks don’t even know they still have the right to vote if they are in jail. Once they find out they’re eligible, they take the effort to be a civically engaged citizen because they want to be part of their community, and they want their voice heard,” said Checo Yancy, policy director at VOTE, who has organized registration drives attended by over 100 people in East Baton Rouge Parish Prison (Jail). “The men and women in the jail are excited to vote in elections that impact them, but then Louisiana blocks them if it’s their first time voting. That makes no sense. It should not be this hard for people who are eligible and trying to do the right thing.”

“When we talk about voting rights for people in jail, we’re talking about real people in our communities who want to participate and are being denied because the state won’t fix a problem it has known about for years,” explains Norris Henderson, executive director at VOTE. “Louisiana’s Constitution is clear: if you’re eligible to vote, you have the right to vote. But first-time voters in jail have no way to cast a ballot. This lawsuit is about making Louisiana keep its word and treating every voter with dignity. Democracy doesn’t stop at the jailhouse door.”

“The Louisiana Constitution is clear that all eligible voters have a right to exercise their freedom to vote, but Louisianans in jail who are voting for the first time have no avenue to do so,” said Kate Uyeda, legal counsel for voting rights at Campaign Legal Center. “Restricting access to the ballot denies voters the ability to make their voices heard. Campaign Legal Center and VOTE will be working to close this loophole because our democracy works best when everyone can participate.”

Louisiana should advance a democracy that includes all eligible voters, not one that systematically excludes people based on their circumstances. The Louisiana Constitution already affirms this principle; now the state must live up to it.

Follow the latest updates on this lawsuit via Campaign Legal Center’s case page.

“Angola is Smiling”: Inside Voices Respond to Calvin Duncan’s Historic Victory

Every week, our Mission Possible team stays connected with people on the inside, sharing updates, answering questions, and hearing directly about what’s happening behind the walls via JPAY. These exchanges shape our work and keep us rooted in the people most impacted by this system. On the week Calvin Duncan won as Clerk of Criminal District Court, Solomon B., writing from Angola, captured it perfectly:

“Angola is smiling as one of their own
is becoming legendary in his own right.”

– Solomon B.

Calvin Duncan didn’t just win an election; he rewrote what’s possible. The co-founder of the Angola Special Civics Project alongside Norris Henderson, Duncan spent years of wrongful incarceration inside Louisiana State Penitentiary turning cells into classrooms and cultivating a generation of advocates who would challenge the system from within. Now, he’ll help oversee the very court system that once confined him. They built a legacy of civic education and organizing that would ripple far beyond Angola’s walls and that legacy now sits at the helm of the Orleans Parish Clerk of Court’s office.

But perhaps no one grasps the full magnitude of this moment better than the people still inside—Calvin’s former students, his comrades in organizing, the men who walked the same yard and dared to believe that transformation wasn’t just rhetoric but reality.

When we shared the news through JPAY, their responses didn’t just congratulate a friend. They celebrated proof that the bars, literal and figurative, can be broken. They spoke of hope rekindled in a moment when hope felt scarce, of families they’ll now mobilize to vote, of improvised cookouts behind walls to mark a victory that belongs to all of them.

Here’s what they told us.

Yes! This is going to be the weekend to remember! I have to say that I’m beyond excited. I have already decided on how I will celebrate Calvin Duncan win and I’m going to have my very own cook out! You all understand how we improvise behind the walls.

Dewitt E.

Hey VOTE,

Congrats to Calvin! Truly a testament to the power of second chances and the good that can come out of Angola!

Surge S.

Well VOTE we see that you can.t keep a good man down… No matter how hard they try, the truth has its way of showing up at the time when needed. So let Calvin know all the men in Angola is very proud of his success. Even if they are not in tune with the times, sooner are later they will understand what it was all about.

So, keep up the good work and thank you all. One step at a time, it works.

Theodore M.

Hello FAM!

Angola is smiling as one of their own is becoming legendary in his own right. I have not seen this much excitement since Obama won the presidential election.

Smile!… for us here he is a very personal inspiration, someone whom bled, cried and sweated with. He knows first hand how our plight feels as he has walked in our shoes feeling at times seemingly defeated but to be as the Phoenix, rising from the ashes and rising he has along now with our hopes and dreams of one day seeing Angola as free men ready to join in the fight with him.

Solomom B.

Bismillah!

Greeting Fam., Calvin made history! I’m so excited for our comrade, he has cross a boundary that many are afraid to cross. I’ll try to give him a call to congratulate him properly, I’m sure there’s alot that he needs to do first. Keep me posted.

Carl B.

Congratulations Calvin; we are all collectively excited to welcome you as the new Orleans Parish Clerk of Criminal District Court!