Penzeys One Magazine

Restorative Justice

Pat Nolan

The FBI raid on California Assemblyman Pat Nolan's office came in 1988. It took the US Attorney's office 5 years to figure out an indictment. He was reelected twice during this period yet when the indictment came, he was facing a maximum of 21 years and a minimum of 8 for taking a campaign contribution from an FBI sting operation. His son Jamie was just 10 months old and his daughters Courtney and Katie were 5 and 4. "With my children so young, I had to choose. I would miss most of their childhood at a minimum or all of their childhood if it was the maximum. Or say I did something I didn't do and instead do the sentence of 33 months. So to me the calculus was easy. My family is too important to me." He took a plea deal and admitted to racketeering. He ended up serving 29 months. "I sucked it up and went to prison and I was able to come home to my family while I was still young."

Family has always been important to Pat Nolan. A fifth generation Californian, he grew up with eight brothers and sisters in Los Angeles and even attended the same parish grade school as his grandparents. At the age of 4 he started to learn Irish dancing. "My parents were looking for a healthy activity for my sisters when they became teenagers. They saw an ad for the Irish Rovers and my sisters joined. When the rest of us came along we were taught by my sisters and we joined the group." Once all of the Nolan children were old enough to dance they formed their own group. "We were The Nine Dancing Nolans." The pay wasn't great but the venues they danced had some perks. "Disneyland, before they had the electrical parade, used to have groups come march in the parade and then perform in the park in return for free services. We did that probably thirty or forty times." They went on to be regulars at the Los Angeles International Folk Dance Festival. The family kept the group together for many years but alas, children get older and they stopped performing in the early 1960s. Pat was elected to the California State Assembly in 1978 at the age of 28 and The Nine Dancing Nolans, well, most of them, danced again. "When I got in the Assembly we started up again. I used to throw a St. Patrick's party every year and my brothers and sisters and I would dance."

Maybe the negotiations involved in being the sixth of nine dancing children caused Pat to become active in politics. He worked on all four of Ronald Reagan's campaigns for President. "Few people remember he ran in 1968 against Richard Nixon." He even had the honor of being a delegate for Reagan at the 1980 Republican National Convention. He was elected to his assembly seat eight times over the course of 16 years and was known for being tough on crime. "I was a very strong law and order guy. I carried several tough-on-crime bills and supported the dramatic expansion of prisons in California." Part of this toughness came because his old neighborhood in L.A., where three generations of his family grew up, was changing. "The neighborhood had deteriorated and crime was just awful. So I supported all those policies because I thought it would make people safer. Then I went to prison and saw that those policies I had been so ardently advocating really weren't turning the folk's lives around. People weren't coming out of prison better than they went in."

After finishing his sentence he began a career with and eventually became president of Justice Fellowship, which is the criminal justice reform arm of Prison Fellowship Ministries, founded by former Nixon aide Chuck Colson of Watergate fame. "Now I'm in a position to help talk to conservatives, because I am a conservative Republican, about these policies we've all supported that aren't really working. Aren't making us safer."

Pat says that he did not change his philosophy, "But I changed how I apply that philosophy. As I sat in prison I wondered, as a conservative who was suspicious of the bureaucracy and how ill served the public often is, why would I turn a blind eye to the corrections department? And why wasn't I holding them accountable for public safety? We entrust them with tens of thousands of inmates each year yet two out of three end up committing a crime and are rearrested within three years. Well, in any other business that would be called a failure."

"The purpose of the corrections department is not stronger prisons. It's a safer community. Prisons exist so we're protected. Now part of that function is quarantine, we keep people locked up so we're safer. But the sad thing is a lot of the folks we lock up aren't dangerous. We're just mad at them. They haven't followed our rules." Today he is promoting the Second Chance Act in Congress. It is designed to assist states in retooling how their departments of correction function. "The preparation for release should begin when they enter prison not just at the back end. It should all be aimed at equipping them to make good decisions when they get out. Part of the bill is funds to help establish mentoring programs in communities so there's a loving member of the community that has met with them in prison and helped them develop a life plan. The mentor helps hold them accountable when they get out and helps them think through the challenges they face when they get out."

Getting out is surprisingly difficult. An example comes from Pat's testimony in front of congress in 2005.

Shortly after my release from prison to the halfway house, some friends took me to lunch at a local deli. The waiter came over to take our orders. Everyone else told him what they wanted, but I kept poring over the menu. My eyes raced over the columns of choices. I knew that I was supposed to order, but the number of options overwhelmed me. My friends sat in embarrassed silence. I was paralyzed. The waiter looked at me impatiently. I began to panic. How ridiculous that I wasn't able to do such a simple thing as order lunch. Finally, in desperation I ordered the next item my eyes landed on, a turkey sandwich. I didn't even want it, but at least it put an end to this embarrassing incident.

For two years I hadn't been allowed to make any choices about what I ate. Now I was having a hard time making a simple choice that most people face every day. If I had this much difficulty after only a couple of years in prison, think how hard it is for those inmates who haven't made any choices for five, ten, or fifteen years. And what about those who didn't have the wonderful home, the loving family, the strong faith and the good education that I had? They face a baffling array of options and little preparation. Is it any surprise that so many newly released prisoners make some bad choices and end up back in prison?

Pat's wife Gail was instrumental in holding their family together. Pat spent ten months in a Dublin, California correctional facility, about 70 miles from his home in Sacramento. Later he was moved to Spokane, Washington, 1700 miles away. She was able to bring the kids to visit every two months thanks to friends contributing their frequent flyer miles. Pat says, "My wife was just terrific at keeping me a vibrant part of their lives." She regularly sent their homework for him to look at. She would even send the books the kids were reading so he could read them at the same time and discuss them during phone calls. However, they could not share meals together and the food in prison was as Pat describes it, "Awful... I never had a tomato slice. It was always the butt ends. I don't know where the center pieces went but they sure didn't come to us." Because of those years apart, the Nolan family rarely misses a meal together. "Virtually every night we gather around the table. It's very important to them and to me."

And he still occasionally kicks it up with some of the Nine Dancing Nolans. "Yeah but I'm a lot heavier (laughing). It takes its toll on my knees. It doesn't leave you. It's like riding a bicycle." His experiences in prison haven't left him either as evidenced by his life's work and his memories. "Dropping my daughter Courtney off at kindergarten before I went to prison... I literally drove from there to the prison... I mean it's still painful to think about."

vol1 issue5, 2006

Pat Nolan