Wednesday, our second day at Louisiana’s Angola State Prison, started off with breakfast with the larger-than-life Burl Cain – Angola’s charismatic and transformative warden.  Thereafter, we visited the prison’s vocational training centers that are set up to help the prisoners acquire a skill while incarcerated.  These include auto mechanics, auto collision repair, small engine repair (lawnmowers, engines, power tools, etc.), horticulture, eye glass manufacturing, and HVAC (heating, ventilation, and air conditioning).  The instructors are lifers with no possibility of parole.  Their students, however, include many serving shorter sentences who have been relocated to Angola so they can be trained by the lifers, most of whom have graduated from the theological seminary.  The training is so comprehensive and effective that there are more certified auto mechanics trained at Angola each year (98% passage rate) than anywhere else in Louisiana.

These lifer/teachers derive tremendous satisfaction knowing that despite their exceptionally poor choices that earned them life in prison, they have the opportunity to shape and equip others to enable them to avoid making the same bad choices after they get out.  The motto for the moral rehabilitation program is “No More Victims.”

I had to get out my hanky more than once as the head teacher in the small engine shop (who is also a Baptist minister leading his own congregation inside Angola) explained that while they cannot change their past, they do control their future.  “We help shape the men here into the kinds of fathers, brothers, sons, and husbands that we should have been.  Nothing gives us more joy than when we hear back from former students who are now living productive lives on the outside.”

In the HVAC class, the students had all kinds of questions for our Ugandan guests about life in Uganda, both inside and outside prison.  We also had a chance to visit the school where students are catching up on the basic education many of them missed out on before they were convicted.  We also stopped at the hospice care facility in the hospital/dentistry area.  Because “life means life” in Louisiana, there is a steady flow of inmates dying in prison.  The vast majority of care takers are fellow prisoners.  As the end approaches, six prisoner volunteers attach themselves to each dying inmate and serve round-the-clock, four-hour shifts, taking turns sitting, reading, and praying with the patient until he passes – “No one dies alone.”

A few days later, the inmates, guards, family, and friends are treated to a dignified service run by the inmate pastors.  The patient is buried in a beautiful, prisoner-made coffin that is brought to the outdoor funeral grounds in an ornate horse-drawn carriage.

 

And these aren’t just any horses.  The prison has more than a dozen war horses (Percherons) – the biggest I have ever seen.  They are groomed and maintained by several highly trained inmates for this very purpose.

The inmate carriage driver wears a tuxedo.

I can imagine right about now how one might question why so much effort and resources go toward giving the worst of the worst offenders many opportunities that those outside don’t have.  I will confess to coming into Angola with these questions.  I left Angola with none of them.

I am not a softy on crime, by any stretch, but if we truly believe in redemption (and I certainly do), then simply giving up on someone can’t be the right answer.  Moreover, the results achieved by Warden Cain and his innovative and dedicated staff simply can’t be refuted.  Incidentally, Angola receives a constant flow of prison officials from around the country (and around the world, including us Ugandans) who are starting to adopt some of the practices in other prisons.

The other important response to the resource question is that the prison raises vast amounts of money to pay for many of its programs through its semi-annual rodeo events.  Every Sunday in October and one weekend in April, the prison puts on a rodeo.  All participants are prisoners and the 6,000-seat arena is sold out every day.

Outside the arena in the carnival area, the prisoners are allowed to sell the arts and crafts they make year-round, using their own money for the supplies.  The proceeds of the rodeo allow much of what is innovative about Angola to be paid for by non-taxpayer dollars.  Accordingly, the Angola budget is not proportionately larger than other similar prisons.

Before we left Angola, we visited the rodeo and carnival grounds, and even did a little bareback horse riding ourselves.  I was able to stay on my mount for almost fifteen seconds.

Because Wednesday was employee-appreciation day, and because crawfish are now in season (who knew there was a crawfish season?), we were invited to sample Louisiana’s fifth food group at the Crawfish Boil.  I have never seen so many crawfish, and I have never seen human beings eat so many of them.

Most of our Ugandan friends developed a case of the heebee geebies at the thought of eating such ugly and unfamiliar creatures.  This, from folks who devour fried grasshoppers like they are McDonald’s fries.  Go figure.

I felt bad that my research assistant Luke (Pepperdine ambassador and host extraordinaire) had to miss out on the second half of the day, but he had important retrieval work to do.  The night before, he and I had trekked forty minutes to the Baton Rouge airport to pick up another rental car so I could stay with the group at Angola on Wednesday while Luke drove the three hours back to New Orleans to pick up the three whose visas had been tardily issued back in Uganda.  But when the flight landed, there were only two.  The third had been turned away at the ticket counter at the Entebbe Airport before takeoff due to a ticketing snafu.  After some frantic searching and tracking, Luke was able to ascertain the lost sheep would be landing at just before midnight on a different airline.  She was quite relieved to find someone there waiting for her.

The next morning, I checked out of the wonderful and charming Bed and Breakfast where I and two of my Ugandan colleagues had stayed in neighboring St. Francisville.  The owners of The Barrow House Inn, Shirley and Chris, took such good care of us.  And the night before I left, I was humbled to learn that after reading online about the connection between Pepperdine and the Uganda justice system, they were moved to contribute a portion of what we spent on lodging toward the completion of the documentary.  Incidentally, there are new clips of the film-in-progress up on the crowdfunding site.

Later Thursday morning, our group of seven (I retrieved the other five from Angola) met up with Luke’s group of three at Louisiana’s main women’s prison, which houses 900, 140 of which are lifers.  I had no pre-conceived notions about what it would be like at a women’s prison because I don’t watch the wildly popular Netflix show “Orange is the New Black” – at least as far as you know.  Being at Angola and at the women’s prison raised up an impulse in me to buy stock in razor wire manufacturers.

While they certainly do good and important work there, we had been spoiled by what we had seen at Angola.  The warden of the women’s prison in our group left with many ideas about how to better manage her population of approximately 100 female inmates, though she lamented the relative lack of resources she had at her disposal.

In the afternoon, we met with the Governor-appointed Secretary of Corrections for the State of Louisiana, thanks to Judge Bob Downing’s good efforts.

This meeting was quite informative and interesting – who knew Louisiana has the highest incarceration rate of any jurisdiction in the world?  Not I.  Incidentally, Louisiana laments, rather than celebrates, this statistic.

Before turning in on Thursday evening, we returned for nearly two hours of Wal-Mart shopping.  It was supposed to be one hour, but the oft-repeated Ugandan saying rings true – “In America, you have all the watches.  In Uganda, we have all the time.”

My next post will describe a highly informative day at Louisiana State Court and at the Federal Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals.

A caterpillar escapes its cocoon in San Diego, causing a butterfly to flap its wings in Baton Rouge, which changes the passenger list of a plane departing Uganda.  Two Bobs changed the lives of two Harriets.

Why?  Because both Bobs understand that Love Does, and both Harriets want to transform their country.

One of my heroes is San Diego lawyer Bob Goff.  He is primarily responsible for my life taking a sharp turn five years ago into the southern hemisphere.  Bob wrote a book called Love Does in which he tells lots of funny, interesting, and incredible stories of love in action.  About a year ago, another Bob read Love Does in his men’s group and was less than convinced Bob Goff was for real.  Retired Louisiana State Court Judge Bob Downing was more than a little skeptical about some of the stories he read, particularly those having to do with Bob’s work in Uganda.

After discovering a connection between the Ugandan work described in Love Does and Pepperdine Law School, Judge Bob called Pepperdine and was transferred to me.

“I wanted to let you know that Bob Goff appears to be taking credit in his Love Does book for the work you are doing in Uganda,” he said.

“Not as much as he should be,” I responded.

Over the next forty-five minutes, Judge Bob and I chatted about Bob Goff, Uganda, and the practice of law.  We became fast friends.  At the end of the call, he said, “Well, I know what I am eating for lunch tomorrow at the men’s Bible study.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s that?”

“Crow.  I will be admitting I was wrong about Bob Goff.”

Over the next few months, Judge Bob and I e-mailed and chatted periodically.  After my return from Uganda last July when I spent a bunch of time in a Ugandan maximum security prison, Judge Bob asked whether I’d ever thought about bringing prison officials out to the United States for training and idea exchanges, like we do with the Ugandan judges. “I have spent some time working with the folks at what used to be the bloodiest and most awful prison in American – Angola State Penitentiary just north of Baton Rouge.  The warden there, Burl Cain, is doing some phenomenal things and it is one of the best prisons in America now.”

“I haven’t actually ever thought about it,” I confessed.  “That sounds like a great idea, but I wouldn’t know where to start arranging it or raising funds to make it happen.”

“If you think it is a good idea and if you think you can get the Ugandans to come, I’ll work on the other aspects,” he replied.  “In the meantime, I am going to send you the book written about Warden Cain and Angola.  Read it and let me know what you think.”

A couple days later, “Cain’s Redemption: A Story of Hope and Transformation in America’s Bloodiest Prison” arrived.  I was blown away by the work the warden had done.

A couple months later, Judge Bob had secured a grant from his church (First Presbyterian of Baton Rouge) to pay for five prison officials to come, and had secured permission from Angola for a group of Ugandans to spend a couple days there.

A couple days ago, I flew to Louisiana to greet this group of Ugandans at the New Orleans airport as they stepped off the plane.

Two of them are named Harriet.

More tomorrow on what promises to be a life-changing trip for all of us.

I was originally schedule to leave Uganda Friday night after eight days on the ground in Africa.  Early last week, however, my Thursday meeting in Kigali, Rwanda was pushed back to the following Monday (yesterday) to enable Uganda’s Principal Judge to attend the meeting.  This delay served to calm (somewhat) my usual frenetic pace while on the ground in Uganda.  I enjoyed a Saturday evening with the family of a member of Uganda’s Law Reform Commission who is, more than anyone, driving the logistical bus in Uganda for the reforms being implemented.  I also had a chance to worship Sunday morning with some friends from Sixty Feet, an American non-profit caring for Ugandan juvenile prisoners and orphans.

In Rwanda early Monday afternoon, I was once again reminded of the surprising contrast between life in Kigali and life in Kampala – separated by just forty minutes by air.  Kigali more closely resembles Western Europe than Eastern Africa – there are clean, wide, pothole-free roads lined with manicured vegetation, functioning (and obeyed) traffic signals, and modern buildings and shops.  Rwanda has recovered well from its devastating genocide in 1994.  Critics contend, however, that the economic and political stability Rwanda enjoys comes at the price of free speech and political dissent.

A few minutes earlier, I’d been greeted by at the airport by International Justice Mission’s former Kigali field office director, Lane Mears, who now works for USAID, a funding arm of the US State Department.  (Before I left Kampala that morning, I had a good meeting with IJM’s Kampala field office director, Kathryn Wilkes, about potential further collaboration between Pepperdine and IJM).  I’d invited Lane to attend the meeting between the Ugandan and Rwandan delegations so he could connect more closely with the players and assist in evaluating the whether Rwanda should consider following Uganda’s lead.

Uganda’s delegation consisted of Justice Bamwine, who leads the High Court of Uganda (trial court) as the Principal Judge; Andrew Khaukha, who serves as the Secretary of the Plea Bargaining Task Force chaired by Justice Bamwine; Betty Khisa, who serves as Deputy Director for Uganda’s Department of Public Prosecutions; and me, in my role as Specialist Advisor to the High Court of Uganda and meeting convener.  (Incidentally, Betty is the lawyer against whom I argued Henry’s appeal more than two years ago.  We’ve since become friends and she is going to inquire this week about the status of the ruling in Henry’s case).

Chief Justice Sam Rugege headed the Rwandan delegation.  When the genocide occurred 21 years ago, Justice Rugege was teaching law in South Africa.  At the urging of Rwandan President Paul Kagame, Justice Rugege returned home to serve as Rwanda’s Deputy Chief Justice to help stabilize the country’s judicial system.  About four years ago, he became Chief Justice.   For the past half-dozen years, Justice Rugege has welcomed two Pepperdine summer interns each year into his judicial chambers, and has been a good mentor for our students.

Also on the Rwandan side: the Prosecutor General (who will have a Pepperdine intern this summer); the President of the High Court (counterpart to Principal Judge Bamwine); the Solicitor General; the Deputy Minister of Justice; the Inspector General of Courts; the Inspector General of Prosecutions; the Inspector General of Police; a couple High Court Justices; the Commissioner and Deputy Commissioner of Prisons; and a few others.

After warmly welcoming us, Chief Justice Rugege turned the floor over to “us Ugandans.”  I started off with a thirty-minute overview of plea bargaining concepts and the historical events that put Uganda on the path to plea bargaining.

The Principal Judge followed me, providing further depth to Uganda’s decision-making process and plea bargaining adaptations.  Andrew then concluded with a report of statistics, successes, and lessons learned along the way.  Our presentation last about two hours, and was followed by a lively question and answer session.  One of the obstacles in Rwanda’s path to plea bargaining is its Civil Law heritage.  Unlike the United States and Uganda whose Common Law legal systems trace their roots back to the British, Rwandan’s system derives from the French.  In fact, Rwandan laws are translated into three languages – Kinya-Rwandan, French, and English.  Unlike Common Law countries, Civil Law countries combine, to a large degree, criminal and civil cases such that a murder trial would also involve a component of monetary damages sought by the victim’s family.  (Those would be totally separate in the United States).  I suspect our students serving as interns in Rwanda summer will be called upon to assist the Rwandese in evaluating whether plea bargaining would be an appropriate way to enable Rwanda to reduce the criminal court backlog and prison congestion.

All in all, the meeting was quite productive and I look forward to seeing where it leads.

Once I am back and settled in the US later this week, I will update where things stand in my quest to lose my “amateur” writer status.

Pepperdine is a different kind of place to study law than most, as evidenced by the annual Commissioning Ceremony that takes place for those graduates who attend the weekly Bible study at the Gash home each week.  I was heartbroken that my responsibilities in Uganda necessitated my absence from this culminating event.  My wife, Joline, was kind enough, however, to read for these graduates a few words I prepared for this occasion:

“While my body is in Uganda, my heart is with you right here, right now. I eagerly await my return to Pepperdine to celebrate with you in person, your graduation.

I will swell with pride and emotion as Dean Sturgeon reads your name in the book of graduation before you walk across the stage. I will do my best not to cry, but no promises.

I am so proud of you.

As you know, God has been reading your name in the book of life, and (as Bob Goff is fond of saying) Jesus is carrying a picture of you around in his wallet. He is quite proud of you as well.

But not for graduating from law school.

His pride in you is because of your steadfastness in the face of hardship, your faithfulness in the face of fear, and your love and support for the brothers and sisters here with you tonight as you walked this path together.

Over the course of your three years at Pepperdine, you have attended classes, briefed cases, written papers, presented arguments, and taken exams. Some of you liked law school. A few of you loved it. All of you have loved each other. You sang together, studied together, prayed together, played games together, walked beside each other, and at times, carried one another. Through it all, you have inspired your professors and you have shown your classmates what it looks like to follow Jesus in a community.

Over the course of this year on Wednesday nights, we have collectively pondered what it means to be powerful in Christ amidst our weakness. You have led worship, led prayers, led our thoughts, and led from your seats as the 1Ls and 2Ls watched your consistency and faithfulness. Some of you have excelled at the game of law school, and some of you have simply survived. But each of you in your own way has modeled perseverance and grace and joy in this journey.

Some of you have a clear vision of what the next step will be occupationally. Others are still waiting for God to reveal that. We pray that He will reveal that soon, but we also pray for patience as God unfolds His plan in His time.

But I do not believe that your first job, your second job, or your last job is your calling. The calling you have received is to live life overflowing with the joy that comes from being a child of God, a follower of Christ. You are a vessel, made by the hand of God, made in the image of God, made to reflect the love of the Son of God.

The context in which you live out this calling is but a backdrop for the content you pour into those around you.

My prayer for you as you receive this commission is:

That you, though hard pressed on every side by the stresses of your chosen profession, will not be crushed.

That though you are at times perplexed by the vagaries and ambiguities of the law, will not be in despair.

That though you may be persecuted for the stands you take, for the people you represent, for the God you serve, you will never feel abandoned.

And that even when you stumble in your cases, in your deals, in your relationships, and in your daily walk – when you feel struck down, that the Spirit of God that lives within you will never, ever be destroyed.

We will miss you, but a part of you will always be here among us each week we gather as law students, law professors, and brothers and sisters in Christ. Come back and see us often.”