To effectively address the problem of mass incarceration, prosecutors must adopt ways to respond to cases involving violence that don’t rely on jails and prisons. The "Prosecutors and Responses to Crimes of Violence: Notes from the Field" document offers in-depth case study findings and is intended as a tool for jurisdictions looking to expand alternative approaches to crimes of violence.
New York: Center for Justice Innovation. 2024, 18pg
By Fred Butcher, Amanda B. Cissner, and Michael Rempel
Mandatory minimum sentencing laws gained traction in the late 1970s and early 1980s amidst rising crime rates, a “tough-on-crime” push, and punitive enforcement related to the “War on Drugs.”. Under mandatory minimums, individuals receive a stipulated amount of prison time, with no accounting for the circumstances of the offense or the characteristics of the person charged. As minimums typically flow from the charge and a person’s criminal history, they confer outsized power on prosecutors; in plea negotiations, prosecutors can wield the threat of a higher charge with a minimum for someone hesitant to accept a plea. Judges also lose discretion, and defense attorneys lose opportunities to present mitigating circumstances. In 1984, the federal Sentencing Reform Act established the U.S. Sentencing Commission, requiring that federal courts impose sentences within a range specified by the Commission and eliminating parole for federal charges. Many states took their cue from federal efforts, introducing minimum sentences and restricting the ability of parole boards to reduce sentences through good-time or earned-time credits. Proponents viewed sentencing guidelines (including mandatory prison) as a limit on judicial discretion and a means to eliminate disparities in sentencing. They touted the idea of “truth in-sentencing”—giving people charged, crime survivors, and the public an accurate idea of how much time those sentenced would actually serve. Minimums also arose in response to the perception—ginned up at the time and since debunked—that the more rehabilitative approach of the 1960s had failed to tamp down crime rates and recidivism. Recent decades, however, have seen mandatory minimums fall into disrepute. Several decades of harsh sentencing policies contributed to the astronomical growth of the U.S. prison population, which peaked at 1.6 million people held on an average day in 2009, a total which omits about 750,000 additional people held in local jails that year. The rapid consolidation of mass incarceration over these decades did not increase safety; evidence points instead to a modest increase in recidivism among individuals subject to custodial sanctions. Similarly, mandatory minimums and other sentencing laws passed in the 1970s and 1980s increased (and here more than modestly) persistent racial disparities in the criminal legal system. Black Americans today continue to be disproportionately represented in prison populations and are more likely to be charged with offenses subject to mandatory minimums—leading to longer sentences—than white Americans.8 According to the most recent analysis by the U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics, among those detained in prisons nationwide, there were nearly identical Black and white populations (34% vs. 32%). Considering their representation in the general population, Black people are imprisoned at a rate five times greater than white people. Over the past two decades, numerous states, including New York, have weakened or eliminated mandatory minimum sentencing laws.10 Many of these reforms focused on eliminating minimums that apply primarily to drug offenses. This narrow focus has neglected much of the imprisoned population, as drug offenders make up a small percentage of those in prison. In 2022, the Vera Institute of Justice estimated just over half of New York’s approximately 300,000 prison sentences were the result of mandatory minimum sentencing laws. Declaring the laws “morally and fiscally unsustainable,” the organization called for their abolition.
New York: Center for Justice Innovation. 2022, 31pg
By Melanie Skemer, Emily Brennan
The U.S. jail population has tripled over the last 30 years due to surges in the use of pretrial detention and money bail. On any given day, nearly 450,000 people in the United States are detained while awaiting the resolution of their criminal charges. Many of these individuals, still legally innocent, are in jail because they cannot afford to pay the bail amount set as a condition of their release. Pretrial detention takes a significant toll on the lives of affected individuals, putting them at increased risk of continued involvement with the criminal legal system as well as of losing their jobs, housing, and child custody.
As a result, jurisdictions across the United States are reforming their pretrial systems to reduce the number of people who are held in pretrial detention—that is, who remain in jail while they await the adjudication of their cases. As part of this effort, many jurisdictions are moving away from money bail as a primary means of encouraging people to return for future court dates. Instead, they are increasingly relying on alternatives such as pretrial supervision, which requires released people to meet regularly with supervision staff members while their cases are pending. Pretrial supervision has traditionally required clients to report for in-person meetings, particularly for those assessed as being at relatively high risk of failing to attend a court hearing or of being rearrested.
With the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, however, many pretrial supervision programs shifted in-person meeting requirements to remote check-ins to protect the health of both clients and staff members. For many jurisdictions, this shift highlighted some of the benefits of remote supervision, which include time savings for clients balancing work, school, caregiving, or other responsibilities, and less resource-intensive administration for supervision providers, potentially generating cost savings. At the same time, some members of the pretrial community questioned whether remote supervision was as effective as in-person interaction at meeting clients’ needs and protecting public safety. As the pandemic waned, it remained unclear whether remote supervision was as effective as in-person or hybrid (a mix of in-person and remote) supervision in achieving the main goals of supervision programs: helping clients make their court appearances and avoid new arrests during the pretrial period.
New York: MDRC. 2024, 37pg
By Charles Fain Lehman
Crime, particularly violent crime, is a pressing concern for the American people. The surge in homicide and associated violence in the past three years has made voters skittish and prompted aggressive partisan finger-pointing. This increase has not, however, prompted significant investment in our criminal justice system. Ironically, as this report argues, this increase in violent crime is itself a product of fiscal neglect of that same system over the past decade.
Across a variety of measures, in fact, the American criminal justice system needs an upgrade. Police staffing rates have been dropping since the Great Recession; prisons and jails are increasingly violent; court backlogs keep growing; essential crime data are not collected; and essential criminology research is not conducted. These shortcomings contribute not only to the recent increase in violence but to America’s long-term violence and crime problems, problems that cost us tens of thousands of lives and hundreds of billions of dollars each year.
For too long, policymakers at all levels have failed to attend to this problem. Instead, both the political left and right have subsumed criminal justice issues into the larger culture war, fighting over the worst excesses of the police or the horrors of criminal victimization. Rather, they should look to past examples of federal policymaking in which lawmakers have used the power of the purse to dramatically improve the criminal justice system’s capacity to control crime. Doing so again could ameliorate many of the major concerns voiced by both sides in the criminal justice debate.
As such, this report proposes an ambitious, $12-billion, five-year plan to bring the criminal justice system up to date.
New York: Manhattan Institute. 2023, 33pg
