I’m a third-year law student at the University of Miami, pursuing a career of criminal justice advocacy. But there was a time when I was on the other side of the justice system — accused of crimes at 19, incarcerated while awaiting trial, and placed on probation after accepting a plea deal. I’ve seen firsthand how the system works, and, critically, I’ve seen how it fails to achieve its goals of supporting prevention, rehabilitation, and public safety.
The path that led to my involvement with the system is regrettably common — poverty, homelessness, some poor choices. When I was first charged, my bail was set at $50,000, and I was locked up alongside other women who had never known what it was like to lead stable, secure lives. The conditions we faced, particularly as women, were inhumane. The facility routinely lacked female hygienic products, and we had to learn how to make our own tampons out of pads.
It was there that I first learned about the probation system. I got to know women who had been in need of mental health and substance use treatment, only to find themselves trapped in the justice system. I was surrounded by other women who had once been on probation, only to be sent back to jail or prison for some violation of their probation conditions. More often than not, these violations were technical, non-criminal offenses like missing a meeting, failing a single drug test, or crossing a county line without permission.
I lived with the constant fear that one false move on my part would undo everything and result in my getting locked right back up.
One look at the numbers reveals why this shouldn’t have surprised me. More than 25% of all people sent to state prisons every year haven’t actually committed a new crime; they’re sent back for a technical violation of their probation. Does anyone think this makes society safer?
Then I was dealt my own experience with probation. I was young and scared, and I didn’t know what I didn’t know. When my lawyer recommended a plea deal, I took it without thinking. My probation term included more than 20 conditions, including that I pay $7,000 to the court — an exorbitant sum considering that the only work I could find at the time paid minimum wage. In this way and more, probation restricted my freedom and hindered my ability to move forward in life. It was like being in jail without being in custody. I lived with the constant fear that one false move on my part would undo everything and result in my getting locked right back up.
I worked hard, got off probation, and started rebuilding my life, but I couldn’t just forget what I went through. There are nearly four million other people still on probation and parole, and there is so much work to do to give them pathways to success. My experience lit within me a passion for changing probation and parole — and for educating young people, especially young women, about how to navigate the complex challenges of being within the system. So, I got my associate’s degree, then a bachelor’s degree, and then a master’s degree, all with a focus on criminal justice. Since enrolling in law school, I’ve had internships at organizations supporting civil rights and disability rights, and I even interned for a criminal division judge.
Last year, for a class assignment, I was asked to research an organization that really walked the walk in addressing an issue close to my heart. That’s how I discovered REFORM Alliance, a national organization dedicated to transforming probation and parole. I reached out to Rondo Bonilla, REFORM’s Gen Z Organizer, and got involved in REFORM’s Gen Z Day of Action, raising awareness among my fellow students at the University of Miami.
Polling shows that the issues of public safety and criminal justice unite young people. An overwhelming majority of us — 90% according to a 2024 REFORM poll — consider public safety to be an important issue, and more than two-thirds of us agree that reforms to probation and parole would help reduce crime. The support is there, and now we have to turn this support into action.
Imagine what could happen if we younger voters organized to make our voices heard. Legislation like the Safer Supervision Act — a reform to the federal supervision system that would set people up for success by addressing their individualized risks or needs and ensuring the system is geared toward rehabilitation — would almost surely pass. And the Safer Supervision Act would only be the beginning. Once young people unite behind a common cause, there will be no stopping this movement until its spread throughout the whole country.
That’s why I’m so excited to participate in this year’s REFORM Gen Z Week of Action from April 7 to 11. My school is joining more than 20 other campuses across the country in activating support among young people for critically needed reforms. I hope others will also get involved in the REFORM Alliance mission, and lift their voices in support of one of the most important issues of our time.
When I look back on these years, I can hardly believe the journey I’ve taken — from standing in front of a judge at 19 to interning for a judge as a law student. But that’s how change happens: one determined step at a time. That’s how we’ll build a better system for us all, and for all the generations to come.