The men I met at
t c c c
never
imagined they would be sewing
while behind bars, nor did
they think it would be a key to
confronting a life of crime.
unlikely. But here in the quilting room these social norms don’t
apply. Here doing the right thing is popular. “W e all have the same
common goal,” says Maldonado, who attends church with Starr
every Saturday. “Quilting in a maximum-security male prison
might be seen as a recipe for ridicule, but it has only brought the
men closer. “They are like family,” said Pamela Dunn, JCCC’s
restorative justice coordinator. “They may give each other a hard
time, but they don’t let anyone else pick on them.”
Studies and experts say restorative justice has shown substan-
tial reductions in repeat offending for violent criminals. It has
also become a popular tool for dealing with juveniles and—amid
overcrowding—offenders of lesser crimes in lieu of prison time.
At JCCC, where few, if any, of the inmates will see freedom to chal-
lenge recidivism rates, it has had a substantial impact on the mo-
rale and safety of the prison.
The emphasis on such programs is unusual for a maximum-
security facility, but Dave Dormire, JCCC’s superintendent, has
seen the benefits firsthand. “There is a world of difference as to
how safe it is,” he said. Compared to other facilities of the same and
lesser security around the state, JCCC has the lowest rate of mis-
conduct and violence. “W e don’t have a lot of serious fights; we
don’t have serious assaults,” he said. “It also makes [the prisoners]
feel good. It is just win-win.”
In 2009, Pew research placed a sobering number to the steady
expansion of America’s prison population: one in 31 adults is under
some form of correctional control and more than one in a hundred
adults is behind bars. Second only to Medicaid, state corrections
costs now top $50 billion annually and eat up one in every 15 dis-
cretionary dollars. JCCC’s quilting program receives few of these
dollars. It is given no state funding for its projects and relies solely
on donations by individuals, groups and the dedication of inmates.
Its annual budget hovers around $2,000.
According to Missouri’s Department of Corrections, in 2008
about 41 percent of offenders volunteered to do reparative activi-
ties, which include sewing, gardening, crocheting and refurbishing
wheelchairs and bicycles. The results were donated to shelters,
daycare centers, nursing homes, hospitals and schools across the
state. JCCC is proud to say it produces more quilts than any other
correctional center in the state—even the women’s prison. Last
year, through auctioning quilts, it raised $7,000 for various chari-
ties. This past March the quilting group was represented in Fanfare
of Quilts 2010, one of the largest such shows in St. Louis.
Beneath a poster of a red circle with a diagonal slash through the
word “drama,” Starr reviewed the inventory of his tackle box. “It’s
a job by itself,” he said. “Every needle, every scissor, every blade
and every screwdriver must be signed in and out and accounted for
at all times.” Starr said his biggest worry is the day someone comes
in with a smile on his face and nothing to lose. “He might leave
here and throw his life away.” In an incident last February', a box
of needles went missing. Starr was held accountable and banished
from the quilting room for three months. “It was 90 days of sheer
brutality,” he said. Every morning he walked by and peered in the
window, waiting for the day he could return.
“These are by no means the choirboys of the world,” Dunn
said. “But if someone had told me I’d be working at a level five pris-
on handing out razor blades, I never would have believed them.”
As I packed up my notebook and got ready to leave, Starr turned
to me with the calm of a man who has repented of his past and
reconciled with a future of incarceration. “I am happy here,” he
said. “People might not believe me, but I’m doing things here I
never would have done.” As I drove down the hill, away from the
razor wire and chain-link fences, I couldn’t help but notice that
no signs lined the way out.
Meribah Knight, a freelance journalist in Chicago, has contributed to
The New York Times, The New Yorker
and
O, The Oprah Maga-
zine.
This is her second article for American Craft.
+
To donate materials to Jefferson City Correctional Center, contact
Pamela Dunn at (573)751-3224 x 1154 or [email protected].
060 american craft june/july io
www.WorldMags.net & www.Journal-Plaza.net
