Summary Of Enterprise Story: How Does Durham Keep People Out Of Jail

Enterprise Story: How Does Durham Keep People Out of Jail? Matt Peljovich April 30, 2024.

Larry J. Council, Jr. is no stranger to the criminal justice system. After growing up in New York City, he had his first run-in with the Durham police at 22 years old—for driving without a license.

A year later, he spent six months in jail for simple cocaine possession. Two years later, in 1999, he was convicted of possessing an unlicensed firearm in federal court and assault with a deadly weapon in Durham County Court. Council then spent nearly a decade in prison, getting caught up in the ‘tough on crime’ wave of the 90s. He has two younger brothers who are still locked up.

In 2013, he was caught with a firearm, and as an ex-felon, got three months

Defendants periodically check in with their PTS caseworkers. During the supervision period, caseworkers can help clients with other needs. Scoggins specializes in helping juvenile clients. Another caseworker helps those with mental health issues, and one works with Spanish-speaking defendants.

Durham PTS is housed within the greater Durham County Justice Services Department, which offers a range of services for justice-involved individuals. If one of his clients struggles with substance abuse, he can refer them to treatment programs. If they lack housing, they can connect them with short-term assistance. PTS also provides court date reminders to defendants and their families, which Scoggins claims “makes clients much more successful.”

In some cases, a judge may order PTS to administer electronic monitoring for higher-risk clients. Monitoring is a favorite among many in the community, including some judges. It helps ease concerns that potential felons are living on our streets. Yet, like many things in the criminal justice system, this feeling of safety that we may crave results in harsher than necessary punishments.

Research shows that defendants in Durham released with conditions like electronic monitoring are not less likely to re-offend than similar defendants released without any

Most defendants are just happy to be able to live at home—they want to put everything behind them. For the smaller number of folks who do re-offend, a GPS anklet probably isn’t stopping them.

For decades, Scoggins has been working with vulnerable youth in the Durham community. Before his time at PTS, he worked at the Lakeview School, an alternative school that serves children with chronic behavioral issues and those in the juvenile justice system.

For all the adults and children whom he helps keep out of jail, he believes that “if they come to court, and don't pick up any new charges, that’s pretty good.”

Today, Durham’s carceral population is only 357. It’s steadily declining since PTS started, even as North Carolina has been slower to reform than the national average, with statewide prison populations remaining relatively flat over the last decade.

As much as any other group, Durham PTS is on the frontlines of the battle against mass incarceration in our city.

Because PTS costs only about $8 a day per defendant (compared to $99 for imprisonment), the office saved Durham taxpayers over $7 million just last year.

In 2022, Larry Council accepted a plea deal: 15-27 months probation. He got to stay out of jail, and he’ll be released this