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My name is Michael. I am an inmate at Phillips State Prison in Buford [Georgia]. On Aug. 20, I will discharge my sentence. I will be given a bus ticket back to Columbus, a set of clothing to wear out of prison and a check in the amount of twenty-five dollars. I’m 39 and suffer from mental illnesses. I don’t have family to help me transition back into society, so once I step off the bus in Columbus, I will be a homeless ex-con. I hope to be able to find shelter and medication, but what scares me is that I have 13 years to be on probation, and I have to report to the probation office within 24 hours of my release.

Where is there any help for folk like me?

Where, indeed.

More than half of the estimated 650,000 ex-offenders released from prisons across the United States each year will cycle back through the corrections system within three years, according to the U.S. Bureau of Justice. Thirty percent of these re-arrests occur during the first six months.

This isn’t because they are career criminals. It’s because, like Michael, they can’t find safe and affordable housing, a job, substance abuse treatment, and needed medication. It’s because they don’t know where to go for help.

And like Michael, roughly half of the inmate population in the United States—more than one million people—suffers from mental health problems. Serious mental illnesses, such as schizophrenia, major depression, and bi-polar disorder, exist in prisons and jails at rates three times higher than in the general population.

For others, it’s substance abuse. The nation’s drug policy has expanded the prison drug offender population, and mandatory minimum sentences have placed thousands of nonviolent men and women behind bars for low-level usage or drug selling. Whereas 75 percent of all prisoners have a substance abuse problem, only 20 percent will receive treatment.

The situation doesn’t get better after release. Funding for community mental health and addiction recovery programs has been slashed by many state legislatures searching for ways to reduce budgets. Not only are rehabilitation options few and far between as a result of budget cuts, having a prison record means that ex-offenders are often barred from receiving public welfare benefits.

So, what’s a “homeless ex-con” to do?

The Critical Role of Community Reentry Programs

After serving six years in a Virginia prison for drug violations, John Butler arrived at Gemeinschaft Home in Harrisonburg, Va., eager for an opportunity to renew his life. Butler, 51, who now calls Harrisonburg home, said the first thing he remembers after he arrived was the warm welcome he received from city residents.

“The community accepted me at face value,” said Butler, who got a job in town and is a member of First Baptist Church. “They didn’t judge me on my past.”

That’s because the Gemeinschaft Home is dedicated to helping men like John make a new start after they get out of prison and become productive, law-abiding members of their community.

Gemeinshaft is what used to be referred to as a “halfway house,” but today is called a transitional therapeutic community (TTC). Operating as a six-month residential program, staff help residents on an individual basis to re-connect with family, tap into religious faith, develop career and education goals, manage jobs and financial responsibilities, and control substance abuse.

The financial difference between housing program participants ($68 per day) and incarcerating them ($67 per day) is negligible, but the long-term savings is significant. Instead of returning to prison within six months for a lengthy stay, program participants use that same amount of time to change direction and rebuild their lives.

Since 1986, the Gemeinshaft Home has received operating funds from the Virginia Department of Corrections. Unfortunately, Virginia legislators recently cut most of that funding.

Unfortunately, because the program works.

Participants in Gemeinschaft Home and other similar transition communities are less likely to commit crimes and be re-arrested, according to Peggy Plass, Ph.D., a professor in criminal justice at James Madison University. These programs also promote public safety. More important, they stand between ex-offenders and the revolving prison door.

Jennie Amison, Gemeinshaft’s executive director, is concerned that the reduction in funding could force the program to close, which could increase the likelihood that ex-offenders will commit new crimes. “It will send people back out into the street with just twenty-five dollars and the clothes they have on their back—but no hope.”