SPECTRUM: Alaska is in a bit of a mess. A really hot mess

Since the basement for oil prices slipped down a sinkhole, leaving a $3.5 billion deficit and exposing years of mismanagement in Juneau, myriad facets of everyday life have taken a sharp nose dive off a cliff in a burning train. Jobs have fled the state, as well as many residents who kind of rely on those. Homelessness is rampant and expanding out of its traditional Anchorage borders of the Downtown district. Victims of the national opioid epidemic lurk around every corner, while treatment beds and programs often feel as rare as a unicorn. And crime – it's bad. Across all categories, reported crimes have increased over 30 percent in the past decade. You have to go back to 1995 to find these kind of numbers. And, when it comes to homicides in Anchorage, you don't have anywhere to go back to. The 28 fatalities recorded last year are simply the worst. Rape, robbery, auto thefts (seriously, does anyone have a car left?), burglaries, and assaults are all at decade-highs.

The fear and anger regarding the rise in crime is palpable. Which is good. Awareness is good. If anyone is not aware that crime is bad right now, I congratulate you on a well made bunker. But fear and anger and the prevailing helplessness also can manifest itself in horrible ways. Especially when certain people have elected to use it to wag the dog a little bit.

“We all know what the real problem is,” an older woman sitting behind me said at a community council meeting recently. “It's SB91!”

I heard some mutterings of agreement percolating in the room. I groaned.

For the better part of a decade, lawmakers in Juneau have been working on a massive criminal justice reform bill, with now-retired Sen. Johnny Ellis (D-Anchorage) and Sen. John Coghill (R-North Pole) at the helm. Coghill identified the key goals targeted by the legislation in an accompanying sponsor statement. He proposed reforming pretrial practices by opting to issue citations for lower-level, nonviolent crimes and loosen bail requirements. Largely in response to Alaska's pretrial population explosion (an 81 percent increase over the past decade exacerbated by budget cuts – a 25-position cut in prosecutors is creating a substantive backlog), this would allow Corrections to dedicate the bulk of prison beds for violent offenders and those in need of substance abuse and mental illness treatment. The Alaska Criminal Justice Commission's 2015 report believed the move would open up more funding for services like meal assistance for nonviolent offenders. The reforms were estimated to save the state roughly $169 million over ten years – some of which would be reinvested to curb Alaska's bloated recidivism rates. Two-thirds of Alaska's inmate population re-offend within three years of release.

“Alaska’s prison population grew 27 percent in the last decade, nearly three times faster than the resident population,” Coghill concluded. “The cost of doing nothing is too high.”

With the budget deficit omnipresent on elected officials' minds, SB91 passed with bipartisan support. In the upper chamber, the vote was 16-2. Senators Charlie Huggins (R-Wasilla) and Bill Stoltze (R-Palmer) – both now retired – were the only no-votes. It passed 28-11 in the House. Governor Bill Walker (I-Alaska) signed the massive 125-page omnibus bill into law in mid-July of last year. Put a pin in that thought.

Public perception of the effects of SB91 have deteriorated from the halcyon days of aiming for a more judicious (and less expensive) approach to criminal justice. Quickly SB91 went from being seen as a necessary reform package to a bogeyman to blame for all the crime. Walker added a criminal justice reform reform bill (SB54) to the docket of the legislature's fourth special session – underway this week – recognizing some of the public's concerns. SB54 rolls back some of the less than optimal provisions of SB91, fixing a loophole in the prosecution of sex-trafficking, giving more leeway to hold offenders who violate their conditions of release, and restoring some of the minimum sentences for misdemeanor and felony crimes. But to some, that doesn't go far enough.

Earlier this month, Anchorage Assembly member Amy Demboski (Eagle River) tried to pass a resolution calling on the legislature to repeal the measure outright, but the body ultimately decided to recommend specific fixes rather than simply scrap it. Approved were requests to bolster substance abuse treatment, beef up some sentencing guidelines, and add staff to Corrections and the prosecutors' office. But some lawmakers are embracing the Demboski strategy, furthering the claim that the measure is a silver bullet. Kill the bill, stop crime, save the cheerleader, save the world.

“During SB 91’s passage I warned we were heading towards a perfect storm for crime in Alaska, and the changes we made to our justice system sent a message that Alaska was open season for criminals,” Rep. Lance Pruitt (R-Anchorage) echoed the sentiment in a newsletter. “We must now send an even louder message that Alaska is an unwelcome place for those preying on residents and businesses in our state.”

Lawmakers have adopted three approaches to SB91 and its projected predecessor, SB54. The Democrat-led House Majority has been tepid in its response; realizing the unpopularity but also recognizing the importance of getting it right. That unpopularity stems from Republicans in both chambers who have howled at the moon, blaming all the crime that ever existed and ever will on SB91. The ensuing public hysteria created is a great way to point the finger at their political opponents while securing ample campaign literature to assuage their constituents going into an election year. And then there's the third way, embraced solely by Rep. Lora Reinbold (R-Eagle River) with a side of Rep. David Eastman (R-Wasilla). Reinbold has never met a conspiracy theory she didn't like and – given the absence of a preexisting one under the auspices of criminal justice reform – she dreamed one up before all eyes tuned to legislative coverage, astonishingly deciding randomly that it's all a conspiracy cooked up by Pew Charitable Trusts, a non-profit, non-governmental organization working with state agencies to craft the law.

Remember when I told you to stick a pin in a thing a couple hundred words ago? Find that pin.

There is no such thing as a perfect bill. The best you can hope for is a perfectible bill. That's a good thing to work toward. SB91 has some provisions in need of retooling. But trying to save money is a stated goal from a lot of the same lawmakers who vehemently object to the bill. The same people who want to cut our way out of the deficit (which we can't actually do) are objecting to cost-saving measures aimed at a more equitable prison system. And Anchorage's spike in crime didn't begin in the summer of 2016. It started back in 2011, with around 12,000 total crimes reported. With the exception of 2014, it has been on the rise every year. So, how does a law cause an epidemic of violence five years before it's implementation?

It doesn't. SB91/54 is about lawmakers grasping at straws to convince constituents to look past their inability to fix the deficit and vote to re-elect them. You can’t blame a 2016 law for an opioid epidemic, underfunded police, underfunded addiction and mental health treatment, a massive cut in prosecutors, and an upward trend in crime that started in 2014. This charade is obnoxious.