By Sandra Susan Smith

As a growing number of jurisdictions across the country have attempted to implement bail reforms, debates have intensified about the relationship between such reforms and crime, including and perhaps especially violent crime. Similar debates, for instance, have raged in New York, where the backlash against bail reform caused the state legislature to roll back key elements just three months after implementation. In recent weeks, New York Governor Kathy Hochul has proposed further rollbacks to the law to address continued concerns that bail reform has contributed to spikes in the state’s violent crime rate. Although largely driven by politics, these debates raise an important and timely set of empirical questions: What role does pretrial detention/release play in producing, or threatening, public safety? Does pretrial release incentivize crime and drive-up crime rates, including violent crime, as many in law enforcement have claimed? Or, all things considered, is pretrial detention the greater risk to public safety? This discussion paper is an effort to synthesize the evidence on this question. Before doing so, however, I specify the conceptualizations of public safety that I deploy throughout. I then draw from academic and policy research on the costs and benefits to public safety of pretrial detention/release, distinguishing evidence from studies of the impacts of releases resulting from routine pretrial practices, from bail reform, and from responses to the Covid-19 pandemic. No matter the cause of pretrial release, the evidence seems clear: Overall, pretrial detention is a far greater threat to public safety than pretrial release. Not only does detention increase the risk that even low-risk individuals might reoffend (or be rearrested), but detention also initiates a series of collateral consequences downstream that are difficult for many to overcome.

Arnold Ventures Public Safety Series, July 2022. 14p.

By Reprieve

Researchers at Reprieve conducted an in-depth comparative study of botched lethal injection executions in the modern era of the U.S. death penalty, cross-referenced against the 1,407 lethal injection executions carried out or attempted during that period. The research found that: • Black people had 220% higher odds of suffering a botched lethal injection execution than white people. • Botched lethal injection executions occurred whether a one-drug or a three-drug protocol was used, and regardless of whether the primary drug was sodium thiopental, pentobarbital or midazolam. • Botched lethal injection executions typically lasted a very long time. Over a third lasted over 45 minutes; over a quarter lasted an hour or more. • The odds of a botched lethal injection execution increased by 6% on average for each additional year of age. • In the state of Arkansas, 75% of botched lethal injection executions were of Black people, despite executions of Black people accounting for just 33% of all executions.

In the state of Georgia, 86% of botched lethal injection executions were of Black people, despite executions of Black people accounting for just 30% of all executions. • In the state of Oklahoma, 83% of botched lethal injection executions were of Black people, despite executions of Black people accounting for just 30% of all executions. • Secrecy and haste were found to be factors contributing to increased rates of botched and prolonged executions.   

New Orleans LA: Reprieve. 2024, 36pg

by Osborne Jackson

This paper examines the short-run and long-run effects of felony conviction on crime using increases in felony larceny thresholds as an exogenous, negative shock to felony conviction probability. A felony larceny threshold is the dollar value of stolen property that determines whether a larceny theft may be charged in court as a felony rather than a misdemeanor. Felony larceny threshold policy helps states govern felony convictions, thereby regulating punishment severity.

The author focuses on the theft value distribution between old and new larceny thresholds. In theory, this “response region” is where, following enactment of a higher threshold, the incentives to commit larceny of a given stolen value amount increase the most, because that crime switches from being a felony to a misdemeanor.

Boston: Federal Reserve Bank of Boston. 2020, 80pg

By Columbia Legal Services

  Washington’s prisons are public institutions run by the state Department of Corrections (DOC). The purpose of state correctional institutions is ostensibly to rehabilitate individuals, and to do so without a profit motive or by facilitating profit-seeking behavior. However, the state realizes enormous cost-savings from underpaying its captive labor force as little as $1.00 per hour. People incarcerated perform essential operations jobs like cleaning units and bathrooms or working in food service, all for meager pay far below Washington’s statewide minimum wage. People in prison also often perform unpaid labor as DOC fails to approve all jobs as paid positions. Washington State has recognized in other settings that underpaying detained workers is wrong. In 2017, Washington State sued the GEO Group—a for-profit corporation running the private immigration detention center in Tacoma—for failure to pay its workers (people in custody in the detention center) in accordance with Washington’s minimum wage law. At the time, the GEO Group was paying workers in custody $1.00 per day. The State brought this lawsuit – and has so far prevailed – on the basis that private prisons must comply with Washington State wage laws. And yet, the State has not taken similar steps to protect people in state, local, or municipal prisons and jails. Instead, state law currently exempts people housed in public carceral facilities from the definition of “employees” for the purposes of Washington’s minimum wage and labor standards laws. Further, people in Washington state prisons face severe consequences if they refuse to work, including lengthier prison sentences. This system of coerced and underpaid labor within DOC is nothing short of modern-day slavery. And, in keeping with this sordid legacy, people in prison face ongoing discrimination on the basis of race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, ability, and immigration status—all of which are barriers to gaining and maintaining the employment people need to avoid punishment and to earn enough to pay for basic necessities. Correctional Industries (CI) is the division within DOC that operates businesses and employs people in custody in Washington prisons. CI reported over $133 million in revenue and over $38 million in assets in fiscal year 2023. The majority of CI workers fall into one of two classes of employment: Class II and Class III. Class II jobs are generally referred to as “CI jobs,” and entail working outside the prison unit, either in an operations role (e.g., food production, laundry, etc.), or producing other goods and services (e.g., furniture manufacturing) that CI then sells to various government agencies and nonprofit organizations. Class II workers usually earn between $0.80 and $2.85 per hour and are eligible for overtime pay.6 Class III jobs are generally considered “unit jobs,” and include porters, facility maintenance, and other essential tasks around the prison units. Despite the wide range of prison jobs, DOC fails to provide people in prison with sufficient opportunities for real-world job training or skill acquisition, leaving people in custody unprepared to gain employment after release.   In response to growing awareness and concern over labor exploitation in prisons, in 2023, the state legislature allocated funds to increase the wage floor for Class III jobs from $0.42 to $1.00 per hour. However, DOC then capped worker earnings at $40 per week.7 Even with this raise, people in DOC custody are paid far below the 2024 state mandated minimum wage of $16.28 per hour, and meanwhile the cost of living in prison is rising.

Seattle: Columbia Legal Services. 2024, 62pg