Schawn Cruze and his family collaborated on this story, 10th in a series, as part of Justice Works! 3-Strikes reform campaign.
When Schawn Cruze was 13 and his brother Jason 11, their mother Katherine went to prison. The state placed the boys in a group home in Centralia, one of two Kiwanis homes later shut down by the state. (1) Schawn and his mother say the brothers were abused and neglected there.
Three years later, after Katherine's release, the family returned home to a neighborhood of Vancouver with high gang and drug activity. Schawn's sister Kaity was born soon after. It's a neighborhood, Kaity told me, that she'd never venture out in alone. She credits Schawn with helping to talk her safely through her teen years. Schawn was not able to do that for his younger brother or himself. Within 8 years of Kiwanis, he was sentenced to Life without Parole under 3-Strikes. A few months later, Jason was murdered in connection with gang activity.
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Photo above the fold: Schawn Cruze and Sandra Gadberry. From an email from Sandra to the author, quoted with permission: "He is not only a wonderful person but my best friend. He is worried about on a daily basis and loved always. Some people go in to prison and give up, don't bother. Schawn went in with his own issues and scars but he also learned to try to make the best of it. Reading and educating, trying to be a better person, even knowing that he was going to do life... We have never given up on Schawn and I will never give up on his chances of getting out. I have a lot of faith in him, I believe in him. With his experiences and knowledge, he can change the life of a child in trouble."
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CRIMES IN THE LOWEST QUARTER OF SERIOUSNESS
The three convictions underlying Schawn life sentence are for possession of drugs and a firearm and two Assault 2s. On Washington's 16-level scale of seriousness for crimes at RCW 9.94A.515, Assault 2 is at level 4. Although Level 4 crimes are in the bottom quarter of criminal seriousness under state law, the 3-Strikes ballot initiative included them on the list of "most serious crimes". These lower seriousness crimes are the most common triggers for life imprisonment under 3-Strikes in Washington. (2)
In 2001, the state's Sentencing Guidelines Commission recommended that the legislature evaluate whether any form of Assault 2 should remain on the 3-Strikes list, as some forms are "probably not commensurate" with strike status. (3) The legislature has never done this review. Schawn's punishment has been especially cruel. He has spent over 5 of the last 11 years in "intensive management", alone, 23-24 hours a day, in a room the size of a bathroom.
The goal in this story is not to place all responsibility for Schawn's situation on the state; he recognizes and accepts his own responsibility. It is to help illustrate that it is counterproductive and unjust to shortchange basic investments like foster care for children, adequate public defense, and treatment and education for people in prison -- while lavishing money on expensive, extreme, and experimental punishments like Life without Parole for lower seriousness crimes and long-term supermaximum isolation.
I CLOSE MY EYES AND I SEE MY SON'S FACE
| | I first corresponded with Schawn Cruze when he responded to a request for 3-Striker stories that was published in Outside-In, a newsletter that Justice Works! sends, on request, to inmates in the state's prisons. I'm one of the "what were they thinking," 3-Strikes cases, Schawn wrote. He explained that his third strike was for a fight with his brother who had testified on his behalf in court. |
Above: Katherine, and Kaity Strickland, Schawn's mother, and sister
I wrote back to Schawn and asked if I could interview Jason. He replied:
"You asked if you could speak to my little brother. I know he would love to speak on this for me but tragically he was murdered shortly after my trial. Even today it pains my Soul and brings tears to my eyes. He was my best friend. Yes, we fought, we always fought, but we were all we had, we were brothers. He was killed by some drug addicts. His body was put in the woods. The people who did it were never arrested or charged. His body lay in an unmarked grave for several years before a civilian stumbled onto his skull accidentally. No, you wouldn't know about it. He never got the attention of Stacy or Laci Peterson or Holloway. He got no media coverage -- nothing. My mother has suffered a great deal over losing both of her babies and she would love to talk with you. It would do her A LOT of good to know that there are people out there who care."
Katherine met me in her home. She had reduced her prescribed sedation in half to be more alert. Quick to laugh and a good storyteller, she talked about her four children with pride. The walls of the living room were hung with family portraits, children's drawings, landscape paintings, and religious and patriotic art.
She showed me photos of the two boys, probably at 10 and 12 years old, their smiling faces shining with energy and health. What were the boys like when they were young, I asked. "Oh, we went camping, we went fishing," she said. We used to go on the Washuga river. I remember one day, when Jason and Schawn went up and down that river, getting crawdads. They were regular kids, they were like two peas in a pod. They liked to have fun. They weren't any trouble.
She and Kaity brought out two of Schawn's ink and candlewax drawings, one of flowers and one of a face. The face was fantastical, striking me as part human and part bird. The eyes were fully human, drawn with detail and realism and with a penetrating expression. He had written a message of love to his mother at the bottom. Can you draw too, I asked Katherine? Yes, she said, "I close my eyes and I see my son's face." When she was in prison herself, she said, she drew all of her children's faces from memory.
After the visit, I realized that Katherine reminded me of my own mother, artistic and sociable, able to draw a person's face true to life -- and living under the weight of loss that no longing can undo. Her smile, in the picture above, has for me a familiar feeling of sweetness and sadness.
"We want Schawn home so bad I can't tell you," Katherine said. I keep thinking, 'how do I break him out of prison?' I think of prison breaks on TV, getting a helicopter and a rope and flying over the prison (laughs). I told him this once -- 'I want to break you out'. Of course, I can't! But they punished him anyway, they took away his privileges. He said to me, 'Mom, don't say things like that anymore!' You feel so helpless."
Schawn, Kaity said, is the only person in the family she can really talk to. Maybe, she mused out loud, if she wrote a long essay that explaining why he doesn't belong in prison, and if she found 5,000 people to sign it, maybe that would get through to the people in power. "I really miss my brother. It makes me angry. He's not stupid. He got caught up. Lots of people get caught up in things they can't control."
SOMETIMES PRISON IS LIKE A FOSTER HOME REUNION
Katherine described the events that sent her to prison. She and a group of friends tried to retrieve belongings from the member of a motorcycle gang. They went to his home and the person who opened the door pointed a gun at her stomach and pulled the trigger. The gun didn't fire and her friends jumped the gunman, tied him up and looted his home. She took his car and called the police from home. "I was surrounded by police and FBI agents," Katherine said. "Everything flashed around me. I thought I was going to die." She was convicted of armed robbery, kidnapping, assault, and theft. Do you think that your sentence was fair, I asked. "Yes," she said, "I should have known better." So, you were in prison when Schawn and Jason were just in their early teens, I said. That must have been terrible to be separated from your children. "I was heartbroken," she said.
<font>Above L-R: Will, Katherine, and Kaity Strickland, Schawn's stepfather, mother, and sister</font>
After the interview, finding media reports on abuse at the Kiwanis homes, I asked Katherine and Schawn if the boys had been abused while under DSHS care. Both answered, yes. The abuse, Schawn said, included a punishment called "slamming", which involved picking the children up for whole-body slams on the ground -- or whatever part hit first. The slams were done with force, often by the "house father" who was a large man with a wall of wrestling trophies that he'd show the boys. Someone was slammed every day. If you fought back, several people would put you in a choke hold and beat you. Adult supervisors regularly "paid" children with alcohol and cigarettes to help them keep warm in the winter as they logged trees on the property with axes and chainsaws wearing clothing that was inadequate to protect them against the cold. There was adult sexual abuse of some of the boys who lived there. "But I had my Lil Brother there so we stuck together through it pretty well," he wrote me. Prison, Schawn told me in a phone conversation, sometimes seems like a Kiwanis reunion. He rattled off names of several men in the same prison who knew each other from the Kiwanis home.
SPUN-COUVER
Katherine was released in 1989 and the family moved back to Vancouver. "This is a rough place," Katherine said. "They call it Spun-couver." Spuncover, I asked? "So many people are on something, it's spun out.
Schawn's letters to me from prison describe chaotic and violent teen years in Vancouver. He describes separate incidences of being beaten, shot at, robbed, and kidnapped. It was his purchase of a gun and his willingness to fight back that he felt kept him safe. At 15, Jason was recruited by gang members to sell drugs. "He got beat up," Katherine said. "They made him hold the drugs because he wouldn't get time as a minor." Schawn and Jason were often in juvenile detention and would bail each other out. "I don't know how many times they got put in juvenile hall -- 15 days, 30 days. I couldn't take the time from work. They'd bail each other out. Jason would go to the gang or to friends. He was always bailing Schawn out."
"I got sucked into it myself," Katherine said. "I wanted to lose weight. Someone gave me some meth. He said, try this, it'll help you lose weight. It was in a Tylenol bottle." Did you know what it was, I asked? "I didn't know much about it. It was called Ice. There were three rocks in the bottle and they cost about $60." Wow, that's expensive. "Well, they gave them to me for free. It did make me lose weight." What years were you using meth? "From about 1995 to about 2002. I was not a mother. Instead of acting like a mother, I was acting like a puppy dog. Do you have any?" She put her two hands under her chin like paws, plaintive. "It kind of numbs you, emotionally and intellectually. It takes away your personality. It claims your soul. It's an evil drug."
A FAMILY IN DISTRESS
At 18 Schawn was charged with "Accomplice to Assault 2" for being briefly present at a street brawl that he says was fought by other young men. He was young and scared, he wrote me, and his attorney talked him into signing an Alford plea -- neither admitting guilt nor contesting the conviction. The original charging document, which I have seen, does list Accomplice to Assault 2, which is a non-strike crime. Schawn, just 18 years old at the time, thought that was the charge that he pled to. But on the amended plea that he signed - without fully reading it - the charge was upgraded to the "most serious" crime, Assault 2. This was Schawn's first strike.
Schawn's second strike was for possession of methamphetamine and a 22 caliber gun, found when he was stopped by his parole officer for a surprise search. This case is currently in the state Supreme Court, having been referred there with a favorable opinion of the Appeals court. Possession of drugs with a firearm is not listed as a strike in state law and Clark County is the only county in the state to use this crime as a strike.
The day after Schawn returned from prison from serving time for his second strike, his brother Jason, high on methamphetamines, came at him with a knife. Schawn fought and injured him. That was Schawn's third strike. He was 24 years old.
Jason testified at trial that he was high on methamphetamines and that he came at Schawn with a knife before Schawn injured him. (4) A long time addict by then, Jason was very ill. At six feet tall, Katherine said, he weighed about 120 pounds. Meth addiction is known to cause toxic psychosis: a chemical poisoning of the brain resulting in paranoid and violent behavior. Jason had, indeed, been acting violently out of character. Not long before, the family had evicted him from their home because he'd chocked Schawn's wife while she held their son on her lap and then knocked Katherine to the ground when she intervened.
The transcript for Schawn's third strike trial reveals a family in distress. Immediately after the incident, family members testified, Schawn was "hysterical" and "distraught". In an effort to protect both brothers, Schawn's parents, who initially believed that Jason was the one at risk of arrest, didn't mention the existence of Jason's knife to the police and gave statements that they later repudiated in court. Jason, trying to protect both himself and Schawn, testified in court that his injuries had been inflicted by "three Mexicans" -- and that Schawn had come on the scene only after the Mexicans had left, hitting Jason only once -- and after he came at him with a knife. The verbatim transcripts of the trial show a prosecution diligently working to establish a motive for Schawn to attack Jason by prompting witnesses to say that Schawn was angry toward his brother before the fight despite their attempts to testify otherwise:
Exchange between Will Strickland and Prosecuting Attorney
Verbatim report of proceedings Volume II, pages 107-108.
WS: | | But I took all that for Schawn being hysterical like he was and everything. He was pretty upset that his brother would pull a knife on him. |
PA: | | Would you say he was pretty angry? |
WS: | | Well, of course. No. I have to retract that. He wasn't angry. He had tears in his eyes and he was distraught. He wasn't mad. He just couldn't figure out why Jason would pull a knife on him like that. |
Exchange between Katherine Strickland and prosecuting attorney
Verbatim report of proceedings Volume II, page 50.
KS: | | ...And he said, Well, Jason pulled a F-ing knife on me. |
PA: | | What else did he say. |
KS: | | More or less it was a lot of crying and he was pretty upset and hurt that his brother pulled a knife on him. |
PA: | | Did Schawn make the statement to you that Jason had it coming? |
KS: | | No. He made a statement to me that Jason was higher than a kite and he didn't realize that his drug problem was that bad. |
"Schawn always felt that if he wasn't in prison," Katherine said, "Jason never would have been murdered. Those boys were like two peas in a pod. They always fought. Jason wasn't violent normally. But he wasn't rational a lot at all then. It was the meth. The very day that Schawn got out of jail Jason was waiting to fight with him and he had a knife. I can never forget that day. I keep playing it over and over in my mind. Schawn was defending himself. I abhor that drug. That drug is dirty, it's filthy. I can't say enough. It destroyed our family."
50,000 VOLTS AND SILENCE OF THE DEFENDANT
"I kept asking him (defense attorney Perry Buck) really quietly during the trial, 'let me speak'. And he said, 'We're going to save you for last.' But then he was getting up to make his summation. I whispered to him, 'let me speak.' He said 'No, no everything is great'. I said, 'It's not great, please let me speak.' He said, 'just trust me on this.' At that moment I knew I was screwed."
From a 3/8/09 phone conversation between Schawn and the author.
"I know the record is silent on my objection to counsel not allowing me to testify, but you cannot strap a belt on a person with 50,000 volts of electricity and tell them if you want to say something say it to your attorney, one fast move or loud outburst to the court and we will electrocute you for 8 seconds, the result of which is defecating and urinating in your pants, and expect the record to be anything but silent. I talked only when permitted and never during trial. It wasn't till sentencing that I was allowed to voice all of my concerns without the threat of being electrocuted."
From Schawn Cruze's pro se appeal.
Jurors in Washington state are legally prohibited from knowing when their guilty verdicts will impose a 3-Strikes life sentence. The jurors for Schawn's trial reached their verdict without this information.
They also did not have an opportunity to hear Schawn's side of the story. Schawn states that Perry Buck, his defense attorney, promised he could testify but then did not give him the opportunity. Having been fitted with a stun belt and told that he would be electrocuted if he spoke out of turn, Schawn was afraid to address the court without permission. (Buck had motioned for removal of the stun belt on the first day of trial but the motion was denied.)
In a 1999 pro se appeal, Schawn contended that his constitutional right to speak on his own behalf had been denied him. He cited both the stun belt and his attorney's failure to bring him to the stand although he had told him he would. The appellate court decision ruled that the use of the electronic belt on Schawn was "inappropriate" but found no evidence that the jury could see, or did see, the belt. It agreed that Schawn had a constitutional right to speak at his trial, but found no evidence that this had been denied him. From the appellate court decision:
"A criminal defendant has a constitutional right to testify on his or her own behalf. A defendant may claim that his attorney prevented him from testifying, even if he remained silent during trial. The defendant must, however, produce more than a bare assertion that the right [to testify] was violated; the defendant must present substantial, factual evidence in order to merit an evidentiary hearing or other action. This record lacks such evidence. Accordingly, we conclude that this last claim fails and that the conviction should not be disturbed."
That "substantial factual evidence" could have come in the form of an affidavit from Perry Buck. During the trial, Schawn asked Buck to give him the opportunity to testify. Buck had told he could testify "last". But then all the testimony ended and Buck had never brought him to the stand. Twice, while he prepared his appeal, Schawn wrote to Buck asking for an affidavit attesting to these facts. He did not receive a response.
Perry Buck and I spoke by phone on 2/26/08. "Schawn wanted to testify in court," I said. "He told you that he wanted to testify. He asked you to let him testify and you said that you told him that he could -- but that it would be the last thing that would happen in the trial. But he never got to speak in court. ... can you tell me why Schawn was not permitted to testify?" "Normally", Buck answered, "defense counsel advises criminal defendants who have prior felony convictions not to testify -- because then prosecution can use these prior convictions to impeach the credibility of the defendant."
In four separate followup phone conversations (March, May, August, and September 2008), I asked Perry Buck if he would send affidavits to Schawn and his family, verifying that Schawn asked to speak and was not given the opportunity -- and that he, Buck, was not paid enough by Clark County to be able provide adequate defense. Each time, he said he would. So far he has not followed through. (Image -- the envelope from one of several written correspondences I sent to Mr. Buck, hoping to appeal to his kindness.)
SWEATSHOP DEFENSE
Perry Buck received a flat fee of $1,500 for Schawn's strike trial. At the going rate of $75 per hour for defense, that would have barely covered 2-1/2 days of court time - not counting travel or parking time. All preparation time and overhead expenses would have been pro bono. An August 8, 2001 Seattle Post-Intelligencer article reported that, due to the "miserliness" of Clark County, defense lawyers handling three out of five of Clark County's death-penalty cases had been either disbarred or arrested. In a 2003 followup the PI outlined the "sweatshop practices" of Clark County's indigent defense system.
The Seattle PI was not alone in examining the shameful state of Clark County's indigent defense. A 2002 report commissioned by Clark County and conducted by the Spangenberg Group, paints a chilling picture of Clark County Defense at that time. Defendants routinely received seriously sub-par representation. The authors attributed these conditions primarily to inadequate funding and, in large part, to Clark County's lack of a public defenders office, which was abolished in 1980. Clark County still does not have a public defender's office. Instead, a position for an "Indigent Defense Coordinator" has been established. Currently, that position has been empty for nearly 2 months.
I spoke with Clark County's Prosecuting Attorney, Art Curtis, in early March. Do you think that Clark Co. defense has improved since Spangenberg, I asked. "I think defense has improved since then," he replied. "We've fired a couple of defense attorneys. We do have an Indigent Defense Coordinator, David DeLong." Mr. DeLong left this position in late July and no replacement has been found. The indigent defense department is under General Services for the county. I asked the receptionist what General Services does. She answered that it's responsible for ordering supplies, photocopying, and indigent defense. The web page indicates a range of other responsibilities, including risk management.
In our first phone conversation defense attorney Buck told me that he moved to Wisconsin because he was "very unhappy with Washington's system, with its immense wealth and prosperity, that it could not pay for adequate defense or appeals." Do you feel that you provided adequate defense to Schawn, I asked? "I felt that I provided preparation appropriate for the compensation I received. However, the defense resources were far less than the resources that were needed for his case," he answered.
NO KNOWLEDGE OF THE KEY WITNESSES OR EVIDENCE UNTIL THE FIRST MORNING OF TRIAL
The two key elements of the prosecution's case on Schawn Cruze's third strike trial were the testimony of a neighbor, Collette Rusk, who heard the disturbance and called 911, and statements made to the police by Katherine and Will Strickland on the day after the incident, when they were trying to protect Jason from arrest. These established the factual foundation and the motive for the prosecution. Amazingly, given the enormously high stakes of this case for the defendant, it wasn't until the morning of the trial that Schawn learned that Ms. Rusk would be a witness or that the police statements existed. Neither he nor his attorney reviewed them or prepared a defense for them.
Buck does not contest the fact that his client did not have the representation he needed. In a 1997 Affidavit, he writes that his client did not have a fair trial and mentions that that the morning of trial was the first time that he even met Ms. Rusk -- and that there was no preparation for this crucial testimony on which the prosecution based most of its case:
The state listed Collette Rush (sic) on its witness list ten days before trial, her address 'c/o Prosecuting Attorney's Office.' Ms. Rush (sic) turned out to be one of the state's most important witness, (sic) the witness whom the prosecutor urged in closing that the jury assemble its case on.
An exchange between Perry Buck and the prosecuting attorney, on Page 3 of the trial's Report of Proceedings (Vol I) establishes that Schawn didn't know of the existence of the statements made by his parents to the police -- the other major element of the prosecution's case -- and that there had been no defense preparation for the introduction of this key evidence to the jury:
PB: | | "Mr. Teply (the defense investigator) has been talking to Mr. Cruze here. It appears I didn't have a chance to hand along to him statements of Katherine and Willard Strickland in part of his case in chief." |
PA: | | "What?" |
I called Steven H. Teply, the defense investigator, who remembered the case, though not in great detail. Teply is an experienced defense investigator, having served in this role for 3,000 cases, including 78 murder cases. Perry Buck told me on the phone, I said, that he was not paid enough to be able to provide adequate defense for Mr. Cruze.
"All Mr. Buck had to do was to stand up in court and tell the judge 'I'm in over my head I can't give my client his constitutionally guaranteed defense,'" Teply said, and he would have been replaced.
Do you think Perry Buck was the best person for representation on a Three Strikes case, I asked? "No. I think Perry was in over his head," Teply said. "He did as well as he could." In capital murder cases, everyone knows from the beginning what is at stake. But in a Three Strikes case involving an Assault 2, which is an "innocuous, middle of the road crime," it won't necessarily be known until after the attorney is assigned that a life sentence is at stake. "I'm just hypothesizing here," Teply said. But if it had been known that Schawn was facing a life sentence, it's possible that Perry Buck would not have been chosen for this case. I call these kinds of laws "pandering" bills, Teply said. We pass them without knowing if they're going to be ruled constitutional or if they'll work. This one was put out to the public that we're going to put people away for Rape I, Murder I, and Armed Robbery.
Perry Buck could also have asked the court for more compensation. In an earlier 3-Strikes case in Clark County, the defense attorney, Jeff Sowder, asked for and received additional payment. He cited several rulings that it is a reversible error for a trial court to set an amount for indigent defense that is too low (State v. Mempa 78 Wn 2d 530 (1970), State v. Lehirondelle, 15 WN app 502 (1976) and State v McKinney, 28 Wn App 797 (1978).)
On the second day of the 3-day trial, Schawn asked the judge to remove Perry Buck for incompetence. She denied the request without allowing Schawn to fully describe his objection to Buck as counsel. (5)
JUSTICE BLIND, DEAF, AND DUMB
The "jury trial and log" documents each action taken at the trial in sequence. It shows that the prosecutor motioned for one juror to be excluded and that the defense attorney made no such motions. It shows that the prosecutor made an opening statement but the defense attorney "reserved" his. It shows 10 witnesses were prepared in advance by the state and none prepared in advance by the defense. It shows 27 exhibits were presented by the state and none by the defense. It shows Perry Buck admitting that he had confused North and South on the jury panel diagram so that he did not know which jurors were which (this led to the inclusion of a juror he had meant to have excluded and then her later dismissal after the trial had begun). Key pieces of evidence were not presented to the jury. The prosecution had a receipt for the knife showing that Jason had purchased it several days previously, thus establishing possible prior intent by Jason. But it did not bring the receipt forward and the defense did not ask for it. Schawn's Kiwanis background, relevant information, was not brought forward. (The Kiwanis background of a criminal defendant has resulted, at least in one other case in the state, in a lesser sentence. (6))
How much time did you actually spend with Perry Buck before the trial, I asked Schawn in a letter. Did he do anything for your trial at all? Did he get any documents or evidence or interview any witnesses or discuss strategy with you at all? Schawn replied:
"Perry Buck? Yeah, what a joke. He came to see me "twice" before the trial. The first time he came he talked for about 20 minutes and told me he would get information for me. The second time was for about 15 minutes and he told me he didn't have a chance to talk to my brother or mom and he was having a hard time "financially". I told him I would talk to my aunt in California and see if I could come up with some money. I couldn't. I called him and spoke to a secretary. This was way before trial started. I had tried to fire him. I didn't have a clue what this guy was going to say or do, and once trial strted, I found out neither did he!
No, Noemie, he didn't do anything at all. I was scared to death. I didn't know what to do or who to turn to so that's why I asked the Judge to dismiss him and she wouldn't. Then I knew I was screwed. It was horrible."
In his first letter to me, Schawn wrote that: "This thing called Justice may be blind, but it is deaf and dumb as well." In broad daylight, in a courtroom full of people, including attorneys and a judge, no one saw the young man who stood before them, afraid to speak, fitted with a belt charged with 50,000 volts. Jury members complained to the judge that the case was taking too long. (7) Perhaps they would have felt differently if they had been told that the defendant was facing life. No one, not even the defense attorney, asked Schawn what he thought had brought him to the place where he stood. His brother and his parents, apparently in an attempt to protect both brothers, gave conflicting and confusing testimony. No one had the information needed to make a wise choice -- except for the defendant. And the defendant was silenced.
SUPERMAX IN WASHINGTON
"I'm not crazy, I'm actually pretty normal (yeah, surprised myself). And it wasn't till I studied these things did I realize my reactions to crowded places, impulsive thinking, spontaneous anger, are all common adverse effects to being kept in isolation for long periods of time. The adrenaline I feel pumping through my body, to feed my muscles, my sudden loss of appetite, my awareness of every motion, my sudden panic attacks, are triggered by my "fight or flight" responses. This happens to me "EVERY" time I walk in a dining room full of people, the gym, or any crowded area. I read the sick feeling I get afterward could be caused from the unused adrenaline released by my body. You are probably thinking I'm crazy, and I don't blame you. I started thinking I was going nuts for a while. But after reading about it, beginning to understand it, I have given myself some power over it - but I also realized I needed help - I've never gotten it. When a person has Life they don't see no reason to try to rehabilitate us." (Schawn Cruze in a letter to the author)
To get a sense of Schawn Cruze's experiences and accomplishments in the context of this story, it is necessary to understand that he has lived most of his life in environments shaped on the one hand by underinvestments in basic services -- such as foster care and legal defense for poor people -- and on the other hand by lavish spending on harsh punishment. There's a similar dynamic in the prison environment where he has lived for more than a decade. Services that help incarcerated people adjust to that environment and become good citizens are starved of funds. But harsh and expensive approaches like supermaximum isolation, referred to in Washington as intensive management, are amply funded.
Schawn and his family estimate that he has lived over 5 of the past 11 years alone, 23-24 hours a day, in a room the size of a bathroom - with very few visits from the outside and with few opportunities to take part in programs or treatment that would help him rise above the dynamic keeping him in the isolation cycle.
DOC has been making an effort to reduce the reliance on long-term isolation of inmates, as reported in a Post Intelligencer article in April of this year, Prisons Shift from Solitary Confinement. The existence of the transitional programs reported on in this article is due to strong leadership within DOC, beginning with former DOC Secretary Chase Riveland, to secure funding that has allowed for the development of programs that are less costly and more effective, as well as safer and more humane for the inmates, than than long-term isolation. (8) Despite this progress, however, hundreds of millions of dollars have been spent on construction of intensive management units (IMUs) in the past several bienna in Washington, alone -- and it appears that the use of supermax isolation -- though perhaps not long-term isolation -- may actually be doubling in the state. (9) Supermax has not been empirically shown to reduce violence. It has been shown to cause permanent psychological damage to incarcerated people. (10) And it has had Schawn Cruze in its grip.
IN THE HOLE
It is not surprising that a Kiwanis alumnus like Schawn would find himself "in the hole." Post traumatic stress (PTSD) -- a frequent Kiwanis diagnosis, is also associated with inmates' difficulty in "negotiating their roles according to institutional... codes" -- and, therefore, with persistent placement in supermax. It's a self-perpetuating experience. Each episode of isolation makes re-entry into mainline more challenging. Early in his sentence, Schawn says, he was placed in 2 1/2 years of continuous solitary. Since that time, crowded situations have been difficult for him to handle.
When I understood the extent of Schawn's isolation and read the research on the harm that long-term prison isolation causes, I believed there was an urgent need for the state to remove him from isolation. I wrote to several legislators, the Governor's office and to Eldon Vail, recently appointed as Secretary of DOC. Secretary Vail responded with a review of the case and referral for investigation. Soon after, perhaps coincidentally, Schawn's application to take part in one of the new "step down" programs for reintegration into mainline was approved. This month, Schawn completed the first phase of that program and has been moved into a setting with a higher -- but still limited level -- of contact with other people. He wrote me shortly before being approved for the "step-down" program from isolation, "about not letting other kids experience the things I have gone through. How will I achieve this? I don't know. I have to get myself in a position to where I can be able to do this, but first I need to get my own life together and the longer I am in here the more ground I will have to make up. However, I did talk to the teacher yesterday and begged him for something to further my education. He informed me that all they offer is GED..."
During years of solitude, Schawn has educated himself to the best of his ability, reading what his counselor referred to in a written assessment as "copious amounts of books" -- not only popular works, but literary classics, works on politics, psychology, and law. When out of isolation and given the opportunity to work, he's excelled, gaining positive reviews from supervisors. He has never given up on asking for help with education and transition out of solitary. Despite the disproportionate harshness of his punishment, he's spent years reflecting on how his actions have affected others. "Please remember that I take "FULL" responsibility", he wrote me. "I never took the time to think about things... It wasn't till I came to prison, till Jason was killed, my entire family ruined, till I watched other lives ruined, did I fully learn my culpability and understand the kind of effect I had on society... God only knows what the effects on children's lives were."
WHAT'S NEXTSchawn may get his wish to help other children "from the outside". As his defense attorney stated in his trial summation, he'll probably one day be released from his life sentence. That day may come soon as one of his strikes is currently under appeal.
The human and justice costs of keeping Schawn and other 3-Strikers in prison for life terms are high. So are the fiscal costs. Washington State Institute for Public Policy estimates an annual per-inmate cost of $32,000 in the state. (11) That cost is higher for 3-Strikers who are kept in a higher security category. It is much higher for people in solitary confinement. Schawn's actuarial life expectancy is 72. The standard sentencing range for his current conviction, Assault 2, is 3 months to 7 years. Schawn completed the maximum back in 2004. That means that Washington taxpayers, who have already spent more than $128,000 on his incarceration beyond the maximum sentence, are on the hook for an additional 40 years and expenses starting at $1,280,000.
This million and a quarter does not include additional court and much higher medical costs for older inmates. It does not include the taxes and productivity that the state loses from keeping him out of the work force. It doesn't include future court costs as Schawn continues to fight his life sentence. This is money that would bring much improvement, for example, to the state foster system and the care of children who, like Schawn and his brother, Jason, are left behind and vulnerable to abuse and neglect when their parents are imprisoned.
Research shows that 3-Strikes laws, in all the states that have adopted it, have high social and fiscal costs -- but crime reduction effects that are "mostly undetectable" or even counterproductive. (12) Tragically, the disproven 3-Strikes assumption that it's cost effective to lavish huge sums on one-size-fits-all punishments is causing us to throw away not only public funds but also our fellow human beings. If nothing else disproves the 3-Strikes assumption that people convicted of three crimes are irredeemable, it is this response, seen in Schawn's case -- and also with other Washington's 3-Strikers -- of rising above hopelessness, accepting responsibility, and striving to realize his own potential under devastating circumstances. Washington State was the first in the nation to pass a 3-Strikes law. We'd do well to get this reform started.