The Redemption Project Podcast

The Redemption Project

The Redemption Project tells real stories of change, accountability, and second chances. Hosted by Brandon Burley—a retired law enforcement detective, criminal justice educator, and journalist—this podcast features conversations with men and women who have lived on both sides of the justice system, along with the ministries, programs, and people helping them rebuild their lives. Each episode explores what redemption actually looks like after prison: recovery, faith, responsibility, failure, growth, and the long road back to trust and purpose. Some stories are quiet. Some are uncomfortable. newsroom.theredemptionproject.news

  1. 2d ago

    Scarlett

    She had survived an overdose. She was still weak after a severe health crisis. In our conversation, she described leaning against the hospital building, uncertain what would happen next. Then her papaw arrived. She had not known he was coming. She also knew she had hurt him, just as she had hurt other people who loved her. He came anyway. He offered her a place to recover. There would be meals, prayer and someone who wanted her to live. There would also be rules. “He showed up for me with open arms, with rules,” she said. That is where Scarlett places a turning point in her story. What followed took months of care and years of work. Before the crisis Scarlett describes herself as a quiet student who played sports and earned good grades. She married young, became a mother and bought a home. Addiction was not the future she imagined. After her second daughter was born, she developed persistent stomach problems. She says a long search for answers eventually led to a Crohn’s disease diagnosis and, late in 2017, a referral to a pain clinic. At the same time, her marriage was struggling and she was grieving a family death. She began misusing prescribed pain medication, then sought pills elsewhere. Her account describes a progression to heroin and five years in active addiction. The consequences reached her children. She signed emergency custody over to her mother. The home was sold. Relationships deteriorated. She made several attempts at rehabilitation, but recovery did not hold. Scarlett does not leave those losses out of her testimony. Rebuilding the relationships would eventually require facing what had happened to them. Surviving did not settle everything By the summer of 2022, Scarlett says she was severely underweight and had lost the ability to walk. Her account includes bowel blockages, hospital stays, malnutrition and being told she might die. Her thoughts turned to her daughters. She wanted them to know she loved them. She also wanted them to understand that her addiction was not their fault. Even after that health crisis, she returned to heroin and overdosed. She describes emergency treatment and another hospital discharge before the moment her grandfather came to get her. The danger had been real. So had the difficulty of changing. Her story does not become understandable by assuming that one frightening experience should have made everything easy afterward. A home with boundaries At her papaw’s house, care became practical. He cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner. He prayed for her. Phone access was limited. There were expectations about staying at the house and following its routines. She had to make her bed. Scarlett says she was angry about the restrictions at first. Looking back, she describes his help as the best thing that happened to her. Faith also became personal in a different way. She had grown up in church, but remembers kneeling beside the bed when her stomach problems returned and praying: “Lord, I’m gonna do it your way, ’cause my way’s killing me.” This time, she called her father for help. He took her to the hospital. She says she was admitted and underwent surgery for a bowel blockage. Her mother and other relatives came to see her. Afterward, she returned to her grandfather’s home to recover. She began walking better and noticing ordinary changes in herself: wanting to wash dishes, pick up after herself and participate in daily life. Her account holds faith and practical care together. It includes medical treatment, a stable place to recover and therapy she began while living with her papaw. She continued therapy for roughly two and a half years. Learning to be present again After about four months, Scarlett wanted to move back into her mother’s home, where her children were living. “I’m ready to be a mom again,” she remembers saying. Being under the same roof brought joy. It also exposed how much she had missed. She did not know the everyday details of her daughters’ lives, including their favorite foods. Being home was a beginning. It did not automatically restore trust. “Trust isn’t, it’s not built back overnight,” she said. That part of the story matters. A family can welcome someone back and still need time. A parent can be committed to recovery and still have relationships to repair. Scarlett describes trying, continuing therapy and learning how to be present. Four years later Scarlett celebrated four years sober in July 2026. She says she now has full custody of her children and works full time for an employer she had worked for before addiction. She is also sharing her experience in jails, recovery settings and schools. Returning to Clinton High School, where she graduated, was especially meaningful. She has spoken at Susannah’s House in Knoxville, where the presence of mothers and their children connected closely with her own experience. Her life is still being built. She talks about wanting a place of her own and the cost of getting there. Four years sober does not mean every difficulty has disappeared. It means the story continued. When her grandfather arrived outside that hospital, he could offer a home and his presence. Scarlett would still have to take part in the work that followed. Today, she can tell other people what that work made possible: being a mother again, returning to employment and finding a purpose in sharing her experience. The woman who once stood outside with nowhere to go is now standing in front of other people, telling them there can be a way forward. Hear Scarlett’s full conversation Scarlett’s full conversation is now available as Season 2, Episode 30 of The Redemption Project Podcast. Watch or listen on this page, or listen on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/redemption-story-of-the-week-scarlett-her-papaw/id1864236260?i=1000798977149 Subscribe to The Redemption Project Newsroom on Substack for automatic updates when new stories and episodes are published. This story is based on Scarlett’s account in her interview with Brandon Burley. Her medical history and recovery experiences are presented as she described them. The Redemption Project Newsroom is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets. Get full access to The Redemption Project Newsroom at newsroom.theredemptionproject.news/subscribe

  2. 4d ago ·  Bonus

    Laura on Reentry: Support Beyond the Gate

    An appointment can be arranged on paper. Getting someone there is a different problem. Laura and Brandon Burley discuss the practical gaps people may face when leaving incarceration: housing, continuity of care, transportation, relationships, and the confidence to ask for help. The conversation brings lived experience and community outreach into the same discussion as rehabilitation. What happens when the door opens? Laura describes trying to connect people with support while they are still preparing for release. Brandon asks how appointments and plans translate into something a person can actually use. A destination means little if transportation, paperwork, or access falls through. Their examples focus on coordination. These are questions about support systems, not instructions for a listener’s treatment. From The Redemption Project · Our own course Build the habit of testing a claim before accepting its conclusion with Brandon Burley’s Evidence Before Conclusions online course. This is an advertisement for our own product. More than a checklist The discussion also considers privacy, shame, family relationships, and the different social expectations people encounter after release. Laura talks about the role of an advocate who can help someone navigate a difficult conversation or try again after a discouraging response. Brandon explains his interest in bringing research, professional practice, and lived experience into a shared body of information. Their conversation closes with the possibility of working together. Context for this archived conversation Statements about particular facilities, voting figures, program results, medication provision, and appointment rules reflect the speakers’ recollections and have not all been independently verified. They may vary by location or have changed. The conversation is not individual medical or legal advice; treatment decisions belong with qualified clinicians. Where do you see the biggest gap between a plan for release and the support available afterward? I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets. Get full access to The Redemption Project Newsroom at newsroom.theredemptionproject.news/subscribe

  3. Oct 23

    He Was Arrested for a Murder He Says He Didn't Commit. Then He Believed God Had Another Purpose for His Imprisonment.

    Baba had no idea that renting an apartment for a few days would change the direction of his life. In 2021, he needed to conduct business in another part of Lagos, Nigeria. Rather than travel back and forth across the city, he arranged a short stay in an Airbnb-style apartment. It was an ordinary decision. He completed his stay and left. According to Baba, a murder occurred in the neighboring apartment a day or two later. He says he did not know the victim, had never met him and had no connection to the crime. But the victim was reportedly the owner of a media company, and the killing attracted significant attention. Within weeks, Baba found himself at the center of a criminal investigation he says he had nothing to do with. What followed would leave him fearing for his life, confronting his understanding of faith and eventually writing a book with a title that captures how he came to interpret the experience: How God Arrested Me. When I spoke with Baba on The Redemption Project Podcast, I expected to hear the story of a man who said he had been falsely accused of murder. That is part of his story. But he was far more interested in telling me what happened inside him while he waited for freedom. An Arrest Without Answers Baba grew up in a relatively comfortable Nigerian family. He received much of his education in the United Kingdom, attending school in Scotland and studying at universities in Hull and Edinburgh. He had opportunities, education and family connections. He was accustomed to navigating the world with some measure of security. Then, one evening in Lagos, that security disappeared. About two or three weeks after the murder, Baba says he stepped outside his home in a gated residential estate to take a walk and use his phone. Two men approached him. They had a photograph. They appeared to recognize his face, although Baba says they initially had the wrong first name. Before he could understand what was happening, he was forced to the ground and handcuffed. Residents and security personnel challenged the men. According to Baba, weapons were produced, and the crowd backed away. In the confusion, he managed to pass his phone to a resident, who contacted his girlfriend and father. That may have been one of the most important things he did that evening. At least someone knew he had been taken. Baba says the men did not initially tell him why he was being arrested. They placed him inside a vehicle with darkened windows and drove away. He feared he was being kidnapped. Nigeria has experienced serious problems involving kidnapping and ransom demands, and Baba says he had no immediate way to distinguish what was happening to him from the stories he had heard. He began pleading for his life. He even offered money. Only after arriving at a police station did he learn that the authorities were questioning him about a murder. Investigators showed him a news clipping concerning the killing. The location was familiar. It was the apartment building where he had stayed. Suddenly, an ordinary lodging decision had become the apparent connection between Baba and a homicide investigation. He asked for a lawyer and resisted pressure, as he describes it, to provide a written statement without legal counsel. Then he was locked up. The First Night Baba’s description of his first night in detention was difficult to hear. He recalled entering a crowded room where people were sleeping on top of one another. There was little space. Rats moved through the area. The smell of urine and human waste filled the room. He said he spent much of that first night standing against a wall, unable to sleep, trying to understand how his life had reached this point. This was not the life he recognized. He had grown up with advantages. He had studied abroad. He had family members working to secure his release. Now he was in a cell with people accused of serious crimes, uncertain about what would happen next. He was also frightened by what he had heard about the treatment of detainees at the facility. In our conversation, Baba alleged that people could disappear from custody, particularly when no one outside knew where they were. Those claims were part of his account and have not been independently established for this article. But whether the danger he feared would actually materialize or not, his terror was real. He did not know when he would leave. He did not know what authorities would do. And he did not know whether his family’s resources could protect him. Then he began reading a Bible. When Every Connection Seems Powerless Baba had been a Christian long before his arrest. He told me he committed his life to Christ when he was about 10 years old and had maintained some level of prayer and belief throughout his life. But he made an important distinction. He had known about God. He had not always surrendered the direction of his life to God. Inside the cell, those two realities began to collide. He started reading the Psalms. He reflected on the people he knew, the opportunities he had enjoyed and the influence his family might be able to exercise. Yet he increasingly felt that none of those connections could determine when he would be released. He described sensing a message in his heart: His release would happen in God’s time, not simply because he knew the right people. He also believed he had a purpose inside the detention facility. That was not the answer he wanted. He wanted to go home. He wanted the accusation resolved. He wanted to return to the life he understood. Instead, he began confronting something far more personal. His pride. His dependence on circumstances he thought he could control. And his reluctance to surrender when the outcome was uncertain. I have heard many stories of people encountering God during incarceration. Some were serving sentences for crimes they acknowledged committing. Others were struggling with circumstances they believed were unjust. What interested me about Baba’s experience was that he did not describe his faith merely as a way of getting through the confinement. He believed God was asking him to do something while he was there. Worshipping Beside Men He Had Already Judged At some point during his detention, Baba says he was moved from the severely overcrowded general holding area to a smaller section. There, he encountered a Christian fellowship. He described a system in which detainees’ names, numbers and alleged offenses were called aloud. It meant he had some idea of what the men around him had been accused of doing. One young man particularly disturbed him. Baba recalled being told that the man had committed multiple killings. Yet when Baba entered the fellowship, he saw that same man worshipping, praying and seeking God’s forgiveness. He struggled with what he was witnessing. How could someone accused of such terrible acts stand beside him and ask for the same mercy? Was forgiveness really available to that man? And if it was, what did that say about Baba’s own understanding of grace? He began realizing that he was evaluating the people around him according to the crimes associated with their names. He had placed himself in a different moral category. He believed he was innocent of the charge against him, but he also recognized that innocence of a particular criminal accusation did not make him morally perfect. The distinction changed his perspective. Christianity teaches that human beings fall short of God’s standard and that grace is not earned through a comparison of who has committed the worst offense. That does not eliminate accountability. It does not erase the suffering of victims. It does not make every act equally harmful. But it does challenge the assumption that some people are beyond the reach of repentance and mercy. Baba told me this encounter forced him to reconsider how he saw the men around him. Rather than looking down on them, he began joining them in fellowship. And soon, he would be asked to lead. The Unexpected Prison Preacher Baba had not entered detention intending to become a preacher. He did not consider himself qualified. But he began participating in the fellowship, reading Scripture and offering prayers. The man leading the group eventually gave him more responsibility. Then, according to Baba, that man was released. Before leaving, he handed over his notes and told Baba to take over. Suddenly, Baba was responsible for leading the very fellowship he had initially approached with uncertainty. He remembered turning to 1 Corinthians 13, the biblical passage about love. It was an appropriate place to begin. The chapter describes love as patient and kind, rejecting pride, resentment and self-interest. Those are challenging instructions under ordinary circumstances. Inside a detention cell, surrounded by people with vastly different histories and facing his own uncertain future, the teaching carried a different weight. Baba began preaching and leading conversations about Scripture. He also described friendships with Muslim detainees, including an imam, and conversations about prayer and faith across religious differences. He believed the experience was transforming his understanding of compassion. He was no longer simply waiting for someone outside to solve his problem. He was being asked to serve people inside the same difficult circumstances. The Hardest Part Was Waiting One of Baba’s observations stayed with me. The hardest part of confinement, he said, was the waiting. A person awaiting trial waits for answers. A person serving a sentence waits for release. A person facing an uncertain accusation waits without knowing which outcome is coming. Time becomes something different when you have no control over what happens next. Baba described lawyers and family members visiting him and offering encouraging updates. He was told progress was being made. He was given expectations about when he might leave. Yet he remained in custody. He wrestled with the f

  4. Oct 20

    Joshua Ashburn: Why Run for Congress?

    Why choose federal office—and what problems would you try to solve there? Joshua Ashburn joins Brandon Burley for an archived Civic Conversations interview about his independent campaign for Tennessee’s 1st Congressional District. He introduces himself as a Bristol resident, a parent, and a full-time worker, then explains why he decided to enter the race. Questions behind a candidacy Brandon asks about Ashburn’s background and why he chose this office. The discussion moves into health coverage and Medicaid, with Ashburn drawing on his own experiences as he explains what he would like to change. Where the conversation becomes a debate The interview also addresses foreign aid, immigration and benefits, redistricting, and voter identification. Brandon raises counterarguments and practical questions. Listeners can consider both the candidate’s answer and the challenge that follows, rather than treating a short excerpt as his entire position. From Project Forge Books · Our own book For readers interested in examining justice beyond slogans, Exploring Criminal Justice: The Basics of Ethics and Theory is available from Brandon Burley. This is an advertisement for our own book, separate from the guest’s campaign. Listen with the recording context in mind This is an archived interview, not an endorsement. Candidate descriptions, election references, event announcements, figures, and policy claims reflect the conversation at the time. Statements by a speaker are their own and have not all been independently verified. Consult official election sources for current ballot and voting information. Which question would you ask every candidate, regardless of party? Get full access to The Redemption Project Newsroom at newsroom.theredemptionproject.news/subscribe

  5. Oct 14

    Rhonda Paulsen: Changing the Way Foster Care Begins

    A child can be leaving an unsafe home and still be losing everything familiar. That is the tension Rhonda Paulsen asks us to understand before we talk about foster care. Rhonda joined me on The Redemption Project to explain how Isaiah 117 House grew from her family’s experience as foster parents—and why the hours between removal and placement deserve more attention. Safety does not cancel grief Before entering the foster-care world, Rhonda says she thought removal meant a child would be safe, clean, and back in school. Learning to see that day through a child’s eyes changed her understanding. Parents, siblings, pets, possessions, teachers, and home can all disappear from everyday life at once. A child may then wait in an office while adults search for a placement. Rhonda is careful not to blame caseworkers. Her argument is that they need practical support, too. The child’s distress and the worker’s effort can both be real. A home that says, “We’ve been waiting for you” Isaiah 117 House focuses on that transition. Rhonda describes a welcoming home with meals, showers, new clothes, and space to play while a placement is arranged. The goal is to give children choices and attention at a moment when much of their control has disappeared. She describes the message this way: a child’s needs are not a burden. Sometimes that means finding a favorite meal. Sometimes it means letting a child choose clothes or spend time outside. These are ordinary acts of care placed inside an extraordinary day. The work also reaches the foster family. Instead of sending a child into a household scrambling for beds, clothing, and supplies, the organization tries to provide what that family needs for the transition. When possible, foster parents meet the child at the house, joining an activity before leaving together. From The Redemption Project · Our own course Good intentions still need careful thinking. Explore Evidence Before Conclusions, Brandon Burley’s online course, and bring a more deliberate approach to the claims and conclusions you encounter. Explore Evidence Before Conclusions → This is a promotion for our own product, separate from Isaiah 117 House. Caring for the people who care We also discuss the emotional weight carried by volunteers, employees, and caseworkers. Rhonda describes counseling support for employees and opportunities for volunteers to process difficult experiences. Compassion does not make someone immune to secondary trauma. That matters because a reliable welcome depends on people who can keep showing up. Supporting the adults is part of supporting the children. You do not have to do everything to do something Rhonda does not suggest that everyone should become a foster parent. She does ask listeners to consider a concrete next step: learn about fostering, support a foster family, bring a meal, explore appropriate volunteer opportunities, or help an organization serving children. For listeners who want to learn about Isaiah 117 House, the organization’s website lists locations and ways to get involved. Local needs and volunteer requirements should be confirmed directly with the relevant team. Learn about Isaiah 117 House and find a location → Listen to the full conversation above. Then consider one practical question: what could you do to make a difficult transition less lonely for a child or family near you? Content note: Discussion of family separation, foster care, and childhood trauma. Recorded September 11, 2026. Organizational details reflect the conversation at the time of recording. I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets. Get full access to The Redemption Project Newsroom at newsroom.theredemptionproject.news/subscribe

  6. Sep 18

    Simon White

    Simon White’s story does not begin in prison. It begins in Dillon, South Carolina. From there, his life moved to Harlem, then Philadelphia, then Florida, then back to Philadelphia. Along the way, there were early warnings, bad decisions, addiction, pressure, family responsibilities, job loss and a world that started pulling him deeper than he realized. In this episode of The Redemption Project, Brandon Burley talks with Simon about a troubled past and why that past does not have to dictate the future. Simon does not tell his story like a man trying to polish it. He tells it plainly. He talks about growing up around Harlem, drinking, drugging and doing the kind of petty things young men often think they can get away with. He remembers a friend warning him early that drugs and alcohol would take something from him. That friend went on to play professional baseball. Simon went a different direction. At one point, cocaine nearly killed him. A doctor warned him that if he kept using it, he might not see his next birthday. Simon says he made a change for a while. But addiction, as he explains it, is not only about the substance. It is about the way a person is thinking. Simon’s story is not just about drugs. It is about the mindset that kept moving from one thing to the next. When Simon moved to Philadelphia, he worked in a psychiatric hospital. He was married, helping raise children and carrying more responsibility than he and his wife were ready to handle. Then he lost his job. That is where he says the real trouble started. Looking for money and pulled by relationships in the street, Simon began buying firearms and selling them illegally. At first, he hesitated. He knew selling guns could get him locked up. But after losing his job and feeling broke, the hesitation faded. He bought a cheap gun. He removed the serial number. He sold it. Then he bought more. What began as one decision became a pattern. Simon describes driving around to gun shops, buying cheap firearms, removing serial numbers and selling them into the street. He talks about gun dealers who should have known something was wrong, especially when buyers came in repeatedly with cash in small bills. He describes learning that multiple handgun sales triggered reporting requirements, while long guns could be handled differently at the time. The story is disturbing because Simon does not hide the mechanics. He explains how easy it became. How fast it became. How money changed the way he thought. How the same addictive mind that had once chased drugs started chasing something else. That is one of the central lessons of this episode: Addiction can move. It can shift from one object to another. The substance may change, but the thinking can stay the same. Simon’s first contact with ATF came after he bought a Tech-9 while still having an unresolved case in New York. He says agents stopped him outside a gun shop, took the gun and told him he was considered a fugitive from justice because of that old case. That encounter eventually led Simon into contact with ATF Agent Robert J. Wescott. Simon describes working with law enforcement for a period of time, setting up drug buys and testifying against people. But after a family situation involving his brother-in-law, resentment built. Later, after he lost his job and began selling guns, Wescott called him and asked whether he was selling firearms. Simon says he snapped. Instead of stopping, he went further. He describes buying AK-style rifles and handguns, selling them into North Philadelphia and leaving with bags of drug money. He also remembers Wescott asking him why someone did not simply kill him and take the guns. At the time, Simon did not have an answer. Looking back, the danger is obvious. Eventually, the downfall came. Simon moved to Reading after his wife’s job relocated. He says he sold some firearms there and then shifted into selling marijuana because it felt lucrative and less risky. But ATF and law enforcement were still watching. He was arrested. Then ATF arrested him. Simon says he ultimately did four years in federal prison and six months in state prison. He also reflects on what shocked him about sentencing: the gun case exposed him to roughly five years, while the marijuana case could have exposed him to far more time. But the deeper part of the episode is not the legal math. It is what prison made Simon see. Simon talks about men in prison who had no remorse. He talks about how many men were angry not because of what they had done, but because they got caught. He remembers the constant talk about rats and snitches. Then he remembers something another incarcerated man told him: God does not always put you where you want to be. God puts you where you need to be. That became one of the spiritual turning points of the story. Simon’s faith journey was not a straight line. He had church in his background. He had taken children to church. But after a church leader he knew went to prison, Simon pulled back. In prison, he asked for a Quran. A man offered him a Bible instead. Simon started reading it. He was baptized. Later, he converted to Islam while incarcerated. But even then, Christian voices kept showing up. A guard asked him why he was dealing with certain groups. Another guard at Camp Hill sat beside him and asked whether anyone had ever talked to him about Jesus Christ. Simon remembers thinking: Why do people keep asking me about Jesus? He describes it as if Jesus was chasing him down. That is the spiritual center of this episode. Simon had been running through addiction, illegal guns, resentment, prison, religious searching and guilt. But something kept following him. Something kept interrupting him. Something kept asking him to look deeper than the charge, deeper than the sentence, deeper than the story he had been telling himself. Then the weight of the guns started to become personal. Simon talks about conscience. He says that if a person has a heart and a conscience, selling guns brings depression, anxiety and frustration. He remembers law enforcement telling him that someone he sold a gun to had used it in a murder the same day. At the time, he had tried to think like a gun shop owner: I have nothing to do with what that person does. But deep down, he knew he had put something into the street that could be used to harm someone. That knowledge does not leave a man easily. Later, after prison, Simon saw a man who had been shot. He remembers the look of terror on the man’s face. He says gun violence is not like the movies. It is not clean. It is not distant. It is horror. Then gun violence reached his own family. His nephew turned 21 on a Friday. He was killed the next evening. He was 21 for less than 24 hours. That is where the available transcript ends, but the meaning of the episode is already clear. This is not a story about a man asking people to forget what he did. It is not a story that minimizes harm. It is not a story that treats prison as either the whole answer or no answer at all. It is a story about consequences. It is a story about conscience. It is a story about the damage done when guns, addiction, money and street life come together. It is also a story about the God who keeps pursuing a man even when that man is confused, angry, guilty, resistant and lost. Simon White’s story is hard. But that is why it matters. Because redemption does not begin when a man pretends the past was not real. Redemption begins when he finally stops running from the truth. I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets. Get full access to The Redemption Project Newsroom at newsroom.theredemptionproject.news/subscribe

  7. Sep 15

    Bail Reform Explained: Ken Good on Cashless Bail, Ankle Monitors, Risk Assessments and Public Safety

    Bail is one of those words people hear all the time but often misunderstand. To some, bail is a way to keep dangerous people in jail. To others, it is a system that punishes poverty. To judges, bondsmen, defendants, victims, families and communities, it can mean something much more complicated. In this Season 3 Systems Explained episode of The Redemption Project, Brandon Burley talks with Ken Good, an attorney from Texas who has spent decades working in and around the bail system. Ken began his legal career representing doctors and hospitals, then developed a practice representing bondsmen and insurance companies across Texas. He has argued bail-related cases before the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, the highest criminal court in Texas, and the Supreme Court of Texas. He has also written extensively on bail reform, criminal justice reform and what he believes works — and does not work — in the pretrial system. The conversation begins with a basic question: What is bail for? Ken’s answer is grounded in the traditional purpose of bail: making sure a defendant returns to court while the case is pending. That sounds simple. But the details are where the system gets complicated. Brandon and Ken discuss one of the central tensions in bail reform: whether people charged with similar crimes should be treated the same or whether judges should consider the individual facts of the person, the charge, the risk and the circumstances. Brandon raises the example of two people charged with theft. One person has a long criminal history. The other has no record and stole groceries to feed a family. Should they be treated the same? Ken’s answer is no. In fact, he pushes the point further. Even two first-time defendants charged with similar offenses may not present the same risk. One may have deep roots in the community, family nearby, stable housing and a job. Another may have no ties, no support and a much greater risk of failing to appear. That is the heart of the episode. Fair does not always mean identical. Ken argues that the justice system has historically relied on individualized discretion because people, cases and risks are different. The reform movement, in his view, often pushes toward treating people the same based on categories, charge lists or automated tools. But the criminal justice system does not deal with abstractions. It deals with people. And people are not identical. The conversation moves into cashless bail, which Ken describes more broadly as simple release — releasing someone on a promise to return, personal recognizance, zero bail or other similar mechanisms depending on the state. Ken is critical of these systems when they are used too broadly. He argues that simple release mechanisms often produce higher failure-to-appear rates than private surety bonds and can cause major problems for courts because cases cannot move forward until defendants return. Brandon compares that to Tennessee’s citation-release system, where a person signs a promise to appear in court. Ken explains that in Texas, citation release is used much less often and generally for low-level offenses. From there, the conversation turns to what happens when someone commits a new offense while already out on bond. Ken explains a new Texas law requiring that, when a person is out on bond and arrested again for a new felony in the same county, only the judge from the first case can set bail on the second case. He also says the statute requires judges to consider revoking or modifying the first bond. That part of the conversation shows why bail is not just a release question. It is a supervision question. It is a court-management question. It is a public-safety question. The episode then moves into ankle monitors. Ken does not argue that ankle monitors have no use at all. He says they can provide supplemental data and may have a role in high-risk cases. But he rejects the idea that ankle monitors are a replacement for the bail industry. His concern is practical. Monitors can generate false alerts, dead-battery notifications, exclusion-zone violations and other reports that desensitize the system. He also argues that defendants learn how to work around them, including cutting off a monitor late on a Friday to gain a head start before a warrant is issued. Ken also raises the cost issue. If someone is paying daily fees for an ankle monitor over a case that lasts years, that person may end up paying far more than they would have paid through a bondsman. That is an important Season 3 distinction. A tool can sound like reform. But the question is how it works in real life. Who pays? Who monitors? Who responds? How fast? What happens when the alert is false? What happens when it is real? What happens on Friday afternoon? What happens when the case lasts four years? The conversation then moves to the role of bondsmen. Ken argues that private surety bonds provide more than a financial transaction. He says bondsmen often provide reminders, supervision, family contact and a relationship that can help get someone back into court if they miss a date. Brandon raises the example of a family member putting something at risk to help a loved one get out. Ken explains that the details vary by state, but he agrees with the broader point: family involvement can matter. That is another theme running through the episode. Systems are not only statutes and software. They are relationships, incentives and accountability. The conversation then gets into one of the most debated ideas in pretrial justice: risk assessments. Ken is strongly critical of using risk assessments to replace judicial discretion in bail decisions. He argues that risk assessments may be better at predicting group trends than individual behavior, that they can produce racially distorted outcomes, and that they often make mistakes in the direction of recommending release. He also raises a key legal concern: if a risk assessment does not consider the seriousness of the pending charge, but state law requires judges to consider the charge when setting bail, then the tool may not comply with the legal framework. Brandon presses the point with a practical example: If someone has no criminal history but is accused of shooting multiple people, should a tool treat that person as low risk simply because it is a first offense? That question captures the problem. The presumption of innocence matters. But bail is not the trial. Ken emphasizes that presumption of innocence applies to the trial itself. Bail is about assurance — what it takes to ensure that a person returns to court and, depending on the jurisdiction, whether there are public-safety concerns while the case is pending. The episode also covers the political pendulum around criminal justice reform. Brandon uses the image of Newton’s cradle: when policy swings too hard in one direction, the reaction may swing just as hard the other way. Ken agrees and argues that public safety eventually becomes the demand when crime rises and the public believes the system is failing. That leads into Tennessee’s proposed constitutional amendment and the broader question of whether reform can swing too far toward release or too far toward detention. Ken’s position is that the middle ground should involve accountability, private surety bonds and sparing use of simple release mechanisms. He worries that one extreme releases too many people without accountability, while the opposite extreme may hold too many people and create costs the public is not prepared to pay. The conversation does not stay only on bail. It also moves into jail overcrowding, incarceration costs and mental health. Ken argues that part of the problem is that the United States has moved much of its mental-health burden into the criminal justice system. Brandon agrees from his experience in East Tennessee, where the closure of mental-health facilities meant law enforcement and jails became the default place for people who needed very different kinds of care. That may be one of the most important parts of the episode. The jail is not just holding people accused of crimes. In many communities, it is also functioning as the largest mental-health facility. That creates problems for defendants. It creates problems for officers. It creates problems for sheriffs. It creates problems for courts. And it creates problems for the people who needed treatment long before they ended up in a cell. Ken shares a personal example involving his sister, who suffered a severe injury and later dealt with a long struggle involving prescription drugs. He describes the importance of family involvement and says that, in his view, families often provide the best chance for success for people with serious mental-health or substance-related problems. But Brandon adds the necessary caveat: Not every family has the means, resources or ability to provide that level of care. That is the kind of tension this episode keeps returning to. The easy answer is usually too easy. Release everyone is too easy. Hold everyone is too easy. Trust a computer is too easy. Blame judges is too easy. Blame poverty is too easy. Blame crime alone is too easy. The real system is harder. It has defendants, victims, judges, bondsmen, families, mental illness, addiction, money, public safety, constitutional rights, political pressure and imperfect tools. Ken closes by pointing listeners to pbtx.com and thebailpost.com for more information about his group, their blog and their podcast. This episode is a reminder that criminal justice policy cannot be reduced to a bumper sticker. Bail is not only about money. Ankle monitors are not only about technology. Risk assessments are not only about data. And reform is not automatically good just because it is called reform. The better question is the Season 3 question: How does the system actually work — and what happens when we change one part without understanding the rest? I am a retire

5
out of 5
4 Ratings

About

The Redemption Project tells real stories of change, accountability, and second chances. Hosted by Brandon Burley—a retired law enforcement detective, criminal justice educator, and journalist—this podcast features conversations with men and women who have lived on both sides of the justice system, along with the ministries, programs, and people helping them rebuild their lives. Each episode explores what redemption actually looks like after prison: recovery, faith, responsibility, failure, growth, and the long road back to trust and purpose. Some stories are quiet. Some are uncomfortable. newsroom.theredemptionproject.news