Rogues Gallery: Hakim Ali's office is lined with images of lifers, a reminder of the people he's working to help. Michael T. Regan (CLICK TO VIEW IMAGE) |
All but hidden in an old brick house on 18th and Tioga, Hakim Ali's office is easy to miss. But its humble appearance conceals an ambitious goal: to rebuild a community torn apart by crime and incarceration. Ali is the office manager and program coordinator of Reconstruction Incorporated, a small nonprofit that helps ex-offenders get through the difficult transition from prison to the outside world. He's also part of a highly experienced staff. Many of them, including Ali and the organization's executive director, William Goldsby, have served time in prison.
The Department of Parole and Probation estimates that 50 percent of incarcerated people end up back behind bars within three years of their release, and according to Ali, who is himself an ex-offender, far too little is being done to keep them out.
Now 64, Ali has had a long history with the law. He was first incarcerated at the age of 14 for his involvement in a gang fight that resulted in a charge of attempted murder. Although Ali was cleared of all charges, his father died while he was awaiting trial. At age 15 he was caught on the street after curfew, not far from his house on 61st and Vine. He was on his way home, but the police weren't interested in explanations.
"They used the n-word and a lot of other adjectives and slammed me up against the wall," he remembers. "Now, again, I'm a youngster from the street, so when they did that the first thing that came into my mind was, 'I gotta defend myself.' ... They almost killed me."
The two officers beat him severely; first in the police car, later in the alley outside of the holding cell. Then one of them pulled out a gun, and Ali vaguely remembers hearing a neighborhood woman scream. The bullet grazed the back of his head.
Forty-eight years and several prison sentences later, Ali recalls the incident as a turning point in his life, the point where his anger got the better of him. He served almost 40 years in prison for robbery and other crimes. But as a result of that time, he became better acquainted with the mentality of crime and the bureaucracies of punishment than any well-read social worker.
Since his second and last release in 2003, Ali has been working tirelessly to put that experience to use at Reconstruction Incorporated, which is actually composed of three programs: Fight for Lifers, which advocates for people serving life without parole in Pennsylvania; the Alumni Ex-Offenders Association (AEA), which aids in re-entry; and LEADS, which works with at-risk youth. In addition to advocating for legal reforms (such as the repeal of Pennsylvania's "life means life" statute), these programs attempt to heal the scars left on a community whose sons, fathers, and husbands have been locked away in disproportionate numbers.
Reconstruction Inc. was founded in 1993 to work with second-time violent offenders in the Graterford region. That program lasted for about three years, with 25 men participating. Only four of the 25 went back for parole violations and only one was re-arrested for another crime  a remarkable success considering that the Bureau of Justice reported a 67 percent re-arrest rate at that time. But success was not enough to keep them afloat.
"We didn't allow the Pennsylvania parole department to dictate how we ran our program," says Ali. "We didn't get any funding from them ... so we decided how we worked. And the men complied. ... Those men thrived and were successful with our program. But because we bugged the system and wouldn't allow them to first to give us funding and then secondly to dictate in terms of the programs and the policies that we established, they took a sidestep ... and said: If any community program didn't have (certain policies) they weren't eligible to release men to that program. So they basically shut the program down."
No one from the Department of Corrections could comment on Reconstruction's mid-'90s shutdown, although the list of policies governing private community correction facilities covers everything from invoicing procedures to the alphabetizing of case files.
Today Reconstruction Inc. focuses on filling holes in the current systems of incarceration and re-entry, which, according to Ali, are in dire need of reform. He cites cuts in prison rehabilitation and education programs, and mandatory sentencing laws, effective in 1986, that removed judicial discretion from sentencing. While this led to an increase in the average sentence and the amount of time served, Bureau of Justice statistics show that individuals sentenced under those laws actually had higher rates of recidivism than those sentenced in more lenient times. As for parole and re-entry, Ali speaks of endless amounts of red tape (25 percent of people go back for parole violations) and the absence of family and community involvement in re-entry.
"There are many people that did time with them when they were locked up  their mothers, their wives, their children," says Ali of the pain felt when families are split by prison walls. "So there's a family element there that needs to be addressed as part of any re-entry program."
Luis Resto, regional director of Community Corrections, says "The Department of Corrections encourages the involvement of the family in the re-entry of the individual into the community." That involvement, he says "depends entirely on the level of involvement the offender's family is willingto invest."
Reconstruction's Alumni Ex-Offenders Association makes family involvement a top priority. This program offers practical advice and emotional support to individuals seeking to re-enter society, and counsels their families on how best to help their loved ones through this difficult time. All of the volunteer counselors are ex-offenders, and so know the difficulties people face upon release.
Tania Falbo, who started attending meetings when one of her son's childhood friends was released from prison, says those counselors are one of the program's greatest strengths. "I think it helps to have ex-offenders who are now helping others. I think that's a good role model."
Falbo says she was overwhelmed with the responsibility of helping someone through an experience she had so little knowledge of. "I was in touch with the parole officer, but she was so busy, she never had time to talk or anything." Falbo is supportive of government employees, but feels there are far too few of them to do the kind of work that needs to be done, particularly with the family.
Unfortunately, many ex-offenders don't have the family support they need, and returning home can do more harm than good. "Eighteenth and Tioga is one of the most violent areas of our city," says Ali. "These men and women are coming home right into that same environment. ... They send them right back into the same stuff, and expect them to do something entirely different. It's nonsensical."
Without stronger communities, argues Ali, people will continue to turn  and return  to crime. And for those who don't, deeply rooted stigmas create a world of barriers.
"The public has been indoctrinated to not believe that we can do any good. And if they don't see work being done by ex-offenders in the community, if they don't hear about us, then their suspicions are confirmed."
But Ali isn't just trying to change his image. He's trying to change his world.
Reconstruction Incorporated, 1808 W. Tioga St., 215-223-8180.

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