PUNISHED TWICE FOR THE SAME CRIME

Denying work licenses to ex-cons is certainly not unique to the State of Texas. It’s a practice in many other states.

Even to me, a hard-nosed law and order guy, it really doesn’t make any sense to deny a work license to an offender who has been released from prison. Each license application should be judged on its own merits. Most ex-cons can safely be reissued their former licenses and the same goes for those applying for a new career license if they are qualified to do the work.

Even those convicted of violent sex offenses would pose little risk to the public if their job does not entail doing any work in homes or schools.

Whatever happened to the adage that if they’ve done their time in prison, they’ve paid their debt to society. When ex-cons are denied work licenses, they are in effect being punished twice for the same crime.

TEXAS EX-OFFENDERS ARE DENIED JOB LICENSES
Blocking access to career fields sometimes seems to have little public benefit yet can hinder return to society

By Eric Dexheimer

Austin American-Statesman
April 11, 2011

In 1997, Kyrone Pinkston's then-wife accused him of sexually assaulting her. He was charged, pleaded guilty and was sentenced to probation, but after failing to comply with the rules of his supervision, he was sentenced to 10 years in prison.

A barber by profession, Pinkston could not renew his license in prison, and it had expired by the time he was released in 2008. When he reapplied, his ex-wife offered her support, writing that he had grown into "a remarkable man and father." A barbershop owner confirmed that Pinkston would have a job when he reclaimed his license.

But the agency that licenses barbers, the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation, rejected Pinkston's application. When he appealed, a state administrative law judge agreed that permitting Pinkston to cut hair presented an unacceptable threat to the public.

"Because his only victim was his ex-wife, it is possible that Mr. Pinkston's sexual crimes suggest that he is less of a risk to the general public," Judge William Newchurch wrote in his decision. "But that does not mean that the risk is reduced to zero."

Today, the 41-year-old Pinkston lives in Fort Worth in his mother's house, waiting to reapply for his license. "I'm not making anything," he said. "Just trying to stay above water."

He isn't alone. Thousands of applicants are denied state licenses to work in more than 100 occupations every year because of their criminal pasts, a number that advocates say understates the true volume because others don't bother applying. Although they are a fraction of the total prisoners released, criminal justice experts say, the licensing roadblocks highlight the obstacles all ex-prisoners face when seeking work — challenges that could increase as lawmakers contemplate cutting educational and vocational programs for offenders.

In many cases, the caution seems well-deserved: The crimes committed by the applicant displayed behavior too risky to bet the public's safety. But not always.

Last year, the Texas secretary of state's office rejected Melinda Diamond's application for a notary commission because of a misdemeanor assault in which she pulled her boyfriend's ear and yanked a chain from his neck, actions the state's licensing lawyers concluded were "crimes of moral turpitude" rendering her unworthy of the commission, court records show.

Jim Hix's application for a real estate broker's license was denied because of DWI convictions — even though he'd been sober three years. In 2009, the state revoked Dimas Pena's electrician's license because of a misdemeanor theft case for which he received deferred adjudication.

In court documents, Pena, of Houston, said he'd been doing electrical work for two decades and it was the only occupation he knew. "Losing my license will destroy my life," he said.

ECONOMY ADDS TO WOES

This spring, state legislators facing historic deficits have proposed deep cuts in programs designed to help prisoners prepare for life after release. In March, Florence Shapiro, R-Plano, chairwoman of the Senate Education Committee, said the money the state spends each year on the Windham School District, the public school system for prisoners, was expendable.

"This is the biggest waste of money I think I've seen," she said. Lawmakers have proposed eliminating programs designed to help former inmates find work, as well.

Social workers and criminal justice experts say that doing away with such re-entry programs is short-sighted. Ex-prisoners already have unemployment rates many times higher than the general population. Studies show unemployed ex-cons are more likely to return to crime.

Not only does that create more victims, it ends up costing taxpayers, said Nancy La Vigne, director of the Urban Institute's Justice Policy Center. "It's not like we have the money to pay to lock these people back up," she said.

In recent years it's become even harder for former offenders to find work. When they do, the pay is often paltry.

"In a bad economy, they're behind someone with a college education or even high school diploma," said Laura Smith, executive director of the Crime Prevention Institute, which helps Travis State Jail ex-inmates find work.

The average income for Texas prisoners released last year was below the $11,000 the government considers poverty level for one person.

Some of that can be attributed to offenders' lower overall educational levels and higher incidences of mental illness and drug use. But many of the most lucrative, in-demand jobs — trades licensed by the state — have been ruled off-limits to applicants with criminal backgrounds.