Everyday Injustice

On this episode of Everyday Injustice, host David Greenwald speaks with Shazad Carbaidwala, a longtime volunteer and board member with Prisoner Visitation and Support, a national organization that provides consistent, face-to-face visits to incarcerated people in federal facilities across the country. Carbaidwala has spent nearly a decade visiting people inside prisons, offering something both simple and rare in the modern correctional system: human connection. His work reflects a broader effort to counter isolation, neglect, and dehumanization within federal incarceration.

Carbaidwala describes how he first became involved with Prisoner Visitation and Support while living in Philadelphia, answering a call to serve in a way that aligned with his belief in helping people wherever possible. What began as volunteer work grew into a long-term commitment that now includes board leadership and regular visits to federal institutions, most recently in Chicago. Over time, he says, the experience reshaped his own understanding of prisons, revealing not only the hardship of confinement but also the resilience, growth, and humanity of the people inside.

The conversation explores what it is like to walk into a federal prison for the first time—the rigid procedures, the emotional weight, and the stark contrast between public perceptions of incarceration and lived reality. Carbaidwala emphasizes that while the environment can be intimidating, the interactions themselves are often deeply affirming. People inside are eager for conversation, connection, and recognition. Visits routinely involve ordinary human exchanges—discussing sports, family, politics, or faith—moments that restore a sense of dignity in a system that often strips it away.

Greenwald and Carbaidwala also reflect on the broader implications of visitation for rehabilitation and reentry, particularly in a federal system where people are frequently housed thousands of miles from their families. They discuss shifting attitudes toward incarceration, the importance of recognizing trauma and deprivation in people’s backgrounds, and the role of volunteers in bridging the gap between prison and society. At its core, the episode underscores a central theme of Everyday Injustice: meaningful change begins by seeing incarcerated people not as abstractions, but as human beings deserving of empathy, attention, and connection.

Women are now the fastest-growing population in the criminal legal system, yet policy, practice and public understanding continue to lag behind that reality. On this episode of Everyday Injustice, host David Greenwald speaks with Stephanie Akhter, director of the Women’s Justice Commission at the Council on Criminal Justice, about why women’s involvement in the system is rising, how their experiences differ from men’s, and what meaningful reform actually requires.

Akhter brings a perspective grounded in direct practice and national policy work. Trained as a social worker, she began her career working with people returning home from prison before moving into state-level reentry policy, philanthropic criminal justice reform, and ultimately the launch of the Women’s Justice Commission. Throughout the conversation, she emphasizes that women entering the system are often driven there by circumstances—trauma, poverty, housing instability, untreated mental health needs and coercive relationships—rather than by violent criminal behavior.

The discussion explores why women are not simply a smaller version of men in the system. Akhter explains that women experience higher rates of trauma and victimization, are more likely to be primary caregivers, and generally present lower public safety risk, yet are processed through a system largely designed without them in mind. As a result, reforms that have reduced incarceration for men have often failed to benefit women, even as women now account for roughly one-quarter of all adult arrests nationwide.

The episode also looks forward, examining where change is possible. Akhter outlines the Commission’s focus on reducing women’s system involvement where safely possible and improving outcomes when women do enter the system, from pretrial decisions to sentencing and reentry. The conversation highlights trauma-informed, gender-responsive approaches and growing recognition among justice professionals that real public safety depends on helping people leave the system healthier and more stable than when they entered it.

The newest episode of Everyday Injustice features three powerful voices from Represent Justice’s ambassador program, each sharing deeply personal experiences with trauma, incarceration and healing. Emmanuel Noble Williams, John Medina Jr., and Angelique Todd describe how childhood violence, systemic neglect and survival-driven choices pushed them into the legal system—but also how storytelling and filmmaking have become pathways toward accountability, dignity and repair. Their conversation makes one thing clear: before the system labeled them “offenders,” they were children trying to survive experiences no one helped them process.

Each ambassador discusses how trauma shaped their worldview long before a courtroom or prison cell entered the picture. Noble recalls witnessing a murder before age eleven and learning early that speaking to police could mean violence or death. That fear—and lack of emotional support—became a “mask” he wore into adulthood. John describes years of instability and coping through substances, and how the birth of his son forced him to confront the disconnect between wanting to protect life while participating in harm. Angelique explains how abuse, over-policing and mislabeling of Black girls funneled her toward criminalization, and how no one ever stopped to ask the simplest question: What happened to you?

Despite their different stories, the message from all three is unified: the system did not rehabilitate them—community, healing and lived experience did. They argue that prisons prioritize control over treatment, punishment over safety, and compliance over growth. Their films and advocacy challenge institutions to recognize that accountability is not the same as suffering, and that most people behind bars were victims long before they were accused of harm. “Hurt people hurt people,” Noble says, emphasizing that until trauma is addressed, cycles of violence and incarceration will continue to repeat.

Yet the tone of the conversation is not despair, but transformation. Represent Justice gave each ambassador a platform to reclaim narrative and power—something they say the system tried to strip away. Today, they mentor youth, teach restorative justice and help others break cycles they once lived inside. Their stories challenge the public to rethink assumptions about crime, punishment and who deserves redemption. And in their work, they make the case that change begins not with more prisons—but with listening, acknowledging harm and recognizing shared humanity.

On this episode of Everyday Injustice, we sit down with journalist and author Nell Bernstein, one of the nation’s leading voices on youth incarceration and the failures of the juvenile punishment model. Bernstein is the author of Burning Down the House and her newly released book, In Our Future We Are Free: The Dismantling of the Youth Prison. Her work challenges the mythology around “dangerous youth,” exposes the long-term harm of locking children in carceral environments, and reframes what true public safety looks like in America.

Bernstein’s journey into youth justice began in the 1990s, during the height of the so-called superpredator era — a moment defined not by data, but by fear, racism, and political opportunism. She tells us how young people she worked with in San Francisco were funneled into arrests, courtrooms, and detention for low-level behaviors — not because they posed a threat, but because the system was built to criminalize them. What began as court accompaniment and juvenile hall visits evolved into decades of reporting, advocacy, and storytelling grounded in humanity rather than stereotype.

In the conversation, Bernstein points to one of the most staggering realities: youth incarceration has dropped 75% nationwide since 2000, and more than two-thirds of youth prisons across the country have closed — including California’s entire state-run youth prison system. Yet at the same time, a backlash is underway. Politicians and media are reviving superpredator-style narratives, and several states — including California — are now pushing to try more children as adults. Bernstein warns that progress isn’t linear and the narratives driving fear often outpace the facts.

This episode is both sobering and hopeful. Bernstein reminds us that youth incarceration is not inevitable — it is a policy choice driven by fear, inequity, and political gain. The alternatives already exist, and they work: community safety comes not from cages, but from education, support, housing, stability, and belonging. For anyone questioning whether change is possible, Bernstein’s message is clear — transformation has already begun. The question now is whether we will defend it.

For nearly 42 years, Gary Tyler lived with a sentence that was never rooted in truth, fairness, or genuine evidence. Arrested at age 16 in Louisiana and accused of killing a white teenager during a moment of racial violence in 1974, Tyler was quickly swept into a system determined not to find the truth, but to find someone to blame. “I was incarcerated…for 41 and a half years,” Tyler explains, underscoring the unimaginable time he spent behind bars for a crime he has always maintained he did not commit.

His case was built on coerced statements, an all-white jury, and the climate of racism surrounding public school desegregation. Even the moment of his arrest was steeped in hostility. Tyler recalls being beaten by officers as a teenager and hearing parents outside the police station listening helplessly to his screams, unaware whether it was their child or someone else being brutalized. The violence didn’t end there—after being convicted of first-degree murder, he became the youngest death row prisoner in America.

Inside Angola Prison—a place long synonymous with brutality—Tyler expected to be swallowed by fear and isolation. Instead, he found protection, mentorship, and unexpected humanity from men who had survived the harshest corners of incarceration. In his words, “The men who lived the life gave me the best of themselves, not the worst.” Over time, Tyler transformed his experience into purpose, developing programs, educating others, and becoming a deeply respected figure both inside and outside prison walls.

Despite repeated recommendations for pardon and overwhelming documentation of injustice, it took decades—and a changing legal landscape—before Tyler was finally released in 2016. His freedom came not through exoneration, but through a legal compromise. Today, he continues to speak and write about systemic injustice, resilience, and healing. In this episode, he shares not only what happened to him, but what it means to rebuild a life after being stolen from it.

On this episode of the Everyday Injustice Podcast, host David Greenwald speaks with Josh Schwartz and Leon Parker of the Wren Collective, a policy and communications organization working to reform the criminal legal system and strengthen public defense nationwide. The conversation centers on a new statewide study revealing that California dramatically underfunds its public defense system—despite being one of only two states in the country that provides no statewide standards or funding for trial-level defense. The result, Schwartz explains, is a staggering imbalance: California spends 77 percent more on prosecution than on public defense, leaving roughly 1,000 fewer public defenders and nearly 4,000 fewer support staff statewide.

Schwartz and Parker describe the human cost of this imbalance—attorneys overloaded with hundreds of felony cases, clients left without investigators or social workers, and communities paying far more to incarcerate people than to prevent crime. “Counties spend six times as much on incarceration as they do on public defense,” Schwartz notes, arguing that investing in defense and early intervention not only improves outcomes but ultimately saves money. Parker adds that these disparities reflect misplaced priorities, with local governments equating public safety solely with policing and prosecution instead of addressing addiction, trauma, and the root causes of harm.

The discussion also delves into California’s controversial “flat fee” contract system—where private attorneys are paid a fixed amount regardless of how many cases they handle. The Wren Collective’s recent report calls for banning the practice, warning that it incentivizes minimal representation and leads to wrongful convictions. Both guests emphasize that while many contract lawyers are dedicated, the system itself is “set up for mediocrity,” discouraging thorough investigation and favoring plea deals over justice. Assembly Bill 690, now before the Legislature, would outlaw these contracts and move California toward a more equitable public defense model.

Ultimately, Schwartz and Parker argue that reform requires not only funding but a fundamental shift in narrative. “California likes to see itself as a model of progress,” Parker says, “but when it comes to how we treat those with the least, we’re failing.” By investing in public defense and rejecting outdated, punitive systems, they contend, California could finally live up to its ideals—and create a model of justice that other states might follow.

In a new episode of Everyday Injustice, host David Greenwald sits down with three formerly incarcerated filmmakers — Dana Dickerson, Heather Jarvis, and Naje “Gigi” Webster — to explore the emotional and systemic realities of life after prison. Produced in partnership with Represent Justice, the conversation shines a light on the women behind the films The Trauma We Carry, It’s Not Okay, and The Truth Behind the Mask, each a deeply personal exploration of survival, stigma, and transformation after incarceration.

Dickerson, a founding member of the Offender Alumni Association and outreach coordinator for the Alabama Prison Arts and Education Program, speaks candidly about how unhealed childhood trauma shapes pathways into the criminal legal system — and why true rehabilitation must begin long before release. Jarvis, a journalist and advocate from West Virginia, shares how writing became her way back to herself, describing reentry as a daily emotional struggle that too few understand. Webster, who served eight years in Illinois, uses film to expose the quiet pain behind “successful” reentry — the hidden battles with housing, employment, and self-worth that continue long after freedom.

Across their stories, the women uncover the same truth: America’s reentry system isn’t designed for success. Each describes a process riddled with barriers — from limited programming and housing discrimination to the constant need to “prove” their humanity to landlords, employers, and even their communities. As Dickerson puts it, “Society’s our second prison,” where people carry lifelong sentences of stigma and exclusion even after they’ve served their time.

But the episode is also about hope, power, and storytelling as justice work. Through their films and voices, Dickerson, Jarvis, and Webster invite listeners to see beyond labels and into the full humanity of people rebuilding their lives. Their message is clear: healing and reform begin with understanding — and with asking not “what’s wrong with you,” but “what happened to you.”

In this week’s episode of Everyday Injustice, host David Greenwald speaks with Alissa Skog, a researcher at the California Policy Lab, about her team’s new report on California’s expansive re-sentencing policies and their impact on recidivism. Skog explains that California has gone further than most states in reviewing long sentences imposed under older laws, such as Proposition 36 and Proposition 47, and felony murder reform — all aimed at bringing past sentences in line with current standards.

Skog highlights that many of those resentenced are older individuals who have served a decade or more behind bars. “Most people age out of crime,” she notes, pointing out that the data confirm this trend. For example, people resentenced under Proposition 36 had a three-year conviction rate of 25 percent, far below the statewide benchmark of 41 percent for all people released from state prison. For those resentenced under felony murder reform, only 10 percent were convicted within three years, with most new convictions being misdemeanors.

The discussion underscores the humanitarian and fiscal logic of re-sentencing. Older incarcerated people, Skog adds, pose little public safety risk but high costs to the state. She cites nearly 15,000 people in California prisons who are over 50 and have served more than 15 years — a population that could be safely reviewed for release under new policies being considered by the Board of Parole Hearings.

Greenwald and Skog conclude that California’s experience offers a model for other states, showing that releasing long-incarcerated people can be both safe and just. “These are people that should get a review because generally they’re a low risk,” Skog says, urging continued study and expansion of early review mechanisms across the system.

In this episode of Everyday Injustice, host David Greenwald talks with former federal prosecutor Jared Fishman, author of Fire on the Levee: The Murder of Henry Glover and the Search for Justice after Hurricane Katrina. Fishman revisits the 2005 killing of Henry Glover by New Orleans police officers in the chaotic days following Hurricane Katrina, a case he investigated and brought to trial early in his career. Twenty years later, he reflects on what the tragedy revealed about institutional breakdown and systemic failure in American policing.

Fishman, who now leads the Justice Innovation Lab, discusses how Katrina exposed not just a natural disaster, but “a disaster of real human proportions.” The aftermath of Glover’s killing, he explains, underscored the collapse of accountability in law enforcement—when “all forms of accountability were crushed” and a culture of silence protected wrongdoing. His work later helped spur major reforms in the New Orleans Police Department, but he cautions that the department’s progress remains incomplete.

The conversation also traces how awareness of systemic police misconduct has evolved since those early post-Katrina years. Before Ferguson and George Floyd, Fishman says, most Americans viewed police abuse as isolated incidents—“bad apples” rather than symptoms of a broken system. Today, he argues, there’s wider recognition that true reform means confronting the institutional incentives, recruitment models, and training failures that perpetuate injustice across jurisdictions.

Finally, Fishman links these lessons to current debates over federal militarization of cities. Drawing on his experience in both war zones and American courtrooms, he warns that the sight of National Guard troops in U.S. streets should “alarm everyone,” calling it evidence of “how fragile our institutions are.” Real public safety, he concludes, depends on addressing root causes—poverty, mental health, and inequality—not on “arresting more people” or treating social problems through the criminal legal system.

On this episode of Everyday Injustice, host David Greenwald speaks with Doreena Durbin, founder of a transformative prison meditation program in Texas. A former musician turned meditation teacher, Durbin’s path has been as unconventional as it is inspiring. Her book, An Inner Life: Freedom Is Found Within, and her work behind prison walls share a single message — that peace and self-understanding can take root even in the most unlikely places.

Durbin began teaching meditation in Texas prisons after decades of studying and teaching wellness and mindfulness. “I walked into a room of 200 men and thought—this is the perfect place for me,” she recalls. What began as a small idea grew into a program that now reaches hundreds. Though her work was paused by the pandemic, it has since flourished, offering participants breathing and mindfulness techniques that help them navigate anger, fear, and conflict. “They don’t have to do it long to get the benefits,” she says. “It gives them something no one can take away.”

Greenwald and Durbin discuss how meditation changes not only the people practicing it, but also those who teach it. “Every time I go in, it changes me too,” Durbin reflects. She describes how the men she works with are learning to let go of old patterns, find compassion, and develop awareness that transforms their interactions inside and outside of prison. Some continue their practice after release, teaching the same methods to family members and children.

Durbin’s work also exposes the limits of a system focused on punishment rather than healing. “It’s not about punishment—it’s about rehabilitation,” she says. Her program brings a rare kind of stillness to a place defined by noise and control, proving that the path to peace—and even freedom—can begin in the quiet of one’s own breath.