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| Corrections officers work to keep released felons out of trouble |
| By tdn.com - Tony Lystra |
| Published: 11/28/2011 |
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Brad Phillips and Lora Klein don't exactly force their way into the homes they visit, but they don't ask permission to come in either. The pair of Washington corrections officers move with a sense of purpose, first rapping on the doors of trailers and run-down bungalows, then stepping swiftly through the threshold with a warm greeting. "Just looking for dead bodies and bazookas!" Phillips joked as he shined his flashlight into a felon's darkened bedroom Tuesday. Phillips and Klein are among 20 corrections officers in Cowlitz and Wahkiakum counties who make sure convicted felons are following the terms of their probation. Is there booze in the house? Are there Drugs? Guns? Are sex offenders using the Web when they're not supposed to, or are they spending time with children? On Tuesday, the officers visited the homes of sex offenders, recovering addicts and a man convicted of vehicular homicide. Phillips and Klein wield tremendous power in these men's lives. Probation violations can result in months in jail or years in prison. But the officers also serve as counselors. During their visits Tuesday Phillips and Klein advised their clients about finding work, managing money and generally avoiding trouble. The officers are all but invisible to the public. They don't drive marked cars or wear uniforms. They work out of an ordinary office building on Seventh Avenue in Longview. But often even more than the police, they are pivotal in stopping badness before it starts. Yet, like other state agencies, the Department of Corrections faces stiff budget cuts to balance the state's $2 billion shortfall this year, said Jack Robarge, one of two supervisors who oversee the DOC office in Longview. Statewide, low-risk offenders could be released from prison earlier, he said. And once they're out, they're more likely to be referred to anger management classes and support groups than jail cells when they break the terms of their release, Robarge said. Locally, the cuts could reduce the number of probation officers, shorten sentences for violators and, as a result, possibly an increase in crime. Other programs, such as those providing housing for recently released inmates, face cuts as well, he said. The local DOC office supervises about 650 offenders, most of them considered high risks to reoffend, Robarge said. Asked if those probationers will be more likely to offend again under the cuts, Robarge paused, then said, "The answer has to be yes. We're watching people less." But he said it's difficult to predict how much recidivism could increase. "It's hard to measure things that don't happen," Robarge said. "We stop things from happening." Phillips and Klein made the first of their Tuesday afternoon stops at a West Kelso Oxford House, which provides addicts a structured home free of drugs and alcohol. Dustin Snodgrass, 31, rents a small room in a basement. Snodgrass spent six years and three months in prison for vehicular homicide and vehicular assault after falling asleep at the wheel of a car carrying his two small children, his adult sister and his sister's fiance. Authorities found traces of methamphetamine in his bloodstream following the crash, which killed his sister. Phillips poked his way into Snodgrass's basement room, scanned a desk and the floor, then stepped back into a hallway. Snodgrass had plans to visit the Grays Harbor area for Thanksgiving, and Phillips has issued him a pass to leave the county. Snodgrass said he's been drug-free since Nov. 24, 2005 — the day after the crash. He used a DOC voucher to pay his rent at Oxford House for a few months until he could find a job at Foster Farms chicken processing plant in Kelso. He's earned credit toward an associate's degree, taking classes both in prison and at Lower Columbia College and hopes to join the military to "clean up my background and give me my gun rights back." Without those few months of rent money from the corrections department, Phillips said, Snodgrass wouldn't "be in a clean and sober house" following his release from prison and easily could have started "couch surfin' " — drifting among the homes of addicts and dealers. "They're going to gravitate toward that," Phillips said. Later in the afternoon, Phillips visited a South Kelso home where probationers commonly take up residence when they get out of prison. Hardly a light was on in the place. The carpeting had been torn out and garbage littered the floor. Water dripped through the roof and pooled on the kitchen linoleum. This home and several others the corrections officers visited Tuesday smelled damp, with more than a hint of cigarettes, old food, decay and neglect. The work can be dangerous. Corrections officers carry handguns and work in teams so they can keep an eye on each other, Phillips said. About a year ago, Klein said, she and another corrections officer were making their first visit to the home of a recently released sex offender when they discovered a cache of weapons. Pistols were out in the open and also stuffed under mattresses, she recalled. An AR-15 rifle also was in plain sight. Klein said she called the sheriff's office and arrested the offender for being around weapons. "It was alarming," Klein said last week. "You never really know what you're going to run into." Phillips and Klein used flashlights to make their way to a back bedroom of the Kelso home where a former probationer updated them on his family problems, including an elder relative whose mental state was deteriorating fast. Read More. |
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