Tyler’s journey through the criminal justice system
“He’s dead, David. He is dead. He’s dead.”
Those frantic, horrible words echoed in my mind, over and over again.
“David”—that’s me. “He”—this is my friend, Tyler. Or should I say “was”, as of September 5, 2023.
Tyler and I were incarcerated in state prison together between 2011 and 2013 on similar non-violent drug-related charges. Our friendship consisted of mowing lawns, playing cards, drinking instant coffee, eating ramen, and listening to John Mayer and Dave Matthews. Over the course of those two years, our similar life circumstances, musical interests, and serious substance abuse issues led to a bond that would continue even as our paths diverged—with Tyler (back) in chaos and mine through a narrow escape to purpose and healing. Recovery and hard work gave me the opportunity to finish my bachelor’s degree, complete my master’s degree, and even obtain a license and employment with the federal government. Despite this difference, Tyler and I wanted the same thing – a family, a career, financial stability. to do good and be good people—but we also needed all the help we could get.
The call came from Tyler’s sister, Hannah, who was doing everything she could to prevent the same fate as her older brother and Tyler’s younger brother, Zane — a US combat veteran who died of poisoning from fentanyl more than five years ago. Throughout Tyler’s struggles, Hannah was there for Tyler when the world had given up on him, always showing him the love, compassion, and support he so desperately needed. She loved him unconditionally and never left him despite the turmoil substance use caused in their family. “I can’t lose Tyler too” Hannah told me on more than one occasion.
Over the past few years, Hannah, Tyler, and I have communicated regularly, trying to find a quality rehabilitation and housing system that will remove Tyler from the environment he was in. As we know that the risk of overdose is over 50 times higher (PDF | 16.3 MB) during the first two weeks after my release from prison compared to the general public, i secured tyler a state grant to the recovery housing program that saved my life, jump-started my recovery, and enabled me to escape the clutches of using substances and the criminal justice system almost 10 years ago. However, while this program would provide Tyler with access to quality services far beyond his means, it also happened to be located in a neighboring state. So then came the futile efforts to get Tyler’s probation transferred — the first step needed to access a life-saving recovery support system and safe, stable housing.
The first transfer attempt came when Tyler’s probation assigned him to a list of state-approved recovery housing programs. Forced to stay in the area, Tyler returned to using opioids and meth while waiting for a bed and ended up on the streets before finally being arrested on a warrant later that year. Even before his release, I told Tyler’s previous officer that he would probably die if he couldn’t leave the state to go to the recovery program. But luckily Tyler didn’t die…that time.
Fast forward to late May 2023, when I received the following text from Tyler (yes, you can text from jail these days): “Hey man, this is Tyler. I am finally locked in again and thank God. I was on the run for over a year and now I’m in the county jail and I’m finally starting to feel better. Looks like I’ll be in here for another few months and have one last test to face when I get out. I am not required to participate in any kind of program so I really hope you can help me with this program again in Florida. I know it didn’t work last time, but I’m so sick of it. I know I need to get out of the area and I need all the help I can get. I just want to get well and be there for my family.”
The day after I got that message, I was on the phone with Tyler’s new officer. He was genuinely interested in his well-being and was kind enough to take the time to talk with me about Tyler’s condition. She was willing to do whatever she could within the confines of the system to get Tyler the help he so desperately needed. I was hopeful and excited for Tyler after that phone call—and while she was unable to approve his participation in an out-of-state program, she was more than happy to submit a transfer request through the interstate compact program between State Departments of Correction. He warned me that it was a rigorous process and at the discretion of the host country, but there was also a sense of optimism between us because of Tyler’s unique and miserable circumstances—a scholarship and stable housing in the context of zero resources and a family that loved him but unable to help him back home, and a debilitating substance use disorder to top it all off.
There’s no way they’re going to deny that, I remember thinking as I completed the Reason for Living in Another State section of Tyler’s transfer request. If I could sum up this section in a few short words, it could best be described as “Reason not to die in it”. My optimism grew. Recovery is in his hands, I thought to myself.
“I’m excited for a new beginning! I’m starting to realize that I don’t have to live my life in and out of prisons, jails, etc. It’s almost as if I had accepted that my life would be miserable both in and out of institutions etc. he is the best dude. Thank you and I can’t wait for everyone to see me do well out there.” But Tyler’s unique and dire circumstances weren’t enough, and we learned of his first refusal just a month before his release.
What?! Maybe he’ll die, I thought to myself. But I couldn’t give up on Tyler because there were people who didn’t give up on me. After numerous calls, emails, and texts, we resubmitted his transfer request—this time with a letter from the recovery housing program he advocates on Tyler’s behalf and reiterates the uniqueness of his scholarship. Each day passed as we waited, hoped and prayed for some good news. His release date has come and gone, and what should have been an exciting day for Tyler, Hannah and their family has turned into uncertainty and confusion. Tyler was released directly onto the streets with no ID, phone or money. Panic set in as Hannah desperately tried to hold him. Two hours became twenty four. “We don’t know where Tyler is, David.”
Twenty-four became forty-eight. Ring, ring, ring. The day after receiving the call that Tyler had passed, I received the following text from Tyler’s officer: “Transfer declined and has not reported.”
Denied the first week of August. He was released third day of September. Dead two days later. Denied again the day after he died. Because even in death, the system failed him.
So why do people lack solutions? Are there effective alternatives?
Evidence suggests that there are many alternatives to incarceration that are proven to reduce recidivism and promote recovery. We know that peer support in legal contexts is one incredibly effective strategy (PDF | 6.3 MB). We know that people facing serious mental health or substance use challenges will almost always see more success with quality clinical treatment, safe and stable housing, and appropriate medication management than with punitive measures alone, such as incarceration and probation.
The GAINS Center provides many resources that can help, such as Best Practices for Successful Reentry from Criminal Justice Settings for People Living with Mental Health Conditions and/or Substance Use Disorders (PDF | 16.3 MB).
While creating a system that approves requests to complete out-of-state treatment and rehabilitation programs is a critical first step, we really need a system in which every court and correctional program/department across the country works directly with these life-saving programs and facilitates transfer immediately upon release regardless of location. At its heart, we need a system that cares and supports people. The simplest solution deprived a truly good man with a debilitating disease of the opportunity to live and rebuild his life. If the system provided effective discharge planning, such as connections to treatment and rehabilitation support services – and ensured easy access to both in-state and out-of-state options – I believe my friend would still be alive.
A combination of hard work, privilege and sheer luck gave me the opportunity to work with the same systems that have failed those we love. Unfortunately, My story is the exception and Tyler’s story is the rule.
SAMHSA’s Office of Recovery is working to find solutions and make changes. We must also continue to work with judges and court administrators to ensure that these compassion-based strategies and solutions are seen and used by the local, state, and federal systems that deal with people like Tyler. And until they do, I’ll keep talking. For Tyler.
