Palmer inmates shed their old life through rigorous faith-based program

PALMER -- Locked behind 15-foot-high razor-wire fences, heavily fortified double-locking doors and bulletproof two-way mirrors, 32 convicted felons sing hymns, draw pictures and confess long-held fears and insecurities, while studying the Bible in a rigorous new faith-based initiative at the Palmer Correctional Center.

These men are taking part in a year-long program known as the Transformational Living Community, which began in Alaska on Feb. 1. The TLC program takes place in house number seven, one of seven medium-security houses within the correctional facility, and the rules and codes of conducts in this house are very different from those in the other six prison houses.

Participation is entirely voluntary and the program is funded, 100 percent, through donations from faith-based organizations that supply money, materials and time to support inmates as they gather in small accountability groups.

In these groups, inmates discuss the application of religious teachings while attempting to mend their criminal ways.

Warriors of transformation

The inmates of house seven wear special shirts with "Warriors of Transformation" enscribed on the back -- their lives are works in progress and they eagerly testify to the changes they've made.

Murders, sexual assaults and armed robberies stain the past lives of some of the inmates of house seven. They carry the past with them, but look to the future.

James is a quiet, short man with a crewcut and clean-shaven face. Talking to him now, it's impossible to tell that at age 53, he has already spent 36 years in prison. With a steady string of crimes that span four decades, James is no stranger to the criminal mentality, and many prison officials didn't think he would last long in the TLC program.

Through the years, James admitted to not having been a model prisoner.

"I spent most of my time in the hole before," he said.

James hasn't seen a single member of his family in more than 41 years, and his last visitor came in 1978. James separated from his family after his parents died when he was still a boy.

"I never contacted anyone again. I avoided people," James said. "I'd get nervous in public areas and speaking was hard. I used to stutter and I didn't like myself."

James said he was uncertain about the TLC community when he first joined. "I thought, 'What am I getting myself into?' Now, all those guys are brothers to me."

A few months ago, James wrote his long-separated brother a letter and recently received a six-page letter in return. "I asked him for forgiveness," James said. "It was a letter of amendment." James expects to see his brother very soon, for the first time since he was 12 years old.

A vision of community

The community is the brainchild of Prison Chaplain Mike Ensch, who pioneered the first TLC program in Arizona four years ago. After serving nearly 25 years as a prison chaplain, Ensch grew frustrated watching inmates with whom he had worked hard get released back into society only to return to their cycle of criminal activity.

"We see, in criminal behavior, the victim-to-victimizer cycle, but the spiritual path opens the door to deep healing," Ensch said. "We deal with substance abuse, sexual addiction, anger management, relationships, criminal mentality and a whole host of major issues."

Ensch believed he needed to set up a different kind of environment in prison, one that separated men from the negative temptations of prison life. In the TLC program, all 32 men live together under one roof with the program combining two different aspects of prison reform -- therapy and spirituality.

"This is a hybrid," Ensch said.

By all living under one roof a unique situation arises. "In normal prison experience, there is a lot of negative energy and feeling toward one another," Ensch said. "We've got a very positive environment but that doesn't mean it's easy. Twenty-four hours a day the men are held accountable for their behavior."

House seven: "I am my brother's keeper"

In the central meeting room of house seven, a giant homemade banner hangs from the wall, "I am my brother's keeper." It serves as a constant reminder of the commitment each inmate in the house has pledged. When one slips and loses his temper, treats a fellow inmate with disrespect or even uses a curse word, the others give him either verbal or written warnings.

Oftentimes, warnings result in written essays in which inmates reflect on their behavior, how it offended community rules and violated God's teaching.

Harold, another inmate at house seven, remembers what the house was like before the TLC program started. A soft-spoken man with a long beard, Harold displays a mild demeanor and his eyes moisten when he describes his experience in prison.

"The first two years I was here, I was just surviving. Now I'm developing tools so when I do get out I will have something," he said. "My self esteem has risen from rock bottom."

Convincing inmates to keep each other accountable, however, is not always an easy task. "We are going against the convict code," Ensch said. "Convicts do not confront other convicts."

"Your normal response, when you're confronted, is to want to make an excuse," Harold said. "You have to learn how to receive criticism."

Another banner, hanging from the wall, reads, "No Excuse Zone." Individuals who repeatedly offend community rules are sometimes required to attend "brutal honesty" sessions. In the sessions, all members of the community form a circle around their fellow inmate, while he sits quietly in the middle and listens to comments and concerns that the others have regarding his behavior.

The middle man is not permitted to respond to accusations. Chaplain John Beyers, the program's director, said this is a very difficult moment for some people.

"It involves the whole group," Beyers said. "They look at his behavior, point out negative patterns and talk about how it impacts the whole family."

Afterward, the group does "patch-up," a time when they affirm the man in the middle.

"We don't let anything slip here," Ensch said. "Everything is under a microscope."

With squeaky-clean floors and straightened bed sheets, the improvements in house seven have not gone unnoticed by prison staff. "You can't beat house seven for cleanliness," said Correctional Officer Toby Prescott.

Acting Superintendent Earl Houser has also been impressed. "You can really tell the difference, it doesn't smell like a prison in house seven."

Currently, more than 219 medium-security prisoners reside at the Palmer Correctional Center, along with another 176 in minimum security, but there is only room enough for 32 men in the TLC program.

According to Ensch, about 45 inmates are waiting for a spot in the program to open up. In order to get on the waiting list, inmates may not commit even a single infraction in 90 days, which, according to Houser, serves to motivate good behavior.

"We'd like to see another house for the program," Houser said. "It's a lot less work for the officers, and it mellows the guys out."

Redemption songs

Every night, Monday through Friday, all 32 men gather for an evening meeting. They sit in straight rows facing the front of the meeting room, with everyone holding thick three-ring binders on their laps.

A fellow inmate then leads his "brothers" through a series of scripture readings. Everyone reads in unison, "You will know the truth and the truth shall set you free." Then they stand and read a prayer, "Take our lives, these broken jars of clay … and transform them."

Once the various prayers and readings are finished, inmates who were previously assigned essays stand and read their compositions before the whole group. The essays usually contain three elements: Scripture references, personal reflection on their negative behavior and a group apology. When the reader finishes, everyone claps.

Beyers normally takes the lectern following the readings and calls out names of various inmates who recently committed an infraction against their "family." Each inmate stands when his infraction is read to the group; an infraction could be anything from reading inappropriate magazines to stealing a brother's socks.

After the offense is read and an assignment issued, the inmates encourage their brother with another round of applause.

The evening usually ends with a rousing song.

On a recent night the men stood and sang the old hymn, "Love lifted me." Their deep voices melodic and unified, they sang with passion, closing their eyes and lifting their hands. During the song a message blared across the prison intercom system, announcing, "The yard is closed." The men continued singing, caught between two realities, as they lifted their voices to heaven, standing behind the walls of prison.

Burning the midnight oil

Monday through Friday, the inmates attend nightly classes from 6:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. Special speakers, pastors and volunteer teachers come to conduct one-night lectures or week-long seminars that deal with character qualities, biblical foundations for freedom, responding to conflict and many other themes. Homework and reading assignments are handed out and inmates are expected to complete them during free time.

After each successfully completed seminar or workshop, inmates receive a certificate of completion and, eventually, after a year or more of hard work, they graduate from the program.

"There is lots of homework and for many, this is the first time they have ever learned to be disciplined in their life," Ensch said.

In order to graduate, the men must also complete requirements for their general equivalency diploma.

"We have everything from people who have never held a job, to former principals," Beyers said, "and we utilize the strength of the more educated inmates to tutor the others."

Beyers said Lonnie is one man who goes out of his way now to tutor others. Once known for a long list of physical and psychological disorders, Lonnie now speaks of his redemption and healing.

In his early 50s, Lonnie has used crutches since the mid-1970s.

"Since being here, I've lost almost 60 pounds and I came off crutches," Lonnie said, holding up his old metal crutches. "Now I just use a cane."

Lonnie also used to suffer from a manic-depressive condition known as bipolar disorder but said he hasn't had any trouble with that in a long time. He credits prayers and a newfound spiritual direction for the changes in his life.

Like many in house seven, Lonnie considers his fellow housemates family members. "This is all the family I have in the world," he said.

Keeping the faith

To qualify for the program, inmates must have at least 14 months to serve but preferably no more than three years. This ensures inmates have enough time to finish the program without being cast back into the general prison population for a lengthy period.

While enrolled in the program, participants are paired with a mentor from the outside community. Every Monday night, mentors counsel, pray with and support an inmate. The mentors also agree to continue relationships with prisoners once they are released, introducing them to supportive communities.

While the program is still in the early stages, Ensch is excited about what he sees and the first graduates from Palmer are expected in April 2005.

"It's like doing a sculpture. You chisel off a little at a time," Ensch said. "If you came into the program, you'd probably wonder what these guys are in here for -- missing Sunday school or what? They've come a long ways."

Contact Joel Davidson at joel.davidson@frontiersman.com.