By Anna Simonton, Research Assistant - Pretrial Best Practices
I’m always struck by the way people leave a community conversation, compared to how they came in the door. A transformation takes place - a shift, sometimes so significant that it feels like an entirely different group only two hours later.
This summer, the Minnesota Justice Research Center held 14 community conversations across the state to hear from residents about their perspectives on and experiences with bail, jail, and pretrial policy. We gathered in churches, community centers, and libraries, as well as places touched directly by the criminal legal system, like a domestic violence shelter, a group home for people on pretrial monitoring, and even a few prisons across the state. At the beginning of these sessions, participants often seemed tired or wary, maybe both. They usually joined after a long day at work and appeared uncertain about what a community conversation might entail. Many seemed to feel that talking about their experience with and opinions about bail would be difficult, particularly in a room full of strangers.
We were there to collect data—stories, beliefs, curiosities, and values—that would help shape recommendations on how to transform a system with wide-researching consequences and little transparency.
Fast forward an hour and participants were huddled together in small groups, engrossed in discussion, heads nodding, pens jotting ideas on Post-it notes. Sometimes peals of laughter would ring out from a group of people getting to know each other. Other times heavy sighs hushed a group holding someone’s story of trauma - stories of pretrial incarceration, separation from loved ones, the financial burden of bail. When the sessions came to a close, many participants were noticeably energized and reluctant to end the conversations. We asked for their takeaways, and they expressed feeling powerful, hopeful, no longer alone, and excited to be part of a change. Above all, folks felt heard.
We convened these conversations because on any given day more than 4,000 Minnesotans are locked in jail without being convicted of a crime, very likely because they can't afford bail. Two people could have the same criminal record, be charged with the same offense, and one could walk free simply because they’re wealthier, while the other awaits trial behind bars. The collateral consequences of pretrial detention are monumental. Even a short stay in jail can result in a domino effect of financial hardship, mental health challenges, and ruptured relationships. People held in pretrial detention are more likely to plead guilty, receive longer sentences, and be re-arrested in the future.
Last year, the Minnesota legislature tasked the MNJRC with studying pretrial practices statewide and producing policy recommendations that could guide us toward a more just system. We knew right off the bat we needed to hear directly from community members who have been impacted by cash bail and pretrial incarceration, as well as victims/survivors of crime and other stakeholders. Drawing on best practices for community-based participatory research, we planned a series of community conversations that ultimately engaged about 200 people across the state from Bemidji to Rochester and a dozen places in between. What we observed was the transformation of community members, on a small level, by the opportunity to share their views and experiences. This mirrored the kind of system transformation we’re building toward by collecting and analyzing these stories, this data.
We held the final session at the end of August, with a group of young people in Minneapolis. Many of them had experienced arrest and spent time in jail, or had seen family members go through the pretrial process. Like every session, we started with a meal; this time it was coconut shrimp, sambusas, and fried plantains. Then we gave a presentation about cash bail that covered what the law says in Minnesota, how it works in practice, and what alternatives are being tried elsewhere. We offered this presentation at each session because the criminal legal system can be confusing, even for people who have navigated it before. And we’ve found that it helps folks warm up to the conversation, grounding us all in a shared context with a better understanding of terms and processes. The youth quickly began asking questions about the details of the law and the inequities it perpetuates. Some began to chime in with comments about their personal experiences. By the time we divided into small groups, the transformation we’d seen time and again was underway. Any initial uncertainty was eclipsed by passionate opinions, growing camaraderie, and vulnerable moments that laid bare the harmful effects of our current pretrial system.
This fall, MNJRC will rigorously analyze the data we’ve collected from community members and synthesize it with a massive amount of data from other sources. In addition to holding community conversations, we’ve interviewed dozens of judges, prosecutors, defense attorneys, and sheriffs across Minnesota. We’ve visited jurisdictions across the U.S. that have implemented pretrial reform. We’re also studying case law and conducting a literature review of relevant research.
As we sort through it all to develop policy recommendations, which are due to the legislature in February 2025, I’ll be thinking about that final session and something one of the participants said. A young woman who was pregnant had told her group about being arrested and jailed overnight while she waited to get bailed out. She described the discolored jail water, and meal portions so meager she became dizzy with hunger. Later, as we packed to leave, she helped clean up and spoke with me. “Thank you guys for coming out,” she said. “Because legislators need to know what it’s like. They need to hear our stories.”
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