The Indigenous Justice System: History of Limitations And Restorative Justice

by Eva Pechtl

This is the beginning of a series I will be writing about Indigenous justice systems. Though Indigenous people span across the world, I will be providing information specifically on policies and relations of the United States in this blog. Indigenous justice methods are compellingly distinct processes. In this opening post, I will first summarize the history of limitations placed on Indigenous justice and then explore traditions and values behind the restorative processes of Indigenous communities. 

 

Tribal police officers have alternative uniforms and badges sometimes with details representing the Indigenous culture of their community.
An image of a tribal police officer’s uniform and badge from the Salt River Pima Maricopa community in Arizona. Source: Yahoo Images via Flickr

 

History of Foreign Limitations on Justice Processes 

First, it is important to acknowledge the history of legislation put in place by the federal government that has greatly affected Indigenous justice systems. Constant structural changes imposed by colonizers resulted in wide variations between Indigenous tribal justice systems, meaning some are more similar to the US legal system than others. However, overarching this entire topic is the question of whether Indigenous, federal, or both governments presume jurisdiction over criminal offenses in Indigenous countries.  

This question was decided when the federal government essentially ended the exclusive Indigenous jurisdiction over crimes in Indigenous countries. Before exploring Indigenous justice practices, I would like to briefly contextualize the complex and confusing history of Indigenous jurisdiction. 

First, the General Crimes Act of 1817 extended federal jurisdiction over crimes committed on Indigenous land in cases where the defendant is non-Indigenous. At this time, the government only cared to interfere with crimes that involved non-Indigenous people. The Major Crimes Act in 1885 granted the federal government jurisdiction over serious crimes where the defendant is Indigenous, regardless of the victim’s identity. It originally listed seven offenses but has been increased to sixteen. After negotiation, tribal courts retained concurrent jurisdiction to prosecute Indigenous people for any conduct listed as a Section 1152 or Section 1153 felony. This means that an Indigenous defendant can be prosecuted by both the tribal justice system and the federal justice system for the same offense. This is because protection against double jeopardy in the Bill of Rights doesn’t apply to Indigenous nations.

Indigenous people gained more power to govern themselves in 1934 with the enactment of the Indian Reorganization Act. While it recognized tribal governments, the act offered money to those mirroring the U.S. Constitution, attempting to Americanize Indigenous societies. Many customs had disappeared, and Indigenous people were intentionally challenged to create self-government among distinct nations. 

Next, Congress enacted Public Law 280 in 1953, requiring six states to assume civil and criminal jurisdiction on reservations, meaning the federal government gave up jurisdiction over Indigenous people to those states. This law was opposed by Indigenous nations because it was an unconsensual process that further complicated and failed to recognize tribal self-determination. 

The Indian Civil Rights Act in 1968 offered states civil and criminal jurisdiction with the “consent of the tribe” over crimes in any Indigenous country in the state. It limited the sentencing powers of tribal courts but did not require the separation of church and state because of the importance of spirituality in all processes. The Tribal Law and Order Act in 2010 intended to improve tribal safety, slightly increasing tribal sentencing authority to a maximum of 3 years and a $15,000 fine. However, these new privileges were dependent on the imposition of further regulations regarding due process protections in tribal courts.  

Finally, the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) in 2013 authorized tribal courts special jurisdiction over non-Indigenous offenders in domestic violence cases. This was a landmark shift from the Supreme Court decision Oliphant v. Suquamish Indian Tribe in 1978, which held that tribal courts have no authority to prosecute non-Indigenous people, even if the victim was Indigenous. The VAWA was amended again in 2022 to expand special tribal jurisdiction to a list of covered crimes, including child and sexual violence, sex trafficking, and assault of Tribal justice workers. Indigenous courts can now prosecute and sentence regardless of the offender’s race for crimes against Indigenous victims that had commonly been ignored.

 

Indigenous people march and hold signs in the street to demonstrate their rights against colonization.
An image of Navajo people marching for the decolonization of Indigenous justice systems.    Source: Yahoo Images via Occupy Boston

 

Because of colonization, Indigenous peoples’ principles have gone unrecognized by America’s Anglo-centric justice system. Consequently, Indigenous nations retain limited power to create a befitting legal structure that administers justice. However, they continue to persevere and have cultivated distinct methods, such as restorative and healing practices. 

 

Harmony and Balance in Restorative Justice 

In Indigenous communities, restorative court systems are similar to traditional systems where a council of tribal elders or community leaders will facilitate conversations to resolve interpersonal problems. In this type of resolution, the compliance of the offender is necessary for the families involved. Most importantly, this process attempts to heal the underlying means for a crime, preventing repetitive behavior and aiding the offender’s reintegration into the community. These types of meetings are also known as forums and can be conducted within families and communities. 

In various areas of North America, circle sentencing reflects traditional Indigenous peacemaking aspects and has proven to be an effective approach to healing the offender, the victim, and the community. Specific practices vary by tribe, but the idea is to address participants’ feelings about how offenders can begin making up for their actions. Circle sentencing produces better satisfaction and healing, breaking the cycle of crime and allowing people to reconnect with spiritual traditions with the help of their community. In common Indigenous views, justice and spirituality are deeply connected. 

 

Restorative justice intends to improve ties between the offender, the victim, and the community to create a healing-centered process.
An image of a Venn diagram showing restorative justice goals of the overlapping healing between the victim, offender, and community. Source: Yahoo Images via eCampus Ontario Pressbooks

 

Tribal courts differ from other methods since they use written codes rather than being passed on through tradition. These judicial forums handle a range of legal problems and are led by judges from Indigenous communities. Most defendants or plaintiffs must represent themselves since the Indian Civil Rights Act does not ensure the right to legal counsel if individuals cannot afford an attorney. Tribal courts, interestingly, still tend to use family and community forums to handle interpersonal matters. This allows for alternative resolutions, sentencing, and victim-offender mediation. 

Indigenous courts intend to restore harmony and balance to one’s spirit, following the belief that people who are whole do not act harmfully. Judge Joseph Flies-Away from the Hualapai Nation says, “People do the worst things when they have no ties to people” and that “Tribal court systems are a tool to make people connected again.” 

 

Incorporation of Values In Peacekeeping Systems 

Indigenous peacekeeping systems promote the resolution of underlying problems and make an effort to keep relationships strong. Indigenous justice represents a holistic approach where communication is fluid rather than rehearsed. They recognize that argument is not an effective approach and that discussion is vital to review a problem in its entirety. Indigenous justice is inclusive of all affected individuals, different from the American justice system, which often excludes participants. 

The talking circle is common in Indigenous justice methods with no beginning and no individual in a dominant position. The colors red, black, white, and yellow can symbolize diversity in the human race, among other interpretations varying by tribe and tradition. A token, commonly a feather, is passed around the circle, encouraging all participants to have equal chances to speak freely and honestly.
An image of the Mi’kmaw culture symbolizes the talking circle with no beginning and no individual in a dominant position. The colors red, black, white, and yellow can symbolize diversity in the human race, among other interpretations varying by tribe and tradition. A token, commonly a feather, is passed around the circle, encouraging all participants to have equal chances to speak freely and honestly.
Source: Yahoo Images via Mi’kmaw Spirit

 

The Navajo Nation’s peacemaking process centers on the individual and helps an offender realize that what they have done is incorrect. Instead of labeling and punishing individuals as criminals to prevent them from repeating the behavior, the Navajo way separates the action from the individual. Retired Chief Justice Robert Yazzie of the Navajo Nation Supreme Court states that the process is related to k’e, meaning to restore one’s dignity and worthiness.  

What I find particularly remarkable about these concepts of justice is that, instead of adopting an immediate punitive approach aimed at simply removing the offender, the system focuses on correction and rehabilitation. Offenders are obligated to verbalize their accountability and take responsibility for changing their behavior. Instead of releasing the offender after their time is served, the system supports reparations to the victim(s) and community involving apology and forgiveness. These Indigenous restorative justice approaches are distinct from America’s legal process, which focuses on labeling and punishing the offender. Furthermore, traditional types of justice are able to promote communal healing and support in reintegration rather than hiring professionals to dispute a case with little interest in the community. 

 

An image of rocks stacked progressively higher symbolizes restorative justice practices of rebuilding an offender’s ties with society as they take accountability for the harm they have done.
Source: Yahoo Images via Policy Options

 

Indigenous leaders continue struggling to ensure that their justice systems are meaningful to their people. We rarely consider Indigenous justice systems, but maybe we ought to start. Please stay tuned for my next blog in this series, expanding on current struggles imposed on the Indigenous justice system and its people. 

Hopeless Efforts at Release on Parole from Alabama Prisons

by Eva Pechtl 

“They see me trying to do right, but my past is my problem,” said Terry Townshend, an inmate resembling countless others denied release on parole from Alabama’s prisons at astounding rates.

Two inmates sleep and one stands wearing prison uniforms. Some inmates will spend most of their time simply waiting, as not all prisons provide adequate opportunities for engagement in normal day-to-day activities.
An image of inmates waiting for the time to pass. Source: ProPublica via Yahoo Images

 

Before we begin, I encourage you to read Kala Bhattar’s posts on the extensive history and severity of the Alabama prison crisis concerning human rights. She offers valuable insights into the unique nature of the legal system in Alabama, and how its background connects to ever-present challenges in prisons today.

This post is going to explore the overwhelming decrease in parole rates being granted to prisoners by the Alabama Parole Board. The Alabama Bureau of Pardons and Paroles (ABPP) considers inmates eligible for parole after serving most of their sentence, allowing them to be released early from prison to reenter the community and complete service outside of prison walls. The declining rates of parole being granted are a barrier to the multifaceted issue of prison overcrowding pressed by understaffed facilities and increased prison violence. There are widely differing perspectives on the best strategies to calm the swelling chaos of prison overcrowding. To Alabama’s parole board, parole is not one of them.

It’s important to understand that parole is a privilege, not a right. Even if approved, inmates are released on strict conditions that may include reporting to a supervising officer, maintaining steady employment, not buying alcohol, or attending counseling to name a few. At any point, individuals can have their parole revoked and be reimprisoned. 

Parole hearings are conducted based on guidelines set forth by the ABPP. They are meant to consider whether an incarcerated person is likely to reoffend. The board considers the severity of an offender’s criminal history, risk assessments, reports of institutional behavior, participation in programs or treatment, and plans for navigating problems the offender is likely to face again during reentry. These guidelines have recently been criticized as flat-out ignored by the Parole Board, likely sparked following the consistently declining rate of parole actually being granted. According to the ABPP’s Monthly Statistical Reports, Alabama has gone from a grant rate of 54% in 2017 to 10% in 2022, and it reached as low as 2% in January of this year. 

A significant event sparking this change was Jimmy O’Neal Spencer, an inmate who was paroled in 2018 and, upon release, murdered three people. This tragic case led to tremendous pressure to keep inmates in prison and aligned with the sudden drop in grant rates beginning that year. When releasing convicted felons became understandably more controversial after Spencer’s release, the parole board’s actions were put under a microscope. The primary concern of the parole board seemed to shift to avoiding negative headlines.

 

Guidelines Being Overrun by Discretion

To be clear, the parole board ultimately has complete discretion over a decision, and the guidelines are meant to serve solely as an aid. Consequently, in May of 2023, the recommended 78% grant rate indicated by the guidelines was actually 18%. This raises questions about the disparities between parole guidelines and parole decisions. For one, why are the guidelines in place if they are consistently overlooked? This breach is represented by the conformance rate, which indicates the number of cases that matched the guidelines’ recommendation for grants or denials. It amounted to 23% in May, 14% in June, and 5% in July of 2023. This adds to years of disparities between recommended grant rates and actual grant rates present in Alabama. So, what is going on at parole hearings?

The precise reasons remain unclear. The parole board does not always articulate its reasons for approving or denying parole, even though they are required to by Alabama Code 15-22-26. Decisions were also commonly made based solely on the severity of an offense. Alabama determines the criteria for parole eligibility of certain offenses outlined in Section 15-22-27, but decisions are still weighed based on that information which the system has already approved. The point of having an additional hearing is to judge an inmate on who they are now.

Furthermore, race was an illuminated factor toward reentry this May, where 30% of decisions for White individuals conformed to the parole guidelines while 17% of decisions for Black applicants conformed to the same guidelines. However, I cannot comprehensively address the topic of race on reentry in this single blog.

 

The Power of Decision Makers

The drop in grant rates came promptly with Governor Kay Ivey’s appointment of Leigh Gwathney as the current board chair in 2019. Years later, Gwathney granted 2.4% parole of cases in the summer of 2023. Board members of the ABPP have tremendous discretion by law and have by no doubt used it to impact grant rates. Parole Watch documented a lack of attention toward the cases by the board and expanded on concerns about the three-chair system. A main takeaway from many perspectives on the hearing system is the influence the third seat can have on a hearing’s outcome. With two seats, the majority rule turns to a unanimous vote. When the board shrank to Gwathney’s seat, plus one, so did the grant rate from 13.2% in June to 4.1% in July. 

If parole is denied, the board determines an inmates’ set off date, or how long they will wait before being reconsidered for parole. Gwathney voted for the maximum set off date in 73.4% of denied cases in the summer of 2023, more than any other seat. What makes overcrowding a progressively hopeless matter is the fact that Alabama’s Department of Corrections has an opportunity to clear crowded and understaffed prisons of inmates that are eligible by the guidelines and obvious recommendation to leave. With an 80% decrease in parole grants from September 2019 to June 2020, the population in custody increased, even as custody admissions decreased. The impact of denying parole to so many is daringly increasing the pressure of prisons that are already way above full occupancy.

Parole hearings are open to the public, but unlike other states, Alabama does not allow offenders to represent themselves. Also, no rebuttal is allowed by supporters after opponents give the final word. Often, victims or advocates will misrepresent the facts leaving supporters of parole with no opportunity to correct them. According to Parole Watch’s observations, some representatives claimed to advocate for the victim but still opposed parole even if it supported the victim’s wishes. Opponents of parole like Victims of Crime and Leniency (VOCAL) and the Attorney General’s Office, proved to have a tremendous influence on the decisions of the parole board. Of the 78.3% of hearings this summer where VOCAL was present, 96.6% were denied. 

Inmates Are People Just Like Us

Aging inmates are pushed in wheelchairs outside by prison staff. The population of elderly inmates has risen dramatically in the past fifty years.
An image of aging inmates being pushed in wheelchairs outside by prison staff. Source: Yahoo Images via Unprison

 

71 year old Leola Harris, who has end-stage kidney failure, diabetes, and cannot walk or use the bathroom on her own, will likely die before her next hearing in 5 years. Having certification by the Department of Corrections for medical parole, testimonies by nursing home staff for a confirmed living plan, a successful lie detector test denying that she murdered the victim, and two decades of good behavior was not enough to get her out of prison for her remaining years.

This is reflected by many inmates who have numerous accomplishments to advocate for their improvement but are swiftly rejected. Terry Townshend has faced a life of drug addiction and resulting imprisonment, demonstrating fighting efforts to stay away from pills and crime. His release on parole failed when he got back into drugs after being given take-home narcotics after cancer surgery. Terry did everything he could to build personal responsibility from completing substance abuse treatment programs to earning a degree in trade school, and this in turn helped him understand his addiction and how to handle it without crime. However, like many, he was held down by his failures and rejected.

Timothy Bille, a now free man who was denied parole 4 times in 18 years, expressed that “They tell you to do all these prison programs to increase your chances for parole, but when they deny guys like Terry, it feels like a lie.” 

Finally, Frederick Bishop was denied parole at his hearing scheduled 10 days after he died in prison. Justice is not denying release to a corpse. His case demonstrates a lack of attention by the entire justice system toward informing relevant parties of an inmate’s status and judging them accordingly. 

The reality is that Alabama prisons have become more unsafe than the free world. Overcrowding in prisons is not as much due to new crime but to repeated declines of release for experienced inmates. Advocates for less violence and victimization in prison populations would agree that prisoners of minimal risk to their community, especially under careful supervision, should be granted freedom, and therefore safety. 

Jimmy O’Neal Spencer has been convicted, denied parole, and sentenced to death. It is time that thousands of others who are stuck in Alabama’s combusting, debilitating conditions deserve real chances at parole.