Second chances start here

Wendi Germain, executive director of the Springfield Restorative Justice Center, helps people reintegrate into the community after prison.

Published July 19, 2015 in the Rutland Herald Second chances start here By Madeline Bodin Correspondent The man slumps in a plastic chair. He is distraught. He’s watching his dream job slip through his fingers. “This is what my education is in.” He starts in six days. But his release from prison is contingent on his attending outpatient rehabilitation sessions until noon each day, and his employer needs someone who can be on the job 40 hours a week. “It feels like being kicked in ... a not so fun spot,” he says. Wendi Germain, executive director of the Springfield Restorative Justice Center, reminds him that his track record on the conditions of his release has not been perfect, and that the rehab sessions are keeping him out of prison. “You have to do the next right thing all the time, not just when it’s going to get you what you want,” she tells him. The man has barely walked out of the door when another man sticks his head in to Germain’s office, which has walls the color of a stormy sea. He wants her to hear it from him. He’s back on GPS monitoring after being off for a week and a half. “What happened to doing the next right thing?” Germain asks him. “Want more bad news?” asks another man through the doorway as soon as the other man leaves. When her office is empty of clients, Germain drops her head into her hands. “Today is kind of racking up to be a really bad day.” Once you’ve been in prison, it can be hard to stay out. In Vermont as of 2010, 49.7 percent of the people released from prison returned within three years, according to statistics in the Vermont Department of Corrections Facts and Figures report for 2014. Nationwide, the situation is even worse. According to a 2014 federal Bureau of Justice Statistics study using 2005 data, an estimated two-thirds (68 percent) of 405,000 prisoners released in 30 states were arrested for a new crime within three years of release from prison. Germain explains it this way: Bad decisions land people in prison, where their right to make just about any decision is taken away. We shouldn’t be surprised when they make more bad decisions once they leave, she says. Something needs to change. Among the handful of programs run by the Springfield Restorative Justice Center is one that helps people reintegrate into the community after prison. The program is funded by a grant from the Vermont Department of Corrections, and the people in the program are still technically under the supervision of the Corrections Department. Some former prisoners receive mentoring from community volunteers. Others live in transitional housing provided by the center and meet with staffers frequently. Finding housing that meets the conditions of their release is one of the major challenges facing people leaving prison and of the Restorative Justice Center. There are about 260 people in Vermont prisons right now who are legally able to be released, except that they can’t find housing, reports Derek Miodownik, restorative and community justice executive for the Corrections Department. He is quick to add, though, that most of those cases are much more complicated than simply finding a willing landlord, including sex offenders who are strictly limited in where they can live, and people with substance abuse problems that keep them out of transitional housing. While some of the Springfield center’s clients have been harassed by their neighbors, Germain doesn’t think Vermonters are less willing to give second chances these days. “I think the whole social media thing has made us all angrier about everything,” she says. The Springfield center clients receiving the most intensive help also take part in the restorative justice panels that give the center its name. These panels aim to repair the damage done to victims and the community. The Springfield center is one of 21 restorative justice centers in Vermont, which has been a nationwide leader in the concept. A bubbly blonde with bright pink bangs, it’s easy to imagine Germain, 43, as someone buoyed by natural optimism to seek out one of the toughest advocacy jobs there is. But nothing could be farther from the truth. Germain graduated from college with a degree in marketing. Her first experience with the justice system was as a victim of domestic violence. “I was very young,” she says, “22 or 23.” She remembers the trial, sitting in the witness chair and being hammered with questions. “I was just terrified,” she says. “I wanted to cry.” In that tearful moment she realized that neither she nor the man on trial were going to get the help she was asking for when she dialed 911. “No one asked me what I thought.” As the victim, she believed, she should have some say in how things worked out. It was that belief that carried her through years of volunteering on a restorative justice panel in Chester, then serving on a steering committee to start a program in Springfield. When the Springfield Restorative Justice Center was founded, she went from steering committee to executive director. At first, the job was mostly advocating for victims through the restorative justice panels and a reparative probation program, as well as intervening with young people before they became involved in the court system. Then the Corrections Department needed organizations around the state that could help prisoners re-enter their communities. It seemed like a natural next step. For Germain, though, the goal is always one of the mottoes of restorative justice, “No more victims.” “When I first started this work, I thought I had to be tough,” Germain says. “But now, I’m comfortable with who I am, and that makes the guys comfortable with me.” It means the clients who sit facing her desk also face the Mickey Mouse poster that hangs over it. They sit in a pink chair, because all of the chairs in her office are pink. Germain listens to a man sitting in a pink chair talk about how he is going to get through the next day, the next week, the next month. He has been out of prison for a week and a half. He’s done his paperwork, settled in, and he’s bored. He knows that boredom means trouble. He has accepted the first job he’s come across and wants to know if Germain can arrange for a ride to get him there. She can, but she also reminds him of their last conversation. Then, he said he wanted to re-establish himself in the line of work he has years of experience in, and even start his own business. “How would you go about it?” she asks. Within minutes, the man is on Germain’s phone with an insurance agent, giving information for a quote on business insurance. A few minutes after that, Germain is on the phone getting the dates for a class that will lead to a helpful certification. As sheer pink curtains waft in the breeze, it is easy to believe in this future, even for just a moment. It’s easy to believe that this man will prove himself to his coworkers, get referrals and run a successful business. A 2013 study by University of Vermont researcher Kathryn J. Fox found that in one statewide community re-entry support program, only one out 21 offenders were charged with a new crime during the three year study period. “At some point we should talk about business plans,” Germain says to her client. Later she confesses that these more advanced aspects of community integration are some of her favorite parts of the job. Mostly, though, she feels it’s a good day if none of the center’s clients winds up back in prison. This day has been rough, but she has that. Germain and the man set up an appointment to meet again in a few days and the man pushes back the pink plastic chair to leave. “I can’t wait to get started,” he says.