Out of jail, it takes everything they've got to set up a new life

By Chet Williamson

You did the crime. You've done the time. Now what?

Between the protests calling for reform of Criminal Offender Record Information (CORI) laws and the heat generated in Worcester when a legislator made a neighborhood issue of a new home for ex-prisoners, what gets lost are the stories of the ex-cons themselves. Many who have done their time now face potential employers as marked people. As one ex-prisoner put it, "The ball and chain may be invisible, but the stigma is still there."

Former inmate Bob Dirsa has turned a corner, and is now “pursuing a better education, taking care of my family and being a productive member of society.”

Rob Chartrand's most recent bit was a four-and-a-half year stint at the Worcester County House of Correction in West Boylston. He's been out since October 2006 and is currently living at Dismas House at 30 Richards St. He works at Price Rite. He is also readying himself to go to Quinsigamond College in the fall. Originally from Fitchburg, Chartrand is a single father of four daughters.

"This last bust, I was really out of control," he says. "I had gone 12 years without seeing my oldest. She's 16 and about to have my first grandchild. Anyway, I was walking downtown. I was dope sick. I had graduated to heroin. I remember hearing my name. I turned around and I didn't recognize anybody. So, I walked up around the corner and this young girl stopped me and said, ‘Is your name Rob?' I said, ‘Yeah.' She says, ‘Why didn't you say hi to Alyssa?' I looked up and that's my daughter staring me in the face. I felt like such a dirt bag; I still do.

"At the end of my run is when I really went crazy. I got indicted in two states for numerous smash-and-grab burglaries and stolen cars and high-speed chases. Then I decided I was going to try and leave the state.

"I made it to Southbridge to an ex-girlfriend's house. It was about five in the morning. I let myself in and rambled about some stuff, and passed out. I woke up to the Southbridge police. She had turned me in. When I finally got to the station, I was so tired and relieved I gave them a videotape confession."

Chartrand's criminal record stretches over 20 years. After his last arrest, Chartrand says, he felt like giving up. "I had the attitude of: If I got out and there was nothing out there for me, I was just going to go on a suicide mission and go out in a so-called blaze of glory," he says.

Worcester County Sheriff Guy Glodis says addressing drug and alcohol issues is the key to reducing the recidivism rate.

That same day, Chartrand also got high on the same stuff. "Right after they locked the whole jail down," he says. "I got lugged and went into the hole." After that, he was extradited to New Hampshire on other charges. He came back to West Boylston in November of '05 and in January '06 enrolled in the Substance Treatment Opportunity Program (STOP). "That's when I truly found my desire," Chartrand says. "I was one of the first graduates of the program."

According to the Massachusetts Department of Correction, in the fourth quarter of 2004, the Worcester County House of Correction operated at 162% capacity, having a capacity of 790 prisoners, but an average daily population of 1,281.

"I looked at my options. I said, ‘I can go into this recovery class and come back and be surrounded by negativity or I can get a job within the system and focus on that,'" Chartrand says. "That's what I did — the laundry room, worked eight hours a day. By the end of the day I was ready to just go to sleep. I stayed away from the mix of everything."

A month later Chartrand ended up getting paroled. He says he was fortunate enough to get into The Almost Home Program, a public/private collaboration between Dismas House and the Worcester County Sheriff's Office. Established in former Sheriff John "Mike" Flynn's residence on the grounds of the House of Correction, this 24-hour staffed facility provides three-month and six-month structured treatment to former Worcester County inmates eligible for parole or post-incarceration placement. "It's something that is needed," says current Sheriff Guy Glodis. "Every statistic shows that the more counseling and support inmates get during their incarceration — particularly, once they are released — really determines whether or not they stay on the straight and narrow or not."

Glodis points out that statistics show that nearly 90% of those incarcerated have either drug or alcohol problems. "What we try to do is address both of those issues," he says. "We have around-the-clock counseling with NA, AA and mentor programs that really give guidance, support and education to treat it as a disease and combat the evils that go with substance abuse."

Since opening in February 2006, Almost Home has graduated 37 people. Glodis is thrilled. "Only five people have been re-incarcerated for either a new offense or a parole violation," he says. "That's an indicator that shows if we help rehabilitate inmates, give them job skills and necessary workforce training, they many times do stay out of jail."

After being released, Chartrand says he knew that he had to go into a program — "a transitional, halfway house, whatever. I had to. There was no way I could go back to what I came from. If I did, I'd be dead; if not, back in jail."

Toward the end of his stay at Almost Home, Chartrand took a job at Price Rite. "I started in January. Right now, I'm assistant manager in the meat department. I started in the night crew stocking aisles. I just advanced up. I went from $8 an hour to $12 an hour. I also started the process for my schooling. I eventually want to get into substance abuse counseling. When I'm able to put some distance between my CORI [see sidebar, page 12] and my degree, I'd like to eventually work with teens."

Former Marine Anthony Clarke works hard on his re-entry and is a strong supporter of CORI reform.

"Prisoner re-entry has only recently been seen as an issue in and of itself," he says. "With poorly managed prisoner re-entry, you have a whole host of side effects on the community, from increased crime to stress on families to overwhelmed law enforcement. The No. 1 issue for returning inmates is the environment they are returning into. Our whole mission is the creation and support of community. We take a lot of pride in creating a home environment. It's not the cold institutional environment that they get in jail."

McMahon says the way to foster a sense of community is with three basic services. "Those are housing, treatment and jobs," he says. You will hear that around the country — that's the trifecta when people talk about the issue of re-entry."

Dismas House is currently in a highly publicized struggle with some residents of the Grafton Hill neighborhood over the future siting of a proposed facility on Arthur Street. State Rep. John Fresolo has organized opposition, saying that it is too close to the Middle School. Fresolo went so far as to attack an $80,000 state appropriation for Dismas — one he previously supported — but no members of the city's legislative delegation appear to be backing his play; on the contrary, several of his colleagues have criticized his opposition to the program.

For his part, Glodis says, "I think it is unfortunate that politics can play into the funding for what has a proven track record. The Dismas House in both locations — in downtown Worcester and in West Boylston — has a great track record. We have no problems with neighbors. These are people who are there under their own volition. They are not court-ordered or mandated. The people that Dismas House attracts are people who really want to turn their lives around.

"Dismas House epitomizes the saying, ‘Government should not be a handout, but it can and should be a helping hand.' That's what it is all about; it's helping individuals who want to help themselves," Glodis says. "We as a society owe that to inmates to help rehabilitate them. If not, there's an astronomical cost financially to the citizens of the Commonwealth. It costs $40,000 per person per year to incarcerate. Quite frankly, that money would be better spent on schools and education."

State Rep. John Fresolo is getting little legislative support for dissing Dismas House.

Clarke says, "CORI only hinders people who want change, not people who want to rehabilitate. The people who aren't trying to change, they are not trying to get jobs. I went down to [a local restaurant] and it seemed that they were excited that I would come and become a waiter. They gave me a personality test and I did well. I wasn't hired. They wouldn't tell me but I'm pretty sure it was after they ran a CORI check on me."

When asked where he sees himself in five years, Clarke says, "I see myself working and organizing community activism. I see myself married raising a family. I see myself playing a big part of getting people to understand how to advance themselves.

"If employers would only give an opportunity and the benefit of the doubt to people, the community and country as a whole would do much better. The people who are not working, that's taxes that the Commonwealth is missing out on."

Bob Dirsa is working at a plastics company in Oxford. He recently spent 11 months in the Big House for domestic assault and battery. "My drinking took over," he says. "I'm an alcoholic. Me and my children's mother got into an argument about my drinking and I got physical.

"I started drinking at 16. It was around me ... I grew up in Great Brook Valley, but I don't blame the Projects on the way I turned out. I grew up without a dad. My mom was in a violent relationship."

In addition to his domestic assault, Dirsa has prior records as well. In 1997 he was given a five-year sentence for armed robbery and spent time in the state penal system at Concord, Lancaster and Shirley. "My whole criminal record is because of my drinking," Dirsa says. "Alcohol took me some place else. I wasn't afraid. I was a binge drinker. Once I'd start, I couldn't stop. I've been clean and sober for 16 months."

While in jail, Dirsa went through the STOP program and upon release, went through Almost Home. "That's where I had my first cry, in front of 36 inmates," he says.

David McMahon, co-executive director of Dismas House, says fostering a sense of community for prisoner re-entry involves three core issues — housing, treatment and jobs.

That wasn't always the case. Often times he practiced the sin of lying by omission to get work. "There were times when I'd lie about it just to get the job," he says. "Later on, I would get fired. When the CORI came in they'd say, ‘Why didn't you tell us?' I'd say, ‘I can't tell my kids I don't have money.'"

Dirsa says he still has his insecurities, but they're something he's working on. "I don't totally 100% like myself," he says. "I put myself down. I would like to continue to stay sober and help other alcoholics like myself. I'd like to pursue a better education. I'd like to do better financially. I'd like to take care of my family and be a productive member of society."

Bonita Johnson was first arrested for possession of narcotics when she was 18. For fear of losing her job, she asked us not to use her real name in this story. She is a single mother currently on maternity live from a bartending job. Now in her late 20s, she says finding a place to live and work has been a constant struggle for the past 10 years.

"I had problems getting a job," Johnson says. "Back when I was in a sober house trying to do the right thing, I tried to get a job at Blockbuster. I had a really good interview but they did a background CORI check.

"I'm working now. When I applied for the job, I didn't put that I had a record because of all the problems I had in the past. They never did a CORI. I can't advance in my career. If they ever wanted to promote me I would have to decline."

Johnson is a member of EPOCA and, like Clarke, she finds strength in its support. "It gives me hope," she says. "I think CORI changes are needed." When asked what her issue with CORI is, Johnson says, "There's a blanket policy. They won't hire you. Period. I gave up hope of ever being successful in life because of my CORI.

"Meeting some people in EPOCA helped me to change that. It gives me hope. I feel successful. I plan on going to college. I plan on this CORI change happening so by the time I graduate it will be about seven years from the time I've been off probation that I'll be able to get a good job. I think the bill will pass." o