Issues in Criminal Justice (JF)
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 The following story is taken from "Come, Let Us Reason Together," by Becky Beane
Corey Moore sinks shyly into the couch, dwarfed by his mom and dad who sit on either side of him. The soft-spoken 12-year-old, who excels in math and likes to ride his bike, hardly fits the image of "juvenile delinquent." Yet he committed a crime that got him expelled from school and confined to a youth detention center "It didn't feel right, because I wasn't sleeping in my own bed." He snuggles closer-more securely-to his dad.
One Sunday last spring, a friendly water-balloon fight outside Corey's Fresno, California, elementary school turned destructive when one of the kids found a piece of a water pipe and smashed it against a window. A few of them clambered through the opening, discovered a baseball bat, and broke into three classrooms: stealing some things, "tagging" the walls with scribbles. Then they broke into the teachers' workroom that housed their mailboxes, a photocopier-and a freezer filled with ice cream treats. Inhibitions depleted, the children zealously scooped out ice cream sandwiches, chocolate bars, and other frozen fare-carrying out armloads of stolen snacks while fumbled booty melted into pools on the floor.
Corey "went along," not thinking "I'd get in much trouble." But the next week, police officers escorted the boy out of the school in handcuffs.
"I remember looking into his eyes and feeling so disappointed," says Terry Marinaro, then the school's vice-principal. "And I knew he saw that in my face."
A short time later, Marinaro had the opportunity to express her feelings to Corey directly-as a part of the Victim Offender Reconciliation Program (VORP) of the Central Valley. "You were somebody we knew and trusted and liked," she told him on behalf of the teachers and the other administrators. "And we all felt so violated." Corey started to cry.
"But that was good," says Marinaro. "It released his feelings and demonstrated his remorse."
The affected teachers also spoke openly, sharing the hurt, the fear, and the insecurity they and the students had felt when they first entered the vandalized classrooms that Monday morning. Each time a victim or one of his parents spoke, Corey had to summarize what was said-until the other person felt sure Corey understood. The child shared his side in the same way-a process that took time, patience, and courage.
Then, with the help of a VORP mediator, the group talked about "how to make things right," explains Marinaro. In the end, Corey agreed to work 43 hours of community service at a local church to cover repairs and cleanup costs. He wrote letters of apology-and read them aloud-to the teachers and students of the damaged classes ("Probably the hardest part," claims his dad, Lawrence). And he bought gift certificates for the teachers.
"There were a few bumps," admits VORP interim director Jay Griffith, referring to the maintenance and food-service tasks assigned by the church. "Sometimes Corey had to go back and clean up a few areas again. There was a certain standard he had to meet. And it was important to work those things out as soon as they came up."
Overall, Corey's willingness and perseverance to take responsibility for his actions impressed his parents, the school staff, and his probation officer, and four months after the initial meeting they came back together for a time of celebration. "I don't think he'll do something like that (crime) again," says his mom, Betty. "I think he's mature enough now to know what he did was wrong."
Corey agrees he will stay out of trouble, despite the lure of his peers. "I'm going to think for my own self next time!" |
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