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The Honolulu Advertiser

Posted on: Sunday, October 2, 2005

From miles away, troubled boy finds father knows best

By Kevin Dayton
Advertiser Staff Writer

Gerianne Medeiros and her children, Amanda, 11, and Harold, 10, earlier this year. Medeiros' husband is in a Mainland prison, and the family wants him back in Hawai'i.

BRUCE ASATO | The Honolulu Advertiser


Tallahatchie County Correctional Facility inmate Michael Brown reviews paperwork regarding his classification in the prison system.

MIKE BROWN | Special to The Advertiser


Andrew Kaoihana, who returned to Halawa prison from the Mainland, said people who suffer in Mainland prisons are those with loved ones. "But the ones like myself who are single, it's good up there."

DEBORAH BOOKER | The Honolulu Advertiser


Shannon Kane, now out on parole, said the separation and distance of serving time in a Mainland facility nearly ended his marriage.

MIKE BROWN | Special to The Advertiser

Harold James Medeiros is a big boy, so large at age 10 that the neighborhood kids taunt and tease him, even throwing rocks.

On those days, Harold returns to his Wahiawa home filled with anger. He picks on his older sister, and his mother, Gerianne Medeiros, cannot calm him.

That is when the phone rings with a collect call from the boy's father, Harold C. Medeiros Jr., who is serving prison time almost 3,700 miles away in Oklahoma. Gerianne can't explain how it happens, but the boy's father somehow knows when to call.

"He asks how I did in school and then he tells me how to fix the problem," said young Harold. "He tells me to just ignore it and go on with life."

The elder Medeiros was transferred from Halawa Correctional Facility on O'ahu to Diamondback Correctional Facility in Watonga, Okla., three years ago, and his family doesn't know when he will return.

The long-distance calls help, but Gerianne Medeiros said they are a poor substitute for the remembered embraces on visiting days when her husband was at Halawa.

"It's ripping us apart," she said. "The love the kids have for the dad never stops, but they're drifting apart and he doesn't know how they are growing up, how they've grown."

"That's the hardest part of being apart: He cannot hold his kids. Even if it was on weekend visits to Halawa, at least we could hold him and touch him."

MOVED OUT OF HALAWA

Because there is no room for them in Hawai'i prisons, 1,828 men and women inmates have been placed on the Mainland.

The private operators of Mainland prisons say the state is reaping huge financial benefits: The Corrections Corp. of America estimates it has saved the state $128 million since 1998 while providing drug treatment, educational and other programs.

What isn't included in the calculations is the impact of the Mainland transfers on inmates and their families. Few Hawai'i families can afford to make even a single trip for a face-to-face visit, and they say closed-circuit "video visits" are no substitute for a loved one's touch.

Nationally, the Urban Institute reports 55 percent of men and 65 percent of women in state and federal prisons have children, most age 10 or younger.

Thomas Lengyel, director of research and evaluation for the Milwaukee-based Alliance for Children and Families, estimated 3,000 Hawai'i inmates are parents and that there are 6,500 children in the state with a parent in prison or jail. It is not known how many Hawai'i inmates serving time on the Mainland have school-age children.

Research suggests inmates have a better chance of succeeding after release if they maintain strong ties with their families. One California study found that inmates with no visitors were six times more likely to re-enter prison during the first year of parole as those who received regular visits from at least three family members.

Those findings are important for Hawai'i because the Mainland prison transfers virtually cut off in-person visits by family members, said Robert Perkinson, an associate professor of American studies at the University of Hawai'i-Manoa. "Anything you do that encourages people to keep their families together — extended visits between spouses or contact visits with kids — the research suggests would tend to decrease recidivism," he said.

By contrast, "anything you do that encourages breaking up families would tend to increase recidivism, and, therefore, endanger all of us more," Perkinson said.

Kat Brady, coordinator of the Hawai'i-based Community Alliance on Prisons, contends the state has an obligation to keep families connected as best it can, especially when women inmates are involved. Hawai'i has about 80 women serving time in a privately run Kentucky prison.

"I think women are primarily the main caregivers to their children, and when you send a woman out of state, the chances of her ever seeing her children while she's away are slim to none," Brady said. "Most families can't afford the trip. They can't even afford the phone calls."

STUDY OF PAROLEES

University of Hawai'i studies financed by the Hawai'i Department of the Attorney General in 1999 and 2001 reviewed the records of more than 900 parolees to look for factors that lead to failure on parole. Among other things, the reports found that inmates with unstable family relationships were more likely to violate their parole and be returned to prison.

"One of the few things that we've seen actually affect recidivism, makes people less likely to commit new crimes upon release and be able to successfully complete their parole, is the kind of contacts that people can have with their families while they're incarcerated," said Peter Wagner, assistant director of the Prison Policy Initiative, a Massachusetts research organization.

"Sending people ... to the Mainland makes those contacts far more difficult," Wagner said.

Hawai'i inmates incarcerated in Mississippi, Oklahoma and Colorado told The Advertiser that their family ties withered while they were away, especially with their children. Youngsters change so quickly, and with only a voice to connect them with an absent parent, they can soon become strangers.

Michael Brown, who is serving a sentence at Tallahatchie County Correctional Facility in Mississippi for burglary and terroristic threatening, said he believes doing time on the Mainland is a far greater punishment than being locked up in Hawai'i.

"The desensitizing of human beings that's going on here by men not being able to have weekly visits with their family, like any other normal inmate in a regular prison in a regular state, I can see it in these guys' faces every day," said Brown, 44. "Human beings need that.

"For a human being to learn how to interact with family and ... become emotionally mature and grown, you have to be around your family," he said. "I think that's the biggest tragedy I see here, is the loss of hope in these guys, the loss of love, the loss of desire to try and do anything."

FINANCIAL CHALLENGES

Pastor Roy Yamamoto, who runs the New Hope Christian Fellowship prison ministry from Sand Island, said inmates' families already are struggling to pay the bills because the head of the household is gone. What little savings they have often is spent on a Mainland prison visit.

For families that can't afford a trip, the church provides space for closed-circuit TV visits, and some families use the service every chance they can, he said.

"There's a lot of hurt, a lot of joy that happens during this visitation — many tears," Yamamoto said. "Some of the visitations, it's the first time that maybe the husband ever saw his kid, and the kid may be 3 or 4 years old."

Shannon Kane, 31, readily admits he landed in prison because of his crimes and drug use. He said the separation and distance of being held in a Mainland facility nearly ended his marriage.

Kane was 17 when he was sentenced to prison for attempted murder and sexual assault. He was paroled after more than 10 years but ended up back behind bars 14 months later for failing a drug test. He was ordered to serve another three years, and was sent to Arizona and then Mississippi.

Kane could afford to call home only once a month while he was confined on the Mainland. His wife's family chipped in one Christmas to help pay for a $1,500 trip so she could visit him in Arizona. As time passed, Kane began to worry that his marriage was failing, and he worked to complete a drug-treatment program in Mississippi, hoping it would lead to another release on parole.

"When I was (in prison) back home the problem wasn't so bad because there was the physical contact. She says, 'Shannon, it's not having you to hold on the weekends, or being able to drive up there, or to be able to see you.' The whole thing is, she don't know when I'm coming home."

Kane, who has since returned to Hawai'i and been released on parole, also worried about his son, a defiant 15-year-old whom he feared might follow his father to prison one day. Like any parent, Kane wants to reach out to the boy and "just simply be honest with him, just share the consequences, that if you do this, this is what will happen," he said, "and the example is me."

SOME PREFER MAINLAND

Where prisoners prefer to do their time usually depends on their family situation, and inmates with few close ties in the Islands sometimes welcome a Mainland transfer.

When Andrew Kaoihana was first moved from Halawa Correctional Facility to the Prairie Correctional Facility in Appleton, Minn., he remembers puzzling over a key the prison had issued to him. He was a seasoned convict, serving his third prison term for theft and burglary, and he couldn't imagine why authorities would hand him the key to anything.

That key, Kaoihana learned, allowed him to lock his cell door when he left for recreation, work or programs. The prison staff could override the key to open the cell or confine Kaoihana inside, of course, but the key protected his personal belongings while he was away.

There are no inmate keys for cell doors at Halawa. That key was one reason he preferred to do his prison time on the Mainland. Another was that he had a cell to himself in Minnesota.

Kaoihana, who was released on parole in May, rates the Mainland prisons better than Halawa in almost every respect. The prison commissaries are better on the Mainland, he said, and there are more work opportunities, programs and other activities to help pass the time.

"I feel that they're trying to please the inmates, make them comfortable, where they no retaliate," he said. "When I was there, I would never leave my own room because I would have my own TV, my own fan, my own radio, my own hot pot. I would just close my door and kick back in my bed and watch TV."

Kaoihana said the privileges at the Minnesota prison were little consolation for inmates with faraway families.

"The people who suffer in prison is the ones who have loved ones — family, kids, wives — that's the ones who suffer. But the ones like myself who are single, it's good up there."

Lengyel of the Alliance for Children and Families has urged the state to consider inmates' family status when deciding whether to ship them to the Mainland — a factor that is not part of the transfer screening process. He contends the state should keep inmate parents close to home so they can visit with their children.

"You just create a whole nest of problems about getting a person reconnected when they return from having been so out of touch," Lengyel said.

While there are complaints about unfamiliar or unpleasant food and improperly cooked rice at out-of-state prisons, inmates interviewed by The Advertiser report that Mainland corrections officers are generally more respectful of prisoners than those in Hawai'i. Staff and inmates agree the overall control of inmates in Mainland prisons is less rigid, allowing for more activities.

Corrections Corp. of America cites its rehabilitation, educational and other programs, such as faith-based living units.

GRW Corp. President Gil Walker touts the recreation facilities at the Brush, Colo., prison where about 80 Hawai'i women were held for about 14 months. Brush features volleyball courts, a quarter-mile track, a soccer field, a computer lab and more than a dozen classrooms.

Last week the women were transferred to Otter Creek Correctional Center in Kentucky, a CCA prison that will offer them educational classes, rehabilitation programs and more extensive drug treatment than was available at Brush, prison officials said.

Kane, who was transferred from Tallahatchie back to Halawa in June, strongly opposes the Mainland transfers but admits he was able to participate in life-skills classes, drug treatment programs and correspondence courses while away.

"Half of what I did on the Mainland, I wouldn't be able to accomplish here if I stayed here," he said.

He was glad to be transferred back to Halawa to await release, "but it's a shock coming back from the Mainland to this dump," where inmates spend a lot of time locked down.

FAMILY TIES

Whether maintaining family connections can be beneficial in treating an inmate's substance-abuse problems depends on the circumstances.

Andy Anderson, chief executive officer of the Hina Mauka drug treatment program, said family can play a major role in getting an addict through recovery. But in cases in which family members contribute to the problem because of their own addictions, placing inmates in a Mainland prison with a drug treatment program can be helpful because it removes them from a bad environment.

"Maybe the person gets clean and sober when they leave and is able to deal with the chaos back here," Anderson said. But families are unhappy with the arrangement, nonetheless.

"It's an uprooting of the close family relationships and 'ohana that we have here. No matter if they're using or not, it's still a major trauma to have a family member leave," he said.

Gerianne Medeiros in Wahiawa knows that trauma well, and worries about the effect it will have on son Harold. The 10-year-old boy lived with his father for less than four years and will be 16 when his dad is scheduled to be released in 2012.

The elder Medeiros, 48, served 14 years for a 1981 manslaughter conviction but after his release fell into methamphetamine use, according to his wife. He is now serving a 10-year term for theft and possession of stolen property.

It might not seem like much, but the visits to Halawa Correctional Facility, before he was transferred to the Mainland, were important, his wife said.

Father and son would fold a name tag into a paper football and flick it across the table. Gerianne Medeiros said she enjoyed hearing the banter and arguing over who scored and who didn't.

When her husband was sent to Oklahoma, the kids never got to say goodbye. The calls from prison are expensive, and the phone bills have been as high as $290, but Medeiros said she pays because her family needs those calls.

She also believes her husband needs contact with his family.

"The more visits keeps the family together, the ties together, and makes the man, the husband, realize what they losing by being locked up," she said. "Being locked up, after so many years, you want to get back to your family. If you're not able to see them all the time, see them grow, see how they're changing and what you're missing, it's just like hearsay. You're not going to want it.

"By sending them to Oklahoma and Mississippi, all they have is each other, the men, and all they have is the gangs. They don't have God in their life."