‘Get out of jail’ is no free pass

Your name is Freda. You’ve served 11 years in federal prison and have just been released. You qualify for disability but can’t get your first $275 check for another week. Meanwhile, you have $20 and a place to stay with a man you met as a prison pen pal. Will you be able to survive the next four weeks on the outside or will you be going back to prison?

The scenario is slightly different for each of the participants in the UNC Correctional Education Program’s first simulation of a former prisoner’s reentry into society. The world they must navigate is neatly confined to the four walls of a meeting room in the Friday Center, with tables standing in for locations like probation, social services, a pawnshop and the Division of Motor Vehicles. The people at the tables are friendly volunteers, not overworked civil servants or shady con artists.

But the challenges are as real as the staff and volunteers can make them for this activity, held in conjunction with Correctional Education’s 50th anniversary.

“You’ll get a taste of what it’s like today,” Lisa Kukla, Correctional Education director, tells the participants, about half students earning a Campus Life Experience credit and half community members who encounter former prisoners in their paid or volunteer work.

The simulation is offered through OurJourney, a nonprofit run by former prisoners. The group supplies recently released prisoners with reentry resource guides specific to their county, one component of its First Aid Reentry Kit to help them survive those critical first 90 days back in society. These simulations for community members build awareness of the challenges former prisoners face upon reentry.

As participants check their plastic zip-close bags for their names, life stories, documents and (simulated) cash, OurJourney founder Brian Scott preps them for what’s next. “Close your eyes,” he says. ”You are no longer you. You are someone with a criminal record. You’ll always have a number. You are scared, but you’re trying not to show it.”

And you have a lot to do, now that your life is no longer controlled by the state. With freedom comes the responsibility to get a job, pay rent, buy groceries, pass drug tests and check in with your probation officer. You only have 15 minutes to complete all the tasks for each week, so the time pressure is real, too.

The next hour goes by in a blur as you scurry from one station to the next to complete the tasks on your laminated “Life Card,” succeeding sometimes and often failing. At the end of the fourth week, you check your card to see how you’ve done. You got a state ID and a part-time job and collected disability. But you also missed a visit with your probation officer, failed two drug tests, collected only one paycheck, never paid rent and forgot to buy food.

Scott says about half of all prisoners are there because they failed to do something right during probation. Some of the simulation participants admit to stealing play money during the activity, and at least one person broke the rules on purpose to get sent to “simulated jail.” That happens in real life, too.

“I didn’t realize how hard it was,” says first-year student Anagha Puranik when it’s all over. “I’m really happy I came. It gave me a new perspective and helped me understand how challenging it would be.”