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The Second Chance Club: Hardship and Hope After Prison
A former parole officer shines a bright light on a huge yet hidden part of our justice system through the intertwining stories of seven parolees striving to survive the chaos that awaits them after prison in this illuminating and dramatic book.
Prompted by a dead-end retail job and a vague desire to increase the amount of justice in his hometown, Jason Hardy became a parole officer in New Orleans at the worst possible moment. Louisiana’s incarceration rates were the highest in the US and his department’s caseload had just been increased to 220 “offenders” per parole officer, whereas the national average is around 100. Almost immediately, he discovered that the biggest problem with our prison system is what we do—and don’t do—when people get out of prison.
Deprived of social support and jobs, these former convicts are often worse off than when they first entered prison and Hardy dramatizes their dilemmas with empathy and grace. He’s given unique access to their lives and a growing recognition of their struggles and takes on his job with the hope that he can change people’s fates—but he quickly learns otherwise. The best Hardy and his colleagues can do is watch out for impending disaster and help clean up the mess left behind. But he finds that some of his charges can muster the miraculous power to save themselves. By following these heroes, he both stokes our hope and fuels our outrage by showing us how most offenders, even those with the best intentions, end up back in prison—or dead—because the system systematically fails them. Our focus should be, he argues, to give offenders the tools they need to re-enter society which is not only humane but also vastly cheaper for taxpayers.
As immersive and dramatic as Evicted and as revelatory as The New Jim Crow , The Second Chance Club shows us how to solve the cruelest problems prisons create for offenders and society at large.
Prompted by a dead-end retail job and a vague desire to increase the amount of justice in his hometown, Jason Hardy became a parole officer in New Orleans at the worst possible moment. Louisiana’s incarceration rates were the highest in the US and his department’s caseload had just been increased to 220 “offenders” per parole officer, whereas the national average is around 100. Almost immediately, he discovered that the biggest problem with our prison system is what we do—and don’t do—when people get out of prison.
Deprived of social support and jobs, these former convicts are often worse off than when they first entered prison and Hardy dramatizes their dilemmas with empathy and grace. He’s given unique access to their lives and a growing recognition of their struggles and takes on his job with the hope that he can change people’s fates—but he quickly learns otherwise. The best Hardy and his colleagues can do is watch out for impending disaster and help clean up the mess left behind. But he finds that some of his charges can muster the miraculous power to save themselves. By following these heroes, he both stokes our hope and fuels our outrage by showing us how most offenders, even those with the best intentions, end up back in prison—or dead—because the system systematically fails them. Our focus should be, he argues, to give offenders the tools they need to re-enter society which is not only humane but also vastly cheaper for taxpayers.
As immersive and dramatic as Evicted and as revelatory as The New Jim Crow , The Second Chance Club shows us how to solve the cruelest problems prisons create for offenders and society at large.
304 pages, Paperback
First published February 18, 2020
90 people are currently reading
2771 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 123 reviews
August 26, 2020
"Probationers and parolees were the Americans on whom poverty, addiction, and mental illness were doing their worst. Most started out as victims. Many became victimizers in time. An investment in them was an investment in public safety, and public safety was a cause everyone could get behind."
The Second Chance Club: Hardship and Hope After Prison is an interesting and intimate look at a segment of our judicial system in the US that is not often talked about.
The author, Jason Hardy, is a former parole and probation officer who shares the personal stories of several of the people he worked with. He examines this part of the judicial system, the pros and cons, by telling how it works - and what doesn't work.
Currently, there are around 4.5 million people on parole and probation in America -- more than twice the jail population. Often it keeps people out of prison.... but at the same time, further surveils and interferes in people's lives.
For the most part I enjoyed this book but after a while grew weary of the personal stories. They're interwoven and too many similar details for my liking. Others might appreciate this more than I did. When reading non-fiction, I prefer facts to personal anecdotes.
By the last third of the book I was bored with the particular stories of parolees and probationers and just wanted the book to end... which is unfortunate because the last few chapters examine how and what changes can be made to our judicial system, and that's what drew me to the book in the first place. However, it had gone on too long with the personal stories that, by the time I got to this point, I was unable to really get back into the book.
3.7 stars rounded up.
The Second Chance Club: Hardship and Hope After Prison is an interesting and intimate look at a segment of our judicial system in the US that is not often talked about.
The author, Jason Hardy, is a former parole and probation officer who shares the personal stories of several of the people he worked with. He examines this part of the judicial system, the pros and cons, by telling how it works - and what doesn't work.
Currently, there are around 4.5 million people on parole and probation in America -- more than twice the jail population. Often it keeps people out of prison.... but at the same time, further surveils and interferes in people's lives.
For the most part I enjoyed this book but after a while grew weary of the personal stories. They're interwoven and too many similar details for my liking. Others might appreciate this more than I did. When reading non-fiction, I prefer facts to personal anecdotes.
By the last third of the book I was bored with the particular stories of parolees and probationers and just wanted the book to end... which is unfortunate because the last few chapters examine how and what changes can be made to our judicial system, and that's what drew me to the book in the first place. However, it had gone on too long with the personal stories that, by the time I got to this point, I was unable to really get back into the book.
3.7 stars rounded up.
January 8, 2020
This book is a huge tour de force on jail and poverty. There are so many things the common person doesn't think about. Is it really jail or their home for prisoners. When they are released where do they go? How do they make a living? With SO many released at once or in close proximity is there enough jobs and housing? Thank you for such an informative read!
February 27, 2020
4.5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
At first glance this book looks like something you might pass on and you might say, “I don’t want to read about probation and parole.” But then you might pause....taking a closer look at it and think about that one person you know or heard about that’s in prison and decide I’ll just take a look. And I hope that happens because I think you’ll enjoy it!
My husband had a life sentence and has now been out of prison for over 15 years. He has the privilege of working for and representing a place for the formally incarcerated to transition back into society. It can be done and it’s a big job but it can be done one person at a time.
This book is well written and gives us a glimpse of the system at large. The author takes us through his daily duties and lets us meet all the challenges he sees and the endless struggles. Addiction, poverty, and the homeless. It’s a compelling story with his honest view of the system and I hope you struggle with it as much as I did. I definitely recommend this book and want to thank the publisher for allowing me to read this.
This was a NETGALLEY gift and all opinions are my own.
At first glance this book looks like something you might pass on and you might say, “I don’t want to read about probation and parole.” But then you might pause....taking a closer look at it and think about that one person you know or heard about that’s in prison and decide I’ll just take a look. And I hope that happens because I think you’ll enjoy it!
My husband had a life sentence and has now been out of prison for over 15 years. He has the privilege of working for and representing a place for the formally incarcerated to transition back into society. It can be done and it’s a big job but it can be done one person at a time.
This book is well written and gives us a glimpse of the system at large. The author takes us through his daily duties and lets us meet all the challenges he sees and the endless struggles. Addiction, poverty, and the homeless. It’s a compelling story with his honest view of the system and I hope you struggle with it as much as I did. I definitely recommend this book and want to thank the publisher for allowing me to read this.
This was a NETGALLEY gift and all opinions are my own.
October 27, 2019
Thank you so much for writing this book.
As a former PO myself, I have often thought that there should be a book about probation/parole that accurately describes the work.
This book is scarily accurate in the depictions of the overloaded caseload, the risk/needs assessment tool, the offenders, and the burnout among PO's.
You can feel the heat of the oppressive NOLA"s summer, the fine balancing act between jail and social services, and the families.
I loved the book for pulling back the curtain and giving a realistic look at what is desperately needed for the criminal justice system.
As a former PO myself, I have often thought that there should be a book about probation/parole that accurately describes the work.
This book is scarily accurate in the depictions of the overloaded caseload, the risk/needs assessment tool, the offenders, and the burnout among PO's.
You can feel the heat of the oppressive NOLA"s summer, the fine balancing act between jail and social services, and the families.
I loved the book for pulling back the curtain and giving a realistic look at what is desperately needed for the criminal justice system.
February 11, 2020
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing this book in exchange for an honest review.
This is an excellent look into the lives of parole officers and parolees. Each person ki n the author chose to focus on in the book had such varying degrees of need for social services and it is incredibly sad that these people can get the support they need. The caseloads are extremely high which makes it hard for the officer to triage the probationers. I really admire the efforts these employees go to help and understand the probationers. He really points out where the system is greatly lacking and the various reasoning behind that.
I highly recommend this book.
This is an excellent look into the lives of parole officers and parolees. Each person ki n the author chose to focus on in the book had such varying degrees of need for social services and it is incredibly sad that these people can get the support they need. The caseloads are extremely high which makes it hard for the officer to triage the probationers. I really admire the efforts these employees go to help and understand the probationers. He really points out where the system is greatly lacking and the various reasoning behind that.
I highly recommend this book.
June 8, 2021
An insightful look at the work of a probation and parole officer, and at what drives people into the criminal justice system and what might keep them out of it. The title is a little misleading, as most of the people the author supervised during his tenure were not in prison for long (if at all), and weren’t necessarily seeking a “fresh start.” A couple of the book’s major themes are addiction and the lack of opportunities available for people mired in poverty, especially with a criminal record.
Jason Hardy worked as a probation and parole officer in New Orleans from 2013-2016, and the book follows his evolving relationship with the job and his co-workers, as well as the lives of seven of the more than 200 offenders under his supervision. These include an older homeless man struggling with addiction; a young woman torn between a law-abiding job and the lure of boyfriends in the drug trade; a drug dealer who gets a kick out of gaming the system; a young man who struggles to control his anger and another who doesn’t quite seem to want to kick his addiction; and two brothers who have nothing to do once off the streets, with tragic consequences. All of these folks are dealing with a lot of problems—childhoods in poverty and violence, addiction, mental illness and disability, and not really believing their lives can change. A couple do see significant positive changes, while for others there seems to be little hope—or at least a great deal of uncertainty and risk.
As their probation officer, Hardy is put in charge of assessing risk and trying to get his people services to keep them out of jail. Unfortunately, with few services available other than jail—which is far more expensive than almost any other option, but often the only one taxpayers are willing to fund—he finds himself having to imprison people for treatment or just to get them off the streets to prevent them from committing crimes or OD’ing. The real-world, day-to-day aspect of the job is much more complicated and haphazard than grand theories would have you believe.
I enjoyed the stories in this book and found the author’s writing engaging, and it also answered some questions I had about PO’s, like “why are they so useless to domestic violence victims?” (Answer: they really want to keep their people out of jail and there isn’t much they can force on people short of that. They may routinely ignore positive drug tests for the same reason.) And it is insightful about the job and the conditions that created it. A few interesting passages:
“Increasingly . . . I didn’t think about what was right or fair so much as what was practical. If we couldn’t address the needs that drove the armed robbers to violence, then the only way to stop them from harming other people was to take them out of circulation for a while, at great cost to both the armed robbers and the taxpayers.”
“Most offenders were hopelessly behind in the job race. Most had at best a ninth-grade education. All had criminal records, some of them extensive. And they all carried around the lesser-known but equally pervasive disability I’d seen again and again: They didn’t know anyone who’d had any success at conventional work. They couldn’t believe that any employer would take them seriously. They believed they spoke the wrong language and wore the wrong skin.
The offenders who got jobs overreacted to minor workplace slights. In the drug game this was necessary, the most common and reliable way of showing you weren’t willing to be taken advantage of. People expected it of you. It played differently at Sears and Chili’s. Bosses who tried correction were accused of being disrespectful. Customers who complained were told to piss off. Offenders who weren’t fired usually quit within a few weeks. Compared with drug running, working for minimum wage was boring, and the pay sucked, and it was hell on the body. In eight hours on the corner you could make twice what you made in two weeks at the dish pit.”
And on asking a pair of offenders who they root for when watching CSI, one of their favorite shows:
“Both brothers fell over laughing. . . . When they caught their breath, they said they always rooted for the cops, and they explained why. In TV shows, the bad guys were motivated by obvious malice. They stole because they were greedy. They killed because they didn’t value life. The people who broke the law in New Orleans—that is, people like the Landrys—didn’t see themselves that way. They broke the law out of necessity. Gang violence was written off in much the same way mob violence was written off in the movies: a means of settling scores among people who couldn’t appeal to the criminal justice system for relief.”
None of it necessarily new to those familiar with the issues, but intelligently observed and well-expressed. It shows sympathy and understanding for people caught up in the criminal justice system, but without romanticizing them (aside from the actual crimes, there’s a whole section on counselors trying to convince a young woman to be less homophobic, with minimal success). Probation and parole are a crucial piece of the criminal justice puzzle and one about which people not involved in the system don’t tend to know much, and this book provides an excellent and thoughtful overview with compelling human stories. The big takeaway for me—again, perhaps, an obvious point, but worth repeating—is that arguing about whether crime is an issue of societal influence or personal responsibility is really beside the point: either way, we know providing services and offering meaningful alternatives is what reduces it. So, why aren’t we doing that?
Jason Hardy worked as a probation and parole officer in New Orleans from 2013-2016, and the book follows his evolving relationship with the job and his co-workers, as well as the lives of seven of the more than 200 offenders under his supervision. These include an older homeless man struggling with addiction; a young woman torn between a law-abiding job and the lure of boyfriends in the drug trade; a drug dealer who gets a kick out of gaming the system; a young man who struggles to control his anger and another who doesn’t quite seem to want to kick his addiction; and two brothers who have nothing to do once off the streets, with tragic consequences. All of these folks are dealing with a lot of problems—childhoods in poverty and violence, addiction, mental illness and disability, and not really believing their lives can change. A couple do see significant positive changes, while for others there seems to be little hope—or at least a great deal of uncertainty and risk.
As their probation officer, Hardy is put in charge of assessing risk and trying to get his people services to keep them out of jail. Unfortunately, with few services available other than jail—which is far more expensive than almost any other option, but often the only one taxpayers are willing to fund—he finds himself having to imprison people for treatment or just to get them off the streets to prevent them from committing crimes or OD’ing. The real-world, day-to-day aspect of the job is much more complicated and haphazard than grand theories would have you believe.
I enjoyed the stories in this book and found the author’s writing engaging, and it also answered some questions I had about PO’s, like “why are they so useless to domestic violence victims?” (Answer: they really want to keep their people out of jail and there isn’t much they can force on people short of that. They may routinely ignore positive drug tests for the same reason.) And it is insightful about the job and the conditions that created it. A few interesting passages:
“Increasingly . . . I didn’t think about what was right or fair so much as what was practical. If we couldn’t address the needs that drove the armed robbers to violence, then the only way to stop them from harming other people was to take them out of circulation for a while, at great cost to both the armed robbers and the taxpayers.”
“Most offenders were hopelessly behind in the job race. Most had at best a ninth-grade education. All had criminal records, some of them extensive. And they all carried around the lesser-known but equally pervasive disability I’d seen again and again: They didn’t know anyone who’d had any success at conventional work. They couldn’t believe that any employer would take them seriously. They believed they spoke the wrong language and wore the wrong skin.
The offenders who got jobs overreacted to minor workplace slights. In the drug game this was necessary, the most common and reliable way of showing you weren’t willing to be taken advantage of. People expected it of you. It played differently at Sears and Chili’s. Bosses who tried correction were accused of being disrespectful. Customers who complained were told to piss off. Offenders who weren’t fired usually quit within a few weeks. Compared with drug running, working for minimum wage was boring, and the pay sucked, and it was hell on the body. In eight hours on the corner you could make twice what you made in two weeks at the dish pit.”
And on asking a pair of offenders who they root for when watching CSI, one of their favorite shows:
“Both brothers fell over laughing. . . . When they caught their breath, they said they always rooted for the cops, and they explained why. In TV shows, the bad guys were motivated by obvious malice. They stole because they were greedy. They killed because they didn’t value life. The people who broke the law in New Orleans—that is, people like the Landrys—didn’t see themselves that way. They broke the law out of necessity. Gang violence was written off in much the same way mob violence was written off in the movies: a means of settling scores among people who couldn’t appeal to the criminal justice system for relief.”
None of it necessarily new to those familiar with the issues, but intelligently observed and well-expressed. It shows sympathy and understanding for people caught up in the criminal justice system, but without romanticizing them (aside from the actual crimes, there’s a whole section on counselors trying to convince a young woman to be less homophobic, with minimal success). Probation and parole are a crucial piece of the criminal justice puzzle and one about which people not involved in the system don’t tend to know much, and this book provides an excellent and thoughtful overview with compelling human stories. The big takeaway for me—again, perhaps, an obvious point, but worth repeating—is that arguing about whether crime is an issue of societal influence or personal responsibility is really beside the point: either way, we know providing services and offering meaningful alternatives is what reduces it. So, why aren’t we doing that?
February 27, 2020
An eye-opening and sobering look into our parole system by a former insider, a book that everyone should read. Hardy’s client stories broke my heart. So many good people who become P.O.s with intentions to make a difference in their clients’ lives find themselves beat, buried under mountains of case files and within a system fraught with budgetary constraints and too few advocates. The prisons are where the government money is thrown, not in rehabilitation efforts. We are better than this, America!
December 13, 2019
Received as an ARC from the publisher. Started 12-10-19; finished 12-13-19. I worked for 35 years as a juvenile court probation officer before retiring in 2000, so I was eager to read this book. For those not in the know: probation=before incarceration; parole=after. Mr. Hardy's book does a remarkable job of portraying the highs and lows of this kind of work and the frustration of dealing with bureaucracies. At the outset, a person choosing this job has to find other avenues for gaining satisfaction because the rewards in this business are few and far-between. But when one does appear (when one of my former probationers graduates from high school and begins college---when my initial goal was to keep him alive from one week to the next), that provides the fuel to keep practicing your craft. The lows are also present--attending the funeral of a young boy who was hit and killed by a train--accident or suicide--no resolution even years later.
My wife had often told me that I should write about my experiences. People wouldn't believe half the stories, such as the cattle rustler--in Akron, Ohio! Or the 13-year-old runaway who believed he could make it to Florida hitch-hiking, in 5 hours! No sense of geography.
Mr Hardy's book should be used as a training guide for anyone entering the criminal justice field; any politician working on reforming prisons; any employee of a prison or a diversion program; or anyone working on improving neighborhoods. Understanding the situation is the first step to resolving it, and this excellent book explains it well. Especially using different techniques with different clients to examine what's effective. The reader gets to know several of his clients and the human process to help them.
My wife had often told me that I should write about my experiences. People wouldn't believe half the stories, such as the cattle rustler--in Akron, Ohio! Or the 13-year-old runaway who believed he could make it to Florida hitch-hiking, in 5 hours! No sense of geography.
Mr Hardy's book should be used as a training guide for anyone entering the criminal justice field; any politician working on reforming prisons; any employee of a prison or a diversion program; or anyone working on improving neighborhoods. Understanding the situation is the first step to resolving it, and this excellent book explains it well. Especially using different techniques with different clients to examine what's effective. The reader gets to know several of his clients and the human process to help them.
January 28, 2020
For fans of Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City...
Before reading this book, I honestly had no idea how tough life was for the poor in New Orleans. Told from the perspective of a parole officer in the city who is working hard to keep offenders (who are mostly impoverished addicts) out of jail, author Jason Hardy writes about a few of the individuals he has worked with over the course of his career. The stories he tells are not 100% factual, but rather are dramatizations of typical people he has helped. Each vignette is eye-opening...and really depressing.
The book really helped me understand the problem of addiction in this country--and it especially helped me see how much money we are wasting on prison (about $33,000 per person per year) when we could be providing adequate social services for a fraction of the cost (about $4,000 per person per year).
A truly inspiring, enlightening book.
Thank you Amazon Vine and Simon & Schuster for the ARC! See more of my book reviews at www.bugbugbooks.com!
Before reading this book, I honestly had no idea how tough life was for the poor in New Orleans. Told from the perspective of a parole officer in the city who is working hard to keep offenders (who are mostly impoverished addicts) out of jail, author Jason Hardy writes about a few of the individuals he has worked with over the course of his career. The stories he tells are not 100% factual, but rather are dramatizations of typical people he has helped. Each vignette is eye-opening...and really depressing.
The book really helped me understand the problem of addiction in this country--and it especially helped me see how much money we are wasting on prison (about $33,000 per person per year) when we could be providing adequate social services for a fraction of the cost (about $4,000 per person per year).
A truly inspiring, enlightening book.
Thank you Amazon Vine and Simon & Schuster for the ARC! See more of my book reviews at www.bugbugbooks.com!
April 19, 2020
This book is impressive.
It personalizes prisoners and inmates. It puts names and faces on parolees, shows them as real human beings instead of simply statistics.
The author brings to light the many problems and challenges they face simply trying to transition out of prison and adjust to life on the outside, which seems near impossible with the current system.
Probably the best thing I found is, the author describes the situation so well, that the reader can't help but care... And be motivated to action, to want to bring much needed change to a broken system.
It personalizes prisoners and inmates. It puts names and faces on parolees, shows them as real human beings instead of simply statistics.
The author brings to light the many problems and challenges they face simply trying to transition out of prison and adjust to life on the outside, which seems near impossible with the current system.
Probably the best thing I found is, the author describes the situation so well, that the reader can't help but care... And be motivated to action, to want to bring much needed change to a broken system.
March 19, 2020
While I’m still off put by the unavoidable “white savior” aspect of this (privileged white guy with an MFA working for a few years as a parole officer in New Orleans), it’s well-written and engaging, if not somewhat hopeless and dark, look at the criminal justice system on a micro level. I think the author acknowledges his privilege, and I admire his commitment to what sadly comes across as an endlessly hopeless form of public service. I understand why there isn’t follow up on the various people in the book but definitely curious.
May 31, 2020
I don’t think I’ve ever finished an audiobook this long so fast. This is a superbly crafted look at what the probation and parole system is like in the United States with Hardy’s experiences in New Orleans as a case study. If you know or know of anyone in prison or recently released, this book will mean even more to you, but it is something everyone should know about.
Recidivism is an unfortunate reality. Maybe if the government provided some sort of uplift for recent parolees and probationers instead of kicking them to the curb with no money, no housing, and expecting them to get an upstanding job with a criminal record and not talk to their friends or want to go back to doing/dealing/stealing/etc. things would be different. This book will open your eyes. Highly recommend!
Also, I sincerely hope Hardhead and Kendrick and all the other people mentioned are doing well. I’ll think about them for a long time to come.
Recidivism is an unfortunate reality. Maybe if the government provided some sort of uplift for recent parolees and probationers instead of kicking them to the curb with no money, no housing, and expecting them to get an upstanding job with a criminal record and not talk to their friends or want to go back to doing/dealing/stealing/etc. things would be different. This book will open your eyes. Highly recommend!
Also, I sincerely hope Hardhead and Kendrick and all the other people mentioned are doing well. I’ll think about them for a long time to come.
February 8, 2020
If you are a fan of Evicted by Matthew Desmond, The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander, and Dreamland by Sam Quinones, this is a great companion book. The author writes about his experience as a parole officer in New Orleans. The goal is to make sure those who leave prison will not return, but this is too lofty a goal when you are without money and resources. Jason Hardy brings you along as you visit those on his caseload, share his frustrations at the lack of resources, and smile at the few, too few, success stories. His goal is to shed a light on the uphill battle those who are newly released from prison fight bc they have no re-entry training. Without any resources, a return to prison is just a matter of time and a financial drain on the community.
February 29, 2020
Great book! ♥️
July 27, 2021
Jason Hardy grew up in New Orleans and knew that the criminal justice system was very broken. But, he wanted to be part of the solution, not just complain about how it didn't work, so he got a job as a probation and parole officer. This book reflects his 4 1/2 years in that role and sadly shows just how little difference he made in that time. When prisoners get out of prison and are on parole they are not eligible for ANY social services benefits, so sadly unless these newly released prisoners have a support system (and few do, hence why they were in jail to begin with) already in place it's only a matter of time before they re-offend again. With almost no resources to offer, probation and parole's role is just to maintain contact and send the person back to jail if/when they reoffend. It's depressing and demoralizing work with few rewards. I read a lot of hard books and hands down this is by far the most sad and depressing book I've ever read - and that is saying something for me. I was really hoping for at least ONE success story by the end of the book. But, the two parolees Hardy considers "a win" at the end of his employment were both helped by agencies outside the department of corrections - honestly both cases just got lucky at the right time. In the epilogue he does give some updates of newer programs New Orleans is offering that do shed a little more light on this issue, but it's probably just a drop in the bucket of success against the overwhelmingly depressing issues of mass incarceration, illegal drug trades, and lack of decent jobs and housing for former inmates. While I feel like a lot of attention has been given to mass incarceration and false imprisonment (especially for people of color), I haven't read much before this book about the issues facing former inmates when they get out. But, this issue is equally or more important because if nothing changes for these people they will go back to what they know and what got them arrested to begin with. A very sad and hard book, but shining a much-needed light on this issue.
Some quotes I liked:
"Like addiction, the phenomenon Travis was describing appeared to transcend race, age, and gender. People who got the least respect in the world felt the greatest need to demand it of bosses, friends, even strangers on the street. They felt slights more acutely than the rest of us. And the impulse to right the wrong frequently cost them what little opportunity they got." (p. 39)
"Forty-three percent of parolees in Louisiana would be back in prison within five years. Nationally, the parole revocation rate was closer to 25 percent. Another 11 percent absconded, meaning they stopped showing up and were never heard from again. Those numbers didn't include people who died of drug overdoses and people who completed their community supervision sentences as poor and addicted as they were when they got out of jail. Federal probation costs close to $4,000 per offender per year, compared to the roughly $1,000 per offender we spend in Louisiana...A Vera Institute of Justice study found that the average cost to incarcerate someone in the US is $33,000 per year. At about $17,000 per year, Louisiana is on the low end of per-inmate spending. In five states, the annual tab exceeds $50,000." (p. 48)
"The money became an addiction unto itself, and the skills that a person acquired as he rose in the drug world weren't transferrable to most other professions. In time, many drug dealers who tried to go straight came to see themselves as uniquely unsuited to lawful employment. Chest thumping, shit talking - all the Don't-cross-me-or-else measures essential to survival in illegal enterprises like drug distribution and robbery - were deal-breakers in the civilian workforce." (p. 63)
"The longer I studied successful drug dealers, the surer I became that the lifestyle addiction wasn't fed only by money and power and the thrill of the chase. Getting over on authority figures was a fix unto itself. Conning a cop or a PO was one thing. All the dealers had done that at one time or another. Not many could claim they'd gotten a judge soapboxing about the American dream." (p. 141-42)
"Lately we'd had a rash of offenders relapsing in their last month in drug court. When their counselors asked what had happened, the offenders were honest. If they graduated, they were off probation and out of drug court. They lost their access to services. Medicaid and SSI carried over in theory, but there was no one along to help the offenders stay in those programs' good graces. Before enrolling in drug court, most offenders had extremely negative views of the criminal justice system. Eighteen months later, offenders were so attached to the support systems they'd found in drug court that they were failing drug tests on purpose and asking their POs to get their probations extended another year." (p. 188)
"Good jobs will always be the single strongest crime reduction measure there is. When you take away need, most forms of risk don't know what to do with themselves. Companies that go out of their way to hire offenders - to recruit them rather than tolerate them - and that do so with an understanding of where many offenders are coming from, are doing a far greater service to public safety than any court or law enforcement officer." (p. 241)
"A lot of people at the New Orleans District were beginning to wonder whether the current moment in the drug debate represented a dangerous half measure in which drugs were still illegal enough to sustain a black market but not so illegal that dealers feared being caught. To put it another way, the half measure approach gave up the drug war's greatest asset - fear among drug dealers that their profession could land them in prison - but without gaining the tax revenue or regulated product or sharp declines in black-market violence that were supposed to come with legalization. "Worst of both worlds' was how some POs came to describe it." (p. 245)
Some quotes I liked:
"Like addiction, the phenomenon Travis was describing appeared to transcend race, age, and gender. People who got the least respect in the world felt the greatest need to demand it of bosses, friends, even strangers on the street. They felt slights more acutely than the rest of us. And the impulse to right the wrong frequently cost them what little opportunity they got." (p. 39)
"Forty-three percent of parolees in Louisiana would be back in prison within five years. Nationally, the parole revocation rate was closer to 25 percent. Another 11 percent absconded, meaning they stopped showing up and were never heard from again. Those numbers didn't include people who died of drug overdoses and people who completed their community supervision sentences as poor and addicted as they were when they got out of jail. Federal probation costs close to $4,000 per offender per year, compared to the roughly $1,000 per offender we spend in Louisiana...A Vera Institute of Justice study found that the average cost to incarcerate someone in the US is $33,000 per year. At about $17,000 per year, Louisiana is on the low end of per-inmate spending. In five states, the annual tab exceeds $50,000." (p. 48)
"The money became an addiction unto itself, and the skills that a person acquired as he rose in the drug world weren't transferrable to most other professions. In time, many drug dealers who tried to go straight came to see themselves as uniquely unsuited to lawful employment. Chest thumping, shit talking - all the Don't-cross-me-or-else measures essential to survival in illegal enterprises like drug distribution and robbery - were deal-breakers in the civilian workforce." (p. 63)
"The longer I studied successful drug dealers, the surer I became that the lifestyle addiction wasn't fed only by money and power and the thrill of the chase. Getting over on authority figures was a fix unto itself. Conning a cop or a PO was one thing. All the dealers had done that at one time or another. Not many could claim they'd gotten a judge soapboxing about the American dream." (p. 141-42)
"Lately we'd had a rash of offenders relapsing in their last month in drug court. When their counselors asked what had happened, the offenders were honest. If they graduated, they were off probation and out of drug court. They lost their access to services. Medicaid and SSI carried over in theory, but there was no one along to help the offenders stay in those programs' good graces. Before enrolling in drug court, most offenders had extremely negative views of the criminal justice system. Eighteen months later, offenders were so attached to the support systems they'd found in drug court that they were failing drug tests on purpose and asking their POs to get their probations extended another year." (p. 188)
"Good jobs will always be the single strongest crime reduction measure there is. When you take away need, most forms of risk don't know what to do with themselves. Companies that go out of their way to hire offenders - to recruit them rather than tolerate them - and that do so with an understanding of where many offenders are coming from, are doing a far greater service to public safety than any court or law enforcement officer." (p. 241)
"A lot of people at the New Orleans District were beginning to wonder whether the current moment in the drug debate represented a dangerous half measure in which drugs were still illegal enough to sustain a black market but not so illegal that dealers feared being caught. To put it another way, the half measure approach gave up the drug war's greatest asset - fear among drug dealers that their profession could land them in prison - but without gaining the tax revenue or regulated product or sharp declines in black-market violence that were supposed to come with legalization. "Worst of both worlds' was how some POs came to describe it." (p. 245)
February 27, 2020
Fiction is my usual genre, but I also enjoy social science books - ones that ask the reader/listener to take a look at our world, society and the people within. I knew I wanted to listen to The Second Chance Club: Hardship and Hope After Prison by Jason Hardy.
Hardy was a high school English teacher, had a master's degree in creative writing, but was toiling away in a retail job when he applied to become a probation officer in New Orleans. Armed with a badge, a gun and good intentions, Hardy is handed his caseload - over 200 cases, double the national average. The department is understaffed and underfunded. Here's a stat for you - over 4.5 million people are on probation or parole in the United States.
Hardy focuses on seven of his cases in The Second Chance Club. Drugs are present in each of these people's lives. Some of them truly want a way out to a better life. But, what does that encompass? A better life means something different for each person. Others are gaming the system. I found myself quite surprised by the breadth of Hardy's job. Maybe it's from reading all those fictional police procedurals - for me, a probation officer sat in an office, with clients checking in on a regular basis, told to get a job and have a drug test. Well, yes that happens, but there's much more to the job. Hardy and his co-workers regularly visit for home inspections (and yes, home includes homeless tent encampments), find shelters, detoxes, counselling, court help and so much more than I knew.
I quickly became invested in the story of those seven cases. What would happen to each of them? Would they escape the past, find a future or continue to live the life they know? Sadly, disaster prevention becomes a phrase heard more than once in this book.
It was impossible not to stop, turn off the player and think as I reflected upon the latest chapter. Hardy himself reflects that "Every hour on the job presented a new opportunity to reflect on my own privilege and the extent to which a person’s place of birth dictates his aspirations..."
The Second Chance Club gives us a real look at the inner workings of the criminal justice system - and suggestions for what needs to change. And change only comes with knowledge. An excellent book and most definitely recommended.
I chose to listen to The Second Chance Club. The reader was a favorite of mine and an excellent choice - Jacques Roy. He seems to take on the personality of the author and becomes the voice for the mental image I had created. It's calming and suited the subject matter. His voice is clear, easy to understand and pleasant to listen to. The speed of speaking is just right, allowing the listener to take it all in. He enunciates well. His voice rises and falls with the emotion/actions etc.
Hardy was a high school English teacher, had a master's degree in creative writing, but was toiling away in a retail job when he applied to become a probation officer in New Orleans. Armed with a badge, a gun and good intentions, Hardy is handed his caseload - over 200 cases, double the national average. The department is understaffed and underfunded. Here's a stat for you - over 4.5 million people are on probation or parole in the United States.
Hardy focuses on seven of his cases in The Second Chance Club. Drugs are present in each of these people's lives. Some of them truly want a way out to a better life. But, what does that encompass? A better life means something different for each person. Others are gaming the system. I found myself quite surprised by the breadth of Hardy's job. Maybe it's from reading all those fictional police procedurals - for me, a probation officer sat in an office, with clients checking in on a regular basis, told to get a job and have a drug test. Well, yes that happens, but there's much more to the job. Hardy and his co-workers regularly visit for home inspections (and yes, home includes homeless tent encampments), find shelters, detoxes, counselling, court help and so much more than I knew.
I quickly became invested in the story of those seven cases. What would happen to each of them? Would they escape the past, find a future or continue to live the life they know? Sadly, disaster prevention becomes a phrase heard more than once in this book.
It was impossible not to stop, turn off the player and think as I reflected upon the latest chapter. Hardy himself reflects that "Every hour on the job presented a new opportunity to reflect on my own privilege and the extent to which a person’s place of birth dictates his aspirations..."
The Second Chance Club gives us a real look at the inner workings of the criminal justice system - and suggestions for what needs to change. And change only comes with knowledge. An excellent book and most definitely recommended.
I chose to listen to The Second Chance Club. The reader was a favorite of mine and an excellent choice - Jacques Roy. He seems to take on the personality of the author and becomes the voice for the mental image I had created. It's calming and suited the subject matter. His voice is clear, easy to understand and pleasant to listen to. The speed of speaking is just right, allowing the listener to take it all in. He enunciates well. His voice rises and falls with the emotion/actions etc.
June 13, 2020
The author recounts his time as a parole and probation officer in New Orleans. He shows how poverty, drugs and race can have negative effects on opportunity and consequently on the choices made that bring people to despair and decide on a criminal life. Addiction as well as mental health issues are highlighted and often go hand-in-hand with homelessness and crime(actually being homeless is often seen as criminal in itself). These stressors can lead to criminality and recidivism. This leads to more violence, crime, and in some cases(overdosing)death. Time and again there are funding issues, lack of available counselling, treatment and job opportunities and even when given these things sometimes the addictions, mental illnesses, poverty and distrust and hopelessness get in the way. Is the prison system the right place to house and treat our addicts and mentally ill? As a society we rather fund, with higher costs, placing someone out of sight(and therefore out of mind)so we don't have to deal with the harder but more effective method of counselling and employment. Do we do this so we can maintain the illusion of being safer? Or is it a question of not caring about the kinds of people that we don't care about having in our society to begin with? If we trow away our problems we aren't fixing them we are just making ourselves feel better. A whole segment of society that could be productive and made to feel like humans are being neglected. This needs to be acknowledged if we are to advance as a society worth living in.
March 22, 2020
**Thank you to Simon and Schuster for the advance reader's copy I received through a goodreads giveaway
4.5
This book provides a perspective on an underserved topic-probation and parole. Hardy is an honest and self-aware narrator who tells the stories of those on his caseload with humanity and honesty. I was frustrated along side him when he and his colleagues couldn't provide a better "system " for those on their watch. Highly recommended. This a good companion to Just Mercy if you are looking to round out your understanding.
4.5
This book provides a perspective on an underserved topic-probation and parole. Hardy is an honest and self-aware narrator who tells the stories of those on his caseload with humanity and honesty. I was frustrated along side him when he and his colleagues couldn't provide a better "system " for those on their watch. Highly recommended. This a good companion to Just Mercy if you are looking to round out your understanding.
May 2, 2020
Excellent account of how hard it is to change an individual's behavior without changing the community; the lack of support for addiction; and how consistent funding could solve so many of these inequities and legacies of dysfunction, but too many people in power don't care. Wonder if the current pandemic will make things worse or better...
Read
March 7, 2020This book will teach you a lot about the criminal justice system (in particular, how it plays out on the city level of New Orleans and statewide in Louisiana) and the challenges that parole/probation officers face as they try to help those released from prison. It's a tough read, but well worth it.
March 11, 2020
An empathetic, insightful insider's look at the parole system by a former New Orleans parole officer. Through the intertwining stories of seven parolees, Hardy reveals how the justice system often fails to give offenders the opportunities and tools necessary to re-enter society.
March 15, 2020
This struck me as a bit of a must-read book for anyone interested in the criminal justice system, where it is working and (mostly) where it is not. It’s a little thin on ideas for how we can improve things but that may be due to the overall intractability of the problem itself.
September 11, 2020
The first half held me, but by the second, the essays started to take on a numbing pattern. Doubtless this mirrors the actual job, but it didn't do much for me as a reader. Worth picking up for the window into addiction and recovery.
April 29, 2021
Thought provoking
March 5, 2023
Really good look at the parole system in America. Maybe a bit too long but overall I am blown away that this was his first book.
January 30, 2024
An enjoyable read! I really liked his take on community supervision. Lots to think about.
August 2, 2021
An insider’s look (written by a parole officer) at the relationship between incarceration, poverty, drug sentences, and homelessness. I’ve previously read and highly recommend Michelle Alexander’s “The New Jim Crow” and think these 2 books work well together to provide the reader a more complete understanding.
November 12, 2019
I've read a fair number of works on the criminal justice system, but none focusing on one of the arms of the jail/prison system that is often the most present in "offenders'" lives: probation and parole (P&P). Hardy is a born-and-raised Louisianan who, after not finding luck in other jobs and wanting to make a difference in the criminal justice system, applied to be a probation and parole officer. He went into the job thinking that all POs were just as bad as cops, and he wanted to be the one new guy who kept people out of prison. But, soon after meeting his coworkers in New Orleans, he discovered that almost all parole officers, regardless of political belief or tenure, wanted that same goal.
POs are the criminal justice system's closest personal link to an "offender," offering on-the-ground community supervision, going into homes, and really getting to know their cases as humans. POs are half-cop, half-social worker, fulfilling duties to inspect homes, carry out drug tests, provide an ear to vent to, and connect offenders to social services and programs. They have a duty to the public and put people back in jail or prison if they pose a danger to the people around them, but they also have discretionary power to not throw people back in the system for failing a drug test or another minor offense. POs want to see their cases do well: kick nasty drug addictions, stop dealing drugs, get a job, go back to school, find a stable living situation, get mental health treatment, etc. But most of the time this is aspirational, and POs sometimes just have to focus on "disaster prevention" - stopping overdoses or violent attacks on others.
But, as is the problem with nearly every facet of the criminal justice system, P&P is under-resourced, under-staffed, and underfunded. Hardy had a caseload of 220 offenders, so many that he was only able to focus on the 50 with the highest risk/need out of all of them. In this book, Hardy goes into detail on about seven of his offenders, who he says are emblematic of the issues he saw in all of his cases. They all struggle with some form of the following: drug addiction (mostly heroin), homelessness, mental health issues, "addiction to the lifestyle" of being a drug dealer, and refusing to accept help when it was offered. Hardy, like all POs, does his best with each person, getting to know their unique circumstances and trying to connect them with services. When that doesn't work, he focuses on disaster prevention.
Hardy sums up the main challenge here: "The most effective solutions to violent crime were social services that made upward mobility attainable for everyone willing to work for it, but transformative social services were expensive." The federal P&P system allocates a lot of money to social services and sees the reward - only 16% of federal parolees are sent back to prison before the end of their sentence, compared to 43% in Louisiana. P&P is vastly cheaper than sending someone to jail or prison, but the state does not realize that those cost savings will only come into play if offenders are kept out of the system, which requires investment in support services. These services can take a variety of forms, from drug court to detox/sober living facilities to Day Reporting Centers to mental health treatment to reentry/job services. It's not a perfect system - addiction is of course, notoriously difficult to eradicate, and going from a high-flying drug dealer's lifestyle to 40 hours of minimum wage work is a hard pill to swallow. But these services are proven ways to dramatically reduce rates of revocation and concretely improve offenders' lives.
Some of the seven cases that Hardy details here were success stories, or as close to that as you can get amid all of these immense macro- and micro-issues. Some of them were not. Three of the cases ended up back in prison for various reasons, but from my perspective, Hardy did his best. When you're fighting against deeply-rooted issues of race, class, family circumstances, bad neighborhoods, drugs, gangs, crime, violence, and more - the small wins matter. Hardy did what was in his power to do, advocating for individuals in front of judges based on who he knew and hoped his offenders to be, exercising his discretion to know when to give someone a chance, and connecting them to the support that was available. He notes many changes that have come into effect since his leaving P&P, and the many more that are still necessary. I was surprisingly left with a feeling of hope for what's to come, and how powerful it is for on-the-ground, good POs like Hardy and his coworkers to get to know their offenders as people and to offer help in the ways they can.
Thank you to Simon Schuster for the ARC via Netgalley.
POs are the criminal justice system's closest personal link to an "offender," offering on-the-ground community supervision, going into homes, and really getting to know their cases as humans. POs are half-cop, half-social worker, fulfilling duties to inspect homes, carry out drug tests, provide an ear to vent to, and connect offenders to social services and programs. They have a duty to the public and put people back in jail or prison if they pose a danger to the people around them, but they also have discretionary power to not throw people back in the system for failing a drug test or another minor offense. POs want to see their cases do well: kick nasty drug addictions, stop dealing drugs, get a job, go back to school, find a stable living situation, get mental health treatment, etc. But most of the time this is aspirational, and POs sometimes just have to focus on "disaster prevention" - stopping overdoses or violent attacks on others.
But, as is the problem with nearly every facet of the criminal justice system, P&P is under-resourced, under-staffed, and underfunded. Hardy had a caseload of 220 offenders, so many that he was only able to focus on the 50 with the highest risk/need out of all of them. In this book, Hardy goes into detail on about seven of his offenders, who he says are emblematic of the issues he saw in all of his cases. They all struggle with some form of the following: drug addiction (mostly heroin), homelessness, mental health issues, "addiction to the lifestyle" of being a drug dealer, and refusing to accept help when it was offered. Hardy, like all POs, does his best with each person, getting to know their unique circumstances and trying to connect them with services. When that doesn't work, he focuses on disaster prevention.
Hardy sums up the main challenge here: "The most effective solutions to violent crime were social services that made upward mobility attainable for everyone willing to work for it, but transformative social services were expensive." The federal P&P system allocates a lot of money to social services and sees the reward - only 16% of federal parolees are sent back to prison before the end of their sentence, compared to 43% in Louisiana. P&P is vastly cheaper than sending someone to jail or prison, but the state does not realize that those cost savings will only come into play if offenders are kept out of the system, which requires investment in support services. These services can take a variety of forms, from drug court to detox/sober living facilities to Day Reporting Centers to mental health treatment to reentry/job services. It's not a perfect system - addiction is of course, notoriously difficult to eradicate, and going from a high-flying drug dealer's lifestyle to 40 hours of minimum wage work is a hard pill to swallow. But these services are proven ways to dramatically reduce rates of revocation and concretely improve offenders' lives.
Some of the seven cases that Hardy details here were success stories, or as close to that as you can get amid all of these immense macro- and micro-issues. Some of them were not. Three of the cases ended up back in prison for various reasons, but from my perspective, Hardy did his best. When you're fighting against deeply-rooted issues of race, class, family circumstances, bad neighborhoods, drugs, gangs, crime, violence, and more - the small wins matter. Hardy did what was in his power to do, advocating for individuals in front of judges based on who he knew and hoped his offenders to be, exercising his discretion to know when to give someone a chance, and connecting them to the support that was available. He notes many changes that have come into effect since his leaving P&P, and the many more that are still necessary. I was surprisingly left with a feeling of hope for what's to come, and how powerful it is for on-the-ground, good POs like Hardy and his coworkers to get to know their offenders as people and to offer help in the ways they can.
Thank you to Simon Schuster for the ARC via Netgalley.
December 9, 2020
Excellent narrative and sobering look at incarceration and addiction in this country.
January 26, 2020
The Second Chance Club is a book about Jason Hardy’s experience as a parole officer in the city of New Orleans. There are seven fascinating people/stories he focuses on in the book. Each story makes you feel regretful for the person on the other side of the law. They live in poverty and do not know how to get out. Jason does his best to create opportunities and options for his offenders but struggles internally with how to help everyone. Jason grew up in the area and had a fondness for New Orleans. The book delves into the inner workings of the day to day life of a PO, a parolee, and the judicial system when offenders are given a chance after chance to change before heading to prison. It is heartbreaking to read about the missed opportunities that some of these young people had. It is also heartwarming to realize that there are so many POs out there willing to get up every day and do their job. The Second Chance Club was a great and inspirational book by Jason Hardy.
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