What We Do

Recently, through interest in a development toward bigger things, I have been asked about what I do in Probation and Parole. Most don’t know. We are law enforcement agents, with the powers of arrest a lot like police officers. However, we have more authority over those already convicted of a crime. In most states we have the right to search without a warrant and we arrest for things the average citizen would not be arrested for, called a rearrest. We have a caseload of offenders who we will get to know over the course of their probation or parole grant, anywhere from one to five years. During that time, we have the authority to arrest, but we don’t want to arrest. Ultimately, our goal is to get them to change their deviant lifestyle. We do that through programs (therapy, drug and alcohol) and by building relationships with the offenders and their families. That’s the main difference, police just make the arrest and that’s it. We know the person we are arresting, we know their girlfriend, boyfriend, mother, father, son or daughter. We use these family members and peers as support to get them to change their lives.  

There was a study done and found 30% of the time when a police officer contacts someone in the course of their duties, the person they contact has been convicted of a prior crime. That could be anything from murder to selling weed. The remaining 70% of the time the person they contact is a normal person, like you and me, maybe speeding or acting a fool at a bar. 100% of the time when a Probation or Parole officer contacts someone in the course of their duties, the person has been convicted of multiple felonies often violent crimes; and there is a gun in the area. That’s an admittedly dramatic stat that is true but almost always gets an eye roll.  

In order to be successful, we need to build a relationship with the offenders, hope they see we are have their best interest in mind, and follow our advice. If not, then they go to jail. It’s a tricky relationship, every time we see them, they could go to jail, but we want to be friends. If they did something last night that could send them back, they don’t know if we know. And they lie to us, all the time. You’d think we’d be the best lie detectors, but I’ve been doing this forever, and I can’t tell the difference. You just get used to the lies and manipulation; don’t take it personal.  We are in the business of being lied to and forgiving. I for one am quite good at that. I will tell an offender on our first meeting that we will be seeing each other about three times a month for the next three years. We are going to get to know each other, probably even start to like each other, but always remember, I’m still here to do a job, I could take away your freedom any time; nothing personal. 

It seems like only a matter of time for the relationship to build. One of the best examples I can think of is Alex.  Alex was a giant Samoan man, about 6’ tall, but at least 280 pounds of solid meat.  Shaking his hands was like grabbing a bushel of bananas.  His head was like a oversized pumpkin sitting on his paint can neck. Alex was an intimidating enforcer with one of the most powerful street gangs in the area. His family were natives and not fans of anyone with a European background. The first time I met his dad he did not let me in the house with shoes, “Tell him to take off his FUCKIN SHOES!” Said dad from the living room on the the first home contact. I calmly excused myself and left the property with head on shoulders, but in need of a new pair of underwear.  

Over time Alex and I got to know each other, and became as close to friends as we could be. His dad even let me in the house eventually, with shoes on (it was against policy to take shoes off). Alex had a real problem with crystal meth. He was ordered by the Parole Board to be immediately rearrested if he tests positive. One afternoon before the test I asked if he had been using anytime recently.

“No man, I’m clean,” He said with confidence. Lie or truth, I don’t know the difference. 

The test came back positive for meth. 

“Come on man, what the fuck?!” I said, and without thinking I gave him a backhanded slap across his shoulder. It felt like I slapped a overfilled sandbag, the bones in my hands cracked into powder.  This was a terribly disrespectful thing to do. I just bitchslapped one of the most feared gangsters on the island, and he didn’t flinch. It was like we were friends and he knew I didn’t mean anything by it.  Sheepishly, Alex admitted to use. 

I cut him some slack, “Okay man, I’m not even sure this is positive, the lines are blurry, just get into the program next week.”

Alex enrolled in the program as directed, but about a month later was caught smoking meth with a hooker at a beach park at 2 am. He went back to prison, I couldn’t help him.

When I look back on this relationship, it makes me think what a difference time can make.  If I had bitchslapped Alex on the first day we met, I’d wake up in a hospital without teeth. Give me a few months to get to know him, and we are yelling and hitting each other like old buddies. More importantly, he found a little shame in using meth and disappointing me. I didn’t completely change his life, but I’d like to think I made a little bit of an impact. I also got some street cred.

That’s what we try to do – make an impact and maybe set them on a course to doing things right for themselves, with a hope for a better life in the long run.